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faetreides · 2 months

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summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

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This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing.

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face.

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response.

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail.

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet.

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face.

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze.

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you.

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?”

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth.

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two.

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

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cowboydisaster · 9 months

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Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

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Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks.

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back.

Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress.

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup.

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines.

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip.

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.”

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.”

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better.

“You alright?”

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask.

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says.

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity.

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle.

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction.

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride.

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red.

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully.

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it.

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave.

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet.

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap.

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck.

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table.

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips.

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you.

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink.

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you.

“Get your bourbon?” You ask.

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?”

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor.

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting.

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin.

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you.

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face.

“Fuckin hell.” You cough.

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle.

—

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section.

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa.

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts.

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you.

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information.

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically.

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you.

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes.

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it.

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music.

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König.

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements.

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click.

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose.

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you.

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name?

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you.

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?"

"They said you wanted me."

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls.

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to.

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand.

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me.

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely. Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this.

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket.

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night.

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street.

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand.

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off.

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders.

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake.

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car.

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of.

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man.

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice.

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava.

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe.

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow.

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment.

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles.

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack.

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin.

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.”

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds.

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt.

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready.

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance.

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter.

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you.

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots.

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize.

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle.

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess.

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix.

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt.

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes.

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished.

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn.

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you.

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away.

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is.

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm?

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his.

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #cod mw2

2K notes · View notes

burntb4bydoll · 11 months

Note

I need so bad some Tokio Hotel member with a shy reader frrr, like she being shy and they being sweet, that's some hot shit.

Im actually pretty shy myself irl🤞dont be in my comments calling this cringe either, i think its so annoying when people shit on other people for wanting shy reader fics. it literally makes no sense to me because if you dont like it then dont read it🥰

Tokio Hotel with a shy s/o headcanons (slightly NSFW)

Bill kaulitz

•he can be a little shy himself, but for the most part hes pretty extroverted

•definitely makes sure that the attention is on him instead of you. He’ll make a fool out of himself if he needs to

•thinks its so damn cute when you get all shy and flustered when he compliments you. The shy smile on your face is his favorite thing in the world

•he will totally tease you about it too. The way you hide your face in his shirt makes him smirk so hard

• “aww its okay, sweetheart. No need to get all shy.” And he says that in the most teasing voice ever while stroking your hair

•loves when you can barely look him in the eyes, he thinks the way you get so nervous just because hes looking at you is very endearing

•makes you look into his eyes while he gives you head😇 if you look away, he slaps your thigh lightly and raises his eyebrow at you until you can hold eye contact with him

Tom Kaulitz

•omg hes such a little tease about it

•he always brings up when you get flustered or embarrassed

• “whats wrong, baby? You getting all shy on me?” LIKE STFU YES I AM

•hes a big attention grabber when you go out in public due to being famous and also being a attractive guy with good fashion sense, but he tries to distract you so that you dont get uncomfortable

•points out random things and just talks about random things to make you stop thinking about all the eyes on you

•will fight anyone who makes you feel bad about being shy. It’s completely normal and okay to be shy and he won’t let anyone tell you otherwise

•you get so embarrassed cuz you get all teary and needy when he fucks you. So he makes sure you know how good you’re doing 🤭

“It’s alright, you’re doing such a good job for me baby. My pretty little slut, hm?”

Georg Listing

•lord he is THRIVING

•strong believer that he would love a shy s/o

•he finds your bashfulness extremely refreshing and adorable. I think overly confident people would kinda annoy him so he likes that you’re humble and keep to yourself

•loves to give you random compliments just to see your eyes go wide and your hands come up to cover your face

•he pulls your hands away and tilts his head at you, trying to get you to look at him

“What’s wrong, babydoll? All I did was call you pretty. It that too much for you?”

• if you get too nervous to talk to workers or order your own food, he 100% does it for you

•he will make you use your words if you want something, because he knows how embarrassed you get and he thinks its so hot.

“Come on, you know you gotta use your words if you want something. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” So you gotta tell him when you want him to fuck you or else he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know what you want cuz hes an asshole🙄

Gustav Schäfer

•tbh he doesn’t really know how to help you at the beginning of your relationship

•he sees you getting embarrassed and just awkwardly rubs your back😭 HES CONFUSED LEAVE HIM ALONE

•but once he gets more comfortable, he knows what to do to help you feel better

•likes when you hide in his side or hide your face in his arm, it makes him feel important😇

•doesn’t even ask if you want him to order your food for you, he does it on his own. He’ll ask you what you want before its time to order so that he doesn’t have to ask you mid order

•HATES when people laugh at you for being shy. A lot of jealous fans like to make fun of you but he always makes sure to tell them off. No one talks bad about his s/o, he doesn’t care if they’re “fans” or not.

•he’ll always make sure you’re comfortable during sex, he would hate if you felt like you couldn’t tell him what you do and dont want

“Is this okay? I know you get shy, but I need to know what you want, honey. You want my fingers? Thank you for telling me, such a good girl/boy/baby.”

1K notes · View notes

selfishdoll · 7 months

Text

❛ YOU SCARED OF ME?...❜

Watch you weigh your powers | Tempt with hours of pleasure ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ SEXTAPE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you were nothing more than yuji’s english tutor.. one who was always a little distracted by his older brother, kamo choso.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

yuji mention (not sexualized & you better not either), thigh slap, dom choso, ooc choso (ofc), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, pet names, praise, cervix fucking, etc. if i forgot something please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE. the way choso is slowly consuming my feed like i love this man. also as always, this fic is unedited so please excuses typos & grammar mistakes.

Glossed lips moved silently to the lyrics running through your airpods to your ears, face pushed against the palm of your hand— lazily scrolling through your instagram. Every so often your eyes would raise away from the screen, glancing out the windows to assure the uber you resided in was still on track. So far everything seemed fine, but you never knew nowadays.

Once satisfied with what you saw, you sunk back into the seat; pressing your lips together for a moment as you glanced at the time. 2:25. Perfect, you were right on schedule. You were about fice minutes away from your student’s house; Itadori Yuji. The poor boy was having such a hard time with English and being the nice upperclassman you were, you helped him.

Though, meeting his fine older brother; Kamo Choso was an added bonus. You two didn’t talk often as he usually came in the middle of your tutoring session, giving his brother a quick hello and you a wave. Other times Choso would offer food, you pleasantly surprised to see something for yourself as well. He was sweet, quiet— but sweet. Given the hopeless romantic you are, you were bound to fall for him.

And fall you did, unable to hold eye contact whenever he simply said hello, or asked how you’re doing. Looking away whenever he would smile or laugh at something his brother said, even sinking into yourself when he was around you; afraid you would melt from even the slightest of touches. You were whipped and you so desperately hoped he didn’t know.

The uber soon slowed infront of the Itadori-Kamo residence, glancing back at you with a friendly smile. You gave one back, “Thank you so much.” Collecting your tote bag and other belongings you opened the car door and exited soon after, closing it behind you. Your eyes trailed over the house noticing the black sleek car sitting the drive way, causing your heart to thump— Choso was home. You took a deep breath, glancing over your attire and secretly thankful you settled for something slightly presentable; a simple black spaghetti strap dress and black, wedge sandals. Though, it shouldn’t matter much— Choso stayed in his room unless he needed something from the kitchen or needed to tell Yuji something.

Walking up the path, you stepped onto the porch and approached the door. You knocked, hand falling to your side to wait patiently. Moments passed before the door opened, revealing Choso clad in his usual attire of sweats and a black shirt, the only thing missing being his adorable hair bones; tresses resting against his shoulders in a messy fashion.

Your cheeks went warm the moment the male smiled at you, “Hey (Y/N), Yuji didn’t tell me you two were studying today.” His tone was so smooth, pleasant to your ears; head tilted just a bit as he not-so secretly took in your appearance.

“Yeah, well— It was a spontaneous decision. He just wanted to get in a little extra studying before a quiz.”

Choso gave a soft chuckle, “Well.. he double booked. He’s at Megumi’s place right now with Nobara too..” He stepped to the side, opening the door wider and tilting his head to the side in a come in motion, “Come, Ill call him.”

You nodded, a nervous smile pulling your features. “Yeah okay.” Stepping through the threshold you made your way over to the living room, sitting on the couch with your knees pulled close. Choso was close behind you, waltzing over to the other side of the long end furniture to sit down, pressing the phone against his ear.

A comfortable silence entered the room for a moment, you perking up the moment Choso began to speak.

“Yuji, (Y/N) is here to tutor you. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” He hummed, blinking slowly for a moment before shaking his head. “Alright. See you then.” Pulling the device away from his ear he cut the call, placing it off to the side and glancing at you. “He said sorry, he’ll be here in about forty minutes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” You smiled, watching as he gave a simple nod back before his eyes turned to the television. Reaching for the remote, he pressed play, Texas Chainsaw Massacre starting up. You sunk into the cushion to get comfortable, deciding to distract yourself from the man you were pining for, literally cushions away from you. As pathetic as it sounded it was hard, eyes stealing glances to his form every so often; mapping his features.

From the way his eyebrows would raise at a particularly gruesome part, or his lip would quirk at something humorous. Of course you would notice such little things, it would be cute if you didn’t find yourself so creepy.

The man shifted in his seat, hips adjusting as his legs spread just a bit wider across the couch. Oh, if you had known any better he did that on purpose just to mess with you.

You finally tore your gaze away, leaning into the arm rest to pretend you just weren’t eye fucking him. Getting caught was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“The movie scaring you or somethin’?” Was what Choso suddenly said, causing you to jump. Your face turned, spotting the male already staring at you, amusement tainting his expression. You shook your head far too quickly. “No. It’s not scaring me.”

His eyebrows rose a bit, turning back to the movie as his arm stretched out upon the back of the couch. “Must be me you’re scared of then.”

A mixture of a surprised scoff and chuckle escaped you, turning a little to face him. “Scared of you?” The questioned rolled of your tongue in a flabbergasted manner, watching the man give a shrug. You smiled with a small shake of your head, “You’re far too nice to be scared of.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” A certain tone hugged his words, the playful atmosphere dissipating instantly. “Its why you can never look me in the eye when we speak.. why you undress me with your eyes when you think I don’t notice.” Your dirty secrets spilled from his lips as if reading from a book. Your eyes widened, watching as he so casually turned back to the movie.

“You.. knew?”

“Mhm.” Again, so nonchalant, so casual. Oblivious to the inner turmoil inside of you. You nervously thumbed the case of your phone, heart threatening to escape your chest as you softly croaked; “Ar.. are you gonna do something about it?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly, finally stealing his gaze away from the movie. He was crossing the cushions in minutes, fingers finding your cheeks to pull you into a kiss. Your lips devoured each other, heat resting between the two of you. Fingers trailed down, clasping around your throat as he deepened the kiss. “Slow down, princess; my lips aren’t going anywhere.” Choso murmured against your own, pushing you into the couch. His tongue pushed through your lips easily, curling around your own pink muscle to slowly suck and play with. The man’s free hand carried to your side, thumb pressing against your plump, covered skin; tracing it every so often.

Moments passed before you two pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips as breaths fanned across each other’s faces. Choso pushed forward, lifting you for a moment before resting you in his lap, leaning you against the arm rest. His hands carried across your form, fingers hooking onto the straps of your dress and tugging it down your body, allowing the top to rest at your waist. To his surprise — and enjoyment — you were braless, his eyes feasting away on the sight of your naked breasts; pretty brown mounds with freckles decorating the skin. Choso reached over, grasping both in his large hands, enjoying the way the warmth covered his palms.

One squeeze and you were breathing softly, eyes closing as he leaned into your neck, pressing kisses against your skin. His thumbs rolled across your areola and slowly hardening nipple, pressing them in and simply toying with them. The light pleasure had your hips moving in his lap, hands rising to curl your pretty pink acrylics into his hair, tugging the moment you felt him bite your collarbone.

The love bites didn’t stop there, leading them to the valley between your breast and then over to your right one, tongue tracing your skin; collecting your hard nipple into his mouth. His hips pressed close against your own, tongue circling the bud— continuing to rub the other. Pleasure traveled between your legs, lips parted as soft breaths escaped you. You gasped the moment he gently bit down, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Choso, please..” You called out to him, enjoying the treatment but needing more. You’ve waited far too long for this and were far too needy to go slow. Except, Choso didn’t give a damn about that. Despite the looming threat of his younger brother walking in at anytime, he intended to take his time with you. Torturing you for the torture you put him through daily.

Dressing in those pretty tops that cupped your breasts so nicely, those dresses that hugged your ass and rolls perfectly, let alone how you acted around him; so sweet and shy, yet your eyes would wander. No.. he was going to explore each part of you, no matter how long it took.

So the moment he shook his head you were whining; attempting to grind in his lap only to gasp the moment his palm struck the inside of your thigh. His hand smoothed to ease the pain, other hand moving back to your neck and gently holding it. “You’ll be good and wait.. I’m not rushing with you.”

The moment you pouted his thumb was rising to push against your lips, leaning just a bit closer. “Or I could just walk away now— leaving you all needy and desperate for me. Would you like that instead?” The man could nearly grin at how fast you shook your head, tracing your lips for a moment before moving the digit away to plant a soft kiss against them. “Thought so. Just sit and wait princess, you’ll get what you want.”

With that his hands were tugging your dress down fully, leaving you in black panties and nothing more. Taking in your form, his hands focused on removing his shirt and tossing it beside your clothes. Choso’s hands found your waist, backing away a bit to pull you to lay on the cushions, spreading your legs so one hung over the edge of the couch and one rested on top of it.

You hissed softly as his thumb pushed against your covered slit, rubbing little circles across your bud. Your nails scratched the couch a little, a damp spot collecting on your panties, his pace quickening for a moment before moving his hand to instead pull your panties to the side; revealing your wet sex to him. Choso licked his lips slowly, reaching over with his other hand to rub your uncovered bud with his thumb, watching your legs widen as the pleasure grew.

This continued until two fingers teased your entrance, coating them in your essence before slowly pushing in. The man hissed softly as your walls clenched around his thick digits, continuing to push until he was knuckle deep. Once inside he wasted no time in scissoring and stretching you out, slow deep thrusts carrying in and out of you.

The pleasure formed in the pit of your stomach, leaning your head back as moans escaped you. It was only his fingers yet they felt so good, deeper than your own. Pushing against your gummy walls, brushing against a spot that caused stars to dance in your eyes. He pressed harder on your clit, your back arching as a swear escaped you. “Choso.. oh fuck—“

“Oh, look at that..” Choso drawled softly, soft squelches entering the room with each push inside and out. “Dripping all over my fingers, making such a mess pretty girl.” He smiled at the whine that escaped you, leaning to kiss against the inside of your thigh, biting the warm skin gently just to feel you twitch.

Your hand lowered, clamping around his wrist, feeling his muscles with each thrust of his fingers. Your lips was caught between your teeth, hips moving as your arousal grew; a band forming in your stomach.

Noticing this, his pace quickened, leaning down to stamp kisses against your skin. “Go on princess, fuck your self on my fingers; make me a mess.” He cooed right into your ear, eating up each moan and gasp that escaped your bruised lips. Pushing and pushing your walls clenched around his digits, coming within seconds.

Praise escaped him, fingers fucking you through your high for a moment before slowing down— soon pulling them out of you. He rose his hand to his face, lapping up your juices all while his eyes trailed over your form. Just from his fingers you were panting heavily, eyes glossy and looking at him as if he painted the moon and stars themselves. That look plus your taste was driving him crazy, having half a brain to dive between your legs in search of more.

Instead his hands fell to his sweats, pushing the baggy fabric down along with his boxers; revealing his hard length. The man pushed close, your eyes gazing down, clenching at the fact he reached your belly button. You breathed when you felt his fingers collect your release, spreading it across his cock to lubricate just a bit.

Once satisfied he was grabbing the base, lining up with your entrance and slowly, pushing in. You whimpered softly, feeling the man lean closer, planting a kiss under your eye. “Relax for me (Y/N)..” Choso breathed softly, hand trailing to your knee to lift onto his shoulder, continuing to push in. You relaxed as best as you could, breathing slowly and glancing up at the man who smiled at you. “That’s it.. good girl. I’m almost there.”

You nodded slowly, eyes pinched closed as his hips continued to push forward, stilling the moment he was fully inside. You felt full, his cock pulsating inside you, waiting patiently for you to adjust. You remained still for a few minutes, smiling at the way Choso continued to kiss any spot he could reach. Soon enough you were fine, hips raising to signal the man above you.

He understood quickly, pulling his hips back so only the tip rested in inside; pushing back in slowly. Choso carefully watched as he delivered more experimental thrusts, searching for any discomfort or unhappiness. When neither presented itself all restraints were lost, thrusts increasing in speed and intensity.

Soon enough his weight was placed behind each, fucking you into the cushions all while mumbling praises right into your ear. From how pretty you split around him to how good you felt— each word melting your brain into mush.

Gasps and moans of his name escaped, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure intensified. You couldn’t think of anything but him, couldn’t feel anything but his cock driving in and out of you; stirring you up, ruining you.

Choso’s hand found your cheeks, tapping his fingers against your cheek as if to pull you back from ecstasy. The man hissed the moment your pretty glossy eyes focused onto his face, “Yeah, focus here sweetheart.. right here. You feel me, how deep am I?” A rhetorical question, he knew enough you were too fucked out to answer such a thing. Too lost to even realize he was far deeper then he should be. So instead of a coherent answer all Choso got was a high pitched cry of his name;

“Choso..! Mmh—!”

“I know my name sweetheart, I asked how deep I was.” The grin he gave was cocky, removing his hand from your face to instead snatch your own from his shoulder; pressing your palm on your stomach. With each ram inside your messy cunt you felt it against your hand, the man pressing even harder just to hear you scream. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in with each drag of his cock before you shook; creaming all over his length.

Choso breathed at the feeling, looking at where you were connected to spot your mess dripping down his dick, and onto the couch. He would worry about the ruined furniture later; you were top priority at the moment.

His eyes snapped back to your face the moment you began to pant, coming closer all while his hips continued to move. “So fucking pretty (Y/N).. think you can do that again?” Before you could reply Choso was grabbing your arm whilst pulling out of you, turning you on the couch. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you glanced behind you, spotting the man lining back up with your entrance.

“Choso—!” Your eyes rolled back the moment he thrusted back in, merciless as he fucked you. There was no holding back, rocking your body back and forth between him and the armrest with each thrust. Your nails dug into the furniture, pleasured screams escaping you. His hands were tight on your hips, leaving you with no way to escape.

Legs shaking, sweat settled onto your skin, tired walls clenching around his relentless cock; you were a complete mess. But given how good Choso was fucking you right now— you couldn’t care less.

“Look at that.. fuck—“ Choso gasped out, eyes glued to the way your body shook with each thrust, how your walls clenched around him. His fingers dug into your plump skin, sure to leave marks, reminders of your love making. The man leaned over your withering body, chest flush against your back as he pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear all while his arms wrapped tight around your waist. No more words were needed or rather could be spoke as he drilled into you, your combined breathing covering the room, chasing your releases.

You clenched the armrest so much it began to hurt, eyebrows furrowed closed, nearly drawing blood from how hard you were biting your lip. You were so close, so fucking close it began to hurt; the dam breaking the moment he reached down, circling to fingers against your clit. Your back arched, clamping hard as you came harshly, throat raw and voice abused.

Choso was close behind, pushing in deep and stuffing you full, painting your walls white. Your tired body slumped against the couch, legs shaking, attempting to catch your breath. You whimpered as Choso pulled out, feeling him lift and turn your body to rest against his front; smoothing his fingers across your thigh.

The room was silent, simply basking in his warmth and affection, hand trailing to your ass to gently massage. The gentleness was soon interrupted though when Choso’s phone rang, the man reaching over and picking it up.

Your heart sank seeing the contact name, sitting up to glance at the man with worried eyes. Choso’s hand rose to your cheek, accepting the call. “Hey Yuji, you okay?”

“I’ve been trying to call you to tell you I wanted to reschedule with (Y/N), Nobara and I are gonna stay at Megumi’s! Were you busy or something?”

Choso glanced at you for a moment before looking away with a lopsided smirk. “Or something.. Anyways, I’ll tell (Y/N)— try to be better with your schedule next time.”

Yuji gave a small understood before cutting the call, allowing you to smack Choso’s chest with an irritated expression. The man soothed the area, glancing down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What if he had walked in?!” You hissed softly, Choso smirking a little, hands resting on your hips.

“You didn’t seem too concerned about it when you were under me.”

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x female reader #choso kamo smut

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thegainingdesk · 10 days

Text

Borrowed

“Fuck!” I barked as hot coffee spilled down my front. This always seemed to happen when I wore a nice shirt, always when I had to meet clients, always on a fucking Tuesday. God I hated Tuesdays.

Fifteen minutes of frantic dabbing with wet paper towels later I sat slumped in my chair. Not only had I not managed to shift the coffee stain, but now I'd also made my shirt wet enough that my thick body hair was plainly visible through it.

“Maybe someone has a jumper?” Owen asked.

Sandra shook her head sadly. “We asked around,” she said. “The weather's been so lovely, not sure the last time anyone brought a jumper in. There's a couple in lost and found but…” She trailed off and lifted up two jumpers - one lurid pink with three kittens covered in glitter, the other a red Christmas jumper implying Santa was about to do unspeakable things to a reindeer.

“Not really the thing for a client meeting,” Owen said, making a small sucking noise through his teeth.

“Someone else is going to have to do it,” I said. “It's in ten minutes, there's no way my shirt will be dry in time.”

“I always keep a spare shirt or two in the stationery cupboard,” Graham said, appearing round the corner eating a donut. “It'll be a bit big for you though!” he added, slapping the firm ball gut that took up his torso.

I bit my lip. On one hand, I'd look absolutely ridiculous, my lanky frame swallowed up by a shirt intended for a man surely a hundred pounds or more heavier than me. On the other hand, I'd look more presentable than I currently did. And besides, it would be kind of hot to have real, tangible evidence of just how much bigger Graham was than me - okay, so forty-five year old obese dads aren't exactly everyone's fantasies, I can admit that, but for me, Graham was my dream man.

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

A minute later I was stood in our stationery cupboard holding up a piece of fabric I could use as a light blanket. The tag said 2XL and I thought about how Stewart filled his shirts - gut straining gently at the seams, the hem riding up by the end of most days to reveal a wedge of hairy fat. There were some trousers as well, neatly folded beneath the shirt. I held the pair up to my waist and boggled at how much wider they were. I imagined filling up clothes so big and felt myself grow hard.

I peeled off my own wet, stained, size small shirt and hung it on the door handle to dry a little. I slipped my arms in Graham's shirt and buttoned up the front. The shirt swallowed me. The hem hung down below my crotch, the shoulder seam lined up somewhere along my upper arm, so that the cuff hung down past my thumb, the whole thing billowed around me. I pinched the fabric and held it out in front of me - it seemed like there was a foot of space left in every direction.

My cock throbbed. I checked the door was locked, then checked the time. I had a few minutes, and Sandra was already on delaying duty. I bunched the shirt up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled my aching cock out. I stroked rapidly, keen to finish in a timely fashion. I tried to imagine myself filling the shirt. How much bigger would I be? Would I be shaped like Graham, with a firm gut, or would I be softer, flabbier, wider? My left hand raked over my trim stomach and my breath hitched as I moved it away, out to where I'd held the shirt just a moment ago. I bit my lip to stop myself yelling out as I shot cum across the floor of the cupboard, and as it dribbled over my fist.

Hit by post-wank clarity, I immediately felt like an idiot. How did I think I was going to clean this up? I frantically grabbed my wet shirt and did my best to wipe up the thick cum on my right hand and cock, struggling a bit to get it out of my pubes and stopping it getting on my trousers or Graham’s shirt. Then I knelt down and wiped up the mess on the floor.

A knock on the door. “Just coming now!” I choked.

“The clients are here,” came Graham's voice through the door. “That shirt alright?”

I looked down at myself. I looked fucking ridiculous, like a child wearing his dad's suit for a play. “Yeah Graham, cheers. It's perfect.”

I wadded up my coffee and cum covered shirt and threw it into a corner that I hoped no-one would look in over the day. I tucked the excess fabric into the waistband and rolled up the sleeves, hoping the overall effect was “loose and casual” rather than “four sizes too big”.

I panted softly as I squelched my way into the office. When I woke up, the weather was blissful - bright sunshine, a little warm maybe, but with a light breeze to make it bearable, the sky clear apart from a couple of distant picturesque fluffy clouds completing the picture. Of course, once I was halfway to work, the heavens abruptly opened, necessitating me to run from my tube stop through torrential rain to my office.

My body wasn't exactly built for running these days. That day with Graham's shirt had flicked a switch somewhere deep in my brain, and since then my appetite and waistline had expanded in rapid conjunction. Now my soaking shirt clung to a round, soft gut, plump tits and wide love handles, and my damp trousers made my wide, plush thighs and fat pad uncomfortable.

I was met with noises of sympathy from my much more weather-prepared co-workers as I dripped across the floor, but couldn't fail to notice the whispers and pointing as soon as I passed. My weight gain wasn't exactly fresh office gossip at this point, but I'm sure it being highlighted by clinging wet clothes didn't exactly help matters. I sighed as I sat at my desk, the cold clothes against my skin making me shiver.

A shadow fell over me and I saw Graham stood meekly above me. “I've got some spare clothes,” he said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “I'm not sure if you, you know, if they'll fit or anything, but you're welcome to them if you like.”

I saw his eyes flick to my swollen gut and my heart jumped as I realised that Graham - Graham! The office fat guy! - wasn't sure who was bigger out of the two of us. I shuffled my legs slightly to adjust my hardening cock, but knew that my overhang would largely keep my arousal hidden.

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks Graham, that would be great,” I thanked him. “I've actually borrowed your shirt before, you know,” I told him. “You wanting to keep it a secret all of a sudden?”

Graham grew more flustered. “It's not that,” he said. “I'm happy for people to borrow it whenever, you know. I figure it's best if there's a spare shirt around and at least if it fits the fattest- I mean, that is, if it fits me it… well.” He cleared his throat and looked around again. He lowered his voice further “I wasn't sure if you'd be happy to, you know, have people know you were borrowing my clothes. You know since…” He gestured feebly towards me and I felt my heart pump harder.

“That's fine Graham,” I said. “Thank you again.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone,” he said, not moving yet. “I get it, you know, the uh,” he shifted his feet nervously, “weight thing. I was probably about your age when I started to put on a bit, back when Vanessa had the twins and well… anyway. I just wanted to say that I know how it feels, and if you ever wanted to talk to someone who understands…”

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “For the shirt and the offer.” I stood up so that we were almost belly to belly. “I best go get changed.” Graham grinned and gave a small wave as he walked away.

I looked at the shirt on the hanger in front of me. Was I really the same size as Graham now? I'd certainly fantasized about the idea often enough, and the shirt in front of me looked… well, it looked normal. I thought back to that day a couple of years before when I was shocked at the size of Graham's clothes; now they looked the exact same as all the others I had hanging in my wardrobe at home.

I pulled off my damp clothes and put on the shirt. It fit perfectly - the collar wasn't too tight, the shoulder seams hit the right place, it tucked perfectly into my waistline. A little snug, perhaps, around my gut, but then most clothes did these days. The buttons were definitely straining more than they did around Graham's belly, weren't they? He'd have surely bought the next size up by now if this was how his shirts fit everyday.

I sucked in as I bent down to pick up the trousers, keen not to stress the buttons anymore and stood back up with a loud grunt. Advanced acrobatics like “bending over” and “standing back up” were getting a little strenuous these days. I looked in the waistband and froze. It was a 42 inch waist. I'd gotten rid of my last pair of 42s months ago, and in the meantime my 44s were starting to pinch painfully when I was particularly bloated. I looked back at my soaked trousers and imagined drying in them. These would have to do - maybe just for the morning until my clothes dried.

I had to suck in as I struggled to button the trousers, and immediately felt the familiar vice grip of too small clothes as I let my gut hang out fully. The fabric confined my legs and hips, making my torso explode out of the top like bread dough, and I could imagine the angry red marks I'd see once I took them off. The legs felt like skinny-fit jeans, all the way down to my calves. Surely Graham couldn't wear these? I didn't think I'd be able to sit down all day.

“Those forty-twos aren't too big, are they?” Graham asked when I gingerly came out the stationery cupboard, feeling like an overstuffed sausage casing come to life. “I only really use them if I'm feeling a bit bloated,” he explained.

I shook my head and gave a strained smile. “They'll stay up with a belt,” I said. I saw Graham's eyes flick down to the full-to-bursting fabric with no belt in sight.

He gave a thin smile. “Well then,” he said. “Glad I could help. You know where they are if you ever need them again.”

I was back in my own trousers by lunch, after promising Graham to buy him a new pair since I'd ripped the seat on his.

I licked the sugar and jam off my fingers as I walked up to Graham.

“Hey man,” I said, before stifling a belch. “I don't suppose I could borrow that spare shirt you keep?” I gestured down at my shirt, where jam from my donuts sat next to grease from that morning's sausage roll on the shelf of my gut. “Breakfast got a bit messy this morning.”

Graham’s eyes widened a touch and I could see him perform a series of mental calculations. “I've lost a little weight since the last time you borrowed a shirt,” he said after a moment. “I'm down to just plain old extra large these days.”

“It looked like the same shirt when I got some staples the other day,” I told him. “Maybe you just forgot to swap it out.”

He smiled weakly. “Ah, yeah, that's right,” he conceded. “Must not have brought in one of my new ones yet.” His eyes flicked down to the farthest extent of my gut, where its swell strained the buttons of my 4XL. “So you umm, I mean that is, if you think, but well.” He desperately reached for a polite way to tell me I was too fat for even the clothes that were too big for him. He lowered his voice. “Weren't you saying a while ago you shop at one of those plus-size shops these days? I never really went to those, even when I was, well, before I lost some weight.”

I grinned and shrugged. “Worth giving it a go, right buddy?” I slapped the top of my belly. “Us big guys are used to squeezing into places.”

He grimaced at the suggestion our sizes were comparable and gestured towards the cupboard where he kept his spare shirts. “Help yourself,” he mumbled.

I unbuttoned my own shirt and dropped it in a heap on the floor. I picked up Graham's from its hanger and held it out in front of me - did I really used to fit in clothes this small? I grunted as I bent down to pick up the trousers and held that out in front of my waist too - god they were narrow. My own hips were a good half foot wider, even while holding them like this. I'd have liked to have tried them on too, but they were a non-starter, I knew. A shame that I couldn't go all the way with my little game, but oh well.

I put the shirt on, even the shoulders a little too narrow to slip my arms into comfortably, and slowly started buttoning, my fat fingers slow and clumsy. The neck was a complete no go, fat oozing over the collar when I attempted. The buttons over my tits were snug, but broadly doable. The top of my gut - starting to become a real problem. At the very diameter of my soft ball gut the two sides were inches apart. Determined to make a show of myself in front of the office before I left in a few weeks, I sucked in as far as I could and tugged on the shirt hard. After a few moments of struggling, huffing and puffing all the buttons were precariously lodged into their respective holes.

I let my gut out slowly, so as not to tear any seams or send the buttons scattering. Even at the largest I dare let my gut hang out, I was still sucking in a little.

Every inch of fabric was filled with me, inflated to its limit. I could almost hear the cloth creaking. The buttons had huge ovals of hairy, dimpled skin showing between them. The bottom of the shirt hung around my heavy love handles like bread loaves and several inches of my gut hung clearly out the bottom. The waistband of my trousers were hidden beneath cascading fat, and my soft arse hung out at the top.

I grinned as I walked out the cupboard. “Cheers for the shirt Graham,” I called across the office. Disgusted and embarrassed faces turned towards me as they took in the sight of my morbidly obese body forced and squeezed into clothes meant for the merely clinically obese. I began walking towards Graham as I spoke, giving everyone a good view. “I don't think it's really going to work,” I said as I gestured towards my body. “I swear we used to be the same size?” I shrugged. “Ah well, I can cope with a couple of stains for today.”

Graham blushed bright red as I approached him, the only person forced to engage with the spectacle unfolding in front of everyone. “Oh well,” he said, staring resolutely at his computer screen.

A flash of a thought began to nucleate into an idea. Did I dare? I think I did. I made a show of wrinkling my nose a little and then- “ACHOO” - a not quite believable fake sneeze as I let my gut expand to its fullest extent. Two buttons pinged off the and I heard a small rip to my side.

“Oh god!” I feigned humiliation. “I'm so sorry Graham, your shirt! I'll buy you a new one!”

Graham paled. “That's fine,” he insisted. “Didn't fit anymore anyway, destined for the charity shop.”

“No, no,” I replied. I stroked my hand around my gut, feeling the contrast between strained fabric and exposed skin at the fresh tear in the shirt's side. “It's my fault and this spare shirt’s helped me out no end of times.” I pretended to ponder for a moment. “I swear it used to fit…”

My cock was rock hard beneath my gut as I returned to the stationery cupboard to put my own shirt on.

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #borrowed #short and sweet #im quite proud to say that this ones semi autobiographical #with some name changes and weights added to #my line manager keeps a spare shirt and quiye happily quite loudly offers it out if needed #he offered it to me but took me to one side quietly explained he thought it might fit me #it actually didnt #i always thought he was so fat - not so much now

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littlebigmouse · 10 months

Text

List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #fmab meta #of course there are more #'it's not like they have a tank or something- fuck'

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evansbby · 2 years

Note

bestie pls feed us spanking blurb, the immediate urge and need to be over daddy mafia ari’s lap whilst he just ignores ur pleas and cries and pulls down ur panties and spanks u 🥺😌

I’m literally at an airport so this’ll have to be brief but here goes… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Pairing: mafia!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

Warnings: dark!Ari, dd/lg, smut, spanking, daddy kink, voyeurism, dry-humping

Summary: Your daddy punishes you after you accidentally say a bad word.

“Daddy, please!” You cry, desperately wiggling around in Ari’s strong arms. He’s got a death grip on you, however, and he’s barely using even a quarter of his strength. “Please, didn’t mean to say it! Please!”

You hate punishments — especially spankings because they hurt and make you cry like a baby — even when you try your hardest to be brave. Even right now, you look at Ari with the biggest puppy-dog expression, eyes welling with tears.

“Honey, you know daddy has to punish you. Else you’ll never learn.” Ari’s got his stern voice on, which lets you know that there’ll be no worming out of this one. He easily manoeuvres your flailing body across his lap, pinching the flesh of your ass in warning, “and stop moving or else I’ll use my belt.”

You still immediately. He’s never used his belt on you but you don’t want today to be the day he does.

Sniffling, you look over your shoulder at him dejectedly, “Said I was sorry, daddy. It’s just— the oven was so hot and I forgot I’m not allowed to use big girl words— it just came out, I swear.”

Ari sighs, methodically flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties down, and he can’t help but squeeze the bare flesh of your ass. “Well, that’s another strike, because you shouldn’t be using the oven without supervision anyways.”

You pout, “b-but I’m your wife— how else am I supposed to cook for you? Ow!”

Ari gives your ass a firm slap, admiring how it jiggles, “Don’t get sassy with me, honey. You’re my wife but you’re also my baby. And what have I told you about babies?”

You hang your head dejectedly and recite: “babies like me aren’t allowed to do big girl things without daddy’s permission.”

“Good girl.” Ari strokes your hair back, petting your head like you’re his puppy, and you can’t help but lean up into his touch. “Now, baby. I want you to count every spank, and thank daddy after each one. Got it?”

Your lower lip quivers but you try to be brave, “Y-Yes, daddy.”

SMACK.

“O-One. Thank you, daddy.”

You grimace, biting your lip to keep from crying out loud. And Ari’s really enjoying himself, squeezing and groping at your sizzling flesh after every few spanks, as if he can’t help himself. He even presses his lips down on the sensitive flesh of your ass cheek, kissing you softly before landing another harsh smack.

“Look at your little baby ass, practically begging for a good old-fashioned spanking.” Ari murmurs, jiggling your cheek lewdly and making you wince because it hurts so much. “Baby wives like you need their daddies to keep them in check like this every once in a while, don’t you agree, honey?”

SMACK.

“T-Ten, thank you, daddy! I agree!” You cry, silently begging for mercy yet at the same time wiggling downwards, unable to keep still because the rough denim of his jeans feels so good against your throbbing pussy.

“Now look at you, wet from a spanking and humping your baby pussy on daddy’s leg like a little bunny in heat.” Another spank, and another one, and now you’ve lost count. “And in front of all your little stuffed animals too? You must feel so ashamed.”

You tearfully glance at all your stuffies, longing to have your stuffed rabbit, Floppy, in your arms to comfort you. Instead, you receive another series of hard slaps, the lewd sound of the smacks echoing around the room.

“Apologise to them too.” Ari orders you, voice dripping with authority and sick lust. “C’mon, honey. Apologise to your little stuffies for being such a naughty baby with a potty mouth.” He slaps your upper thigh and you hiss in pain, “Tell your little friends what a bad girl you are.”

“I’m a bad girl!” You cry desperately, unable to lock eyes with the toys, feeling silly and ashamed and humiliated all at once. “I’m sorry, stuffies and I’m sorry, daddy! Won’t ever swear again, please!”

A final slap and then Ari’s pulling you upright, gathering you in his arms while you sob into his chest. “There, there, baby.” He coos, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair back, “Daddy had to do it. How else will little babies like you ever learn the rules?”

More kisses, more fondling, and he even licks up the stray tears falling down your cheeks.

“I know you’re just a baby and it’s confusing for you to remember all our rules— but that’s why you need daddy. I don’t want to hear another swear word come out of your mouth, you got that, honey? And no going near the oven, either. It’s dangerous for babies.”

You sniffle and nod, feeling especially small — as if you truly are his baby — as Ari cuddles you. Readily, you accept his thumb when he pushes it against your lips, sucking on it noisily to calm yourself down from the whole ordeal you’ve just gone through. Your ass feels like it’s on fire but you know that your daddy knows best.

“That’s my good little baby,” Ari coos, pinching your cheek and holding you close. And it’s crazy how he’s made you so addicted to his babying, to the point where you physically need him to act like this with you — especially after harsh punishments like this.

“Curtis.” Your eyes widen at Ari’s suddenly gruff tone, and your blood runs cold when you see your husband’s right hand man step out of the shadows in the corner of the room.

Had he been there this whole time?

“Cancel my meetings for today. My wife is being particularly needy.” He gestures down at you lying mortified in his lap, trying to push your skirt back down as you desperately continue to suck on your daddy’s thumb.

“Got it, boss.” The buzzcut-haired man nods and leaves, and Ari turns his attention back to you.

“Next time you break one of daddy’s rules, I’ll spank you in front of all my men, you got that?” He shoved his thumb further into your mouth, choking you slightly as your eyes begin to water, but he’s got the same loving look on his face.

“My little baby… soon enough I’ll have you trained to know all of my rules, even if it’s too much for your little baby brain to handle.”

THE END

AHHHH PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! I wrote majority of this at the airport then finished it just now!!

#chris evans x reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #Chris evans #Steve rogers #Ari levinson smut #chris evans fanfiction #Ari drabble #mafia ex husband ari au #dark ari levinson

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sturnlova · 2 months

Text

Traumatised Brothers ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning :Smut, M receiving, time skip, i really never know what to put here, new to writing, not proof read all the way)

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900 )

Y/N POV:

As i stood in the boys kitchen warming up donuts for us to all eat Matt screams out “YOU LIKE HER” Chris slapped his chest really hard as he turned red, Nick just yelled at matt to shut the fuck up.

I turned around with the donuts and asked “ the fuck are yall talking about” “NOTHING nothing Matt is just being an idiot.” Suspicious i thought to myself but ignored it as we continued watching the movie Scream.

As i bite into the donut the donut feel apart leaving icing on my bottom lip and some crumbs on my boobs. When i noticed i had made a mess i wiped it off hoping no one saw but Chris saw and he also had focus on my boobs but i didn’t really mind because it’s Chris. Like the Chris i’ve liked for ages.

Chris cleared his throat and stood up “sorry i’ll be back i don’t feel to well..” Matt and nick asked if he was okay and i just stood up and rubbed his shoulder asking if he needed anything.

Chris responded back with “ i’m fine don’t worry” and quickly hurried off to his room.

Time Skip

By now Chris had been gone for 10 minutes and i had to check up on him but i didn’t need Matt and Nick being there to because i know Chris gets embarrassed when he is seen as “weak” even though getting sick is nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus they would tease me about liking him since they knew i liked him for a bit too long.

“ I’ll be back i need to go to the bathroom, don’t worry about pausing the movie” “ Ok we weren’t playing on it anyway” Nick said giggling.

I walked my way to Chris’ room and was about to open the door until i heard whimpers coming from the other side, and my name..?

I opened the door to be seen with Chris lying down with his hand in his pants moving up and down, along with his eyes closed and mouth open. He hadn’t noticed me until i crawled onto the bed positioning myself between his legs.

“Y/N what the fuck i’m sorry, i didn’t even realise you were here and i- fuck you must think i’m so disgust-“ I cut Chris off by kissing him passionately and palming his dick and pushing his hand away.

“ Chris do you want me to help you?” “ please Y/N please i need your help”

I pulled down his pants in a slow fashion all the way down to his ankles.

I spit on his tip and started using my hands to move the spit up and down well i rubbed my thumb on the slit of his tip. I put my lips on his digits and started bobbing my head up and down well his hand was in my hair with a strong grip making a ponytail, all the force he used made me moan in a “ hurts but feels so good” way.

As he started twitching in my mouth i knew he was close so i started going faster “ FUCKK Y/N DONT STOP IM SO CLOSE” he continued screaming my name. I didn’t stop but i did start using my hands instead of my mouth for i could speak to him “ Chris your brothers gonna hear, do you even care that they hear you scream and beg for me to jerk you off? “ Chris just moaned and spoke under his breath with a string of curses as he got milked out.

He had some of his cum on his happy trail and on my hand. I licked the mess off his stomach and then lifted my top to expose my breasts and took his cum off my hands and rubbed it all over my boobs as a substitute for lotion.

When it was all over my boobs and off my hands, i pulled my top back on and put chris’ pants back on. “ Y/N that was the best handjob i’ve ever experienced thank you like truly thank you, do you want me to finger you?” usually i wouldn’t deny this offer but today it was just about him “ Chris it’s ok baby i just wanted you to feel good.”

“ Chris do you like, like me because i know i like you, i think i love you.” “ i like you to Y/N i think i love you too.” We talked about how we would take this forward and whats gonna happen since we will be going on a date tomorrow at the park, Chris knew i loved the park.

As i got Chris decent and walked out his room we were shown with an empty house and a note left on the kitchen counter like it was the olden days reading “ message us to come back when Chris is done moaning your name, if you couldn’t tell this is from his 2 traumatised brothers Matt and Nick.”

Chirs just looked at me and pointed at the note with a facial expression that looked like this “😐” i responded back with a giggle.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #romantic

168 notes · View notes

ssinboo · 6 months

Text

Couture Kisses

summary: You've been in love with your best friend, Kim Seungmin since forever!

in reply to this lovely ask!

pairing: Fashion student!Kim Seungmin x Fashion student!F!Reader

word count: 4k (25~ minute read)

warnings: weight insecurities and mentions of body image issues that aren't resolved, author has very limited knowledge of fashion, making out, oral (f rec.), unprotected sex

a/n: This ask has been marinating in my inbox since june ... OTL I apologise it takes me absolutely forever to write TT I couldn't bring myself to write him as exactly asked, so this is very vanilla!

An entire collection by the end of winter.

That’s your final project for fashion school.

Needless to say, you were panicking, hard.

Not that you didn’t have plenty of sketches to pick and choose from, but it being your final assignment it had to be special. Twelve pieces, all able to stand on their own and at least one that you would model on your own and steal the show.

Even though you tried to shimmy your way from the spotlight and just stand backstage, your professor was very insistent on you modelling at least one of your pieces.

You absolutely dreaded the stage and the attention.

Shy by nature, is how you were described by those close to you. And growing up larger than everyone around you took a toll on your self-esteem.

Your sister was more than up for the modelling, she loved you and of course, loved all your work. Always your number 2 supporter.

Who was number 1? Oh, well, none other than Mr. Kim Seungmin.

Unfairly handsome, Seungmin stood at a gorgeous 178cm with jet black hair and flowy bangs dyed a platinum blond. He had the most gorgeous almond eyes, which would adorably cross anytime he was a bit too tired. His nose was button shaped and a deep bridge that only accentuated his gorgeous eyes and the faintest little bump along its length. And his lips, gosh, his lips, you could go on and on about his perfectly shaped cupid’s bow or his exquisitely plump lower lip. (which only made his lip ring phase harder on your mental sanity).

Not that you had a crush on your best friend or anything, of course not!

On other news, Seungmin was a lot less worried about this final assignment, given that you actually agree to his maniacal request: model for his collection. All because you had asked him to model yours.

There were models available, of course, but you could also bring your own and being able to take multiple measures, and do as many fittings as you wished helped ease your anxiety.

“Come on, don’t be such a meanie!” You whine as he once again insists on this deranged idea.

“It’s only fair, we model for each other. Also, I introduced you to my friends so you could use them as your guinea pigs, you owe me one.”

“That’s… different,” You shrug. You were grateful for his friends’ willingness to help and the sheer quantity of them was a perk. But you would not get up on that runaway, no way!

“No, it’s not.”

“You know it is! You’re gorgeous… And I–”

“You what?” He interrupts with a thorny rasp.

You jump at his sudden jab, suddenly self-conscious about your self-consciousness.

“You know… I’m gonna make your clothes look ugly.”

Seungmin runs his tongue along his metal-clad teeth and slaps his hand over the cafeteria table.

“You’re gonna walk for me or I won’t do it for you. Don’t think of contacting me until you’re ready to give me the ultimatum.”

Harsh, yes. But he cared about you, more than he cared about anyone or anything, ever. You were the most gorgeous, caring, funny, intelligent, charismatic and talented person and his eyes. And everytime you put yourself down, it took every inch of restraint in his body to not grab your shoulders and yell just how much he loved you.

Although, he regretted his words as soon as they left his lips. As soon as the anger subsided, he was ready to call you and take it all back. But you came running to your shared apartment, ready to apologise and agree.

He was your bestest friend in the whole universe, you would do anything for Kim Seungmin. And it was about time you started doing it.

And all was forgotten by the time sketchbooks were splattered across the dining table and you exchanged ideas back and forth over chinese takeout.

You were crazy about holidays and especially valentine’s day. It was only fair for your final assignment to reflect that. You had plenty of lovely sketches that were fitting for your early february deadline. But you racked your brain over the clothes that would fit Seungmin.

Just what could possibly do his indescribable beauty justice? Any of your designs felt unbecoming of him.

It’s when you’re splayed out on your sofa during your weekly movie night, watching Pride & Prejudice for the thousandth time over, that you get an idea.

An idea so great you’re jumping and throwing the blanket over your half-asleep best friend.

Seungmin, the poor fella, thinks something might’ve happened. So he waddles into your bedroom, blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

You’re scrambling around for paper and pencils.

“What’s up?” He asks, voice drenched in sleep. Had you not been entranced by your sudden burst of imagination, you certainly would’ve melted at just how adorable he looked.

“I’ve got your outfit,” is all the context you give him.

“What?” He leans against the doorframe, fighting against his sleepy eyelids.

“Mr. Darcy! How could I have not thought of it before! It was right underneath my nose!” You’re gesturing and your thoughts run all over the place, but you’ve got the brightest smile across your lips.

And he stands there, watching you try and bring your vision to life, mumbles and grumbles coming out every now and then. Though his love-stricken smile is invisible to you.

Fabric shopping was always fun, especially when your best-friend tagged along. Seungmin had been keeping his inspiration a secret so far, despite your attempts, he was good at being quiet when he wished so.

You looked at different textures and colours all day, leaving behind a good chunk of your savings at the chain store. But all for a good cause.

There was plenty of cheaper fabric for mockups at home, so that’s where you started out. Since you didn’t want to bother Seungmin, his fit should be the last one – also, part of you was terrified of his look and how intricate it would be.

You were still in the warm-toned shades of autumn by the time you had your collection ready for next february.

All you needed were his measurements to get started on your Mr Darcy modern valentine’s day sort of look. It sounded strange to say out-loud, but the sketches looked great.

Seungmin comes out of his room in a tight tank-top and loose boxer shorts and you gulp, tightening your fingers around your measuring tape, this would be the longest day of your life.

Here he stands, in the middle of your room, surrounded by the fabrics you insisted he picked, with his arms stretched out and his chest available to you.

Starting off easy, you run the tape from his shoulder to his wrists, fingernails lightly grazing his bare skin. His eyes don’t leave yours for a single second, especially when you’re standing so absurdly close.

And when you have to basically almost wrap your arms around his chest to reach behind for the tape, he feels the odd urge to hug you and not let go.

You hugged often, of course, you did. You were best friends.

However, standing in your strawberry lotion scented bedroom in summer pjs, feeling weirdly warm for the current temperature outside, Seungmin feels his skin burn every time your fingers meet his body.

Seungmin is so beautifully proportionate, you think. Studying his slender arms and long legs, his torso, just perfectly built. In every way, he was destined to be the main character of a timeless romance.

This is way past your normal antics of going all obsessed with the bodies that would fit your designs. Thinking about making the outfit Seungmin would wear for all to see.

It’s like he would carry a piece of you.

You’re chewing at your lower lip, revising all numbers and doing the maths in your head to gauge out how much of each fabric you’ve got left and how much you’ll need.

“You got it?” He asks, startling you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great. Your turn now,” He smiles, stretching out his hand for your sparkly, strawberry-scented pen and notepad.

So came the dreaded day he would take your measurements.

You haven’t done your own sizing in over a year now, an irrational fear of the tape finds you each time you think about it.

And part of you is totally ready to call the whole thing off and just beg Seungmin to please find someone else.

But he gives you no window of space to talk, pushing you to stand in the middle of the room and pulling your arms in the right position.

And you feel extremely exposed.

You’re so entangled in your spiral of self-hatred, you completely miss the sweat that threatens to pool at his forehead, or how often he’s gulped in the past five minutes.

Though he constantly craved close proximity to you, this time might be enough to kill him.

Your chest has always been the bane of his existence. Squishy, soft skin always pressing up against body whenever you hugged him happily, practically pouring out of any piece of clothing with a tighter fit. Rubbing around his arm when you’re walking hand-in-hand at the shopping centre.

And he feels horrid for being such a pervert, he does.

You’re his loving, kind, best-friend and he’s always ogling your body with his dirty male mind.

God, your waist. Abundant flesh folded over in adorable rolls, so perfectly shaped for his hands and his hands only. He imagined himself grabbing handfuls of your ass, running his hands all over your hips and waist.

Your thighs, so full and creamy; in particular when you wear the one summer dress your sister gave you on your last birthday. That dress drives him absolutely crazy. Floral linen with a wrap-around layered cut that leaves his mind running around thoughts of undoing those flimsy ties and finding that gorgeous body you’re so intent on hiding.

“Minnie?” You ask, a bucket of hot water over his flames.

Your voice is so soft, dripping in affection as always.

“Have you got it?”

He gulps, immediately shying away from your body lest he be corrupted by any evil thoughts.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Are you alright?”

Seungmin nods.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” You scratch at your nape, eyes avoiding his.

“Wha- What?”

“My measurements,” You shrug.

“No– No. Absolutely not, you’re fine, you’re perfect. It’s just– I’ve been rethinking my collection lately– Nothing to do with you,” He loses track of his words, rambling on and on while your love-stricken heart hangs hopelessly onto the word ‘perfect’.

“Well,” You fidget with the hem of your pyjama shirt, eyes slowly prodding at his reaction, “Anything I can help with?”

Seungmin finally smiles and your heart blooms in warmth, “Not yet, but there will be.”

And so on, your days are consumed with the mindless routine of class and working on your project.

Work went great with Seungmin’s friends, they were all so friendly and outgoing, you felt right at home. And everything looked perfect. Just missing one final look.

Though Seungmin was more than willing to do as many fittings as you’d like, you both scheduled a double try-on day. Which would also be the first time you’d see his design.��

You keep fidgeting with your fingers, anxiety gnawing at your brain with every passing second. He’d locked himself in his room for ‘last-minute corrections’ and you were almost going crazy.

An hour later, Seungmin finally emerges from his room, a plastic cover draped over his design, keeping you from peeking.

“So?!” You inquire, he keeps avoiding your eyes, for some reason.

“I’m ready,” He nods and so do you.

“Rock, paper, scissors, loser goes first?” You ask.

“Please,” he nods fervently and you smile nervously.

So you stand before him.

He calls it out. Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot.

You put out Scissors.

And he put out Rock.

You go first.

Shit.

Seungmin seems all too relieved, still psyching himself up to show his design.

You pull your creation from the plastic covering and hand it to him. A creamy white button-up with flowy sleeves, a velvet crimson coat with embroidered details following its length and black leather trousers in a high-waisted cut.

“Good luck, I guess,” You joke and he laughs.

“No need for it. It’s gonna be the best,"he says.

Though when he finds himself changing into the set in the privacy of his bedroom, Seungmin is astonished, admiring every single detail you’ve poured into it. His fingers caress the handmade lacy collar, feeling the hours spent in every thread and stitch.

And it fits his body perfectly; white linen drapes across his chest, hugging his pecs but flowing down freely down his torso.

“You ready?” He calls out and you gnaw at your fingers in anxiety.

“Yeah.”

Seungmin pads through the hallway, eyes scanning the living room until they meet yours. You smile, eyes glistening in adoration, taking in this moment as if it would end too soon.

“Wow.”

He smiles, “I know, it’s amazing… You’re amazing.”

“No– It’s– You look so… Handsome,” It wasn’t uncommon for you to compliment each other, but this once felt too intimate.

Seungmin blushes, scratching at his neck.

“So… My turn, I guess?”

“Oh, yeah,” Oh, how you dreaded this moment, not that you doubted his abilities but with your luck, you’d ruin his hard work with your subpar looks.

Seungmin hands you an opaque plastic cover, he notices your hesitation, but gives up on saying anything lest you actually give up.

He plops onto the sofa as you leave for your room, chewing on his own lips. He hoped this dress could convey everything he felt for you, even if a little bit.

It takes you excruciating 5 minutes to finally come back into the living room.

Seungmin stands up, letting the cushion he’d held fall to the ground and match his jaw.

His work, – an asymmetrical white dress with a poofy skirt and a translucent layer of tulle decorated with snowflake shaped beads over its length – hugs your body perfectly.

You look absolutely ethereal standing before him with a shy smile, wearing the clothes he made with his own hands, every stitch done with thoughts of you.

“You’re breathtaking,”

You laugh quietly, “The dress is doing most of the work. It’s beautiful, Minnie, I don’t have any words–”

“No– You’re… Gorgeous.”

He’s serious, dead serious.

And you’re stuck in a staring contest, standing five feet apart in your living room, time comes to a standstill.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wouldn't– Not to you.”

You study his expression, searching for any, absolutely any sign of jest, but he’s serious. He truly thinks you’re… pretty?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Yes,” Seungmin takes a step forward, “The prettiest.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever…”

You want to believe his words, Gosh, you do. But it’s hard, it’s hard to believe anyone would look at you and think anything even remotely positive.

“Minnie– Seungmin, please,” You breathe out, “Please, tell me you’re not joking about this– I won’t forgive you.”

“Every day and night I think of you and I can’t take my mind off how you manage to steal my breath away every damn time.”

Your heart skips a beat or ten; he steps forward and you wish to close the space between you for once but your body doesn’t move.

You can’t take this, not if he isn’t serious, no. You would never recover from something like this.

“Say something, please,” He pleads.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Seungmin freezes.

And you curse at yourself, there, you’ve done it now. You’ve gone ahead and ruined everything.

But he lets out a sigh of relief and his hands find your jaw, pulling you toward his body at once.

Your fingers run up the soft fabric, gripping at the freshly overlocked edges, his pale skin teasingly on display through a tiny heart-shaped window which would later be adorned with blood-red rhinestones, though some had already been placed.

And your breath gets caught on your throat, threatened with the lull of proximity and his minty breath fanning on your lips. Nails digging into the velvet fabric of the overcoat, your eyes are stuck to his enticing chest.

He smells of baby powder, chalk, and of the blueberry-scented shampoo you bought on sale last month. And you let his perfume lure your stupid heart into an erratic rhythm. Let the heat of his body find your own, setting your cheeks on fire.

When your lips meet his, it’s as if a current runs through your bloodstream, awakening every cell and fibre in your body to the taste of the man you love.

“I’ve waited for this for forever, it seems–” He whispers against your kiss-reddened lips.

His fingers are tangled in your hair and his lips crash against yours once again. He’s forceful, desperate. All-consuming and ravenous.

You can only melt into his touch and seep into his body, hoping to become one and never be apart ever again. Oh no, you couldn’t stand another day away from his gorgeous lips now you’ve had a taste.

You wrap your arms around his neck and let him guide you, taking the smallest of steps back until your legs meet the sofa and you both fall down with a loud ‘poof’.

His hands cup your cheeks, tongue ravishing your mouth with relentless want, he drinks every moan and sigh before it even makes it past your lips. You’ve barely made out for five minutes and you can feel the volume of his hard-on poking at your hip bone.

Oh, it’s an incomparable rush of dopamine to affect someone so much.

Seungmin kisses at your lips, cheeks and jaw, nipping and sucking at your skin until he leaves behind his mark; his claim on you. His teeth graze along your skin, erupting goosebumps over its path.

“Don’t– Don’t want to ruin your dress–” You sigh, willing yourself to push him away.

He smiles against your collarbones.

“Wanna take it off, then?”

An indescribable heat flushes your body.

“Seungmin!!!” You yell.

“What? Take it off…” His hand reaches for the hem of the dress, toying with the soft tulle.

“No-!”

“Let me see your body, hm?” He hums, puppy-eyed and all.

“It’s–” You look away. You could barely fathom the idea of standing naked before anyone let alone the guy you’ve loved for ages.

Seungmin licks his lips, “Look, I’ve– I’ve been dreaming of this– You, under me…” His fingers ghost against your bare thigh. “I– I… You have no idea what you do to me, now, do you?”

You shake your head.

He reaches for your hand and then places it above the leather-clad bulge that rages in his trousers. As soon as your hand barely grazes the fabric, Seungmin gulps.

You’re overtaken with a desire to pleasure him.

You’re rid of the dress, – even with your pleas to treasure it, Seungmin throws it aside, eager to feel you bare.

You attempt to cover your modesty, but he solves that issue by pinning your hands atop your head. As he truly sees your body for the first time, you watch his eyes glisten in true adoration, a dark hint of lust behind them. Your skin burns hot under his attention.

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know…” He jokes, but there’s a hint of truth, his heart pounds against his ribcage.

He peppers kisses along your chest, tongue licking at your skin, watching you squirm and sigh at his every touch, how your nipples stand hardened and kiss-bitten. Trailing down your stomach, he makes sure to nip at the abundant flesh, to marvel at how plump and absolutely perfect you are.

Oh, and he mumbles at every move just how ethereal you are.

His lips graze your inner thighs, licking at your skin but not where you need him the most. Every time he breathes against your aching pussy, you practically jump.

Though he planned to tease you endlessly, Seungmin can barely hold back his wish to do nothing but lose himself between your gorgeous thighs.

He licks a long, torturous strip along your core.

You squeal.

But despite your squealing and squirming, Seungmin’s got a strong grip on your hips and he is making sure your pussy is all his for the tasting. And he finds it, he might be the one most affected, after all.

You taste absolutely divine, liquid euphoria flowing through his lips and eager tongue. He eats you out like the world is ending; as if this is all a dream and he will wake up alone and hot in his bedroom.

And you moan his name with each syllable sounding more tempting than the last.

Only once you come on his tongue, does he rest; but not for long, no.

If it were up to him, he would get a couple orgasms out of you, lay in between your legs for hours.

Seungmin leans back on his knees, admiring just how absolutely fucked-out you look with messy hair and heaving chest. And you look up at him with glossy, swollen lips and teary eyes. He can’t resist you, after all.

He kisses you again and again, fingers fidgeting with his trousers; Goddammit, why didn’t you put a zipper in this finger? Historical accuracy be damned when you want to fuck someone!

After his trousers are off, you urge him to lose the shirt as well and he complies. Seungmin is gorgeous; milky, unblemished skin with a slender build.

“Look at you, so perfect– So eager– Just for me–” He breathes out, tip teasingly rubbing along your dripping core.

You mewl, hands reaching out for him.

“Come on, baby, tell me– Tell me what you want.”

“I– I want you… I want you to fuck me.”

He curses a thousand bad words under his breath.

When he finally slips it in, his fingers dig into your love handles, leaving behind tiny crescent moon shaped marks. You arch into him and he holds you firmly, arms wrapped around your body.

He manoeuvres your legs over his thighs for a better angle and you feel him reach the deepest parts of your body. And you sigh, letting yourself feel full, stretched beyond bliss.

It’s only when he notices with a devilish smirk how you’ve started to grind against his hips that he starts to move.

You are bathed in pleasure and lust.

His hands run up and down your leg, worshipping your thighs and your stomach that jiggles with every powerful thrust of his hips. Oh, and your tits, how hypnotic is it that they bounce up and down?

You moan his name over and over, mind hazy with pleasure and he lavishes in that feeling. Of rendering you cockdrunk, providing you with inconceivable bliss.

Seungmin pounds into you relentlessly, skin slapping sounds an obscene symphony that fills your ears, only accompanied by the breathy moans; Oh, the sweetest of sounds were the way he sang your name.

You clench around him, greedy and lovestruck.

“Minnie– I’m gonna–”

“Shit– Come on, baby. Let go–” He groans out, hand reaching to rub your clit.

Your second orgasm crashes into your body with an unstoppable explosion. You squirm and Seungmin leans forward to capture your lips in kiss, to drink your most euphoric moans.

Hands wrapped around his back, you pull him flush to your heaving chest, letting the pleasure find your fuzzy brain.

When he finally reaches his own climax, he pulls out, painting your skin with translucent ropes of white. Draping over your stomach pale strings of his seed, a claim.

You’re smiling when his eyes meet yours and he is filled with immense relief; That’s you’re happy and well.

He lays by your side, pulling you on top of him with a smile that mirrors yours.

You lay on his chest, drawing figure eights along his soft skin to the stable sound of his heartbeat. Your own heart is draped in joy beyond comprehension.

“I think the clothes look great,” Seungmin jokes.

You laugh. “Yeah, I think they do.”

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jymwahuwu · 6 months

Text

Can't stop thinking about Neuvillette & Furina & maid reader, Neuvillette disciplines you and Furina <3

CW: spanking, spoilers about 4.2 archon quest and story quest

Now it's Neuvillette who arranges for Furina's clothing, food, and housing, right? Even though Furina has years of savings, I don't believe Neuvillette wouldn't take the initiative to give Furina pocket money. Furina resigned from her position at Hydro Archon and moved into an apartment. Meanwhile Neuvillette was still worried about her, knowing that she might not be used to it. Neuvillette has sent a trustworthy maid to her side to take care of her. That's you!! Taking care of Lady Furina is not a hard job. She is sweet and funny, like a child sometimes. You two are not in the palace now, so there is not such a formal and strict atmosphere.

You prepare cakes, desserts and do housework for Furina. She likes to go shopping or stay at home. She now has all the time in the world to read Steambird newspapers, fashion magazines, detective novels (even romance novels). Furina sometimes helps you cook desserts and bake - cleaning and wiping windows are still not her strong points though. Picture two girls playing or giggling while baking in the kitchen. Furina licks the cream from your face and kisses you. She'll also shake your arm and talk to you about years of loneliness and sadness. You always touched her head and wiped away her tears.

But - over time you just had too much fun. One day Neuvillette thought it necessary to go and visit Lady Furina and you. Iudex greeted the two ladies and walked into the room carrying his cane. His eyes looked around the apartment at the high-calorie takeaway food that had not yet been cleaned. Some dust on the floor and windows. Clothes thrown everywhere. Furina stood up in panic like a kitten, raised an awkward smile, and greeted Neuvillette. You immediately started cleaning, but Neuvillette held up a hand to stop you, and your stomach dropped. Help. Somehow you feel like kids whose parents caught you making a mess in the house.

"I… have no objection to you experiencing life… but that doesn't mean the house should be so dirty, right?" Neuvillette called out Lady Furina and your name in a low voice.

Neuvillette put you on his lap, lifted up your maid lace skirt, pulled down your panties, and started slapping your ass. Tingling. Those slaps deliver painful shocks to your ass. You were grateful that he only used his hands and not his cane or any other tool. Tears blur your vision. Furina explained anxiously, trying to stop him from ravaging your ass. "No. No- Neuvillette, she's a good maid!! I was the one who told her not to clean up the house because we had to play games together!!"

"Then you're next, Lady Furina." That gave her a wince - getting spanked like before? Can't he take a break from being so decent?

Eventually both of your butts are swollen from the spanking. Neuvillette comforts you and reveals the original purpose- limited edition cakes!! You sit uncomfortably on your chairs and chew the cake. Fortunately, Iudex is not the kind of person who likes to embarrass others. And after knowing him for so many years, the two of you relaxed from the tense atmosphere and started cleaning up the house together. He even helped clean up with water elements.

Hm…next time you two think about the consequences before you indulge yourself.

#genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #furina x reader

319 notes · View notes

worldsover · 1 year

Text

Flawless ft. Wonyoung

Co-written with @kaedespicelatte

length ✦ 8587

genres ✧ Daddy kink, spanking, creampies, blindfolded, buttplug, (anal) princess!Wonyoung

✦✧✦✧✦✧

This flaw doesn’t count as a flaw.

Three minutes ago, Wonyoung was sitting on your lap—her “favorite seat”—but with that impatience, it became naughty grinding. A test for your self-control. Wonyoung had the slinkiest white dress wrapped around her body, more a towel or bathrobe than fashion. If she were making eye contact instead of having her back towards you, you would have had some embarrassing laundry to deal with. That was what her face did to you. She slid her ass up and down on your crotch, sitting harder, more restless than necessary for a regular chair. What subtlety. You were wearing pants, and your cock was begging to be free of them.

Three minutes later, you’re sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, and Wonyoung is still on your lap. She’s in a new position though. Wasn’t too hard. With two hands around her slender waist, you picked her up like a misplaced toy. After bending her over, her stomach is on your thighs, and her ass is in the air. Sunlight brightens the already white room, and a beam trickling through thin curtains casts a perfect spotlight on her behind. The only thing stopping you from dropping your open palm where it belongs is one layer of expensive fabric. Now look who’s begging.

Impatience, so-called flaw, leads to perfection. No, this flaw can’t count.

Wonyoung’s head hangs. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I don’t think you are.”

Who cares about truth. Imagine all you could do to Wonyoung in this compromised position. You could slide fingers under her dress, make her legs go limp, then bring her down to her knees, use her pretty mouth. Or you could tease with her more precise touches, feather the back of her neck or her ears, and send shivers through her whole body. You even entertain the thought of whipping out your burgeoning erection from your pants and finishing yourself off right then and there, just to ruin the pricey dress.

Your hand is on her ass, and there was never any other choice. The other hand begins the process, hikes the dress up her lithe legs, then you stop just under her asscheeks. You could stay here, stare at her thighs forever, kiss, lick, slide your cock between the smooth flesh, and though you could do as your imagination wished, you pull the hem of her dress up, revealing her thin white thong—there was never any other choice.

Wonyoung had to wear skimpy underwear for the photoshoot, and now it clings to her waist, her pussy lips. Look closer, and you find a strand of her excitement wetting the thong. All because you have her bent over. All because of the looming threat of your palm striking down. Wonyoung knows her impatience leads to satisfaction. That’s why, despite her quiet whimpers, she’s also shaking her ass; you’re certain it’s not even a conscious action.

A sharp noise follows the bluntness, the flesh jiggling. You should’ve lifted for the second strike, but in its own unconsciousness, your hand rests on her reddened asscheeks, your fingers settling in. A part of you wants to massage, soothe, and calm the woman whose hastily drawn breath was distressing. Then, she looks back. She shouldn’t have.

There’s no reason for your other hand to hit harder, to leave a deeper shade of cherry on her skin. No reason but her eyes. She says so much in a glance, a small thing. Wonyoung is tense, tired, and unsatisfied.

As much as she needs sleep or food or water, she needs this next slap on her ass. The shivers throughout her body manifest as waves of goosebumps flowing through her delicate skin. Every spank unravels her more and more—might as well pluck the ribbon off her chest.

With a hard enough spank, Wonyoung’s whole body jolts forward, causing hair to fall over her face. You slide her hair away from her eyes. One hand, you grab her face, squishing her cheeks together. Wonyoung’s eyes are pleading for you to give the reward.

“Are you my good princess?”

“Yes.” The meekness is not just in her voice but in the redness of her face.

With more and more of your rampant strikes, you notice again the underwear hanging on for dear life. Again, options. You could slide that thin fabric to the side and get your finger wetter than the faucet can. But you’re going to keep Wonyoung’s thong on. You don’t have to take it off to know what the rest of her body is telling you.

“Tell me, what do you want?”

Wonyoung stammers.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t begging for it moments ago.”

She steels herself. “I want your cock inside me.”

You don’t know where she summoned that resolve, but you like the passion in her eyes. “Then get it.”

Of course, that means only one thing. Without delay, Wonyoung is on her knees in front of you. You remind yourself how often you have to thank every deity that you get to be in this position, that you get to witness the rarest form of a kneeling princess or whatever faultless being Wonyoung is.

If she had flaws, here in this room is where you would expose them. If she had flaws—but then, of course, she doesn’t; how could the sparkle in her eyes be a flaw? How could reverence, worship, all in a hint of a look turned to a gaze in its length? How could she do nothing yet do everything to the fire inside you hardening and lengthening your shaft to some impossibly maximal extent in front of Wonyoung’s face—how, if not for her freedom from flaw?

It was small touches then that pulled you into such a stupor that let your guard down; it’s small touches now that pull you out of your reminiscing. One of her small hands is on your sack, and her fingers graze carefully. Wonyoung giggles when she sees your dick jump at the touch.

“Daddy, you have so much cum for me, don’t you?”

You growl. Even if she didn’t notice the electric jolt her mere touch sent, she must certainly notice the firmness of your balls. She can’t hide the smile. Of course, she notices. Nothing gets past Wonyoung. That hint of a smirk on her lips becomes something else, a letter.

Oh.

And now its round, plump shape is on your cockhead, wettening, worshiping—would’ve been eye contact if you weren’t meeting her pupils with the whites of your eyes. Was on your cockhead, but now those lips are further down your length, miraculous. How can anything be that soft. How can anything give you so much pleasure. How can questions not even be questions because you don’t have that kind of faculty of mind with Wonyoung sliding her mouth, moist with spit, slathering your cock. There was a room here, there was a bed, there was the light of the sun, and none of those things exist.

When Wonyoung sucks dick, she’s in a flow state too. Lips, up, down, eyes, down, up. Lick, kiss, lick, swallow. Her specialty is the way that she bookends every suck with a kiss as if she’s making out with your cock, leaving lipstick smudged. Her lips just naturally fall onto your flesh, like they were meant to be there to soothe and nurture. The seduction of her gaze comes naturally the same way that saliva naturally flows out of the edge of her mouth when your length jabs at her throat.

Only for a moment can you look at her, accept that gaze. It’s already too much sensation, feeling her stimulate your cock, but when you see that perfect pretty face impaled on you, you can barely hold back. Not that she can either. You thought she was wet when you were spanking her, but there’s a veritable sliver of translucent juice from between her legs. Every stroke of her mouth brings a little more wetness.

A pulse in your core. Every stroke of her mouth brings a little more of what’s trapped in your sack. Deliberately sampling, Wonyoung taps the tip of her tongue at the seed dripping out, and she lets out a small moan of delight.

“Daddy, I love the taste of your cum. But I need it somewhere.” Wonyoung’s wandering hands move down her own torso till she rubs her midriff for emphasis. There was no other ending to begin with.

Wonyoung ends the blowjob with a purposeful gag, getting spit to run down from her thick lips to her expensive necklace. It’s elegant, shiny, understated. These would have all been ways you would have described Wonyoung—then you clean up the saliva on her collarbone with a finger, and she grabs your digit with her mouth, suckling.

It’s a picture you wish you keep forever, but not even the perfect photograph could capture the high in your system. She’s eager, bouncy, and ready for however you’re about to ravage her.

Not that ready though.

Wonyoung yelps when you pull her off the ground, off her knees, and practically carry her like she’s just a couple bags of groceries. It’s cruel, your love of watching any speck of confidence disappear from Wonyoung. You could tell some kindling inside of her was being sparked as she sucked your cock. Every time she steals a degree of heat from your body, a breath of air from your lungs, a thought from your head, she gets off from it. But what gets her off even more—watch her panties; they’re getting even darker—is when you have your hands on her wrists—oh, how slender, how easy she is to hold down. You have to suppress yourself from some absurd animalistic noise, from some immediate urge to take her right now. Other plans await, and begin at your word:

“Such a naughty, naughty princess. How can you be this beautiful, this perfect, yet still so filthy?”

Hands held against the bed, Wonyoung looks up at you in total surrender. “D-daddy… it’s, it’s your cock.” Then her eyes go down your body.

A Sword of Damocles above her midriff. Wonyoung’s words came with dripping desperation, or in other words, drool; it matches how your cock is slathered in her spit. You slap your shaft against her stomach, then trace a finger around her belly button.

“After I fuck you into a bumbling mess,” you say with a paradoxical lightness, “I’m going to breed you, fill you up, deposit every last drop into your womb.”

Then you start to finger her, no restraint in the pumping of your digits into her slit. Wonyoung is half-surprised at the suddenness, half-pouting that it’s not your dick deep inside her. Two fingers in and out, mechanical yet you have a familiarity with her body that ensures she’s in a daze. Watch her slender frame twist and writhe in pleasure, and you watch with a wry grin.

Your tone follows your smile, your confidence. “These sheets look so expensive. It's a shame that we're about to ruin them.”

After all, it’s so surprisingly easy to bring her mind past the brink. Fingers rub that soft spot several inches deep, while one digit begins to focus on that small nub past her pretty pussy lips. Barely takes a minute or two for your fingers to get Wonyoung squirting all over them. Warm slickness covers your digits, your forefinger slipping in between her folds. Your thumb rubs circles around her clit as she convulses beneath your fingertips.

Wonyoung groans loudly. When your wrist brushes across her neck, she goes rigid, whimpers cut off by an exhale.

The deliberate exit of your fingers spells the end of this prologue that’s dragged on for far too long, and Wonyoung seems to share the sentiment. Her eyes shine with a familiar glee as she guides your hands behind her. Her thin digits exude uncharacteristic strength to tug yours beneath the silkiness of her dress, almost as if she’s hinting at something as she leans ever so slightly forward—

“Time for the main course, Daddy?” Wonyoung asks, the angelic smile dimpling her face yet again.

No more time nor patience for panties on her legs, the dress on her body. As much as she needs your dick, you need her completely bare and ready for you to ravage. Expensive clothes, soaked underwear, thrown to the floor like it's nothing. It is nothing.

You pull off the dampened sheets, push her back down onto the mattress. Wonyoung opens her mouth without a hint of trepidation and stretches her arms out to pull you in for a kiss, but you realize you haven't removed your clothes either, so you tear your pants, your shirt, everything else off your body in half a motion.

“Come stuff your big fat hard cock in me, Daddy.”

Even the most ridiculous sentences coming from Wonyoung’s lips sound elegant. You climb over the foot of the bed and straddle her thighs, letting your hips settle atop hers, then let your lips graze hers. Your hands aren’t nearly as gentle, a rough grasp on her breasts and a finger sliding on her slit.

Wonyoung moans softly, her tongue curling into your mouth. You kiss harder, her legs wrapping around yours, her fingers digging into your back, her fingernails scratching at your skin. You moan against her lips, her tongue parting yours, then pushing into your mouth. Your fingers dig into her hips as you start to move, grinding against her, your cock throbbing, wetting the sheets beneath you.

Your lips leave hers though your eyes never leave. As you align your cock at her entrance, Wonyoung gives you a nod. There's always that adorable glint of uncertainty like it's the first time. Always feels like it. See, your thick cock can’t ever just slide inside Wonyoung’s tiny hole; it’s almost unnatural; you’d break her in half. That’s why you have to do everything to make her torrentially wet. You do everything from teasing her slit with your tip, sliding it up and down, to caressing every inch of her skin, never letting Wonyoung cool down from the flames you’re stoking. Slap, slap, you slap your length against her labia, and Wonyoung lets out small yelps.

Slow, slide in. Time slips. Who knows how long it took for you to push your shaft all the way inside. The clock doesn’t, you’re keeping as little track as the timepiece on the wall, and Wonyoung’s eyes are rolled back so far she might even see her brain short-circuiting.

You guide her cheek to look at you as you bottom out, and the two of you savor the combination. It’s nothing new—you’ve fucked the wind out of her plenty before—but you really can’t get enough of perfection. Perfection is the way her long legs tremble, the way her mouth doesn’t know whether to tense in harsh tightness or smile dumbly, the way she gets even redder when you lean down for a kiss.

A few strokes, enough friction to set off fireworks in your skull. One thrust, one. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—there must be some other number to which you count—who knows what it would be. You let go of her hand to push against the mattress and find some stability: you're about to make the bed creak; you're about to fuck Wonyoung into the bed. When she opens her eyes, eyelashes fluttering, and smiles at you, your so-called free will is limited again. There's nothing else to do but to thrust deeper, faster, harder. Wonyoung's gasping voice echoes through the walls as you bury your cock in her, pounding her, stretching her, filling her.

Already, the world melts away until it becomes only fundamental sensations: the warmth of her cunt milking your dick, her nails scratching along your back, the sight of her flushed cheeks, her puffy lips, the sweat dotting your brow, the smell of her sweet perfume.

That's not just the bed now: Wonyoung is squeaking, mewling as you pound her. Her legs quiver, her toes curl, and she's grabbing at the sheets, crying out. You're fucking her as hard as possible, but you need harder. You want to shatter the universe with each stroke, rip a hole in reality because the momentary euphoria after orgasm is nothing compared to this overwhelming bliss. Then again, it looks like her glee is certainly reaching new heights.

You groan louder than she does, bellowing like a wild beast as you plow into her pussy. It's not just your balls that are swollen; your whole body is taut, your heart thudding against your chest. But you need this moment to last longer, and Wonyoung feels too damn good like this. The way her pussy clenches as her body shakes when she orgasms is too much for you to handle. After fucking Wonyoung through her climax, you stop for a moment, earning pouting and whimpering from the girl beneath you.

"Why?" she whines.

You only give her an acknowledging grunt before you wrap your arms around her back to pick her up. With her limber limbs, it's so easy to twist her until she has her long legs folded above her head, her back against your chest. It's as if she's a mere toy to your strength.

Wonyoung confirms it herself: “Oh, fuck, Daddy, I’m your fuckdoll, please, fuck me hard.” She’s gasping even though you’re the one doing all the work.

She’s perfectly content to just let her eyes roll into her head, to let her thoughts become null and void. Why would Wonyoung need to think when she can just get pistoned hard by that big cock making her pussy sore and begging for more. She’s perfectly content to just let her eyes roll into her head, to let her thoughts become null and void. Why would Wonyoung need to think when she can just get pistoned hard by that big cock making her pussy sore and begging for more. Automatically, her hips buck against your thighs as you slam your cock against her pussy.

You can see how wet and slippery she is with just a glance downward. A waterfall of pussy juices slides down her thighs and drips onto the floor. Your cock is already coated in wetness from previous thrusts into Wonyoung's tight hole. You want to feel your warm load spurt out and drench every inch of her insides, but not yet. She's buckling and shaking. She wants the exact same—no, she needs it even more. Giving Wonyoung kisses on her neck, she strains her head back, her mouth open with a sound she's struggling to get out through heavy breaths. You too are feeling the burn in your thighs. You have to tighten your grip around her knees to make sure you're still carefully holding the most precious, delicate person to you (not that you're treating her as such). No matter how light she may be, it requires considerable effort on your part. So after slowing down your pace of fucking, you take a few steps towards the wall, still keeping Wonyoung's legs over her head, your dick well-impaled inside her cunt.

With your back to the wall, you can thrust as hard as you want. You find depths and intensities that you didn't know were possible. Her pert little ass bounces against your waist, sweat drips down both your bodies, and slight yelps turn to shouts that test the hotel room's noise insulation.

"W-wow, Daddy!" Wonyoung cries out when you resume your torrid pistoning, "God, keep going, ohhh, yes, I'm gonna cum soon."

Here's the flaw, returning, a ghost. It haunts in a small way. It reminds you of your flaws: your climax is soon to arrive. But when you look at her body and her angelic face as she turns back to look at you, open-mouthed, you want this flaw to dissipate, to stay in this moment forever. So yet again, you interrupt her impending cumming by throwing her onto the bed. So yet again, she looks like a plaything, a perfect one, but one so easy to throw nonetheless.

“Fuuck.” Wonyoung takes many long breaths. A slight, vague smile.

After all, she’s not so fragile; you knew that. The first time you fucked her, the back of a big black van with tinted windows, you couldn’t even pretend like you could hold back. This is where your role as her favorite seat started. The two of you were testing the van’s suspension— there weren’t exactly any potholes for the parked car to drive over. After you got over the tightness of her cunt, you were pulling her hair as she was clawing into your back, and she called you “Daddy” just as she’s repeating now.

“Daaddy. Come here.”

Watch how her heart beats out of her chest, how the flawless flaw never even crosses her mind because she’s too lost in her lust. Though already parted by your cock, she spreads her pussy more and looks at you with a twinkle that’s far too innocent, and lips that can’t pretend the same innocence as they drip with drool.

“Please. I need to cum on your cock.” You can’t ever resist a begging Wonyoung for too long.

Once you climb back onto the bed, you position yourself above her chest, placing your cock right across her face. “You need it that bad, huh?”

Wonyoung nods assuredly, and places as many kisses as she can on your balls, on the underside of your cock, before letting your tip rest on her suckling lips.

“Looks like you do.” Of course, you’re going to breed her, but you have to get a real taste of her throat while you’re here. Though she always pushes herself as deep as she can when she gives you her loving blowjobs, it’s not the same as fucking her face.

So when you grab the bottom of her lip, Wonyoung knows exactly what you want. You push your hips forward, and your cock slides right—well, there’s that barrier first. Back of her mouth, causing her to choke. You like the way her eyes water. You get a little more when you place your hand on her throat, a sadistic glee when you feel the bulge against her neck. Her arms struggle, and you let that helplessness linger for a little longer.

Wonyoung looks nearly pissed at you when you finally release your hold, both your cock and your hand. You’ve watched her take your shaft down her throat for so long—such addiction to the taste (maybe that’s another flaw)—she almost passed out. With this next thrust, you watch, and feel, her outstretched tongue slide against the bottom of your shaft, and this time, you start to ramp up in speed, until her mouth becomes another pussy for you to fuck. You love to hear the “glugh” sounds from every deep insertion, love to see her eyelids twitch and eyebrows raise. It’s almost as if you don’t have the most beautiful face underneath you, just some fleshlight.

But as much as you’d love to fill her throat with cum, you remember what your end goal is. You dismount from her chest and ask her, “You said you wanted to cum on my cock, right?”

“Yesss, Daddy.”

You know exactly what makes her even more sensitive.

You get up, and Wonyoung watches you as you grab a white cloth strip by the bedside. You’re not even sure why the hotel provides it—it’s a thin small towel? —but it’ll suit your needs perfectly.

With a come-hither gesture, Wonyoung sits up.

You wrap the cloth around her eyes. “You trust Daddy, right?”

“Of course. Do whatever you want with me. I’m your princess, your toy.”

“Good girl.” Before returning to pick Wonyoung up again, you grab a couple other things from a bag—a shiny metal buttplug, a small bottle of lube. You set them aside.

You’ll always love throwing Wonyoung around on a bed. It’s just too easy, too fun to listen to the squeals. After you flip her prone onto her stomach, her pert little ass is right there—you have no choice but to give each cheek a spank. Two spanks. Three for good measure. Then, grab her hips and lift them up. Right now, there’s no point blindfolding Wonyoung when she’s in this face-down ass-up position. But you have other plans.

A favorite pastime of yours: slapping your cock against Wonyoung. This time, her needy cunt is the target, and every slap earns an adorable yelp, though muffled by the sheets.

Wonyoung is desperately trying to fuck her pussy into your cock, but she can’t see anything.

“Please, Daddy, put it in, put it in! Daddy, please, I need your cum in me so bad, I need it, I do.” The whine in her voice is genuine, the lack of seed inside Wonyoung leaving her unfulfilled in a despondent way.

So you decide to go ahead. As you guide the tip of your cock to its destination, you press the base of the shaft against the crack between her asscheeks, spreading them wide open with two hands digging into the flesh and exposing the entrance to her vagina.

Wonyoung is ready to let out a scream that echoes off the walls. And once she realizes that you haven't actually shoved your penis into her, she moans and pants and says, "Oh God, oh Daddy, don't tease me like thaaat, pleassse. I'll do anything for you if you put that monster cock inside of me. Put it inside of me, Daddy." She tries to say something else, but then she chokes. Her hands move under the sheets, grasping for the bedsheet as her body shudders and trembles. You slide your dick between her pretty pussy lips, between her asscheeks, collecting all the wetness, and while you’re at it, adding a bit more with generous spit.

“Remember what you were practicing for before we left?”

Between groaning and whimpering, as you press the tip of your cock up and down her slit, tempting to put it in, Wonyoung manages to let out a little “hmm?”

You grab the metal plug next to you and balance it on her ass. You love seeing her head tilt in confusion at the cold metal.

“What’s that, Daddy?”

“Can you guess?”

"Uhh..."

You then grab the bottle of lube and squirt an ample amount on her butt. Some of it drips down her back, sending chills to the spine underneath, while most of it drips between her buttcheeks. To make sure it doesn't go to waste, whatever drips, you collect with a finger then spread on her asshole, carefully teasing her by never actually putting your finger inside.

She shudders. “Oh.” Shudders again. “Ohh, ffuuck. Yes, yes, y-yes. Daddy, are you gonna do it?”

You smile.

Her breathing comes in shallow gulps as she feels the buttplug press against her tight hole and your cock seated on her pussy lips, a two-fold tease that leaves her frustrated—you and she both know she deserves it. Then it's a long whine into the pillows when you just massage her asscheeks and thighs for a while. She looks back even though she's blindfolded; you realize it's so that she can show off her sweet pout.

You slowly sink the buttplug into her ass. You can't get enough of the way her hole widens around the plug, clinging and expanding, while the rest of Wonyoung's body tenses up.

"You okay?"

Though she whimpers, she also nods. You pause for a few moments after hearing her cry out, enjoying her pleasure as her asshole clenches tightly around the cold metal plug. You squeeze her cheeks together, holding her still as you thrust halfway in and out.

"Oh, fuuuck, Daddy, is that what it's gonna feel like when you fuck me there?"

"Even better princess. It's gonna be warm and thick and you're gonna feel all my cum inside your tummy."

"Ahh!" she yelps out when you finally push the plug into its hole. "Fuck me. I've been a good girl."

You reach over and grab your cock which resting on Wonyoung's quivering pussy lips and slide your shaft between her asscheeks. feeling her shiver in response. "Really? How many times have you begged me to put my cock inside your tight little ass, princess?"

"I dunno… too many to count," Wonyoung whispers as she starts grinding her hips back and forth to meet your strokes.

"Doesn't sound like a good girl."

"But I am? But I am!" Her tone is sugary sweet.

"Still not sure this pussy deserves it. See, you're pushing your ass into me like a greedy slut."

"Nnnh, but I'm your slut, Daddy. I'm a slut for your big dick, and that makes me a good girl, the best princess." All the while, she keeps thrusting back into you, when suddenly, her cunt slurps your cock up, your tip suctioned like it's nothing. Wonyoung is so talented that she doesn’t even need to see to fuck her pussy into your cock. She groans. "See, Daddy, that's where it belongs."

You grunt in disapproval, but you're already inside of her and pulling out is one of those Thor feats—not for humans like you. So in one snap of your hips, you drive your cock into her pussy, and to show your annoyance, you slap her ass over and over, re-reddening the sensitive skin from earlier.

"Ahh! Daddy!"

"That's right, princess." In and out, every pistoning motion is blowing your mind, especially how she reciprocates every thrust with one of her own, fucking herself into your crotch, but you can't let that stop your reprimand. "You have to learn your lesson."

She can only repeat her yelps and mewls which only grow louder when you slam yourself against her G-spot, reach for her clit, toy with the buttplug in her ass by pulling it out slightly and letting it go for her asshole to receive once again. Wonyoung’s whole body is trembling with desire. Her pussy is contracting and molding to the shape of your cock—must be intense without sight. Her cries echo off the walls, the only way she knows she’s still in this room. "Daddy, Daddy, please, I'm begging you. Fill my pussy up, fill it with cum. Give me the biggest load ever."

Without warning, you pull out—so you do have some deity blood in you—flip her over onto her back, then grab her ankles, spreading her legs and lifting them up.

Wonyoung is still blindfolded, so there's no way for her to know when you'll resume your pounding. "Daddy, are you gonna keep—oh!"

Of course, you don't delay. In this mating press position, Wonyoung can't use her arms or shoulders to resist, so you take full advantage. Her petite breasts bounce freely beneath her as you pound her cunt mercilessly, slamming her against the mattress, giving her the kind of hard, fast, rough fucking reserved for pornstars, not princesses and idols like her. Your balls slap against her crotch and she gasps out loud, calling your name while her nails claw the bedsheets. That buttplug and the blindfold contribute to making Wonyoung's inner walls clench your shaft tight. Even without being able to see what's happening, her screams tell you everything about how she’s feeling. How close she is.

Your rhythm is relentless yet calculated. You know her body well enough to slow down just right so that she doesn’t cum yet. You’re not just trying to edge her, though that is part of your impetus. The timing needs to be perfect.

As much as she’s begging, you hold off until you hear her start crying in frustration. She's completely unintelligible, barely getting out words: "Cum, Daddy, please, cum, cum, I need, I’m, princess, nnhgh, inside, fuck, mm, fuck."

Wonyoung arches her back whenever you plunge deep into her, forcing her to stretch out further. To feel her pussy wrap your cock at its tightest, you bring her feet together, holding her legs up in the air above her. Every time you bury your member within her, you watch her mouth drop open as she lets out a breathless scream.

You let go of her legs, and they naturally spread out on the mattress. Your shaft is completely engulfed by her walls. You lean down to kiss her neck, her collarbones, her shoulders, all milky white.

Wonyoung gives you an innocent smile, unable to see. Then you thrust once. "Your cock..." Twice. "Makes me so..." Three times. "So happy."

The smile doesn’t fade though. You can’t see her eyes, but they must be filled with bliss. Listen to her giggling. Then, as you pick up the pace, she bends her head back and with her mouth open, her tongue falls out naturally. Look at this. Perfection. It must be.

Her pussy's spraying out copious amounts of juices; look, you'll get the pages wet, or the words wet, or whatever. Wonyoung is tense yet shaking at the same time. Your shaft has never felt so throttled before. There's no artist nor writer that can completely explain the heights of pleasure you're both peaking towards. Your balls contract as the seed builds up within your testicles, waiting for release.

The orgasmic wave hits you first, ripple upon ripple through your entire body. No ink could possibly draw the mess you made inside Wonyoung's womb. Then the next wave hits Wonyoung. This is where the words fail for the wild sounds that break through. Where the words learn imperfection because they could never achieve the same bliss that Wonyoung is feeling in her shaking and her shouting and her cunt clenching your throbbing, spurting cock. There was never art; if you tried to explain its existence, it would have to go up against this kiss, these tongues, yours and Wonyoung's. This was closer to the raison d'etre, closer to the divine, closer to the best descriptions of the fluids and feelings between your crotches right now. Wonyoung's face goes from pain to bliss to confusion to pure euphoria and back again and all of these were without flaw. Her eyes are hidden, but all else is clear: the red of her cheeks, the raising of her eyebrows, the pull of her lips any which way. All this while warm cum spills out and makes her pussy all creamy as it milks your cock for all the seed inside, and maybe this vulgar truth, so flawed, is the best any one man can do. Maybe these last few thrusts are the best you can do.

There were flaws because it ended because it had to, and there weren't flaws because the moment happened because it always had to.

A few more ins and outs, ins and outs, lazy, lazy, slow. You've never seen so much white coat your shaft, never seen so much white flow out from between Wonyoung's legs.

Wonyoung's hands flail weakly in front of her face, and her body sways from side to side. Her hair falls across her forehead and you run your fingers along her scalp.

"Are you okay, princess?"

Her body stiffens for a second and she pulls her hair away from her eyes. When she nods, you lay next to her. "Fuck. Your cum is the best, your cock is the best... you're the best, Daddy."

"You too."

The two of you stay like that for quite a while, neither wanting to move since the afterglow of such intense lovemaking hasn't left either of you yet.

"Hey," she says eventually. "I'm going to wash up."

You stop her when she reaches for the cloth around her eyes. “Wait, not yet."

Wonyoung's head tilts. "Huh? But I'm sweaty, Daddy."

Perfect.

"Follow me,” you say. You grab the bottle of lube still on the bed next to you.

With her hand in yours, you lead Wonyoung across the room. She steps carefully as you bring her to the bathroom. Take a moment to glance at her full body in front of the large round mirror, covered in sweat, dripping with cum, nothing on but a blindfold and buttplug—a far cry from the elegance of the photoshoots and the modeling she’s been doing. Wonyoung is perfectly lit by the LEDs surrounding the mirror, an artisan’s statue before you.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you say. Cup her tits; they fit perfectly in your hands. Wonyoung squirms, not expecting the touch. Your lips find their way onto her addictively delicate neck once again, peppering her with kisses hard enough to plant hickies all over. This time, however, she tastes different—the sweat glazing her skin smears a hint of saltiness all over your tastebuds. "You taste so beautiful, sound so beautiful, everything. You're such a perfect princess."

“Where are we, Daddy?”

Finally, you remove the blindfold.

“Ohh.” Wonyoung leans on the edge of the sink to look at herself. Can’t blame her. You gaze at her too; making eye contact with Wonyoung in the mirror messes up your pulse a beat as always.

You stand behind her, your cock nestling just right between her buttcheeks. (The metal of her buttplug is cool to the sensitive touch of your tip.) Point to the small plastic bottle you set down on the marble countertop. “Look at this. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, Daddy. That’s the lube.”

You smile sweetly at Wonyoung. “Do you know what I'm going to do with that?”

Wonyoung nods. Her legs rub together in anticipation of what's to come, and as the realization really sets in, her butt wiggles in the most cock-teasing way possible. She slides her ass against your soft—now, half-hard—cock.

“Don't just nod, use your words instead.”

“S-sorry. D-daddy is going to fuck my ass—”

“Be more specific. Come on, you can do better than this.”

“D-daddy is gonna pull the buttplug out of my ass, and, and bend me over the sink,” Wonyoung bites her lower lip as the shade of red on her face thickens, “and—and then put the lube in me and, uh, and stretch my tight little asshole with his big fat cock—”

“Bingo, clever girl.” You give her another quick peck on her cheek. “So what are you waiting for?”

Wonyoung places her elbows on the sink's counter, leans forward, arches her spine, and raises her heels, presenting her ass. The metallic buttplug sparkles and you reach for the bright toy. At the slowest possible speed, you work the plug out, earning whimpers from Wonyoung’s lips. It pops out with a satisfying sound, and her asshole is subtly gaped by the small insertion. You throw the metal toy to the corner of the bathroom countertop.

“I feel so empty, Daddy. Fill me.”

Reach for your erection and—when did you get this hard again. Must’ve been when you watched your seed drip between Wonyoung's long legs. Must’ve been when you tasted her petite tits. No, no, it must be—Watch her eyes in the mirror, how they flash these different emotions, but they're all as foggy as the reflective surface. A touch of fear—she knows just how much bigger your dick is than the buttplug—a bit of exhaustion from the first session—so much cum in her womb that she had to have been bred—but the biggest portion is crystal clear lust. In itself, a reflection of your own hunger.

No, no, she’s hungrier. First, Wonyoung notices the cum spilling from her cunt and quickly scoops some of it. But in tasting your load, she starts to drool and you can see the idea form in her head. She opens her mouth, drools out a glob of spit, and rubs her hands. Then, she reaches behind her with both hands, quickly finding your dick to work with those drool-covered palms and digits. If you weren’t sure about your hardness, now you are. She spends some time stroking and twisting her pretty fingers on half of your shaft while rubbing your cock’s tip against her ass.

No matter how good this feels, eventually, you have to stop her. You grab the bottle. Same as the first time, you waste a good amount of it by letting it fall down her ass and legs because the way her skin glistens even more is mesmerizing. You come up with good ideas quickly too; you slather your shaft with the lube that’s dripping down, rubbing yourself all over her thighs, her buttcheeks, even collecting some of your cum from her pussy lips. Whatever fluids you can get, you need.

“You’re Daddy’s toy, right?” You grip your now sufficiently slick cock with your hand, your tip resting right on the squinting hole.

“Mmmhm.”

You whisper, “I’m breaking you then.” Push your cockhead forward into her asshole, and you begin to slowly inch it deeper and deeper.

Wonyoung whimpers softly. You want her to cry, but not yet. You can't wait to get past her sphincter muscle, though the tightness around your cockhead already feels heavenly. Deep breath, push harder. You grunt as you feel something, or maybe everything, loosen, every muscle fiber of her body loosens at the thickness penetrating her. Wonyoung lets out a little yelp; you know it won't stay quiet for long. Her petite ass is being split apart by your cock in an addicting way. Addicting in sight, addicting in sensation. You can't get enough because how can you get enough of this flawless feeling. This pressure on your shaft is pressure in your mind so that even the first insertion is even more extreme than fucking her freshly-creampied pussy.

Feels too good already. A rush of pride knowing you took her anal virginity. You are fixed in place, your legs locked, your feet firm where they are. So Wonyoung is the one who fucks her ass into your cock. It takes much effort on her part, however. She’s adorable when she tries to wiggle herself down into your shaft, especially since she has to go through the strain of your width against her tight hole.

Every time Wonyoung does anything, it’s in earnest. Wonyoung can let you take charge, yet she’s fighting for every inch of your cock, for the glory of having you as her seat, as she always does. After long groans and tight grasps—you’re holding her hips; she’s holding the sink—your dick is fully lodged within her asshole, which squeezes and stretches your shaft, already begging for your load.

You think for a moment that you have to start slow here, but Wonyoung, the burgeoning anal slut, immediately starts bouncing like a bunny—funny, it’s not like you can breed her ass, but damn is Wonyoung trying her best to find out if that’s possible. While you’ve let go of her waist, Wonyoung is pushing her hands into the mirror, leaving her hot breath as fog.

Other than your own moans, you can only clench your fists and your jaw and your neck and every muscle in your body feeling Wonyoung’s anal entrance grip up and down your cock over and over. An incredible warmth, even as you re-apply lube. She does not stop backing her ass into you at a rapid pace.

You’re wordless, no dirty talk, no punishing Wonyoung for her boundless need. You’re happy to accept Wonyoung as she quickly gets accustomed to the sensation, seeing how her eyes are rolling up into her head and her mouth is contorting with unsure pleasure.

Surprisingly, she has plenty left to say.

"Daddy...oh, Daddy!"

Well, it’s more than you at least.

Wonyoung throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. Her voice barely audible as she moans, she says, "Your dick, mmnh, is so huge, Daddy! Ohhh… ffuck, ngh, it hurts so good. I need it, I need it all."

Her arms tremble slightly as she rocks her hips faster, her breasts heaving from the exertion and excitement. Your balls hit her cheeks with every powerful thrust into you. You’ve never ceded so much control to this girl before, but when you’re receiving the privilege of anally fucking Wonyoung, you’ll take whatever, however.

“Gonna cum in my ass too, right? Gonna cum in both my holes, turn me into a total cumslut for you Daddy, a complete, hnh, whore for your cum.”

She sounds like it. That much is for certain. As much as your cock in her ass is a new feeling for her, it’s totally novel for you too. Not even the tightest grip with your own hands could compete. And it’s a messy endeavor, what with all the lube that you squirt on and the sweat and the carnal smell of sex. Pussy juice forms strings from Wonyoung’s quivering pussy. Your every pounding slam into her butthole is accentuated by shivering from her legs, arching from her back.

You watch Wonyoung tire herself out trying to fuck her ass on your dick, trying to milk out your cum into her tummy. Hold her sides again, but your hands can’t stay in one spot for long. You reach up towards her chest and play with her erect nipples; you spend a dozen or two dozen thrusts with your hand around her neck, on her mouth, making her eyes water; you grab her hair and pull forcefully—no grip is enough. She was supporting herself by placing her hands on the sink, but her elbows collapse at the intensity. You catch her and slow down.

Keep in mind Wonyoung’s tight ring is still wrapped around the base of your cock. So your words come out short and breathless. “Are you okay?”

Wonyoung gulps and nods slowly.

“Hmm.” You wrap your arms around her torso and the two of you shamble toward the large rectangular tub in the middle of the room. Sitting down against the bathtub’s edge, you’re right where you started: Wonyoung using you as her chair.

In the mirror, Wonyoung barely has any stamina left, her eyes and her mouth half-open. You peel Wonyoung off you by gripping her slender waist and pulling upward, and her asshole grips your cock in kind. There’s something about this languid motion that’s unbearably intoxicating, making you light-headed. You can’t even bring her halfway up your cock, so you let go and she slowly sits back down. She wants to start bouncing again, but you can tell by her broken breaths that she’s exhausted.

You thrust upwards into Wonyoung, holding her body in place like a cocksleeve and jerking your hips.

“Oh, fuck, you’re in my stomach.”

You might as well be with that bulge your cock is making on her midriff. At this angle, you’re hitting every organ you can inside Wonyoung, mixing up her guts, might as well be. She’s reduced to hitched breaths, to unseemly noises. You’re reduced too, initial pulsations of your body signaling what’s nigh.

There have been many places you’ve cum with Wonyoung. You’ve painted her ethereal face with your cum, ruining it into perfection plenty of times. Every inch of her skin has seen some sort of semen coating: her armpits, her delicate fingers, her flat midriff, her thighs, her feet—it’d be easier to count the spots you’ve missed. But it’s Wonyoung’s holes that make the best receptacles for your load. She’s incredibly practiced at swallowing your load. Wonyoung can be in the middle of talking with her mouth full of cock, when suddenly you’d burst at the seams, and she would happily receive every drop. You know the highs she obtains whenever you breed her needy womb, how she milks you with simultaneous orgasms.

This place is new. A new sin, flaw, mistake. You’re holding onto Wonyoung as tight as possible, wrapping both arms around, one around her belly and one around her tits. Gaining as much leverage as possible, you rapidly pound your cock into Wonyoung’s now sore asshole—you can tell by how she’s yelping, how tears drip down her face, how she’s writhing in her favorite seat. You’d almost feel bad if you didn’t feel so good, or if Wonyoung weren’t calling “Yes, Daddy, yes” every thrust.

You try to keep yourself together as long as possible, chasing what can’t be chased, but once you hear Wonyoung scream, your climax overtakes you completely. Your body is flooded with internal fire; Wonyoung’s ass is flooded with a thick creamy load. Even if every muscle of yours is begging for you to slow down, you can’t. This doesn’t feel like your second orgasm. Somehow, you’re cumming even more, unloading everything you have. Count this flaw, this wicked painting inside Wonyoung’s guts, as another facet of flawlessness. Somehow there’s grace to the way she receives all this cum.

While you’re riding out your endless throbs, Wonyoung finds a bit of strength again, riding your cock as it shoots rope after rope of your seed deep within her. Filling her up so much, you notice cum leaking past her asshole, which makes your shaft all creamy white. The ghost once more: brilliance must fade. The back-and-forth bouncing and thrusting between the two of you slow down eventually.

“Daaaddy, that felt… incredible.” Wonyoung leans back on you as your cock slips out, and you scoot both of your bodies into the bathtub below you.

By the twinkle in Wonyoung’s eye, you have a feeling that this first time won’t be close to the last. In fact, when you turn on the warm water to take a bath, she just can’t stop kissing and hugging you. Doesn’t matter how naughty it is that cum is dripping out both of her holes. She happily makes out with you, her tongue exploring your mouth. Eventually, the two of you get to scrub each other with soap.

The only reason you’re not hard right now is that you’re sore from the multiple orgasms, the tightness of Wonyoung’s holes draining you of everything you have. Despite this, Wonyoung’s eyelids drop as she cuddles against you in the warm water. You drain the tub, dry her off, and carry her back to the bed.

Perfection even sleeps gorgeously.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

#kpop smut #ive smut #male reader #reader insert #collab #kaedespicelatte #title tracks

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whimsical-roasting · 11 months

Note

hi can you PLEASE keep going with your Jamie smut headcanons? we simply do NOT have enough and you’re the only one who’s giving us what we need😭

hi!! sorry it took me a min to reply to this, but okay, i'm thinking - bear with me here - dom!jamie in the bedroom *smirks* also, the gif has me feral

this is bout to be disgustingly horny thoughts, and you have been warned, so don't complain to me (that gif is making it so hard for me to focus)

OKAY so... dom!jamie - personally, i think he's a switch, but i'll get the sub aspect in a diff post :)

he's good at being dominant, ofc he is. he's assertive, confident, cocky, and drunk on you.

he'd get to you call him by a title - idk if it'd be 'daddy' necessarily, maybe 'sir'

makes sure there's a safe word - you chose sumn that would make you smile if he said it in his funny lil accent too - "broccoli" (aka 'broc-leh')

he's sitting on an armchair or sumn and he gets you to sit on his lap, your back pressed against his chest - only thing you're wearing is some cute underwear

his voice is low and deep as he whispers in your ear, "be a good girl for me, yea?"

one hand snaking down your body to squeeze your thigh, and the other up your body to wrap around your neck as he pulls you back so your head is on his shoulder, and his lips are ghosting over your ear

he's leaving kisses on your neck and licks the outer shell of your ear, hand still firmly around your throat, just tapping your leg "open"

you open your legs for him, them resting on the outside of his so if he widens his stance you'd be spread further, and his fingers are grazing your inner thigh slowly moving up

he bites at your neck, you whine feeling a shiver go down your spine, so you involuntarily thrust your hips craving his touch where it matters!!

he just slaps your thigh, hand tightening around your throat and his hot breath on your ear, "patience, angel. who's in charge?"

you're flustered and needy, gasping "you", and he just slaps your thigh again, causing you to yelp

"try again, angel" "you are, sir" "mm, better", and he kisses your cheek

he'd rub over your panties, painfully slow. he fucking loves to tease. but he'd pepper you with cheek & neck kisses, "need ya dripping for me, love" "you gonna show me how bad you want me? yea?"

he'd press his fingers harder against your clit but still wouldn't dip under the fabric and it'd drive you insane

you'd be whining on his lap and he'd just be praising you/dirty talking, leaving hot open mouth kisses on your neck, and teasing your nipples

once he's satisfied (he can feel a wet patch growing and he smirking, he feels so fucking smug at how easily your body reacts to his touch)

"on your knees, angel" he'd demand. and you're a lil dazed after his fingers stop moving so you're slow to react, so he gives a lil slap on your pussy, "now."

you hurry to your knees in front of him, your eyes looking at him all big and eager, he just kinda smiles a lil before it turns into a smirk, and he's unbuckling his belt

since he's into fashion, i see him having that off-white yellow industrial belt, and i got a feelin he'd take it off and loosely tie it around your neck cause its so long

your eyes just sparkle as he secures it around your neck, still on your knees but your stomach's quickly pooling with arousal

he undoes his jeans and pulls his dick out and smirks at the way your eyes are locked in on it and you're biting your lip

"eager much, sweetheart?" he chuckles, and you whine at his teasing

he just does that dick jump/twitch thingy and your mouth is watering

you know what he wants... he wants you begging for him...dripping for him

"please," you whine. and he raises an eyebrow, all smug and cocky, "please what?"

"please can i...have it?" you want him so bad, but saying such explicit, vulgar shit gets you flustered, and he's eating it up. "gotta be more specific, love"

you huff and pout slightly, "please sir, can i have your dick? can i suck it, please" you plead, trying your best to flash him puppy dog eyes so he caves

he does. frankly, he's just as eager to have your mouth on him as you are to get him into your mouth

he tugs on the belt, pulling you forward slightly. "come 'ere."

he's stroking your cheek and looking down at you like all the stars in the universe happened to settle in your eyes

you eagerly take him in one hand, your other hand on his knee for balance. a couple of lazy strokes and you're teasing his tip with your tongue

he just hisses, and his head falls back as you take more of him into your mouth

with your head bobbing, he's got a hand flat on your head to stablise himself, but occasionally he pushes you down if you tease his tip too much

all the fucking praise, mixed with groans and moans, "fuck, yea like that" "shit, baby" "good girl, that's it go deeper" "so fucking pretty with me dick in your mouth" "you love this dick, don't ya?"

and you're just moaning around his length in response to it all

you'd get so fucking wet from the combination of his dick, his praise AND his moans

he pulls you off his dick before he's close, chest breathing heavy to calm himself

he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and eyes hooded looking up at him with pure desire and holy fuck he could just finish to that sight alone, but he needs to feel you

he tugs on belt lightly and opens his arms for you. you stand up and straddle him, your lips eagerly finding his, kissing him fervently

he matches your energy, biting your bottom lip and slipping his tongue in your mouth. his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as if you were a lifejacket and he's about to drown

your hips rock against his, the only thing separating you from his hard, throbbing dick is the stupid underwear fabric that has a noticeably larger wet patch

"fuck this" he growls, lifting you up slightly and moving your panties to the side, and you moan a bit as he rubs his dick against your clit teasingly

you slowly sink down onto him, hands on his shoulders as your head falls back and you moan once you're fully settled on it, feeling so fucking full

he's kissing your shoulder, grip tight on your hips waiting for your signal

once you've adjusted to the size and you tap his shoulder to continue, he's lifting you up and down with matching thrusts

both of you are moaning at the thrusts, the sound of skin slapping and how wet you are driving the both of you closer

"that's it, baby" "good girl" "you can take it, angel" "you love this dick, right? lemme hear you say it"

and your moans and whines are music to his ears, "yes sir, fuck" "fuck, i love your dick, i love you" your brain is so overdone with pleasure.. he loves it

he's kissing you passionately as you're getting close, and its harder for you to kiss back as you're moaning against his lips

you can tell he's close too when his thrusts get staggered and deeper

spoiler alert: he thrusts deep in you, holding your hips down against him as he nuts in you (plan b exists dw)

your head falls back at the feeling, but once it passes your arms are around his neck and you're kissing all over his face

he recovers and smiles at you, gingerly kissing all over your face too before carefully removing the belt around your neck and kissing that area too - not that you were hurt by it, jamie was mindful to not make it too tight

he's still in you as you lean forward to snuggle your face in his neck and his hand is brushing your hair already initiating the aftercare

"good girl, you were so good for me yknow" "love you so much, angel" "you feelin okay?"

yall would stay like that for a while before he carefully slides you off him and gets something to clean you up. then ofc it's cuddle and soft kisses <33

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt smut #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #dom!jamie tartt #i proof read but its 3:21am so gl #this one was for all the whores out there <33 ily twin

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rexsjaigeyes · 2 months

Text

A trio's tryst

Vax'ildan x female reader x Percy | NSFW, 18+

Words: 4k

Content: threesome, pegging, oral sex, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, cum swallowing (Percy does it), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms

A/N: just dropping this here while i'm still on hiatus 🙈 i'm not done with S2 yet, so this is more in-character for S1 Vax and Percy. also this is crossposted to AO3 if that tickles your fancy. enjoy 😌

You’re not sure how it came to this. In your foggy recollection, you believe it was a stupid little bet that started it all. But you’re not going to complain about the silver practically stolen from you due to your quick loss. Not when defeat means the slick slide of your strap-on inside Vax, and the heavy weight of Percy’s leer as he sits not too far away.

The inn Vox Machina chose for the night is not much better than the usual run-down, shithole joints the party has previously stayed at. With paper-thin walls and the reek of booze permeating nearly every hallway and room, it’s not the sexiest spot for a tryst like the one you’re having now. But even Percy doesn’t seem to mind the uncomfortable setting tonight. And Vax certainly has no complaints.

The half-elf’s tangled brown locks frame his head like a halo on the bed—the perfect complement to the way he holds your gaze, as if he’s unworthy of being touched by a deity like you. His face scrunches in pleasure, trying his hardest not to come undone already. Another steady thrust, and those breathy gasps of his that you adore so much start to grow in volume.

A smug chuckle snaps your attention to the stool on your left. The dim light of the room only illuminates the bed and one other wall. You only catch the glint of Percy’s glasses for a split second before his entire form disappears back into the shadows.

“Any louder, and the whole damn inn will know what we’re up to,” he says. Even with his face hidden from you, it’s clear Percy’s teasing words are only directed at you. He doesn’t bother to address Vax right now because he isn’t the one calling the shots tonight. “I suggest you keep him quiet, dear.”

Faintly, Vax grumbles a curse beneath his breath, as if the gunslinger’s presence annoys him. But his frustration is only a charade. You all know how Vax occasionally enjoys the special brand of humiliation only Percy can dole out in his signature methodical fashion.

Percy didn’t mention how you should go about keeping Vax silent, but your mind already conjures various ways to do it. With a sly grin, you press one hand to Vax’s cheek, your thumb briefly brushing across his bottom lip.

“Open your mouth,” you whisper. He wastes no time in complying, his pupils somehow growing even larger as two of your fingers slide inside his mouth. “Now suck,” you demand.

Satisfaction takes root deep in your belly while Vax groans around your wet digits. With his immodest noises muffled now, your ears become more attuned to the sharp slap of skin on skin and the obscene slippery sound of Vax’s tight hole taking you deeper.

Percy’s clothes rustle nearby as he readjusts on the stool. You almost miss the soft grunt accompanied by a gruff “fuck” muttered from your left, but your senses feel hyper-aware now. Tingles run along your body with each measured thrust you make and the way Vax’s lean muscles begin to tense beneath you.

You’re getting tired—still slightly unaccustomed to the strength and stamina it takes to thrust a fake cock for this long. You slip your fingers from Vax’s mouth to make a determined path down his straining body. Sweeping past the hard planes of his chest, and then his stomach and hips, your fingers land along the base of his cock. Despite Percy’s previous instruction, he seems to revel in the choked cry that escapes Vax’s lips as you wrap your hand around his length.

“De Rolo,” Vax says through clenched teeth, “quit your giggling in the dark and come here.”

His words make both of you laugh, but you’re in silent agreement with Vax. If Percy doesn’t get his ass over to the bed and touch one of you soon, you’ll spend the rest of the night giving him the cold shoulder.

“As you wish, little bird,” Percy replies with a smirk while emerging from the darkness.

His slender frame towers over you from beside the bed, and he presses one hand to your hip, giving you the extra leverage you need to continue thrusting. Your stomach tightens when he wraps the other hand around Vax’s cock, mirroring the way you’re stroking it while his fingers slightly overlap yours in an intimate caress.

Vax rolls his eyes, although it’s hard to tell if it’s in annoyance or maybe from the pleasure coursing through him. “You know I hate when you call me that,” he argues with a less-than-convincing whine.

“Is that right?” Percy’s thumb lightly squeezes the head of Vax’s cock. Your breath hitches at the sight of his finger slowly swiping the precum beading from the tip. “It doesn't look like you hate it that much.”

Vax seems unable to respond, his fingers fisting the bedsheets and sweat starting to glisten across his chest. He writhes beneath you but still tries to meet your thrusts while bucking his hips up into the pair of hands on his length. Seeing him so vulnerable and desperate makes liquid heat pool between your thighs, and you briefly wonder if you could come from the sight of him alone.

Percy steals your attention, releasing your hip to grip the back of your neck and pull you into a bruising kiss. Your breath escapes your lungs in a whoosh, but you’re grateful for the rougher way he handles you. It’s a stark contrast to the way Vax usually worships you. But you know that Percy will only be as rough as you want him to be—and his calculating nature means he always knows exactly where you’ve drawn the line.

He smiles against your lips when you pull away a little and gasp, trying to chase the breath he stole from your lungs. Between your thrusting and Percy’s wild affection, you’re sure you’ll suffocate before the night is over.

Percy hums in mocking contemplation as he looks back down at Vax. “He’s right on the edge,” he says, far too satisfied with each pathetically loud whine Vax makes as he tries to hold back his orgasm. “Let’s make him come, together.”

You nod, biting down on your lip as you thrust as deep as you can. It takes a decent amount of concentration to find the right combined rhythm of thrusting and stroking Vax’s cock at the same time. But you follow Percy’s lead, allowing him to guide your hand up and down Vax's shaft while you focus on thrusting a bit harder.

In your distracted state, you jolt when you feel Percy’s other hand slide up your body. You’re frankly jealous of how collected he seems right now, whereas you and Vax look like wild animals. But you also feel a fresh wave of arousal at how effortlessly he can affect both of you. Percy’s hand moves to gently massage your breasts. He takes his time to tease each nipple while Vax writhes with the force of his oncoming orgasm.

Without so much as a warning, Vax shudders and moans before spilling onto both pairs of knuckles and his own taut stomach. You mutter a curse under your breath at the sight of his pulsing cock, and you feel hypnotized as you spread a bit of his cum around his cock.

“Shit, Vax,” you say in slight disbelief, your voice breathy from how turned on you are. “You made quite the mess this time.”

A cute blush graces his cheeks in response, enticing a kiss from you before you carefully slide out of him. Rolling over on the bed, you undo the buckles of your strap-on and lazily throw it to the other end of the mattress. You expect the three of you to take a quick breather now, but a soft whimper draws your attention back to the pair of men. Percy hasn’t stopped touching Vax’s aching cock. He continues to stroke him at an even pace, causing Vax to tremble from the sensitivity.

“A-ah, please,” Vax cries out, his fingers gripping Percy’s wrist.

But you know that he secretly loves the overstimulation. That’s why he’s not using his strength to yank Percy’s hand away or scramble out of his reach. Instead, his comically pouty look gets directed at you, and Vax tries again to beg for something he hasn’t decided yet—either for mercy or for more.

“Use your words,” Percy snaps. His low growl sends shivers down your spine, even though the command is not for you. “What do you want, Vax’ildan?”

Vax gulps, closing his eyes and taking a second to collect himself before returning his needy gaze to you. There’s no mistaking who he’s speaking to when he whimpers, “I need more. Please let me taste you, darling.”

Anticipation lights a fire in your chest, and you’re itching to give Vax exactly what he wants. But you glance at Percy first, waiting to see if he’ll agree.

Percy grins at you, and you can see a devilish plan beginning to take shape in his mind. “You heard the man,” he says before giving you a nod of permission.

Eagerly, you crawl to the top of the bed and press a gentle kiss to Vax’s awaiting lips. He groans into your mouth, obviously desperate for the moment when your thighs settle along either side of his head. But as you begin to brace your hands against the headboard, Percy’s tut of disapproval cuts in.

“No, no,” he chides from behind you. “Turn around and face me instead.”

You turn above Vax’s increasingly impatient mouth, being careful not to accidentally kneel on his long hair, and wait to lock eyes with Percy before taking a proper seat. Vax’s slender fingers grip your hips near-painfully, but you feel satisfied knowing he’s looking forward to this as much as you are. Finally, Percy nods in approval, and it takes an insane amount of willpower to descend gently.

It’s ungodly how good Vax is at this. A shudder already racks through you as his tongue glides expertly along your clit. It’s when he gasps against your pussy that you realize why Percy wanted you in this position. Your eyes fly open—you barely even noticed how tight you had shut them seconds ago—and your stomach flips at the sight of Percy’s tongue tracing a leisurely path down Vax’s cock before fully taking him into his mouth.

Percy keeps eye contact with you while reducing Vax to a moaning mess against your cunt. He takes his time teasing and working Vax back up to a second orgasm. Vax, on the other hand, wastes no time devouring you. Even though he seems far too eager to make you unravel, his tongue still moves in measured strokes across your pussy. He knows exactly what pace and amount of pressure you prefer against your throbbing clit. And he relishes in the way your body reacts so easily for him.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips against his mouth with wild abandon. “Just like that…don’t stop, Vax.”

Your pleasure only seems to fuel the desperate whimpers and groans muffled against your cunt. If you hadn’t been in this same position with Vax before, you would have thought he’s only acting this way because of Percy’s skilled tongue. But you know how much Vax savors the taste and feel of you. More than that, he especially loves when you take control and grind down on his face however you like. He enjoys being used by you.

Percy slides his mouth off Vax’s length, using his hand to replace the sensation while he addresses you. “He’s going to come soon,” he says with a cocky grin, “and you’re close too. You better beat him to it.” His tongue and lips return to the tip of Vax’s flushed cock, resuming the unrelenting pace he set before.

Vax is immediately on the same page as Percy. He sets a laser-focus to your clit, sucking it into his mouth while holding your body down firm against him. He's determined to make you come first, and that thought alone causes you to writhe as the pleasure crests within you. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watch Percy groan around Vax's cock, and it causes a chain reaction of moans and vibrations against each other's skin.

Your nails dig into Vax's chest, and your body shakes as your orgasm finally overtakes you like a tidal wave. It takes barely a second before Vax joins you, overwhelmed with the feeling of your thighs clenching around his head coupled with Percy practically deep-throating him. Vax grips you even tighter, and you almost feel bad that he's unable to see the delicious act of Percy swallowing every drop of cum that Vax gives him. He even makes a show of swiping any stray pearl beads and sucking it off his fingers.

You moan softly, going slightly limp against Vax before gathering your remaining strength to gently roll off him. Lying beside his quivering body, you run your fingers along his chest and snort in amusement when Percy does a few more teasing strokes of Vax's oversensitive cock.

“Oh, gods,” Vax whines. “Take it easy, Percival. I can’t take much more of your cruelty.”

“Alright,” Percy concedes, his voice sounding a little amused. “I'll have mercy on you.” He releases Vax and turns his attention to you, slowly crawling up the bed while pressing kisses all over your skin. He hums in delight before saying, “You both did so well.”

Percy continues caressing your thighs, moving higher to kiss your hips and then the soft swell of your belly. He remains below your chest, leaving ample room for Vax to kiss your neck while skimming feather-light touches across your breasts. They take turns whispering filthy praises to you, saying how beautiful you looked as you rode Vax's face.

They know exactly what they're doing with their honeyed words and reverent touches. Fortunately for them, it's working like a charm. Your body grows hotter under their affection, and soon you ache for so much more.

“Percy, please,” you murmur while lightly tugging on his hair. “Just fuck me already.” The two men chuckle, clearly enjoying how desperate you've become now.

“I guess we've kept her waiting long enough,” Vax tells Percy with a smile.

Percy tilts his head with a grin but stops his teasing kisses that skirt around where you need him most. Finally, he readjusts to kneel back on his heels before palming himself through his pants. You take the opportunity to drag your eyes down his body, appreciating the way he leisurely works to unzip his pants and then pull his throbbing cock out from beneath his boxers.

With how torturously slow he exposed himself, it surprises you how quickly he tugs you closer, gesturing for you to kneel in front of him. He guides your body, pressing your back to his chest so you’re still facing Vax at the head of the bed. The rough texture of his clothes against your naked skin feels a little odd, but you shiver at the thought of Percy still fully dressed and desperate to be inside you.

Your legs are slightly wobbly, still feeling a bit sore in the knees from fucking Vax, but Percy keeps your thighs pushed apart in the perfect position for him to slowly slide into you. The stretch feels amazing, and the two of you sigh in unison once he bottoms out.

You can’t tell if it’s your arousal or your tired body that’s causing you to shake a bit, but Vax immediately notices the way you tremble. He’s still recovering from his previous orgasms, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting up and leaning closer to you, an adorably dazed but concerned look on his face.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Vax whispers. “Just hold onto me.” He pulls your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to use him as leverage while Percy begins to fuck you at an easy pace.

While you get lost in the feeling of Percy’s cock, Vax’s lips trace the curve of your breast before moving to your collarbone and neck. He keeps lavishing your body with kisses, treating you like glass while Percy’s hands grip your hips roughly. When you start rocking your hips back in between thrusts, Percy takes the cue to speed up a bit, pushing himself even deeper as you gasp.

Vax’s fingers tickle your sides, briefly skirting past Percy’s knuckles with a knowing grin before sliding down to your swollen clit. He takes his time to tease you, playing with your clit at a languid pace while Percy sets a steady rhythm that makes your moans grow louder. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll last with these two men determined to make you come as fast and hard as humanly possible. They both know exactly what buttons to press to get the reactions they want from you.

Vax’s teeth latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck, and that somehow pushes you over the edge. You crumple in his arms, crying out from how fierce your second orgasm is. Neither of the men are surprised you came so fast. It was inevitable with the way Vax circled your clit with the same precision as before. What’s really surprising is the way Percy moans your name, his voice strained while he grasps your hips harder.

Vax takes the opportunity to get some payback for Percy’s teasing. “Going to come so soon, Percival?” he taunts.

“Oh, fuck off,” Percy replies through gritted teeth. “You would too if you could feel her right now…”

You can feel your muscles still pulsing around him, and you can’t help but focus your concentration on clamping down just a bit more. You like to watch him suffer just a little bit—and so does Vax, of course.

Percy curses in response before frantically asking, “Where do you want me to–”

“Inside,” you respond quickly. You wrap one of your hands behind you to hold onto his hip, urging him to stay where he is.

Percy doesn’t hold back any longer. He moans your name while spilling inside you. You gasp into Vax’s mouth as he pulls you into a kiss, allowing you and Percy some time to come down from the intensity of your orgasms. All three of you seem to sigh in post-coital bliss, and Vax helps you off of Percy’s cock before his cum starts dripping too far down your thighs.

They both help you lie down on the bed before Vax collapses beside you. But Percy looks like he’s not nearly done playing his little games. To be fair, you also still feel a little revved up, even after two orgasms. Regardless, that little glint in Percy’s eyes as he crawls back up the bed makes you shiver.

“Why do you look like you’re about to kidnap me, de Rolo?” you joke.

He cracks a smile but doesn’t stop advancing toward you until his face hovers over yours. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and says, “Just give us one more, dear.” It’s less of a command and more of a question. But he knows you’re not going to turn down another orgasm. Although you feel a bit fatigued, you’re greedy for one last round, so you nod your head.

Vax groans dramatically beside you. “Gods, really? The two of you are insatiable,” he teases, earning a sharp nudge of your elbow in his side.

“Don’t act like you aren’t either,” you argue.

“Touché.”

Your responding laugh gets cut off with a gasp while Percy coats his fingers in his remaining cum spilling past your puffy lips. He dips a soaked finger inside your cunt, testing your reactions before giving you a second one when you’re ready. He watches your face closely, mouth twitching in a smirk as his fingers curl at just the right spot.

Your back arches off the bed, and Vax slides a bit closer to gently kiss your body wherever he can reach. Without exchanging any more words with the other man, Vax already knows what to do to enhance the desire spreading throughout your body. He leans his head down to your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. In tandem, one of his hands glides down your body. His fingers tease your clit, occasionally spreading out a bit to allow Percy to flick the needy bud with his tongue.

The two of them work wordlessly with one common goal. They barely need to communicate to reduce your limbs to jelly, and you secretly love how experienced they are with your body language to be able to pull this off so expertly. The only sounds between the two of them are Percy’s whispered praises and Vax’s soft moans muffled by the sloppy kisses he presses all over your tits. When Vax’s eyes meet yours again, you realize your nails are digging into his bicep. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Percy.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry before you stutter, “I– I’m so close, please…”

Vax is the one to grant you permission this time. His lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Hm, then come for us, darling.”

The two of them continue their song and dance, watching every twitch and jolt of your body with bated breath. Vax’s eyelids flutter with desire, staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. And when you turn your head to Percy, you swear you see a hint of a sadistic grin before he bites down on your inner thigh, determined to leave marks as a reminder of tonight.

There’s no stopping your pleasure as it barrels into you with full force. Your chest heaves while you desperately try to catch your breath—although Percy is doing his damndest to prolong your orgasm just like he did with Vax. His fingers continue curling slowly a few more times, determined to wring every last drop of desire from your exhausted body.

Vax murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine with how the two of them take such care with bringing you down from your high. After Percy finally relents and pulls his fingers from your pussy, he flops down on the other side of your body, opposite from Vax.

Vax’s aftercare is always the best, but with Percy added in the mix, it’s like being pampered royalty. They take turns pressing tender kisses to your heated skin and brushing back the sweat-slicked strands of hair from your face. Percy dutifully pulls out a handkerchief to carefully wipe away the mess along yours and Vax’s lower halves, promising to draw a bath when you’re all ready for it. And Vax lets you play with his hair while he whispers how good you made him feel earlier. Percy takes a moment to check in with Vax too, making sure he didn’t do anything that made either of you uncomfortable.

After a beat of silence, Percy hums in quiet contemplation. “To think Scanlan was technically the reason for tonight…”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you interrupt with a groan. “That little shit fleeced me!” You turn your look of playful annoyance to Vax. “We would have won that damn bet if you didn’t beg me to fuck you.”

“It’s not my fault,” Vax says defensively. Although there’s a smug look on his face that says he isn't sorry at all. “Three days without your touch is a long fucking time.”

“Vax,” you say through gritted teeth, “you barely lasted a few hours, let alone one day.”

He chuckles with a shrug. “At least I lasted longer than the nobleman just did.”

His jab at Percy earns him a light backhanded slap on the chest from the nobleman himself, and you can’t help but giggle at the way they try to play-fight around your body. Regardless of how much these two banter, you know they equally enjoy each other’s presence. And no matter how much hard-earned coin was lost in that annoying bet, you’ll remember to thank Scanlan for his antics this time.

~~~~~~~

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