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hyewka · 1 month

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warnings. possibly unfaithful, switch!beomgyu, ex best friends, pull out method, drunk sex, not proofread

you’ve always felt big feelings towards beomgyu, after all he has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, its just never ever been lust, even as a teenage girl with rapidly changing hormones. you love beomgyu, but it was never romantic. and yet as much as it surprises you, in the moment, it feels so right. like this is exactly how its supposed to be. getting maniacally mounted by choi beomgyu in a bathroom with your sense overwhelmed with the soju and beer breath. yeah, that sounds about right.

you just hadn’t expected it to turn so sappy so quick, despite the alcohol in your systems.

“i missed you…i missed you, i missed you”

at some point, you would’ve guessed those repeated declarations would’ve faded into white noise had it been any other person—any other person but him. someone who’d you considered the most important being of your entire life, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from in two entire years when your entire relationship had consisted of seeing each other all the time, someone that you’ve also, terribly missed.

when you share the same sentiment, when you also feel the need to repeat it over and over again, the heartache you’ve felt and the utter devastating emptiness that you’ve lived with for so long now being satiated—the repetition doesn’t let the words turn into sounds of nothingness as it naturally would’ve. rather, it continues to ram against your skull every time he gasps and whines them. like it gains a deeper, more intimate meaning the more he whispers them against your neck, trailing his wet kisses along your jawline.

“what happened with him?”

it’s like he got worked up at his own question, gripping the plush of your ass so hard his nails painfully digs into your flesh, having you hiss. you don’t blame what you register as an involuntary response—your ex boyfriend was the sole reason for your fallout with beomgyu, it’s a sore subject to poke.

“we broke it off six—s-six months after.” after you and beomgyu fell out you would’ve said, but how can you when the prick’s practically ramming his cock in you.

“oh,” he groans speeding up his sloppy pace, finding more rhythm—all while wearing a dopey smile, the frown on his face returning to ecstasy. “why?”

“just didn’t work out.” you reply curtly, trying to move on from the topic of your ex. he lets you, humming contentedly.

there was a part deep inside him that urged him to be smug and petty with an i told you so, or get mad that you dumped him for a relationship so futile to your life, but he can’t find himself to do so as he gets lost further in the way your face contorts, reacting to each jerk of his hips. you’re perfect, he thinks to himself over and over again. you’re perfect.

he thinks he could cum right then and there.

but somethings on the tip of your tongue— in fact, the moment you had registered him inside your head when you went inside that damned karaoke room, you noticed the ring. you quickly dispelled your first thought—it doesn’t look like a ring for marriage, it looked far too casual for that.

but you had still eyed it practically the entire night curious if it held any meaning and you had so badly wanted to pry. then you finally concluded that beomgyu has always been into jewellery, rings no exception. an hour ago, you didn’t know why you were so curious of his relationship status. but now? now you’re being fucked. you have a reason, so you try to bite the bullet to satiate your curiosity. “what about you?” you choke out. however, your question immedietely evaporates from your head when he smashes his lips against yours again heaving.

you don’t question it, you melt into it, pulling him in closer to the point there’s absolutely no space between the two of you.

“missed you” he whines. it has you uncontrollably tumble out giggles between your smushed lips before he steals your breath away yet again. you feel like you’re on drugs, you’re so high off of the adrenaline you feel. never in a million years would you have expected the original deep set uncomfortable tension between the two of you three hours ago to turn into this. when you had been invited out to hang out with your old college friends to come in and be met with familiar faces—you just didn’t expect your joy to so quickly be replaced with suffocating dread when the most familiar looks you up and down.

you weren’t warned of his presence. and now you were crowded by it.

“i couldn’t,” you gasp, your hooded eyes flying open when he revisits a hickey, grazing his teeth. “i can’t, i can’t live without you. that’s what i’ve realized, i can’t do it.”

you nod over and over again along to his words, frankly out of it, rolling your hips pathetically in rhythm with his. “wh-what about you?” he asks, his vulnerablity on full on display. long gone was the confident, vulgarity that oozed out of him.

it turns you on so much, it’s wrong but it does—his teary eyes, imploring you to put him at ease as he drives his cock deep inside your cunt. it feels right, it feels natural to try it out with him. the moment your finger flick his nipples, beomgyu gives you an immediate, satisfactory reaction—a combination of a gasp and a shriek before his head just pathetically falls to bury his head into the junction of your shoulders.

“you’re sensitive,” you note, letting your fingers lightly lay against his chest. the faltering of his pace is extremely noticeable as he had been increasingly building up his pace. it gives you a rush of dopamine, enough of it to have you more confident with what you want.

“whyyy..why’d you touch..” his whines muffle into your skin.

you peel his head off your shoulder by a fist of his hair and for what feels to be the hundredth time this night, he knocks the breath out of you—he’s gorgeous. when you started making out earlier you had passively asked him to keep his glasses on, you didn’t expect him to make such an effort to keep them because it’s practically falling off the bridge of his nose, crooked and foggy. he looks like a perfect mess.

your ex boyfriend hated it—when you had introduced domming during sex it had immediately killed the mood even though he promised you afterwards that it totally wasn’t because of your risque play with his nipples. after a while, you believed him—you wanted to believe him so you tried to ease into it again, showing him some porn, he’d surely like it as much as you did. you were sorely mistaken. he didnt, he practically ridiculed you, basically implying you were a total freak. it’s one of the things that served as a catalyst for your eventual breakup.

but beomgyu, god, beomgyu.

he transcends even your wildest imagination—hes everything you’d wish to hear and more. when you experimentally let your finger twist his hard buds again as he attempts to pick up his rhythm he gurgles on his spit, moaning loud enough for you to completely lose it. he slows down again, almost completely stilling, looking like he’s about to sob with his face a shade of red and pink, as if hes asking you for mercy.

“what?” you slur, cocking your head. “who allowed you to stop? i was close.”

he shakes his head, bottom lip slightly wobbling, “i c-can’t. if you keep touching my-”

your groan cuts off his rant. “hurry up, my legs are starting to cramp up gyu.”

he flinches at your harshness, falling into a pout. it’s a habit that as long as you remember, had driven you up the wall. but right now, you can’t help but find the action adorable, in complete contrast to the dirty situation you’re in. “but what if i just…like, cum?”

you sigh, propping yourself up again, “when you feel it coming, pull out.” you say simply, which doesn’t seem to ease his mind but he doesn’t resist shaking his hips again. it isn’t long before he’s losing himself in you, slap of skin against skin no longer your concern, totally ignoring the semi public setting. the moment he feels like he has has the upper hand you do it again, playing with his nipples until you’re sure they’re pink and plump, sore.

he not once questions anything, which makes you feel so immensely comfortable. “he would’ve hated this,” you comment absentmindedly, more to yourself than beomgyu. you hadn’t even thought he picked up on it when suddenly he becomes a lot more vocal, moaning obnoxiously loud you would’ve definitely slapped him silly and hopped off his cock…had you not been completely trashed. your brain is turned off, only mustering up a wobbly smile as you drown in his outward display of pleasure. it makes you feel so powerful. he both exaggerates and at the same time actually fucking loses his sanity.

he says those words again, panting, eyes completely glazed over and mouth almost permanently hung open, his hand reaching down to shakily play with your clit, making you arch into his touch, absolutely out of breath. “can’t live without you,”

at that final declaration, you clench around his dick to which he immediately reacts, erratically fucking into you, having your tits jiggle lewdly. he thinks hes hypnotized, he thinks he would’ve probably just bust a nut inside you anyway, but he snaps out of it, getting a sense of clarity.

beomgyu's cock throbs one last time inside you, before he pulls out, giving his cock only one small pump before spurting his load, some of it landing on your stomach and legs, some dripping to the floor. he lets out a soft moan, his breath hot against your neck. after what you believe to be an eternity, your sweaty selves interwined with each other, wallowing in silence as you finally get your breathing controlled, beomgyu pulls away to look at you.

it’s like you truly are telepathically connected, something you’ve joked about for years due to the instance you’ve completed each other’s thoughts. but you’ve come to realize it might be closer to the truth than anything you’ve ever known to be true. your feelings were intertwined, scarily so.

so its to not to your surprise when he doesn’t ask for a round two, he knows. like he always does.

you just try to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.

#beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader

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todomochi-uwu · 2 months

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favourite crime. (1/2) J.Y & B.C

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader / Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

Did it I proofread it? Kinda.

Did I just spent the last four hours working on it? Yes.

Am I just gonna post it and hope for the best? Also yes.

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

You fell exhausted into the bed, your chest heaving, legs numb and lips swollen. He falls right next to you, in the same state. Both staring at the ceiling, trying to regain composure. You think of your next words very carefully, how do you approach him without sounding needy? How do you ask him without actually asking? Yunho’s thinking about how he has to get up early in the morning for work, and that he must leave in the next five minutes. The thought of staying over not even crossing his mind, even though work is closer to your place than his.

And while you keep trying to think of a way to get what you want, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back, just to start putting his clothes back on.

“It’s late, Yun. You should stay over.” You’ve used that one before, and it didn’t work. But you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“All my stuff is back at my place, and I need it for tomorrow.” He ties his shoes and looks around for his wallet and jewellery. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

“Can’t you just grab it quick in the morning?”

“That doesn’t make sense, Y/n.” He pats his pockets making sure he’s got everything. “Hey, have you seen my hoodie? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Uh no, I don’t know where it ended up.” It’s not like it’s hidden right under your pillow. That would be crazy. “I’ll look for it, you can come get it tomorrow, or I can bring it to you while you are at work, it’s no…” He cut you off immediately.

“There’s no need for that, don’t worry about it. I’ll take it next time I come by. See you Thursday, gorgeous.” And with that, he leaves.

And so, the story goes. Every single time. Yunho comes over, horny, desperate and right to the point. Never steering away from his goal. Sex with him is mind-blowing, you won’t even lie, he knows what he’s doing and he’s managed to learn every single thing that makes your toes curl. He knows every inch of your body like a map, inside and outside. The things his mouth does should be illegal, the way his fingers curl just the right way while his lips suck on your clit, maintaining a rhythm that has you seeing stars in seconds. His cock is huge and gorgeous, making it hit all the right spots, while he whispers the most sinful things in your ear.

Looking at you taking my cock, aren’t you such a good slut?

Every single time you beg him to let you suck him off. Doesn’t matter if your jaw ends up aching the next morning, or if your tongue goes numb. The image alone of Yunho losing himself in the pleasure you bring makes you cum untouched. The way small whimpers escape his mouth as he starts growing closer, his hips thrusting into your wet cavern desperate for release, his head thrown back, eyes narrow and open wide mouth, his fist tightly wrapped in your head. It was all too good.

Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don’t stop. Oh. Yes, just like that, sweetheart.

Yunho knows everything there is to know about making you cum. But nothing about not making you cry. The way he doesn’t say anything once everything ends, not even asking if you are okay, his eyes never reach you, making you feel invisible. Leaving you feeling like a toy, his fuck toy, that he can just use and toss aside every time he feels like it. And while you died a little every single time, you couldn’t let go of him. Know that you loved him so bad, you let him treat you like that.

____________________________________________

Work, stress and a broken heart are never a good mix. You sat in front of the screen, staring at the blank page for a good number of minutes. Your body is there but your head is in a completely different place.

“I don’t there’s any more nails left to bite,” Hongjoong said as he sat next to you, putting a cup and a muffin in front of your face. “Eat this instead of trying to munch off your fingers.”

You looked at them, small bits of skin, nails, chipped nail polish and blood covered the tips, and the pain was slowly making itself present. You cursed under your breath before taking a sip of the beverage, gagging the second it touched your tongue.

“Ugh, I hate tea. I hate chamomile.” You took another sip, “I hate Mondays.”

“You are always in a bad mood, but what’s gotten into you today?” He said taking a sip of his drink, looking through some of his notes.

“I got no sleep. I’m on my period. I’m on a fucking block and this is due by Wednesday.” I’m heartbroken.

He hummed, “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Y/n, babe, since I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten a full night's sleep, so that’s not it. I understand about your period and you always, always manage to pull through a block, at least good enough for a deadline. You and I both know what this is about.”

“I already told you…”

“Bullshit. Why do you keep lying to yourself? Why do you keep lying to me?” He crossed his arms, his tone becoming accusatory. “What I don’t get is why you keep defending him. No matter how much he crosses the line you keep crossing your heart for him[MC1] .”

“He’s not doing anything, I’m the one who fucked up by falling for him.”

“He doesn’t even give you the bare respect you deserve, Y/n. He treats you like a sex doll; he doesn’t acknowledge you in public; he acts like he doesn’t know you. He knows about your feelings and he could give less of a fuck about them”

“It’s casual sex, Joongie.”

“I’ve had casual sex, and it has never even crossed my mind to treat someone the way he treats you.” He sighs frustrated, “And what bothers me the most is the fact you are willing to stand all it to get a bit of him. He doesn’t want you; he only wants your body.”

Tears threaten to spill out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. From him, from Mingi, hell even from yourself. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. To let go. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m aware of it. But what do you want me to say? I’m a fucking idiot for loving him, but I can’t help it.” You covered your mouth, trying to keep the sobs inside.

“Love, please, I’m begging you I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I hate what he’s done to you, he took away your shine, your spark. Please, promise you will end this. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore, if not for you, for me, please.”

____________________________________________

You had made a promise. You would try to move on, finally kicking Yunho out of your life. Yeah, you had first slipped a bit but you were now on the right track.

The first Thursday you had been so dispersed you completely forgot to cancel your (dick) appointment with him. So, when he showed up on your doorstep and immediately threw you onto the couch and ate you out, there was nothing much you could do, so you let yourself enjoy it, one last time you said to yourself.

Oh my god Yun, I'm gonna cum, please!

Don't you dare, I'm not done with you.

Watching him leave was just as bad as the last time. It made you cry all night long, your heart empty and your stomach in a swirl. That was the night you decided you never wanted to feel like that again.

The second time, you'll admit, it was because you were horny and in withdrawal. It was a few weeks after, you had been cancelling your appointments claiming you were too busy, and while it wasn't necessarily a lie, you were also avoiding him. But you just needed a bit of him to help you get by, a small dosage and you would be able to quit.

You had found yourself head pushed against the sheets, waist up and knees wide open while he pistols his hips against your, now, reddish ass. You were drooling, eyes at the back of your head, and mouth screaming his name over and over again.

You missed me, you whore? Oh, I bet you did. I'm the only one who can give you what you need, this pussy is mine and don't you dare forget about it.

You watched him leave and didn't say anything. Staring at your phone, of course, pretending to be busy on it, but it had at least made you appear uninterested.

The third and last time it had been him texting you that he was right in front of your building. On a Wednesday. What the hell was he doing there on a Wednesday?

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd drop by, we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks and I thought I would at least try." He said.

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. No clue on who was the man standing in front of you. Yunho had never "dropped by", your meetings planned, and established beforehand, like a doctor's appointment. He was equally as confused as you, not knowing what got into him; blaming it on the stress and the lack of sex.

You had ended up riding him on the sofa, both of you cumming unusually fast, but near as satisfying.

Oh, it felt so good Yun. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks, remember?

And just like that, it was done. You had gotten up, ready to take a shower and go to sleep. Asking him to lock the door on his way out. Yunho couldn't help but feel sick, you hadn't even spared him a glance.

____________________________________________

In the middle of your mess of a life, a new project had been assigned to you at work. It was bigger than anything you had done before, and so demanding that the workload had to be shared between three people. Hongjoong, you and…

“Guys, this is Bang Chan. He will be working with you for the next few weeks, he’s going to be supporting you during this project, so make sure to relay on him.”

Your eyes crossed and he gave you a small smile. He was cute, you won’t try and deny it. But you didn’t have time for that, you have to focus on working on yourself and on the project. Right?

While at first the load of work had been a blessing in disguise, keeping you away from Yunho and off of thinking of him, it had quickly turned into a nightmare in the last few weeks. Change after change after change. At some point it even had you doubting yourself, but Chan was always there to reassure you.

Early mornings turned into late nights. Hongjoong, Chan and you took turns to sleep on the uncomfortable, black leather couch at the back of the studio.

It was 4 a.m. on a Thursday. Hongjoong had lost the battle about an hour ago, softly snoring in the background, with drool running down his cheek. Chan had taken a photo for "future purposes" as he stated.

At this point, you couldn't even focus on the things happening on the screen, but you also couldn't sleep, too anxious to find any peace.

"I don't think we are going to get anything else done today," Chan said throwing his arms back and stretching his muscles. And yeah, you couldn't help but stare.

"I know. But god knows I won't be getting any sleep until we finish this"

"I'm the same."

A comfortable silence covered the room, only the soft sounds of Chan clicking the mouse and the quiet snores of Joong could be heard. And just as you started to disassociate.

"What's your favourite midnight snack?"

"Mm? Oh, I don't know."

"Mine's instant ramen. And I would kill for a bowl right now." He said getting up, "My treat, you in?" He offered his hand to help you get up.

Without any thought, you took it.

And so, the rest of the night went. Between energy drinks, trash food and friendly (and bit flirty) banter.

"I cannot fathom the idea of someone not liking coffee."

"It tastes like shit." No hesitance.

"No, it doesn't! It's literally what keeps me going without it I would just be a zombie all day."

"Tea does the same thing, it doesn't taste like dirt, and it's better for you."

"The thought of having a cup of green tea first thing in the morning makes me want to gag."

"Don't knock till you try it." He finished the last of his noodles, speaking with his mouth full, "And it doesn't even have to be green tea, there are lots of types of teas, like..."

Your phone started ringing, interrupting his rant. He took it and looked at the screen, "Bad idea, don't you dare answer is calling you?"

He called you. Which is something he never does. Too personal. Yet here he was, at the other side of the line. Waiting for you to answer, but you couldn't let yourself do it, you couldn't let yourself fall for him all over again. Stunned on what to do, you let it go to voicemail. Watching it ring one, two, three times before your screen turned black. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Now an awkward silence.

"So... I'm guessing a ghost of the past has just tried to summon itself back into your life?" He said trying to break the tension[MC2] .

"Yeah, it's umm... It's complicated."

"I've got time and I've been told am an excellent listener." His eyes carry a kind of compassion you had never experienced, no pity, no sense of charity.

"Well..."

____________________________________________

"Oh wow, he isn't just a bad idea, Y/n. No, he's way past that."

"I know." A sad giggle. "He's not always an asshole, he's just not interested in me in any other way that's not sexual. That's why I'm trying to move on."

"That's good, that's good." A thought crossed his mind, "he can't be that good in bed."

You choked on your spit, not expecting the conversation to go in that direction.

"I'm just saying, maybe you just idealize him because you hadn't had decent sex before him."

"Even if the burdens me to admit it, he's really good."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me, that's what makes me hate him even more."

"I'm sure there are guys out there go can fuck you equally or even better, and not break your heart."

"Oh, yeah. Where?" You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. But the view in front of you made your heart stop.

He was looking right into your eyes. His back relaxed against the back of the chair, his legs opened wide and his arms resting on top of his thighs. He tilted his head and gave you a small smirk.

The guy was right in front of you.

You were just too dumb to notice.

"Oh."

____________________________________________

Contrary to you, Yunho couldn't go back to his duties. Staring confused at the screen of his phone, why didn't you answer? Were you okay? Could you just be busy? Too busy for him? Busy doing what? Busy doing who?

His pulse sped up at that thought, could there be someone else? No. Could it? No. But why does it matter? Is not like he wants you like that.

Right?

____________________________________________

Thursday rolled around and the project was finally done, delivered and paid for. And you couldn't help but be in ecstasy.

"I thought that shit would never end!" You said finally leaving the building you had been trapped in for all those weeks.

Chan only giggled while looking at you.

"I can't wait to get home and spend the next days completely buried in my bed," Hongjoong said.

"No! Let's go out and celebrate, we deserve it!" You tried convincing him.

"Aren't you tired? My back is killing me, Y/n." He gave you a side hug, "I'm sorry, not today, but I promise we'll go out soon."

"But Joongie." You whined.

"I'm sorry, but you go out and have fun with Chan, okay?" He placed a small kiss on top of your head, "Chan, please take care of her okay? I trust you."

"Don't worry, I've got her."

And got you he did. Got you so drunk you could barely walk back to your apartment. So, he had to carry you on his back.

"Goddamit, when did you take all those shots? I only saw you order two rounds, Y/n."

"The guy at the bar thought I was cute, so gave me a couple extra." You drunkenly giggled, holding your clumsy against his back. "Why aren't you drunk, Channie? We went out to have fun and you are acting all bossy."

"Someone had to be responsible, baby and I knew it wasn't going to be you. Besides, I don't love the taste of alcohol."

"You don't like coffee, you don't like alcohol, what do you like Chan?"

"I can think of one thing." He mumbled under his breath.

Making your way inside the building wasn't easy because of the amount the stairs and the lack of an elevator, but he managed. He had helped you with your keys, and changed you into your pajamas, with his eyes closed which made it a thousand times harder. Just as he was about to leave, you pulled him in.

"Stay over, it's late Channie." You hugged his arm, pushing your breasts against his skin. He was so into you that it got him slightly flustered.

"It's barely 11 p.m., Y/n."

"Please, just stay Chan." You looked right into his eyes, you could feel the alcohol dissipating, sobering up. You needed him, right there, right now. Your hand pulled him in.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, love." He whispered as your faces got closer.

"Please, Channie." You whispered against his lips.

The kiss was soft and timid, him still hesitant but slowly letting himself into it. Your hands made their way from his arms to his shoulders and found their home right into the back of his neck. It made him shiver, and he became a little braver, grabbing your waist. You let your tongue into his mouth, becoming addicted to his taste and the way his lips feel. You separated for just a second, the annoying need of air getting in the way, and as you were to continue. A bang on the door pulled you out of the moment.

"What the..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"It's so late, who..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Y/n? Please open the door. Please, we need to talk. Please, I know you are there."

Yunho. A very drunk Yunho.

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tadpolesonalgae · 3 months

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High Lords and their kinks

a/n: this got so out of hand so quickly

Warnings: smut. just so much smut

Rhysand:

We all know he has a breeding kink, and with a smart mouth like that he definitely knows how to put it to good use on you

He has those lovely, deliciously sensitive, big illyrian wings at his back—practically a walking weak spot. And after all the teasing he puts you through with that cruel, silver-tipped tongue, you’re perfectly entitled to put him through his own set of trials

You cannot tell me he doesn’t get off on showing you off—at least a little. Whether it’s subtly matching jewellery pieces, having his scent marking your clothing, or having you astride his thigh before his court in the Hewn City, he delights in letting everyone know you’re one another’s.

Helion:

Is there anything I can actually add that isn’t obvious? He has a whole library at his fingertips, and knowing how much of the internet consists of porn in various forms, you cannot tell me there isn’t a secret alcove he has or even a whole other library (private, for your and his use only, of course) dedicated specifically for his personal interests.

He’s definitely familiar with sex toys, are you kidding me? He could go from cooking meals for you and letting you try on his golden snake armband, to having you gently spread apart for him on his bed, thighs pushed open, forearms bound at your back, eyes blindfolded as tears of pleasure spill down, a vibrator secured perfectly over your clit while he latches his mouth over your pretty nipples, keeping himself deep inside your dripping cunt.

And he’d use them outside the bedroom, too.

Sharing erotica that has heat spreading through your bodies—whether it’s reenacting scenes together, or being told to read a page aloud as he applies himself to you, it’s something both of you take pleasure in, finding equal enjoyment in the physical intimacy as well as the emotional side of getting to discover and share new experiences together.

Thesan:

Hear me out on this: threesomes.

We already know he has a male lover, so sharing you with someone else—someone he cares for and trusts—isn’t an issue. Quite the opposite.

Getting to watch as both his partners touch and explore one another, kiss and discover, or turn their sights on him—absolute heaven. Especially after a long day of work, dealing with High Lord business, then getting to just relax into his lovers’ arms? Utter perfection.

And it’s non-sexual too: waking up with a warm body pressed either side that’s been softened from sleep, sharing meals and nabbing pieces of food off each other’s plates, swapping clothes and sharing scents until they’re so thoroughly combined no one would remember what belongs to who since they all smell the same.

Kallias (and Viviane):

Temperature play.

Hot baths, a thick lather of bubbles looking like foam across the surface, heat soaking into your body until you’re sweating, all the while he’s running cool fingertips over your skin, so perfectly sensitive as he plays with you leisurely, brushing teasingly over your nipples, dipping between your thighs to press the cold pad of his digit flat to your clit.

I might be biased, but I feel like Kallias would also have some hints of a breeding kink.

Sinking into your warm, wet heat—how could he resist filling you up, hoping that you take to him, latch on and keep him tucked away inside.

Now, adding Viviane into the mix, things get so much messier.

Nights that would start off clean cut and strict would slowly devolve into sloppily grinding against one another, turned dumb and pliable by relentless pleasure. Kallias often finding himself rolling his hips to one of you, the other placed atop their mouth. When it’s not that way round, it’s him who’s lying on the bed, panting and fucked out while Viviane rides his cock, you keeping him docile and distracted beneath your cunt while your hands explore her breasts, cupping and thumbing across her nipples, mouthes latched together intimately.

Tarquin:

Oh boy, we’re touching on some monsterfucking here, no way around it. I mean, come on, his whole theme is to do with the sea, of course tentacles are going to come into play one way or another when he partially transforms.

Hundreds of small suction pads settling across your body, bath water lapping at the sides while you lean into him, panting with heat and need. It’s like having tiny mouths licking and suckling at the best spots across your skin, one placed deliberately over your clit while his fingers work you apart, then switching between using his mouth and his tentacles to tug and suck at your nipples, loving how you cry out for him.

I also think he’d absolutely love seeing you in lingerie—lovely pale green lace with creamy white frills, reminding him of sea foam. How you’ll sometimes adorn yourself in pearls, their pale shine complimenting the threads of your underwear, making him desperate to touch you, to at least feel you against him in some way.

Beron (+Eris, separately):

He is an utter control freak but in the best way (cannot believe I’m saying this—kind of struggling)

Anything from collars, to leashes, to chains, ropes, ties, even his belt, he knows how to use them on you, to wrap you up in such a way that he is in complete and utter control over your body, deciding how much pleasure to doll out that night. Going as far as to have a little bell attached to the collar, just to add that edge of humiliation.

Now, despite how dominating that might sound, he loves flipping you on your back, keeping your thighs spread apart even as you try to shut them when he spins you into overstimulation. And why wouldn’t he?

Using his mouth on you, reducing you to such a blabbering mess gives him ultimate control over you—who needs daemati abilities to shatter minds when you have heated fingertips and a mouth that knows how to put its harsh properties to use?

Eris—he knows his strengths, and plays to them.

While others might spend precious minutes going around, lighting every candle, he can do it with a fraction of a thought, filling your room with a soft glow, helping you settle into that mood.

It’s taken a bit, but you’ve managed to narrow down the selection of scents to a specific combination—reaching the point you’re no longer able to smell even a hint of vanilla without utterly soaking your underwear. Though maybe that had been part of a secret plan of his, to get you to associate a scent so powerfully with pleasure that you’d be at his mercy with little more than a candle to blame.

While he can be teasing, and a little mean at times, he enjoys slowly kissing his way down your body, murmuring how much he adores you, how he cherishes you, how he loves the way you thread your fingers through his hair. And you love hearing those whispered confessions from his lips, because it means he feels safe. Safe to speak with you, to trust in you, to allow himself to be comforted by you. He has someone to be with.

Tamlin:

Obviously, monsterfucking again

Probably in possession of a wicked power kink as well as in favour of some predator play. Getting to chase after you beneath a full moon—there’s something so ancient and ritualistic about the practice that just eases some tension in his beast’s bones. Catching up with you and clasping the nape of your gown in his jaws to raise you from the ground as you squirm helplessly, unable to do much against such a massive creature.

I do think that behind closed doors, he wouldn’t mind the power imbalance going in the opposite direction though… Being forced to just sit and wait patiently while you strip yourself of your clothes, teasingly tossing your underwear into his lap while you lay back on the bed, pleaded with how his fangs have subconsciously pushed from his upper lip, pupils dilated with ferocious hunger—needing to bed you.

Hybern:

Loves getting head

We’re in unfamiliar territory over here, but he knows his way around some nasty spells. Incantations that have you riding him desperately, aching for release after release, grinding tight against his hips so he touches those spots that have you sobbing.

Potions are also frequently incorporated—that make you need him with every part of your being with such an acute intensity he makes a mental note to lessen to liquid’s concentration next time.

He also like seeing you in different crowns, one time putting you in one made of bone, then ordering you to remove your dress without dislodging it—if it was nudged, he’d edge you until you were crying, but if it fell… Mother save you.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#rhysand #helion #thesan #kallias #tarquin #beron #eris #tamlin #hybern #so conflicted rn

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keravnous · 11 months

Text

the hunter! ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 3 here

Tangerine expected someone else - but he'll do just fine with you, too.

(Based on that one scene from the Kraven The Hunter trailer where he turns around in that chair with the loaded crossbow)

warnings: kids, this is dark; this is like the darkest version of tangerine my brain has cooked up thus far; he is a sociopath by source sooo: manipulation; dub-con/non-con, coercion, gun kink, anger issues, crying, blood, murder/injuries, daddy kink, masturbation, slight dumbification, name-calling, pet names, corruption kink, spit kink

SO I SAW THE KRAVEN THE HUNTER TRAILER AND I REALLY COULDNT HELP MYSELF

"You fucking asshole!", you scream at the top of your lungs, bursting through the large door of your husband's office. It slams back into the lock just as you come to a halt on the expensive fur carpet in the middle of the spacious room.

His chair is facing the wall, a lit cigarette slowly glimming away in the ashtray. It lights up your rage like a match to gasoline.

"I am fucking speaking to you, you fucking dickhead! Can't you keep your dirty-ass dick out of that disgusting bitch you call a secretary for one day?", you are fuming, heart racing as you stomp down with your left heel, throwing your expensive and ridiculously small purse at him, missing the chair by nearly a whole foot. It crashes into the massive painting hanging behind the desk, where it leaves a nasty cut before falling to ground uselessly.

Your husband does not react and that, oh that, that get's you going alright, makes your blood race through your veins so hard you can hear it in your ears.

"I am fucking speaking to you -- turn the fuck around you coward!", you yell, hands clutched to tight fists, your jewellery cutting into the flesh.

Slowly, comedically slowly even, the chair turns. The man sitting in it puts his feet up on the table, legs clad in an expensive navy pin-stripe as he crosses them. And that --

That is not your husband.

The man, sitting in a chair that clearly isn't his, in an office that surely doesn't belong to him, is lean and a lot more handsome than the man you so reluctantly married a few years ago. His face is expressionless, bland like piece of paper, except for the anger pooling around his eyes. He is wearing an expensive looking pin-stripe suit and his hair is neatly combed back, 70s porn stache trimmed just as carefully - the only thing that looks out of place is the blood splattered on his face like freckles, one large splatter on his left cheek.

He is also pointing a gun at you. An actual fucking gun.

"And who the fuck are you, Lady?", he says, casually, but a little irritated nonetheless.

You choke on your own tongue, backing up a little. This is not good. It has your fight or flight kicking in, muscles in your back and legs tensing up and brain going numb, fingers starting to tingle.

"Don't ya move an inch", he growls, his gun following your movement. You freeze. You wonder if he will actually shoot you. You wonder what he is doing here.

"I-, I--"

The man rolls his eyes at you - pretty, pretty eyes; blue like the sea - and huffs out an exasperated sigh.

"Fuckin' answer me." His tone sends shivers down your spine and, if you did not already do so by his gun, you now know for sure that he is not playing around.

"I-", you take a deep breath, voice shaking and thin, "I- I am Markov's wife?"

It comes out more like a question, than an answer, really. You hope it will do; you hope he is happy with what is the - for you, rather sad - truth.

Tangerine cocks an eyebrow, leans back in the leather chair, gun still pointing at you. "'S that so?"

"Y-yes", you gulp.

"Didn't know he had a wife", he mutters, more to himself, really.

Tangerine can feel how the wheels in his head start to turn - the intel didn't suggest a marriage. It genuinely surprises him - not only because people in this profession rarely have spouses - but also because the young lady in front of him is way too pretty. Angelic, even. Too good for a boastful, careless cockroach of a criminal like Markov is. And he wants her, wants to own her. Wants to take take take. He wonders just how quickly she will break.

You, in the meantime, sense an opening.

"W-what do you want? I can g-give you money", you hastily stumble over the words, anxiety crawling up your spine, "A-all of it!"

The man raises his eyebrows, snorts amused. "No, love, I don't need your money."

"A-anything, p-please - just, just", and the dam breaks, eyes tearing up as your eyes zero in on the gun, "Just please d-don't kill me."

Something in his eyes changes, a dark shadow dancing over his face, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and then he pulls back the hammer of his revolver with his thumb. Your knees buckle a little as you hear the bullet snapping in place.

"Care to say that again, eh?" - Anything for your life, really.

"P-please don't kill me", you nearly sob, voice small and quiet, and you are ready, willing to put it all in there, "Please, I am begging you, Mister. I- I don't know why you're here, this - this is one big misunderstanding, I don't know anything about my husband's business. J-just let me go, please."

He does not move. You don't want to die, you are young, you still have a life to live. Maybe you will finally file for divorce. Maybe you will buy a house in Europe. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- You don't want to die.

"Please."

Tangerine says nothing for a moment, then his lips tilt up. "Tell me, love, d'ya beg for him that prettily, too? Or 's that just f'me?"

You blink. "What?", you blurt out.

"Jus' lemme hear it again, sugar - sounded so sweet, that."

You do not know what game he is playing but you really aren't ready to die yet either, so you give in.

"Please", you beg, looking at him with big, teary eyes - the barrel of the revolver stares back, a small black hole of ultimate death -, "Please, let me live." His lips tilt up and you decide to make a move on it, catch him off-guard.

"I-I'd do anything, I give you whatever you want!", you are growing desperate now, your brain trying its hardest to come up with something that will safe your ass. And that, that has his eyebrows knotting together.

The man seems to mull it over for a short while, eyes you up and down. Your skin tingles with it, feels numb and like it is on fire at the same time. "Did ya just say Anything, love?"

"I-I did, y-yes", and your voice grows desperate, "I'd do anything - just don't kill me, please, what do you want, I'll do --"

You ramble on and Tangerine rolls his eyes at you, exhales annoyed.

"Fuckin' shut up", he growls and you do, chin quivering a little with the tears still pooling in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, sniffling a little.

"Here's what we're gonna do, love", he smiles cooly, shows his teeth like a predator, eyes drilling into you, "We're gonna have a little fun. And once we're done, I'll let ya go. How does that sound? Agreed?"

You have a suspicion what fun means, both, painfully clear and enforced by the way his gaze wanders over your body and you gulp. You really don't have a choice now, do you?

So you can hear yourself say: "Y-yes."

"Yes --?", he lifts his gun a little, gestures with it, "C'mon be a good girl."

Your eyes widen. You are not stupid; you know what he most likely wants to hear - you have met men like him before your marriage - and despite it making your stomach tingle a little it also makes painfully clear what he is imagining as A little fun.

Your voice is small, fingers fumbling with the hem of your tweed blazer. "Y-yes, Daddy", shivers run down your spine as his eyes turn dark dark dark, gaze transfixed by you and then he barks out a mean laugh.

"Fuckin' hell", what?, "I wanted you to thank me, you dumb fuckin' thing, not be a complete 'n utter slut about it."

Shame burns on your cheeks and you scramble for words - anything to say, to excuse or justify yourself - as mortification swallows you whole, crawls up your spine and mingles with your fear, has your head swimming.

"What a poor lil' airhead ya are", he grins at you meanly, "But I like it, go 'head, keep callin' me that. Probably gets you all wet, dunnit?"

You shake your head wildly - "N-no" - bottom lip quivering a little and he knows you are lying.

And Tangerine starts to grow bored. He has been feeling quite bored for a good while - since he blew Markov's lights out to be exact. He wishes he had not done it so soon, would have rather tied him up and let him watch how he has his way with his wife. Tangerine sighs, puffs his cheeks and let’s go off a breath dramatically, looks you straight in the eye.

"Alright, listen. I just don't have all day, so ya better get going, before I pop ya too", he waves his revolver at you, "Get undressed. 'n do it slowly."

You nod - I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die - fingers brush over the first button of your blazer, as he interrupts you: "Ah ah ah, what d'ya say?"

Your eyelids flutter and your knees feel like giving in. "Y-yes, Daddy."

Tangerine hums deep in his throat. "Atta girl - now keep going."

With shaking hands, cold sweat pooling between your fingers, you start to slowly unbutton the first few buttons of your costume's blazer. It's a Chanel tweed set, since you had just been out with some friends for lunch, before one of them told you about what had she'd seen yesterday. Part of you wishes you had never left the restaurant, just shrugged it off and ordered another drink instead. You don't even know why you fight for this marriage - you never really spoke to him; he never touched you or even really looked at you - not that you minded that much. But it's losing your status, the money he brings in, that you'd miss and thus, you had grown a nice pair of manicured claws over time.

See where that got you.

Your blazer falls to the ground with a thud and Tangerine licks his lips. And that is when another part of you, very quietly at the back of your mind, is a little glad you came here. It's in his eyes mostly, a strange and unknown hunger, like an animal gone wild. And it ignites something in you, shoots pleasure straight down your loins and has your breath hitching.

No one, no one has ever looked at you like that, like he is close to dashing over the desk and swallowing you whole, eating you up and ripping you apart with razor-sharp teeth.

Your blouse follows next, as you pop open the first few buttons, pulling the thin fabric out of your short tweed skirt. It flows to the ground shortly after, leaves you in your bra, skirt, and heels. Tangerine does not give you as much as a few seconds to accommodate to being partially exposed to him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Skirt's next, darlin'."

You inhale audibly through your lips and Tangerine chuckles quietly at that as you unhook the clasp on your skirt, slooowly pulling down the zipper at the side. You feel ridiculous, like a very bad caricature of a housewife stripping for her husband. It's nothing like you imagined it to be, fingers buried deep inside of you, imagining your husband to be someone else, someone prettier, someone who valued you - someone who you'd love to get dirty for. You don't feel sexy or tempting - but to him you certainly do look the part, the way your body quivers and shakes, all shy by avoiding his gaze.

The expensive tweed falls to the floor and you step out of the fabric of your clothing, pooling around your feet. You gulp, carefully looking up at him. You wonder if he likes what he sees, if it's enough for him to spare your life, to --

Tangerine's heart skips a beat, a sharp noise erupting in his ears. The lingerie you are wearing, a stunning pale-pink lace set, hugs your curves nicely and leaves nothing to the imagination - with the way your nipples poke through the bra, the string cupping your cunt, dipping a little into the cleft of your folds.

He can also see the damp patch on your lacey string and it makes his dick rock-hard, pressing against his slacks. He lifts an eyebrow, as he looks at you. "Who would've thought", and you blush, swallowing, "He married a common whore."

The humiliation burns on your cheeks, turns them red and your mouth goes dry, but there's also fresh wetness pooling between your legs at his words. Oh, you are fucked.

He reads you like an opened book, watches you shifting uncomfortably. "Say it", he whispers softly.

You swallow, licking your lips, before replying quietly: "I am a common whore - Daddy."

"That you are, darlin', aren't ya", Tangerine grins, "Get that bra off, show me what ya got."

You reach back and unclasp the soft lace, pulling the strings over your shoulders and down your arms, carelessly throwing the fabric to the side. Tangerine tilts his head a little, his eyes assessing your tits. He seems satisfied, waves his revolver at you.

"Touch yourself, I wanna see those pretty tits movin'", swallowing, your hands come up, damp with cold sweat and cup your tits, bouncing and squeezing them a little, pressing them together. You do not dare looking at him, gaze focussed on the desk instead, hands brushing over your breasts.

You just started rolling your left nipple between your index finger and thumb, gasping quietly, the slight pain and pleasure running straight between your legs as he suddenly moves. You flinch, arms immediately clutching around your exposed chest while he gets up, deliberately strolls over to you.

Maybe he is not satisfied, he surely isn't, it must've been too little, not enough he's gonna kill you, kill you, kill you --

"Such perfect fuckin' tits", he weighs his revolver in his hands, the metal of it clinking against his rings, and closes in on you. "Have ya been touched often?", the barrel of the gun hooks underneath your chin and your lift your head with it obediently, looking up at him. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your eyes big and teary again. You don't think he's one to slip on the trigger but it still has anxiety crawling up your spine - don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me --

"Answer me, ya stupid twat."

You just wish he would take that fucking gun away from your face.

"N-no", you answer truthfully. The last time you had sex was literal ages ago, in your time at Harvard. Since your parents had married you off you haven't been touched by another fucking human being, assured so by the constant observation of your husband's men. He was allowed to cheat, but God forbid you had some fun. So, you had retreated to fucking yourself, lacking any physical contact, making every single time you masturbated feel shallow and incomplete. Tangerine watches the way your face changes as you reminisce.

"Oh, ya poor thing", he coos, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and you look up at him, "Bet that felt horrible, didn't it?"

And you nod, his thumb caressing your cheek and you get a first good look at him. He is really pretty. The blood looks good on him, bright red in a glooming contrast to his blue eyes. Your head swims with it a little. "How did that make ya feel, eh?"

"Lonely", you croak, before you can stop yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks, pooling between his fingers and rings.

He hums in his throat. "Bet it did", something dances across his eyes, "D'ya want someone to take care of ya? D'ya want to stop feeling so bloody lonely all the time?"

The truth behind his words runs you over like a freight train, barely leaves you wondering with how he got that about you so fast, brain erupting in a static noise.

You do. You feel lonely, locked up in a golden cage of money and bodyguards, with no one opening its door to spend some time with the little bird inside.

"Y-yeah", you whisper, blinking away the tears.

"Wanna know something, love?", and you nod, carefully, not to spook him into shooting, "I could be that person. How's that sound, eh? I could keep ya safe -"

Tangerine's hand leaves your cheek and touches your waist instead, a feather-light touch that has goosebumps spreading all over your body.

"I could touch ya -", his hand sprawls over your lower back, "'N keep you happy, get ya lots'n lots of pretty, sparkly things."

Your breath hitches, brain slowly growing mushy because - because, despite the gun underneath your chin, that does sound heavenly. It sounds easy. Painless. Better. A little exciting even.

"C'mon, how's that sound?", he coos, hand running over your back, to your side again, thumb toying with the hem of your string.

"Sounds so good, Daddy", you sigh, images of a new life, a different life flashing by.

"Mh, I know it does. I could take you with me, make ya mine. You'd love that, wouldn't ya?", his fingers dance over your abdomen, dipping lower and between your legs. His thumb presses down on the damp patch, rubs over your clit, his bracelet rustling.

And it is like your brain has completely given up, surrendering yourself to this very handsome man. But you just can't since - "I-I am married", you croak, a little helplessly, like you don't quite know what to make out of that either.

He does, anger flickering behind his eyes like someone pulled a lighter out and ignited his gaze.

Tangerine growls, the barrel of his revolver pressing against your temple roughly, thumb rubbing smaller circles over your clit through your dampened string, "You belong to me now, d'ya understand? There's nothing he can do about it, y'hear me?"

"Y-yes Daddy, I do", you whine, eyelids fluttering and small tears running down your cheeks.

"Oh, stop fuckin' crying - I can feel how wet ya little cunt's gotten, fuckin' slut", and you blink up at him, a small gasp escaping your mouth as your gazes meet through teary eyes.

You just look so fucking hot to him. Adrenaline from his kill still pumps through his veins and it makes him so so mad, his ears ringing. He feels like he is about to fucking burst and your tears only spurr him on, making something in his stomach growl, stretching its claws out.

Tangerine is too far gone already, everything tinted red red red and he just wants to lash at you, bury his teeth in your throat and end your life like that, bury his dick deep inside of you and feel you twitch around him while blood spurts from your open wound, flows from your mouth. He wants.

But you are also so very very pretty to him, tears running down your cheeks, lips plush and quivering a little and nipples hard like glass, testing his patience with the way they poke out at him.

"Or actually, don't", his lips curl up into a cold smile, "I like to see you cry, hm? Y'real pretty like this."

And you sob heavily, his words making your head swim. Pretty pretty pretty - when was the last time someone called you pretty?

"Oh, darlin'", Tangerine whispers, gun grazing your temple, thumb rubbing small and hard circles on your clit, "Don't be hurt by Daddy, hm? I don't mean to hurt ya, now do I?"

"N-no", you shake your head a little, "Di-didn't hurt m-me."

"Mhm, you are such a good girl, aren't ya? Never hurt by your new Daddy, eh?"

You shake your head again but this time, his face grows stern. "Ah ah ah, words, love. Use your words."

"N-no, y-you could never hurt me."

"Yeah, I couldn't, how could I? I can say anything to you, call you whatever I like and you would never be hurt, would ya?"

And you do not want him to be angry, do not want him to think that he could hurt you - so that he doesn't accidentally slip and does just that - and you notice that fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

"I-I wouldn't, no", you blink away the tears and Tangerine smiles at you.

"That's right. I can call you whatever I like", his thumb speeds up and you moan sweetly, "What d'ya think? Doesn't slut fit you well?"

He says it with such adoration that you cannot help but sigh, nodding. "Y-yeah, it does", you reply quietly, ready to wear it with pride.

"Alright then, slut - take that sorry excuse of a panty off."

You follow his command, shaking fingers hooking underneath the hem of your string, pulling it down slowly.

"Faster, you dumb fuckin' slut."

"Uh-huh", you mumble, nodding, and hastily shoving your string down your legs until it falls down and pools at your feet - a pretty pink on a bright fur carpet. Now, with being fully naked, you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You still wonder if he really won't hurt you. You decide that if you stick by rules, he most likely won't.

Tangerine slowly walks around you, like a predator surrounding its prey, then comes to a halt behind you. The barrel of his revolver presses against the nape of your neck and then glides over your body - down down down - cold metal against warm skin, and then he reaches around your waist. The gun grazes your abdomen and slips between your legs, barrel running cooly through your folds. And you can't hold back the moan crawling up your throat, parting your lips, has you inhaling sharply.

"Yeah, that's more like it, innit?", he rubs the cold metal along your folds, "I can fuckin' smell how wet your cunt is."

And you can hear it, too - the way your pussy squelches obscenely around the barrel, wetness dripping down your thighs. Your knees buckle as the metal rubs along your clit, has you moaning shyly.

Tangerine wraps one arm around you, holds you upright with your back pressed flush against his chest and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, hotly through his slacks.

"Lift your leg, love", he whispers, moustache brushing over the shell of your ear and you comply like you are a fucking robot, and his large hand wraps around the back of your knee, holds your leg up. You mewl as the gun wanders further, barrel brushing against your hole and then dips in with barely any effort, so so slick by your juices and your breath hitches, whole body trembling as the cold metal enters you.

"O-oh", you gasp dumbly, your body sacking back against him. The barrel isn't too big, barely larger than a finger, and rather short but it still feels - good? Tangerine starts to fuck you with it slowly, moves the gun in and out of you and your head swims with the thought, that he could just pull the trigger and blow your lights out, could leave you here bleeding to death.

Your legs start to shake, anxiety and lust mingling dangerously, and in a desperate attempt for any leverage your hand shoots up, reaches back and finds the back of his neck, clutches onto it, fists the pristine white banker's collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, that feels fuckin' good, dunnit?"

"Uh-huh", you breathe, the cold metal pumping in and out of you has lust pooling your stomach and you look down to where his tattooed arm wraps around your waist, where the black sparrow and the golden bracelet vanish along your pussy - watching the way you can see the grip and trigger moving against your folds.

You should be scared, afraid of him and afraid of the gun fucking into you - but you just aren't. Lust washes over your brain, makes everything go just a little hazy, wraps you in cotton candy - hot and syrupy, sweet.

"My god - shit", you breathe, your cunt aching to be touched and you wish for the barrel to just be a bit longer, able to fuck you properly, reach the parts only his cock could - the one that's pressing against your ass hotly, pulsing through his slacks. Instead, you roll your hips once, best you can with his iron grip on your thigh, meeting the thrusts of his gun.

It has you whining, the way the cold metal presses against your hot and slick skin, throwing your head back, resting on his shoulder. Tangerine moves in, like a hungry animal, lips and stache brushing over your exposed shoulder, tickling the naked skin while his eyes wander down your body - taking in your desperate thrusts, bouncing tits and hard nipples. You are fucking hot, maybe the hottest thing he has seen in a while, hotter than the tarts he fucks sometimes.

You seem clean - innocent and virginal and it nearly makes him bust a nut thinking about you: on all fours crawling towards him, sucking his cock until your throat bruises and you are a crying mess, tied to the bedposts taking him like a good fucking personal sex doll would. He groans against your skin, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your leg.

The sound has you vibrating. It leaves you wanting, wanting to feel more, to feel full; to hear more of him, more of where that came from. You can't hold yourself back. "D-daddy", you moan, the feeling of his hard dick pressing against you and the warmth that his firm chest radiates leaving you a little dizzy, "N-need your cock."

Tangerine chuckles against your shoulders. "Oh, now you're wantin' something, eh? What about me, love? What about our little deal?"

"'S for y-you, too", you whine helplessly.

"Oh no no no", he sounds genuinely amused, presses the gun snugly against your aching cunt and your legs tremble, "Don't ya try to get me all soft 'n shit, hm? You'll lose, love, you'll lose."

His tongue darts out, licks a fat stripe over your neck, testing your sweat mingling with your expensive perfume. It takes all his willpower not bury his teeth into your soft flesh until he draws blood and life fades from your eyes.

"N-need m-more", you gasp, hole clenching around the short barrel, cunt needy and aching and squirting against his fingers and the gun in anticipation.

"Well, then -- Why don't ya show me how you got yourself off all those years, hm? Show me how to work that sweet cunt of yours", his lips brush over the nape of your neck and your knees buckle at the soft touch, "Show Daddy how to do it."

Tangerine pulls the gun out of you and you gasp, eyelids fluttering, hole clenching around nothing at the loss, wanting the friction back and he slowly puts your leg back down. His hand brushes up your thigh and waist, rests on your shoulder, presses down a little. And you turn to puddy in his hands, knees giving in and you sink down, landing on your knees with a soft thud.

The fur feels soft around your knees and you lay your head back obediently, looking up at him through hazy eyes. You can see him swallowing, licking his lips. His revolver drips with your juices.

His hand grabs your chin, slight pressure on your throat and then he moves in, rubs his crotch over the back of your head. You can feel his hard, big dick against your skull and you can't help your mind from wandering there, wondering how might he taste.

"Feel that? That's what ya fuckin' slutty behaviour does t'Daddy", he bows down, grins at you and then, without warning, spits.

You flinch as his saliva hits your face, lands across your forehead and you cheeks. His thumb spreads it out, rubs it into your skin and you moan, humiliation pooling in your stomach and shooting down between your legs.

Tangerine chuckles, straightens back up and the hand leaves your face, your throat. "Spread ya legs, I wanna see what's gonna be mine."

You comply, sitting down on your ass and planting your feet in front of you, heels digging into the soft fur. He strolls around you, makes is way back to the desk.

"'N you fuckin' whore better put on a fuckin' good show for me, too", he growls, "It's what ya want, innit? Be a good girl f'me?"

It kind of is. The part of your brain that just doesn't want to die is oddly silent. There is something else, something that buries its claws deep deep in your mind and tears and tears and tears until everything is a little mushy and your brain complies - good girl good girl good girl.

Tangerine leans against the table, crosses his feet and places his hands on the edges, gun dangling from his slender fingers. "C'mon love, ya better don't wanna keep me waiting."

You look down at yourself and a surprised gasp leaves you mouth - you are incredibly wet, thighs sticky with your own juices. You run your fingers through your folds in awe, feeling your own slick, and you moan as you brush by your clit. You need more, body and cunt aching for it and your index finger starts to rub over your clit.

Squelching sounds erupt between your legs and you mewl at the sensation, your cunt so responsive, hole fluttering and your free hand darts out, grabs the fur beneath you.

"Such a pretty fuckin' cunt ya got", and your gaze darts up at him, stomach doing a funny little flip as your eyes meet his, breath hitching in your throat.

Tangerine licks his lips, gestures with his gun. "Rub faster, I wanna hear more of ya sweet moans, slut."

You comply immediately, rubbing your clit faster and you do moan for him, gasping with the pleasure shooting through your body, igniting your nerves. You throw your head back, not waiting for his next instruction, adding a second finger, rubbing large and quick circles around your clit, hips bucking and rolling against them, heightening the sensation.

Arching your back you moan and gasp, lust swallowing you whole and taking over your brain - eradicating anything and everything despite the need to feel more more more.

"C'mon, I know you wan'it, push one in and finger yourself", and your other hand flies to your wanton pussy; index finger briefly, impatiently circling your hole before eagerly dipping in, burying itself deep in one quick thrust. You hiss, quickly exchanged by a sweet gasp as you bottom your finger out.

You start to move it in and out of you, rubbing it along your walls and you can't help but sink onto your back, mewling as it enters you deeper, slips back in more easily. You feel so so dirty, naked in nothing but your jewellery and heels with his spit across your face, but you have never felt better either.

"O-one more, please", you beg, "Please, let me have one more."

Don't you just beg so prettily? He wonders if you will beg like that when he will shove a plug up your ass and fuck your throat, stuffing your cunt with a vibrator. He wonders if you will ask for another one to fuck your ass.

Oh, he will ruin you alright. "Since you ask so nicely", he coos, "Go ahead, slut. Whatever ya need."

Pushing a second finger in, the circles you rub on your clit become smaller and faster. You moan in rhythm with your fingers thrusting into you, curling them a little. Your legs go a little limp, knees darting away from each other, giving him an even better view of your assault on your pussy, the way your slick spreads up to your thighs. Your cunt gushes around your fingers as you force them in deeper, squirts against your hand.

Tangerine watches you coming apart smugly, weighs his revolver in his hands. Who would've thought a simple gun was enough to get you to buckle, give in and surrender yourself to him?

You are his now, he will never let you got. He will keep you and train you and make you needy and dumb for no one else but him.

The thought nearly makes his chest burst with the power trip it sends him on, and he spreads his legs a little, feels his hard cock pressing against his slacks. He can't fucking wait to get in that sweet sweet cunt of yours - show you how a real man fucks his wife, fucks what belongs to him. Tangerine can see, even from where he is standing, that you are fucking tight - the way your hole stretches around your delicate fingers has him licking his lips.

He can't fucking wait to claim you.

"Yeah, I can see he never fucked you properly", Tangerine rasps, shakes his head in silent disapproval as you mewl, arching your back, "I'd take care of you, y'know? Y'want that, don't ya?"

You nod nod nod, moaning as your fingers brush over your walls, stretching you out as you scissor yourself open - thinking about how good his huge fucking dick would feel inside of you instead - your hole fluttering around your digits.

"Bet ya do, lil' slut. Daddy's gonna take real good care of ya, ya'd never ever have to think again. Jus' lemme do the thinking."

"Shit, please, yes", you moan, rocking down on your fingers, pushing a third one in. You are so so full, juices squelching around your hole and wetting your hand and the fur underneath you but it's not enough. You start to pump the in and out of you quicker, deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you just right.

"Yeah, I'd tell you exactly what to do", Tangerine hums, "I'd be coming home and tell my little slut to bend over the fuckin' kitchen table, stuff her tight 'n needy holes, 'n what would she say?"

"I-I'd thank y-you", you nearly cry out, your whole body feeling light and shuddering at the thought.

"Mhm, atta girl - and if I put ya pretty throat on a leash? Drag ya through the house and stuff ya full of toys? What would ya say to Daddy?"

"T-thank you, Daddy", you huff, chest heaving with your rapidly approaching orgasm, legs tensing up and toes curling.

"And what would ya say when I let ya cum, slut?"

"Thank you!", you sob, the two fingers on your clit rubbing mercilessly, your other hand fucking you hard and fast.

"That's a good girl. Lemme hear it then, cum you fuckin' whore."

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, your cunt pushing your fingers out as you convulse around them - a high pitched chant Thank you thank you thank you falling from your lips. Your arms fall to the side uselessly as you ride your orgasm out, wave after wave of warm squirt wetting the fur, as you moan and roll your hips, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes flutter open as you hear footsteps, see him approaching. He is still holding his revolver, the outline of where his large cock is pressing angrily against his expensive trousers.

"Too sad your husband couldn't just see that, eh?", there is genuine joy marking Tangerine's features, making his bright eyes gleam.

Oh shit - that reminds you of something.

"W-where is he?", you croak, legs still shaking with your recent orgasm, body sinking into the fur.

"Oh, love", he seems to smile at you, but his eyes don't join in on his lips tilting up, "He's right 'ere, ain't he?"

He points his revolver away from you, to the side and your eyes warily follow the movement. There is nothing there except the locked closet and --

And a dark pool of something on the ground, a trail of it slooowly creeping your way over the polished floor boards. It looks like-

You stretch your arm out, fingers darting out and the index finger dipping into the liquid. It's still warm and sticky.

And red. It does not take a genius to get what it is.

Tangerine licks his lips as he watches you, how realization creeps in, changes your facial expression. You look horrified and his dick twitches at the sight.

He closes in on you, bows down over your exposed body and grabs your hand roughly, pulls it in. "Would'ya mind cleaning that up f'me, love?", and your eyelids flutter and you do, like you are on autopilot, licking your dead husband's blood from your finger.

"Mhm", Tangerine hums and you gag a little around the metallic taste, which makes his face light up. He pulls his finger from your mouth, unbuckles his belt instead. "I think, I really might just keep ya."

"Y-you said you'd let me go", you gasp as his hand dips between your legs.

"Well, love - change of plans, innit?"

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine imagine #kraven the hunter #kraven #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022

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inkykeiji · 8 months

Text

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader notes: a day or two ago teddy and i were daydreaming about sucking on our Daddies’ fingers and i genuinely haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since!!!! warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, hair pulling, oral fixation (finger sucking), somnophilia + minimal prep, mention of drugs words: 1.3k

If he’s being truthful, Mikey doesn’t really mind when you suck on his fingers—kind of likes it, actually; likes feeling useful, likes the way your tongue pulses and jumps just a bit as you draw him in a little further, suck around him a little harder, likes to pacify you—provided that it’s feasible.

You know when to ask, know that if Daddy’s busy cleaning his guns or cutting his drugs that he needs both hands, that his pretty girl can’t be greedy, now, just because she needs something to suck on. No, on those days you can usually be patient enough, can usually wait until Daddy’s finished with whatever important business he has to take care of. But sometimes, if you’re really needy, and you’ve been extra good, you might get lucky—he might let you stick his cock down your throat, let it sit all heavy and hard on your tongue as you kneel sloppily between his spread thighs, chin on the edge of his chair, hands planted between your folded knees and palms pressed flat to the floor, all conscious and intentional, since Daddy has a rule against touching during times like these, claims it distracts him, and we can’t have that, now, can we, sweetheart?

No, Daddy. Of course not, Daddy.

Daddy has a rule against sucking at times like these as well—this isn’t about getting him off or making him feel good, after all, he had told you. This is just about giving his whiny little baby something to fill her mouth with, something to fill her mouth up, to keep her occupied and quiet while Daddy works. If he feels your tongue start to curl around his shaft, if he feels your lips begin to pucker and your cheeks begin to hollow, he’ll be yanking you off his cock in one harsh, swift motion, with his knuckles rooted at your scalp and a growled curse spit through his teeth—and then you’ll be in real trouble, and you definitely don’t want that!

But it’s when Daddy’s sifting through boring paperwork and poring over mind-numbing files and notes—full of gruesome photographs and disturbing details—that the perfect opportunity arises to lend you his hand, to let you wrap both palms around his slim wrist and take his fingers into your mouth.

He knows that’s exactly what you want when you curl up next to him on his plush office couch, gazing at him with glittering eyes and your bottom lip siphoned between your teeth, but he won’t give it to you; not until you say it, of course, not until you explicitly ask for it—because good girls ask for what they want, don't they?—keen stare veiled by feathery lashes and voice trembling with a desperate sort of humiliation.

But he’s sweet as syrup when he nods and allows you to suck two of his fingers into your eager, waiting mouth, silky praises falling from between smirking lips. Because you’re so good for him, swallow so well for him, take his index and ring finger all the way in for him, right to the third knuckle, the edges of your teeth gently scraping the sharp protruding bones.

The metal of his rings clacks against the back of your teeth, platinum and white gold warming in the heat of your mouth as your tongue coils and curves around the bony digits, laves over the bumps and ridges of each knuckle and joint. Foamy saliva pools in all of the dips and crevices of the jewellery, coats the surfaces all slick and slimy and leaves the gems encrusted in the metal gleaming.

The underside of the rings feel smooth on your tongue, tip tracing around the arc of each one, slow and studious, almost as if committing them to memory. The metal has a slight tang to it, smearing the zest of sweat across your tastebuds, bitter and salty with a hint of the rusted blood still caked beneath his nails and lining his cuticles.

The pads of his fingers stroke your tongue in slow, rhythmic motions, petting the slippery little muscle in a tender caress—mindless, soothing, habitual—as tired onyx eyes skim the pages crumpled in his free hand. Delicate fingers hook around the bangles encircling his wrist and tug, begging for more and whimpering nonsensically around his flesh—more, Daddy, more, more, gimme more, pretty please.

And he does, of course, his sweet, greedy little girl, permits you to draw him further down your throat, copious amounts of drool oozing from the corners of your mouth as your lips tighten and your tongue squeezes—so much so that it’s trickling down your chin and dripping off your jaw in heavy, viscous cords, drizzling all over your chest and clavicle.

It leaves behind the prettiest streaks of shimmering spit, and Mikey can’t help but press down on the back of your tongue, enraptured as another tiny torrent of saliva seeps past his fingers to spill down his hand and collect in the lines of his palms.

The action earns him a pitchy yelp, sound vibrating around the tips of his fingers, and he snorts a little, fingers rubbing your tongue in a crude sort of apology.

Sorry, baby, sorry, he’s murmuring in response, though that smug, sadistic little smirk toying with the corners of his lips tells you that he’s not sorry at all.

His fingertips are pruned by the time he’s finished shuffling through his documents, soaked and soggy with your saliva. Your mouth’s finally gone slack, a telltale indicator that you’ve fallen asleep, dribbles of drool rolling down the side of his hand and his wrist as you breathe, calm and even and soft, around the digits lodged down your throat.

Your teeth have left cute little indents in his knuckles and the underside of his fingers, but he doesn’t mind, running the tip of his own tongue over the jagged little craters carved into his skin and humming softly to himself.

It always has his cock twitching in his trousers, straining against the thin material, and on the nights where he really needs it—when the day has been abundantly challenging, excruciatingly exhausting, full of collecting debts and deaths—he’ll rearrange your pliant body, push your head down and hips up and panties aside and use his already sopping hand to wet you just enough to comfortably take his cock, burying himself to the fucking hilt in one swift, sharp thrust and revelling in the gorgeous little gasp of surprise that claws its way past your sleepy lips.

Stay sleeping, sweetheart, he always tells you, murmured into the skin behind your ear and punctuated with a chaste kiss. Just let Daddy take what he needs.

And so you do, every single time, ever his good girl, his best girl, nodding into the corduroy couch cushions and mumbling out some garbled sentiment of affirmation.

It’s never graceful, always shameful, lacking his usual skill and subtlety as he pathetically ruts into your sweet cunt, flush hips grinding into your thighs gone sticky and slippery with desperation, humping away unevenly at you until his cock is pulsing viciously and he’s breathing out a curse against the damp nape of your neck, filling you with thick cream.

He always takes a moment to admire you after, too; to admire the mess he’s made of you, the masterpiece he’s made of you, calloused thumbs spreading your fucked-raw lips and watching as his cum cascades out of you slow and sticky, using the hardened pad to smear it across your cunt—glazing your clit and your slit and your inner thighs; painting you in him, pressing into the splotches of navy and grey those sharp hipbones carved into soft flesh—before he hoists you up, collects your boneless body in a heap in his arms and decides it’s time for bed, finally, for the both of you.

#mikey x reader #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #bonten mikey x reader #bonten mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey sano x reader #mikey sano smut #mikey x you #tw:daddy kink #tw:drugs #tw:somnophilia #inky.mikey #inky.tr

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miam0re · 2 years

Text

A Rich Man's Slut | Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato

Warning: Pantalone- name calling(slut), clothes ripping; Childe- name calling(whore), collaring, slight choking; Haitham- car sex, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism if you squint; Ayato- food??play (wine), nipple play. more stuff I probably missed

Pairing: Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato X Fem!Reader (separate)

Summary: He's a rich man and you're his sweet little girlfriend for him to use as he pleases

Mia's Notes: I wanna be a rich man's slut smh. Also the grammar and tenses are messed up so lol sorry bout that

Being the businessman he is, you’d think he’d have some care for the thousands of dollars he spends on things he likes. Things such as his sweet little darling, buying her all the prettiest dresses to wear to gatherings. You’re a trophy for your lover to flaunt and he doesn’t hold back in decorating you with the finest silk and velvet cocktail dresses. But he’s so careless, oh so careless.

“Hah! Pantalone! No!” You squeal when his hands scrunch the back of your blue satin dress with an animalistic grip. The fabric rips to shreds and loosened from your shoulder, revealing your skin to the chilling air. “That was one of my… nghhh… my favourite dresses.” Your face burns red, body grinding on his cock as it claimed your plush cunt.

He rolls his eyes and seizes the cleavage of your gown, splitting the dress from the front. Your lace-clad breasts waited for his bites and hickies, acts of when he lost his composure because of the intoxicating feeling your pussy provided him. The lace panties you wore were pushed aside to make space for his dick to impale your struggling cunt.

“Ugh, my dress.” You pout and whimper as his mouth suckled your skin. His lithe fingers danced over your breasts and neck, applying the tiniest pressure to remind you of the punishments brats get before he parted your soft lips with his thumb.

He slid a thin plastic card into your mouth, making you bite on the edge of his platinum debit card. You make a move to pull it out, but a sharp thrust rubbing against your clit made your jaw clench with a muffled cry.

“I bought one, I can buy a thousand, and it’s my choice if I want to see the dress on you or on the floor. Now be a good little slut and try to not bite my card too hard if you want to purchase more clothes of your liking.”

He’s got the money. He knows it and he makes sure everyone else knows it too. He’s driving the best cards, he’s living in the best penthouse in the city. And he has the best little girlfriend whose the perfect little whore for him. And what better way to show off his relationship with you than to adorn your neck with the most expensive jewellery money could buy.

In the privacy of your chambers, he’ll have you strip bare without a single touch to your burning skin. Your clothes are falling one at a time, leaving you in nothing but your diamond collar reflecting the dim red lights in the room. And that’s when you see a feral side of Childe.

“Sir! P-please!” Your mind is fogging, words garbling out your lips into the pillows your face was shoved into as Tartaglia ploughed into your pussy from behind, smacking his balls against your thigh with every plunge of his hips into yours. “Babe, I can barely make out a word you’re saying.” He laughed, skimming his fingers up your shaking spine, curling his pointed finger around your collar and pulling, bringing you up with his actions.

There was no doubt about the high quality collar, it was able to withstand the kinky nights you shared with your lover. He tugged and pulled until you were on your knees, your back flush against his chest with his dick twitching and hitting a new angle inside you, you could see a visible protrusion on your tummy. The way you gagged and lolled your tongue out at the pressure of the collar on your neck, Childe could have burst and cummed then and there, seeing your hazy eyes begging him to support your weight.

“Are you such a whore that you’d like the way I choke you with this collar and use you as I please? You’re so adorable. Only a whore like you is fit to wear this collar. A diamond collar for my gem of a girl."

He’s always getting invited to some or the other event, being the hotshot of the Akademiya. Everyone knows him for the academic breakthroughs he has made, for the amount of money he’s earned, and for the eye catching girlfriend who accompanies him to all the events. No exaggeration that he drags you to all the boring ‘parties’, but he always makes up for it.

His fingers are squelching so loudly, you’re embarrassed. But he lust flooding your veins overpowers every rational thought in you head. Your sitting on his lap, dress hiked up to your waist and legs spread for him to touch and prod at your sensitive hole. Your head hangs back against his shoulder, mouth agape with silent gasps being the only sounds, apart from the sucking of his lips on your neck as the sloppy sounds of Haitham finding your g-spot.

The car hits a speed breaker, making you bounce and his fingers slip out your cunt. Haitham grumbles under his breath before pinching you clit and inserting two fingers back into your hot sex. Your slick is dripping down his knuckles, soaking the cuffs of his shirt, and whatever part of your juices that dripped down were smeared across the sleek leather seats. “Haitham…slow…” you panted at how his speed increased when the car turned a corner, not too far from your destination. “Shhh, you’re doing so well. Think I can make you cum before we reach?” He hummed, knowing full well that he was capable of making your orgasm at command.

You clawed the leather seats, squeezing your legs tight as Haitham dragged his fingers into the deepest part of your cunt, making you see stars and cum all over his lap, making a mess of his fingers as he continued his thrusting till you calmed from your high.

Leaving the car to head to the party after your little, episode, he handed the driver a generous roll of cash.

“Hopefully this can pay for car wash services. And your silence.”

A fine man with fine taste. Be it in the ages old wine he drinks or the company he keeps. And in the moments he shares with you, why not have fine wine with fine company? Only, he never really is in need of wine glasses when he’s with you.

“Stay still, Dearest. This wine costs a fortune, wouldn’t want to waste a single drop, now would we?” His giggles are light, hinted with the slightest bit of intoxication from the sips of wine he’s been taking. You shiver when the cold liquid pours into your navel, Ayato’s thirst mouth latching to your naked skin and slurping the liquid with loud gulps. He doesn’t stop licking and biting your skin, even when he’s cleaned the wine off your body; he can’t help but stay for the flavour of you.

He’s finding it hard to hold back much, deciding to grab your chin and pry your mouth open and pour a small amount of the bitter liquid right on your tongue, ordering you to hold it in your mouth. His cheeks are dusted pink as he sits back and calls you on his lap, asking you to give him the wine. Directly.

Unable to disobey, you climb on his lap and tilt his head up, connecting your lips and pouring the cool liquid into his mouth through the steamy kiss. Stray drops of wine trickle down his chin, his Adams apple and slowing on his chest. He can feel how messy you’re being, shaking so much that the wine escaped the kiss, so he squeezed your nipples between his fingers in warning. Once he was satisfied with the taste of the wine (and of you) he pulled away, looking down at the mess on his chest. He sighed with mock disappointment, fingers still firmly grasping your sensitive breasts.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Didn’t I tell you the worth of this wine? You should clean it up, or is some punishment required?”

tagging: @aijlin

#mia.writes #mia.smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe smut #pantalone smut #tartaglia smut #kamisato ayato smut #ayato smut #al haitham smut #haitham smut #ayato #kamisato ayato #al haitham #childe #tartaglia #pantalone

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wreckedandpolemic · 3 months

Text

to my knees you do promote me - matty healy

prompt: queen of hearts

(mdni) day 6 and my final entry into valentine75! these were soo fun thank u vee @abiiors

warnings: sub!matty, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Your leather pants cling to you fluidly, like a second skin, matching gloves stretching up to your elbows. You pose dramatically, raking a hand through your hair and pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek, savouring the way Matty’s gaze burns against your skin. He doesn’t know where to look, eyes darting wildly from the laces that cross over a strip of bare outer thigh; to your bare stomach, silver jewellery adorning your belly; to your tits, cradled in a black lace bralette with straps crossing your décolletage in a way that’s reminiscent of a harness.

“You like it?” you ask, smirking as he swallows thickly.

A charged, silent moment passes. “You can’t wear that,” he finally gets out, voice low and gravelly.

You take a deliberate step towards him, boots clacking on the wood floor, lips stretching in a predatory grin when he flinches. “Why not?” you pout, “Don’t I look hot?”

Matty’s answer comes embarrassingly quickly. “God, yes,” he groans, eyes lidded as his gaze sends heat flushing under your skin. “You can’t wear that, ‘cos I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Laughing to yourself, you close the distance between you and sling your arms around his neck. Matty stiffens, a trembling breath ghosting over your lips. “Can’t control yourself, hm? Am I driving you crazy, baby?”

“Mhmm,” he murmurs. You can see him slipping, eyes glazing over, wide and needy.

You grin, sly and teasing, and reach down to palm his cock through his jeans. He whines softly, already melting in your hands, pliant and sugary-sweet under your touch. “Oh, baby,” you murmur, tone drenched in faux concern. “You need it, huh?” High spots of colour paint Matty’s cheeks and his eyes fall to the ground as he nods. “Words, baby,” you instruct.

“Want you,” he says, the confession coming out quiet and penitent. You press a kiss against the corner of his mouth in reward, his lips twitching in a pout as a silent plea for more. “Please,” he adds, anticipating the words balanced on the tip of your tongue.

Matty’s hips jerk involuntarily against your hand as you slip your hand into his boxers and squeeze lightly. “Such a good boy,” you coo, admiring him as your words pull him deeper into that soft, malleable state. Getting him like this is rare, and you usually don’t get a sign before it comes on; Matty has a tendency of bottling up his stress until the glass shatters under the pressure and he comes to you pleading to lose control. “How do you want me?” you ask, still stroking him gently. Matty shudders, cock drooling into your fist.

It’s not always like this, all whispered praise and reverent quiet — sometimes, Matty needs some coaxing to let go, pushing back against you defiantly until you can bend him enough to fall. “Want your mouth. Please.” He’s quiet but sure, and you smile indulgently at him.

He inhales sharply as you drop to your knees in front of him, nuzzling your cheek against his clothed cock. A whine falls from his lips, so pathetic that you almost feel guilty about the scant tease. You free his cock, kissing the flushed head, crooning praise as he fights to hold still. “My pretty boy,” you murmur, watching through your lashes as a flush spreads over his cheeks and he smiles shyly. “Such a pretty dick, too,” you add, stroking over him and relishing the way he moans and shivers under your touch.

You run your tongue along the length of Matty’s cock, the salt of him intoxicating in your mouth. Your name falls from his lips, rapturous, as you swallow him whole. His head lolls back, his moans a litany that has heat buzzing under your skin. There’s power in this, in reducing him to a needy, obedient mess; him who bends you over and fucks you until you’re crying, who fists a hand in your hair and whispers sweet cruelties in your ear, who tells you shut up and take it like a good girl.

Desire throbs sickly in your gut. You press a hand between your legs and grind down against it, moaning around Matty’s cock as it bumps the back of your throat. Pulling off, you lap at his tip, thin tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as your hips roll against your hand. You go to take him in your mouth again but he stills you with a gentle hand.

With a question in your eyes, you look up at him. “Wanna get you off,” he says, eyes wide and glossy with desire.

You smile up at him, his face open and earnest as you stand to face him. You press your lips to his, swallowing his whine as he tastes himself on your tongue. His kiss is shy as he accepts whatever you give, controlled and ascetic. “Such a sweet boy.” You walk him to the bed, pulling him down on top of you without breaking the kiss.

Inhaling greedy lungfuls of his quiet moans and shuddering breaths, your hands slide to the laces of your pants and you start to untie them. Matty’s hands tremble as they come to cover yours, the knots coming loose under his touch in a way your body recognises. His eyes don’t leave yours as he makes his way down your body, his gaze sparking heat under your skin that drips down your spine and pools between your legs. You tangle a hand in his curls as he tugs your pants down just enough to fit himself between your thighs, his pained whine syrupy-sweet against your skin when you tug at them just slightly.

White spots dance across your vision as Matty’s lips connect with your skin, his tongue insistent and feverish over your clit. You moan softly, pleasure rolling over you in gentle waves; he takes the sound as an encouragement, redoubling his efforts with fervour. He’s losing himself in you, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue roves over your cunt, teasing your clit and then dipping inside you, back to your clit before you even feel the loss.

“Good boy,” you say, cunt clenching around Matty’s tongue as he fucks it into you in a gorgeous, deliriating rhythm. The praise has him reeling, his hips grinding down against the bed as he whimpers into your cunt. “I love you like this,” you murmur sweetly. “Don’t care about getting off, do you? Just wanna let me use you, hm? Making me feel so good, Matty. So fucking good,” you promise, carding your hands through his hair as he brings a hand up to you with your clit, a burst of pleasure buzzing up your spine when he rubs a skilled circle over your sensitive nerves.

“Wanna make you cum,” he whines, pleading, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. The calloused pad of his finger brushes divinely against your clit, the scrape sending a thick pulse of heat winding around your organs. Your responding moan has Matty burying his tongue in your cunt, devouring you with a ferocity that sends ecstasy ricocheting through your body, your hands fisting in the sheets as you moan and writhe uncontrollably.

His hips grind down against the sheets brainlessly, his body chasing his pleasure while his mind is singularly focused on yours. Desire ramps up under your skin, setting you aflame. Blood pounds in your ears, your world tunnelling down to where Matty’s hands grip your thighs, where his fingers circle over your clit, where his tongue thrusts in and out of you in an earth-shattering rhythm. His nails bite into your tender, sweat-slick skin, the faint edge of pain tracing lovingly around the curves of your arousal.

“God Matty, fuck,” you whine. “Feels so fucking good. God, I love your fucking tongue. My good boy.” He doesn’t let up, practically dragging your hips down to fuck his tongue impossibly deeper into you, until your body can’t take it anymore. Your hands fist in his hair as your body catches alight, screaming his name as you soak his lips and chin. Euphoria pumps in your veins, your heart working in overdrive as it seeps into your organs. All the air leaves your lungs, pleasure choking you out, Matty’s tongue still working over your clit as your cunt clenches around nothing.

You come back to your senses and Matty’s eyes meet yours, pure adoration passing between you. Need is written openly on his face, underlined by his flushed, drooling cock hanging hard and heavy where he kneels between your legs. “Can— can I cum? Please?” he murmurs, hands hovering nervously over his stomach, his body a hard line of tension that hangs on your strings.

Slowly, you move around the bed, stripping out of what remains of your clothes and helping Matty out of his. You climb over him, resting your hands on his shoulders and pushing gently. “Lie back, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He nods obediently, letting himself fall against the pillows, his eyes glued to your slick, messy cunt as you lower yourself onto him. His name falls from your lips in a low moan, the stretch in your cunt familiarly divine, burning pleasure pulling at all of your limbs at once. “You feel so good,” Matty whimpers, hips bucking and striking that perfect spot inside you that sends ecstasy careening through your bloodstream. “I love it when you fuck me like this. So fucking pretty,” he moans.

You drive your hips down at a punishing pace, eyes rolling back in your head as your moans mingle with his in the air between you, thick with molten desire. Bracing your hands against Matty’s chest, you lean down to kiss him, swallowing his gasps as his hips meet yours, heat kissing up your spine. “Doing so good, baby,” you murmur, losing yourself in his eyes, so wide they look black, so liquid you could drown in them. “My good boy,” you promise, sitting up and clenching your cunt around him, his quiet whimper sweetly pathetic in your ears as you roll your hips.

Nails biting into your thighs, Matty’s breathing turns sharp, unsteady. His hips crash wildly against yours, delicious arrhythmia pounding between your bodies. Your head tips back and your mouth falls open in a gasp, sticky heat pooling low in your belly. “‘M so close,” Matty whimpers, eyes falling closed as he writhes powerlessly under you. “‘M gonna cum, can I cum, please, please, please.” He draws the words out, stretching them into a sweet, broken moan that squeezes around your heart before kicking fiercely in your cunt.

“Hang on for me, just for a minute, okay, baby?” His eyes go wide, fearful, and you press a finger to his lips to silence his protests. Pleasure arcs up your spine, sharp bursts following every movement of your hips. Gazing down at him, you catalogue every inch of his face, scrunching in effort of holding back. “Good boy,” you murmur, the vast chasm of ecstasy yawning beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “You wanna cum?” Matty nods, his whole body trembling feverishly. “Then cum for me, baby.”

The moan he gives is enough to tip you over the edge, plummeting into ecstasy so deep you lose yourself in it, stomach twisting and head coming unglued from your body. Matty’s cock pulses gloriously inside you, pumping you full as your cunt clenches around him, euphoria flooding your limbs. You slump forward, pulling Matty with you as you roll onto your side and slinging a leg over his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin there.

You run your fingers through his curls gently, curling close and basking in the warmth of his body all around and inside you. “Such a good boy,” you murmur fondly, eyes slipping closed as you press a kiss to the top of his head. “My good boy.”

#starting this by describing reader's outfit feels a Little bit ebony dark'ness dementia raven way #but i feel like the vision was needed #also sorry for saying leather pants i promise im from the uk #trousers is just a deeply unsexy word #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #valentine75

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simonrillleyyysss · 8 months

Text

‧˚₊⋅ ୨୧ ⋅₊˚‧ GIRL NEXT DOOR

prompt: kilgore can’t help but find you so sweet!

pervert!könig x naïve reader

warnings : eventual smut,masturbation, groping, size kink, choking(with jewellery), rough sex, breeding kink,könig is so fucking obsessed with your tits,boob sucking??

notes:könig is referred to as Kilgore instead of könig in this most of the time :))

The first time he seen you, he knew it was meant to be.

The first time he saw you was when you introduced yourself to him as his new neighbour, he knew it was meant to be; he couldn’t help but glare down at your perky breasts, hovering just beneath the little giftbasket in your hand, a soft smile on your full,lips—adorned with bright red lipstick.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Fräulein.”

“Do you need any help bringing your belongings inside? I’m sure I can make it easier for you.”

He was so respectful, shaking your hand with such tenderness and genuine thought, your thin fingers wrapping around his sent butterflies through his stomach.

The second time he seen you was when you were bending down infront of him, lifting the wooden box filled with your necessities, alongside some decor.

“Let me get that for you, Ich bestehe darauf.”

‘Are you sure?’

“Oh, of course; anything to help a friend.”

He couldn’t help but feel his cock stiffen at the sight of your lips parting to give him a soft grin, nodding in response.

The third time he seen you, was two nights later, when you were in your room, just across from his window—he had the perfect view of your pathetic boyfriend fucking your pretty, pink pussy.

That was the first time he fucked his fist to you, his cock hardening at the sight as he quickly discarded of his briefs, his hand gripping his long cock, groaning and mumbling.

“Oh-ohh..ja,jaaaAa!..fuck, right there—oh mein gott..”

He moaned, hot strings of cum spurting across his abdomen, sensitive pink tip leaking white semen, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

The fourth time was when you kindly offered to have him over in your pool, an innocent mannered thought in your mind, a few of your friends had been over but left due to work, and you thought Kilgore was a nice man.

“Thank you for inviting me, y/n. You honestly didn’t have to, Du bist zu net.”

‘It’s no issue, Kilgore, honestly! It’s good to get to know your associates.’

You were so sweet and unintentionally slutty, God—the way the fat plush of your breasts bounced as he helped you into the pool, his fingers wrapped around your arms as he helped you step in, your pretty strawberry-patterned swimsuit sent blood rushing to his cock, hidden beneath his swimshorts.

The fifth time was when you came crying at his door, you could tell your friend anything!

He sat and comforted you, your silly boyfriend had broken up with you? What a weak man.

Minutes later, he was groping and kneading at your breasts, kissing your pretty lips.

The sixth time was when you were sat beautifully on his fat, lean cock minutes later,tears filling your pretty little eyes, thick lashes patting against your rosy cheeks as your pussy fluttered around him, his hips slamming into yours without any hesitation.

“Fuck.. Das ist es, right therrr—fuck!”

‘Kil—köni-ah!ngghhh-! Ah-haaahhh!.. feel s’good! M’so full!”

He was so rough with you, his mouth wrapping around the bud of your breast, caressing your nipple with his tongue; moaning into the fat of it; his free hand groping and squeezing the other, bed creaking beneath your weight and bounces, yanking at the pearl chain lacing your pretty collarbone, pulling it back to pound into you, watching you gasp for breath.

Your eyes rolled back as he growled beneath you; continuing the sharp movements of his hips, biting down on your breast.

“I’m Gonna make you a mommy, fill you—Ficken! Gott..Schaaatzzz..Fill you up nice n’good-“

A quick rut of his cock.

“Nice n’ good and make you a mama, pretty tits will be geschwollen, gonna milk you dry.. Yeah, yeeeeeaaahhh..Ja, so good for me..Ich werde die Milch aus dir heraussaugen..”

‘Test S’negative, Köni.’

“Just have to try again, won’t we liebe?”

#ghost x reader #ghost smut #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig smut #könig x reader smut #könig x you #könig x female reader #könig breeding kink canon #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #Spotify

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konigsblog · 7 months

Text

humilation

sub!alejandro x f!reader

...

warnings: cock and ball torture, degrading, self degrading, humilation, spanking, use of ‘dog’, blowjob.

kinktober masterlist. (day 12)

a/n: this was supposed to be posted yesterday, but i took a break. here it is, posted the next day! ps. these photos were mainly the theme for this :)

His hard cock throbbed beneath your ruby high heel. Alejandro's pleading eyes gazed up at you, pleading for your mercy as you grinded the high heel back and forth, stepping on his stuffed dick. “Dirty boy, Alejandro. Look how hard you are, so desperate, hm?”

Alejandro nodded at your words. His breathing was heavy, hitching in his throat when you applied more pressure onto stepping on his dick. “Oh, stop whining...” you roll your eyes and shunned him for being so needy. “Undo your belt, and give it to me.”

He follows your orders, like an obedient and eager dog. He nervously fiddles with it before handing it to you. You drag it up your thigh slowly, teasing him with your seductive smile. “Up, dog.” He stands to his feet, his cock drooling all over his military issued jeans, cum stains around the crotch. His tip was an angry red.

“Undress. Hurry, Ale...” You stand behind him, spanking his bare ass and wrapping his leather belt around his wrists, tightening it. Pushing him up against the wall and leaning against him, your sweet and expensive perfume finds its way into his nostrils, seducting him. He can't seem to keep his eyes off you; pretty black and red lingerie, those dark red, crimson high heels and pretty jewellery he'd bought for you, ‘La luz de su vida’, as he said.

Your gloved hands wrap around his hard cock, and you begin stroking him. He's so sensitive, especially his tip; after being edged, having his cock stood on, and slapped about. Your other hand fondles his balls, squeezing it harshly to hear him groan and gasp, begging for your mercy. “Please, my–” “Hush..”

You stroke him faster at the sounds of his whimpers, twitching in your hand. Just as he feels himself getting close, you pull away. His eyes narrow down onto you, panting and heavily breathing as he looks down at you. “What?” he gasps, “Shh...” you ease down onto your knees, “Finish in my mouth, Alejandro. You're such a filthy boy anyways, I can see you desperate to cum on these tits too, do you want that, greedy dog?”

Shamefully, Alejandro nods. He closes his eyes, feeling you slap his cock, his eyes shooting open. “Don't look away from my eyes.” you look into his eyes and wrap your soft lips around him, your red lipstick staining his cock, lipstick marks stained on his lower abdomen and neck. “Oh, God, please..” he throbs in your mouth when you drag your tongue along his veiny shaft.

“Aren't you so fucking greedy? Say it, tell me how greedy and selfish you are, what a dog you are.” you laugh, sucking down onto his veiny cock while you suck him off. Alejandro's words come out stuttered as his orgasm comes close. “I'm so greedy, and so fuckin' s-sel-selfish... and a dirty dog!” you suck him off faster hearing those words, his tip spurting out thick cum, exploding in your mouth. You swallow every drop, his low whimpers and how he bucks into your mouth.

“God-God, I'm sorry, baby– Oh,– fuck!” he pants out, strings of his load landing on your exposed, bare tits. Left a panting, whining mess and breathless as you kiss his tip, his shaft red with your lipstick.

#orla speaks #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #vargas x reader #alejandro vargas cod #call of duty #call of duty fic #kinktober

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garoujo · 1 year

Text

✩ ˛˚ . MIKAGE REO ; — your stepbrother knows that nobody will ever treat you as well as he does.

warnings: f!reader, stepcest, spit, all character written 22+, hes a little possessive always. note: this has been rotting in my drafts for life sob! i’m bad but it’s here as a lil freebie this week since i didn’t plan to finish :3

“do you like it, bunny? think it suits you, you gonna thank your step brother, yeah? spoil you so much.” reo smirks as he presses kisses along your collarbone, deliberately taking extra care across the pretty little thin chain that hangs over your skin before he’s laving his tongue across the pretty R with his next suckled kiss.

your step brother had always spoiled you, his family had the money afterall — you’d thought it was maybe his way of getting you to like him, to trust him. he’d buy you the most lavish gifts, pretty dresses and jewellery, take you out for brunch and dinner, but the longer it went on, the more you began to suspect it wasn’t just that.. something different, something darker.

but reo just thinks you look extra pretty when you’re dressed in the things he bought you, like he’s staking a claim — a lavish little show and tell of everything that’s his, he got everything that he wanted, including you. so he looks so fucking smug when he looks at you now, his possession, his pretty little step sister, pressed beneath him as you take your big brothers cock — such a spoiled brat.

“reo.. told you—ah! told you to stop buying me stuff.” you gasp with his next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your sweet spots, every grind of his hips into yours feels so fucking good and you can barely breathe as your toes curl from where they’re wrapped around his hips.

“why? you got somebody else who’s gonna buy ‘em?” there’s a carnal drop in reo’s tone as he answers you quickly, thrusts slowing to a grind like he’s giving you an opportunity to collect your thoughts — to tell him exactly what he wants to hear. it’s filthy, so fucked up the way you hiccup — hips twitching to try and chase more of your brother’s cock, you need him deeper, faster as you bathe him in little nuh ugh’s and only you reo.

“come on, you don’t wanna hurt my feelings, bunny. know you like when i spoil you, can feel it — treat you best. you said you’re mine, right?” dizzying, your stepbrother was dizzying as he sinks his cock into your stretched cunt — making you melt and mould into something that’s all fucking his when he’s got you spread out around him, fucking you into a puddle of desire and need for only him.

“‘m sorry, didn’t mean it—ah!” you finally gasp with what little sanity you can gather together in your clouded mind, but you feel reo place a short, sweet kiss against your pouty lips at the apology before he’s giving you what he knows you need. “see, hah. don’t gotta worry about anything else when you’ve got me. just don’t want people trying to steal you away from me ‘s all, big brothers gotta protect what’s theirs.” he’s deliberately grazing his cock along the swollen spots inside of you that make your eyes roll back, almost flutter closed before he’s tightening his fingers in your skin again and accompanying his words with another sickly sweet kiss.

”i.. fuck! i know, don’t wanna get stolen away.” you gasp as his cock stirs its way up inside of you, smearing slick along the smooth skin of his pelvis everytime he presses his hips deep into yours and he moans, loud and so fucking shameless when he feels you squeeze around him before he chuckles lowly.

“wont let it happen, bunny.” reo’s confidence in his words is unwavering and you feel his fingers trace up your jaw before they’re pressing against your parted lips. he’s prying them further open and you catch the small glint of something dark in his lidded gaze when he looks at you, smirking when you listen so well — such a perfect little treasure.

your lips part, tongue swiping along his fingers before you watch a glob of spit drip slow from between his own, making you moan when you feel the taste of him drench and ignite your taste buds. but then his fingers are quickly replaced by his lips when he leans down to kiss you breathless, pushing his tongue against your own as his hips resume their rough pace and he pushes his name back between your lips.

“you didn’t tell me if you liked your present, bunny. you want something bigger? hmphh, fuck.. i’ll give you all of me, all mine.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#cw stepcest #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #bllk x you #bllk smut #bllk x reader #reo x reader #reo smut #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo x you #mikage reo smut

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leejenowrld · 4 months

Note

some questions for jeno,

what does y/n’s cum taste like?

what’s the best thing you’ve ever given her?

who’s more touchy and clingy in the relationship?

who wears the pants in the relationship?

where’s the most interesting place you’ve had sex?

how beautiful is she?

what’s her deal breakers and her turn ons?

do you find your girl more cute or sexy?

jeno - like sweet candy and vanilla, i can drink it like it’s water. had my baby’s cum in my mouth so much that i feel like i taste it on my tongue when it’s not there

jeno - an orgasm [yn flicks his forehead with her nail] joking! jesus christ. maybe the diamond promise ring i gifted her for our anniversary or all the rings she wears in general, my girl in gold >>>> she loves jewellery so she’s always getting spoiled by me

jeno - you may think it’s me but this girl cannot sit on my lap without sitting on my cock and she literally sleeps on top of me even though we have a king size bed. she’s crazy, she throws her pillow off the bed and then comes over on mine

jeno - it’s me but don’t underestimate my girlfriend… she’s very scary i’m actual scared of her. she’s a little devil, i follow her around like i’m lost sometimes cus my girl is quiet but don’t mistake that for being naive

jeno - there’s a lot. on the beach, in the front yard of our house, bathrooms of bars and restaurants, in flower gardens and parks, against railings, jaemin’s bed

jaemin - fucking disgusting horny sluts

jeno - she’s so fucking pretty. sometimes i’m just as mesmerised by her beauty, i can’t believe she’s mine. photos don’t do her justice, she’s so breathtaking. prettiest girl in the world

jeno - she doesn’t like rude, narrow minded people with big egos, she doesn’t like people who can’t compromise, have a big ego and are immature. she doesn’t like people who act like they’re better than everyone else. and her turn ons? i’m right here

jeno - depends on the day but both and sometimes at the same time

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amethyst-silk · 1 year

Note

This is so dirty but i literally am going crazy thinking ab it. Pleasee can you write one where fem reader is at Peters house and things are getting spicy but she gets a call from her dad so she answers (but in this scenario Peters a bad boy and her dad doesnt like her hanging out him) and Peter can hear her dad warning her ab him so he like eats her out or something spicy while she’s on the phone so she cant make any noises or anything. Ahhhh im so sorry this is filthy 😳🫣🥴

i’ve been gone for so long i feel so bad :( will i get back into this blog more frequently? who knows, but here are some crumbs

- peter kinda loves the fact that your dad can’t stand him

- he thinks he’s winning, in a sense

- and every chance he gets he’s reminding your dad that you chose him

- it’s never anything super in his face, but the subtle things

- an arm around you when he’s over for a holiday, his hand on your thigh when you’re out for dinner, the jewellery from him you wear

- he sees it like he’s scoring in a sports match

- while he’ll do most anything to piss off your dad, he had one rule

- he would never talk to your father about the intimate moments shared between you

- he felt like without this then it was like you were just a prize to be won, which was not the case

- peter parker was in love with you. simply obsessed. infatuated. you were his world

- it was no suprise to you that peter was a very generous lover

- he always made sure that you were satisfied before he even thought about himself

- this made teasing you a whole lot more fun for him

- he loved to take his time with you, hearing you beg and whimper for him

- while he was skilled with his fingers, he was merciless with his tongue

- he'd have you shaking within a few seconds, and he'd keep coming back for more

- peter was normally quite devious in bed, but when you had gotten a phone call from your dad during the middle of an intimate moment, peter was practically the devil

- your underwear was off by this point, as well as his shirt

- you told peter that you needed to take the call because your father told you there was something important you needed to discuss

- peter told you that it could wait, but you insisted you take the call

- peter left the room with no fuss, you assumed to give you some quiet

- not 45 seconds later, he returned with something in his hands

- ropes

- peter parker had brought two ropes into your bedroom while you were on a call with your dad

- you figured that he was doing it to tease you and give you shit for interrupting the two of you

- you were wrong

- as soon as he reached the bed, he began to work on tying each of your ankles to the bottom of your bedpost, spread your legs

- heat immediately rushed to your abdomen at the action, and you started to stammer your words on the phone

- peter smirked to himself and took off his pants, now fully naked

- he walked around to your nightstand at the side of your bed, overhearing your dad talking about something trivial

- he reached in your drawer and pulled out a small plastic bottle

- of lube

- peter parker just grabbed lube out of your bedside drawer while you were on the phone with your father and your underwear was nowhere in sight

- it became harder and harder to keep up the conversation while you became aroused at peters every move

- peter took the small bottle and poured a good amount on his chest

- this confused you, resulting in you spacing out from your call completely, only to have your dad bring you back a couple of seconds later

- why did he just put lube on his chest

- it was only after that you would understand why

- peter set the lube on your night stand and watched it slowly run down to his stomach, then pelvis

- he started to rub the lube down, starting up at his chest, following the trail of lube sensually down his body until he had enough on his cock to start pumping it with his fist

- the action had you speechless, your mouth was agape

- that was single-handedly the sexiest thing that you had ever witness and you couldn’t even react to it properly because you were still on the phone with your father

- you could no longer comprehend any thought that came to mind that pertained to your phone call

- all you could think about was peter stroking himself i front of you

- you began to tune everything out, starting with your dad on the other line

- you contributed to watch peter, mesmerized and he continued his relentless work on his cock

- you could tel that he was getting close, so you started to try and wrap the call up with your dad

- if anyone was gonna make peter come, it was gonna be you

- as you began with your “well it was nice talking to you” and “we should grab lunch sometime,” peter caught you off guard

- you didn’t know how he could get even sexier, but he managed to do so

- peter groaned loud enough for just you to hear as he came all over your chest, milking everything he had onto your skin

- once everything was out, he rubbed the tip in his cum, spreading it around

- a very audible moan escaped from your mouth

- your cheeks reddened instantly as you rushed to hang up on your dad

- “alright good talk thank you dad i’ll see you sometime love you bye”

- as soon as you hung up the phone, peters hand was immediately around your neck

- there was no pressure, but he liked the authority he had as his hand acted as a necklace

- “i didn’t say to hang up”

- you were shocked. what the fuck

- “but i. you just came all over me, you expect me to not hang up?”

- he removed his hand from your neck and stopped rubbing himself on your chest

- “call him back”

- “what?!”

- “i said, call him back. or else i’ll stop”

- you didn’t really know what he was doing, but you knew you didn’t want him to stop so you listens to peter and called your dad back

- he seemed confused that you would be willing to talk again after hanging up so abruptly, but he continued the conversation like there wasn’t a single beat that skipped

- what felt like forever passed while your dad talked your ear off

- you were practically shivering with anticipation the whole time, waiting for peter to do something

- eventually, you had become more focused on your conversation than with peter, trying to ignore the dull ache in your core

- suddenly you felt a finger gently graze your unclothed slit

- it took everything in you not to let out a moan, even at the light touch

- peter had a dark grin on his face, he extracted the exact reaction he wanted out of you

- and that’s what he did for the next 30 minutes you were on call with your father

- the teasing was relentless, almost unbearable

- peter had you dripping on the bedsheets

- your legs were sore from trying to fight against the restraints and you struggled to keep them from shaking

- after that, to your relief, peter finally told you to end the call with your dad

- just as you started to say goodbye, peters tongue gently entered you, and you tried your best to hold back another moan

- he continued licking, toying with your clit every once in a while, and you found it almost impossible to form a coherent thought

- the most you could make out was a “bye” before you pressed the button to end the call with your dad

- “if you thought that call was long, just wait for what i’m about to do to you now”

- you were in for a long night

#andrew garfield #spiderman #asks #peter parker #asks open #spider man smut #peter parker smut #andrew garfield smut #tom holland #tom holland smut

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

Text

Only Pretending #7

Word count: 2.9k Author's note: Ok... this one has been a long time coming, I know, and I'm SORRY!!! Life's crazy and I'm unreliable. I hope you all enjoy it because I sure did a thousand changes on this one and maybe a plot point or two in the structure, so... my fingers are crossed so hard that there's no blood running through them. I want to thank @alder-saan for the support and feedback, I wouldn't bring that particular thing up too much until you helped me realize it is more important than I think and the reader doesn't have the same context I do. Kisses!

Larissa’s lips were cool, but her tongue was warm and wine-sweet, and soon enough all your senses were her. Her skin was hot when your hands went to her face and neck, slowly slipping to her shoulders underneath her robe. She hadn’t worn perfume yet, so her scent was slowly fading shower products and her. She was all-consuming. Your thoughts, senses and yearning were all hers.

She stood up with your face in her hands, never leaving your lips and dextrously sat on your lap. She towered over you, there was nothing else but her, and you knew there would never be something after her.

“Do you think we have time…” you started, out of breath and a little broken. She was planting long, reverent kisses on your cheeks, eyelids and forehead, stopping on the crease between your eyebrows and smoothing it away. You wanted all of her now, it was so much it didn’t even count as want; you needed her.

You felt the press of her smile and a warm puff of air as she chuckled.

“It depends on how fast you can shower and your thoughts on arriving fashionably late,” her voice was an amused rumble as she distanced herself a bit.

You would never make it in time. You knew it, but you also couldn’t let go of her. Her thighs underneath your hands were the definition of power, you felt dizzy thinking of them squeezing your face until your vision faded and all you could taste was her.

With a frustrated growl, you grabbed her ass and pulled her impossibly closer, resting your forehead on her chest. She had the audacity to chuckle at you and her fingers started a soothing pattern between your shoulder blades.

“What’s so funny?” you half grumbled.

You felt her laugh a bit more before saying, “Nothing. You’re just adorably impatient, I didn’t think you had It in you.”

“Didn’t last night prove I had?”

“You were far too considerate and kind, last night.”

You lifted your face to look her in the eye, unable to mask the tiniest of smirks.

“So, if I’d had my way with you, you’d have been surprised?”

“What makes you think it would be your way?” she cocked a brow and returned your smirk.

“I don’t know…” she gasped when your fingers sunk into her flesh, her expression quickly changing to show how affected she was, “But I seem to remember you being very pliant yesterday.” You kissed her lips chastely, feeling the electric sparks from Larissa’s pent-up desire around you.

Her fingers on your shoulders would likely leave prints. Good thing you’d be wearing a blazer over your top. You planted one last quick kiss on her lips before nudging her to let you up. She did so with an eye-roll to unsuccessfully hide her almost pout, and you had to bite your lip not to smile too much before leaving for the bathroom.

When you came back, Larissa was sitting at the vanity, doing her make-up. She was wearing a long-sleeved, silver mermaid dress that hugged her body just right before loosening lightly just below her thighs. She had a darker shade of her signature lipstick on, a burgundy red that almost mimicked the colour of your three-piece ensemble and wore silver jewellery and heels the colour of her nails and lipstick. She looked exquisite.

You knew she was watching you in the mirror while you let your robe fall to the ground, exposing your bare back and lace panties. You smiled to yourself at her audible stillness and started dressing. First your trousers, then the blouse, which you turned to give her a better view of you putting on, and deliberately buttoned up the slowest possible, eyes fixed on its buttons and your skin. When you looked up, her eyes were on the same track as yours had been, just as you finished covering your chest.

“Do I have something on me?” you pretended to search your top, looking for possible stains and the like.

“Do get over yourself, girl,” Larissa faked annoyance.

“Girl? I’ll have you know I’m almost thirty!”

“Don’t remind me,” the humour in her voice pulled you in, going over to her and sitting on the narrow bench.

“What? Not keen on getting old?” you didn’t mean to sound so soft.

“I am already,” her small smile had fondness but also something else in it, her searching eyes dissecting your every reaction.

“Would you like me to call you Miss Weems?” you breathed, hand tracing the bare skin of her clavicles, up to her neck.

You’d never heard her growl before. It was addicting from the very first time. She reached for your knee and waist and swiftly brought you to her lap.

“Do not ruin my make-up,” she warned, matter-of-factly, before deftly undoing your trouser buttons and pulling down its zipper.

“What are you doing? We have a party in fifteen minutes!” you could not care less about the damned party as her fingers unceremoniously slid inside your clothes and between your folds.

You gasped and gripped her shoulders with white-knuckled desperation. Her gaze bore holes deep into yours, watching every faint bat of your lashes and twitch of your eyebrows.

“I think we’ll be done by then,” she murmured in your ear and sucked at the lobe while two fingers dipped into you.

You didn’t realize before how wet you were from simply teasing her, but as she moved inside you with ease and brought her fingers to your clit, they were drenched.

She kissed and sucked the skin from your jaw to the base of your neck, lowering to your chest, exposed by the low cut of your top. You reached for her hair, dying to weave your fingers into her updo, but she gripped your wrist with a nimble movement and held it behind your back.

“I remember someone saying something about a party?” her mock pensive expression as she stroked at just the right speed was infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. You had imagined being at Larissa’s mercy many times, but if this small demonstration already had you undone, you might not survive her full attention for a night.

She kissed your sternum and quickened her fingers; you felt your thigh muscles spasm and lost control of your hips. She left your hand to hold you in place and took advantage when you arched your back in a breathless attempt to relieve tension to nuzzle her way underneath your loose blouse. You made a sound that was half a whimper and half a gasp as her lips closed around your nipple, warm and sure, and she hummed. She made soothing circles with her thumb on your hip and chuckled when your head found the vanity’s mirror and pushed it, inclining the entire thing and knocking several make-up supplies over.

You huffed, indignant that she found mirth in your suffering, so close to release but kept at bay by her bursts of speed interrupted by sudden gentler touches.

“Larissa, please,” you mewled, propped back into your elbow, every cell of your body howling for relief.

“Begging already? It’s been five minutes, dearest,” she released your nipple only to give it a peck before coming up to stare dangerously into your eyes.

“Please, this is torture…” your voice was little more than a whisper.

“I remember you having no qualms torturing me,” she growled, pinching your clit lightly. It was too much, and your eyes watered as you squealed in surprise. “Standing there with almost nothing, tracing fingers on what’s mine-“

“Am I?” you battled to get the words out with almost no air.

“I would think it’s a bit obvious,” she circled her fingers on your hood, the way she noticed that made you melt.

“Then take care of me…”

You could almost feel the thunderous flash in her eyes strike you as she lunged for your lips and kissed you hard. There were no more soothing thumbs or gentle touches. Her hand gripped your hip forcefully against the vanity and her fingers pressed hard and fast until you were choking on the little air you had and screaming Larissa’s name.

You couldn’t say for how long you came. The first thing you saw when you came back to your senses was Larissa licking her fingers and cleaning the lipstick around her lips. How she could look so put together while doing it would be unfair if it wasn’t her, but she was perfect, so, what else to expect?

“I’m afraid you ruined your knickers,” she noted in a sweet tone.

“Oh, fuck… I’m worse than a teenager…”

“Hardly, dear. I would help you clean up if we had time, but someone did exactly the opposite as I told them to and now, I have to start again,” she faked annoyance as she reached into the mess of things above the vanity and ignored your indignant huff, only smirking as you went to change your panties.

She’d be the death of you.

While putting on the garnet ring and earrings you brought to match your outfit, a thought occurred to you.

“What do you think we trade jewellery?”

“Hum?” she walked over, surveying you from head to toe and back up, swallowing once she got your face again.

“You have silver, I have red… we could colour coordinate our outfits by swapping.”

“You just want to wear my neckless, don’t you?” that might be part of the reason, yes. But it was a very beautiful diamond choker, thin and simple but also screaming ownership — honestly, that was the main reason behind it all, for everyone to know you wanted nothing more than be hers (or that you were, weren’t you?).

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When both of you were ready — Larissa having done your make-up while teasing you for looking “like my sweet little pet” with her necklace — you joined the party.

You had no idea when all those people arrived, but the foyer was packed. Some of the guests you were introduced to earlier were around. Mr Itt and his wife, Gomez’s brother, Fester, who seemed to be talking with a very intriguing woman of appearance quite similar to his, and grandmama’s sister, Miss Sloom. But mostly strangers, strange ones at that. It was incredible.

You spotted mummies, gorgons, sirens, and all manner of outcasts. Some of whom you had no idea what they identified as.

“Wow, so they weren’t lying!” a strange drawling voice sounded from the side and a broad-shouldered, smiling man made his way through some people to get to you and Larissa. “When Phillie told me you were taken tonight I almost choked on my champagne.”

You guessed this man went to school with Larissa, and his convinced demeanour and attempt at an LA accent made you gag. Why were all her former colleagues pricks? Gomez was the only exception to the rule until now. If everybody else was like this, you couldn’t blame Larissa for liking the only decent person in the bunch.

“Samuel, how nice seeing you here,” you had to disguise your snort with a cough, “This is y/n, the woman I believe Ophelia referred to.”

“Ophelia?”

“Morticia’s sister, and also an old friend,” she explained easily.

“Pleasure to meet a real person,” he extended his hand for you to shake and looked ever cockier, somehow.

“For fuck’s sake, what is your problem?!”

Larissa and Samuel seemed surprised by your little outburst.

“Why do you have to be such a dick? I’ve never met you before and I can’t stand you already. Have you nothing better to do with your night? Is your sense of humour so underdeveloped that you have to resort to cheap commentary to amuse yourself? Are you what, twelve?” you took Larissa’s hand and started walking through the crowd, “Leave us alone, and don’t you dare open your mouth to talk about Larissa because I will find you and I will make you pee in fear like the toddler you act like.”

At your raised voice, some of the guests turned to look at what was happening, but you were already leaving towards the buffet table. You walked past Lurch carrying champagne glasses on the way and thanked whoever was listening for the alcohol.

“What was all that?” relief washed through your body as you heard Larissa’s amused question. She wasn’t displeased, perfect.

“I’m so sick of people from your school days acting like pig-headed kids. What was going on in the 80s that everyone seems to be a bigoted imbecile?”

Larissa only laughed, and close to her, you heard someone you couldn’t see snort.

“Not all of them were bad, you just weren’t so lucky to meet many good ones,” Larissa explained, “However, Samuel was always a bit extra. Wanted to be an actor when we were students, I believe.”

“Do you think he is?”

“With that accent? A very bad one, maybe,” a very distinct monotone joined your conversation. Wednesday, Enid and grandmama stepped closer. Enid and the Addams matriarch filling their plates with food and having a heated discussion about… animal abuse?

“You were listening?” you asked, you could swear she wasn’t around for the commotion.

“I listen to him every year, and every other one as well. I’m sorry, but principal Weems is being unnecessarily dismissive as per usual; they’re intolerable.”

“But everyone is to you, isn’t that right?” Larissa’s tone betrayed her meaning, and she looked very pleased with herself when looking at Enid just a few feet away.

Wednesday rolled her eyes but didn’t look Larissa in the face, instead chancing a… fond? Glance at the pair with her. It occurred to you that this was the first event outside the school where they were officially together.

“I guess I understand why you wanted us to come then,” you really did, you weren’t far from brooding in a corner as well if people would be so unsavoury the whole night.

“You two are exhausting,” Larissa shook her head, unable to mask her amusement, and joined grandmama and Enid.

You watched the people around for a beat, old acquaintances reuniting and close friends giggling, but both you and Wednesday weren’t the type to beat around the bush.

“How’s Enid doing?”

“Thank-you-for-what-you-did.”

You smiled — she did something close — and gestured for her to speak first.

“Thank you for talking with her. She told me,” Wednesday sounded surer this time, her posture seemed straighter, and her eyes were trained at the crowd, “I thought she wouldn’t come when I left. She was smiling too much and acting more excited than normal.”

“And is she ok?” you searched for her eyes, she wasn’t one not to rise to a challenge and looked at you pointedly, “I was afraid her parents would come somehow, your mother invited a lot of people.”

“I asked her not to,” she confessed, looking at Enid, whom you saw was making Larissa chuckle and grandmama cackle, “She’s the bane of my existence, but she seems to love me oddly enough.”

“Mothers and daughters,” you shrugged. It was good to be reminded that Morticia was just a person sometimes, “It’ll get better in a few years.”

“Hello, there!!” Enid chirped when she joined you both and went to hug you again. That was the standard Enid greeting, you came to understand after only a small number of weeks working at Nevermore. And it was a blessing to the world, her hugs somehow had the quality of a bear’s without being deadly — most of the time.

“Hi, dear, how are you?”

“Oh, you know, basking in the glory of being right,” she smirks tightly to contain her previous smile, tossing her hair with a quirked brow, “I just convinced Dorie to walk to alligator to the swamp twice a week. She told me he’s been in the cellar for decades, the poor thing!”

“Dorie?” you didn’t know anyone else lived in the mansion.

“Me, silly, Eudora Addams,” grandmama joined the circle, “This ridiculous girl says it wants to go outside and pestered me enough that I just figured why not. Anything to shut her up,” she shrugged, faking annoyance and with a last look towards Wednesday, the woman left.

“She likes you,” Wednesday, in turn, seemed mystified.

While you were talking, Larissa had apparently wandered off. Surely, she would have told you if she was going somewhere, so being stolen by an old associate was the most logical reason you could think of.

Excusing yourself of the girls, you started searching the party for tall and stunning, but she wasn’t there. It was easy spotting her in a crowd since few matched her stature and Lurch was the only one whose shoulders you could see above the bodies.

You decided to look in the rooms around, going from the dining room to the drawing and then the study. Nearing the door to the last, you heard a muffled conversation, and a particularly irate voice caught your attention. Larissa’s temper was unmistakable.

“You have to be kidding me! You are the entire reason why we didn’t work out!” you heard her spat. Apparently, she was having a discussion with a previous… lover?

The second voice was too low for you to understand what it said, but the hairs at the nape of your neck told the tale quite accurately. You knew exactly who was behind that door and wouldn’t keep standing there hearing them talk like a nosy aunt thirsting for gossip.

However, when you opened the door you didn’t expect to see the woman who had you reduced to a breathless mess kissing another person.

Tags are as follows: @anti-bright-places, @pro-weems-places, @the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly-confused-kiwi-blog, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan, @jelly-frogss, @enchantressb, @imean-its-just-me, @lvinhs, @iloveyall-18, @kimiinou, @jeweleegrey (still not tagging, WHY???), @a-queen-and-her-throne, and last but not least, @one-pining-queer!

Chapter Eight

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems #larissa weems #wednesday #wednesday (netflix)#female reader #fake/pretend relationship #teacher!reader #normie!reader #smut #fluff and smut #upping the rating

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