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runa-falls · 9 months

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something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

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You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!”

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble.

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest.

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too.

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?”

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.”

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his.

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks.

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating.

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.”

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more.

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes.

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours.

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans.

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.”

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.”

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you.

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you.

“No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening.

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach.

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso.

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms.

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara

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chaoticace2005 · 2 months

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List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:

1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.

2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.

3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.

4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.

5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.

6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”

7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s

8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.

9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt

10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.

11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.

12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.

13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)

14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.

15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.

16. Honeymoon with his cane.

17. Fell into a coma

18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.

19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.

20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.

21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.

22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.

23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.

24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.

25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.

26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.

27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.

28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.

29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.

30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.

31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments

32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.

33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.

34. Went on a seven year long bender.

35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #staticradio #radiostatic #one sided #(Aka vox is a simp)#aroace alastor #radio demon

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frogchiro · 4 months

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h...

hairy captain McTavish is something I didn't know I needed so bad

I'm doing anything for him. committing every sin in the book for him l

wagging my tail, bringing him my leash, putting my face right in his hair chest RAHHHH

Captain MacTavish who is just so...masculine, so brutish and rough all over, doesn't take shit from anyone and isn't afraid to manhandle someone if they get too cocky with him because there is one thing you need to know about John-he loves obedience.

He's a rough man but he's also prideful, he's proud of what he managed to build in his military career, that he's a captain but he's also incredibly proud of his physique and isn't afraid to show off a bit, especially in front of the sweet Hackergirl when there are other males around :(

Loves loves loves to walk around shirtless, his well-build torso on show and heavy muscles moving underneath his tanned skin as he stretches and flexes his biceps, his hairy chest and tummy on show as he walks around and checks how the recruits are doing their training. John's rough voice would echo around as he growls at the incompetent soldiers running around like chickens without heads, they just seem so distracted by something and when the large male swivels his head around to look for that fucking distraction, he sees you-the pretty 141 girl, their resident hacker who drives everyone insane with those nice tits, sunny smile and those nice, shapely and full hips John wants to yank back onto his cock :((

Imagine him strutting over to you, still shirtless and boisterous making sure to flex his strong muscles as he talks to you and asks what a pretty young lady like you is doing here, all the while smirking like a wolf because he sees how flustered and shy you got </3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #nasty man will try and sneak a little grope #'jus' to get a feel of those curves darlin'#hackergirl!reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #captain mactavish x reader #captain soap mactavish #john soap mactavish

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generalsmemories · 9 months

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An Immortal's Delight

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: i think jing yuan just needs someone to kiss his worries away to survive another day tbh, he deserves that.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, smooches and kisses in the bathtub (scandalous), he's just a tired baby please let him rest and get some cuddles and a pat on his fluffy head. spoilers for the main story in 1.2

✧ a/n: enough attempts on angst as the main genre i want my man happy again for like 3 posts before i attempt again, and i know ya'll want it too. it's cheesy, but HE NEEDS TO HAVE CHEESY MOMENTS PLEASE HE'S BEEN SUFFERING EVERYWHERE ELSE.

Jing Yuan has been submerging himself in the bath without answering your calls long enough for you to grow concernerd. You contemplate for a bit, there's still scrolls of unfinished work sitting by the dining table that you had brought from the Realm-Keeping Commission along with two plastic bags of Immortal's Delight that you bought on a whim while on your way home staring back at you.

Yanqing's not at home. The paperwork can also wait until he's out of the bath and in bed sleeping, and there's no pressing matters at hand for the both of us currently either- with those reasons in mind, you take another sip from your own immortal's delight to savor the taste while it's still cold before walking up to the bathroom door and opening it slowly.

You're immediatey hit with a wave of steam, barely able to make out Jing Yuan's figure amidst the mist. Your husband having an elbow propped up at the edge of the bathtub while resting his cheek on his closed fist. If he heard you come in he doesn't react, eyes closed while the water from the tap still runs, having long flowed over the edge.

Jing Yuan isn't behaving like his usual self lately - not after fate had toyed him like this to make him use two of his ones dearest friends whom he had had once released years back for the sake of Luofu. You can tell, you can see it in the wry smile he sports every day, you can see it in his eyes that flicker with the tiniest of emotions whenever he reports back to you for you to record and in his voice that wavers a tiny bit when he addresses his two old friends as names that are foreign to him.

He's the same general in everyone else's eyes, but in your eyes he's reverted back to his younger self who took on a role far too burdensome on his shoulders all those years ago. He can hide it beneath every meticulous plan and carefully thought out strategies, but you always see through him. You had back then, and you have now as well.

You strip off of your outer robes which leaves you in an undershirt whilst you slowly walk up to him. Making yourself comfortable by the edge of the bathtub, your fingers find the red ribbon that situates his long ponytail and pull it off.

"Darling," you hum, "If you're going to let yourself turn into a prune in here, at least make sure that the ribbon also comes off no?" your hand rests on his left cheek, a silent sign to make him look at you. And Jing Yuan is always obedient around you, opening his eyes to direct his gaze towards you. His other hand comes up to wrap loosely around your own hand, holding it still while he turns his head around to press his lips against your palm, "I would still be quite a handsome prune though, no?" he jokes with an empty chuckle - you're pretty sure his laughs have sounded empty since the stellaron incident first started.

"Debatable," you whisper, gently pulling your hand away to grip the edge of the bathtub, instead leaning down to press your lips against his cheek, "But you would most definitely be the most handsome prune in my eyes."

"That's a relief," he huffs playfully - although there's no playful tone present in his voice. It's numb and automatic, a trained response fitting of the general Jing Yuan of the Xianzhou Luofu. It could've fooled every other person, but not you. He can't fool you after all.

"I thought you had passed out in here, you were taking that long," you emphazise, lips moving from his cheek to kiss across his face, settling on pressing your lips a bit longer on the mole underneath his eyes.

"Mmm, sorry dear," he leans away from his fist, letting you cup his face between your hands while his right arm drops limply over the edge of the bathtub, "It was pretty comfortable in here that I lost track of time."

He never loses track of time.

"Jing Yuan," you call out gently, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead averting his eyes from your own as he grows quiet. He's probably contemplating an answer, if you were anyone else he could've easily breezed past the question with a mere acknowledgement that he's fine, but it's you. You're always able to figure him out as fast as his own foresight is able to foresee a necessary plan for a better tomorrow.

He still tries, "I'm fine," he ends up saying, "Just tired," he opens his mouth to add on more details, as if to prove to you he's really just tired, but no sound comes out.

"I know," you whisper, bringing your hand further up his face to brush his bangs away to bump your forehead gently against his, "I know you're tired, dear. But what's gotten you more tired than usual?"

Gently, he lifts a hand from the water up to your wrist. And you're already aware it's a silent request, to which you answer with a small smile and a nod. With a light tug, you get dragged down into the bathtub with your legs dangling over the edge. Jing Yuan had immediately buried his face into your neck, letting out a shuddering breath.

There's no people to care for in this small space, there's no general duties to attend to here and no setting aside his personal feelings or using old connections for his people. In this small space, there's only the feeling of your soft skin against his and the warm press of your lips on his head.

Just like back then after he had come back from defeating his master, after he had witnessed the deaths of his closer friends in battle and the punishment given to another. You're always there at the end of the day - waiting for him.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, dear?" you implore once again, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"As much as I'm able to keep it hidden at the heat of the moment," he whispers into your neck, taking another shaky breath to which you pat his naked back for, whispering for him to breathe. "I do admit that I once again had a bit of a youthful hope to bring something back from the past that I knew was not plausible."

You merely press your lips to his temple, aware that he's not finished talking judging by the way he takes another deep breath that ends in a low chuckle - a chuckle that sounded a tiny bit more genuine than his previous one.

"... And I think I can still feel the aftermaths of the fight against Phantylia."

"... Well that's no good," you hum. You've been very much aware that Jing Yuan is still recovering from the last battle against Phantylia. His body still weak and food even harder to consume. The little he does consume end up getting thrown back up because: "It feels like my insides are having a battle of its own still," which makes it harder to get Bailu's prescribed medicine down his throat.

You run your fingers down his back a couple of times before leaning away to pull his head out of your neck - he tries to protest, wanting to stay nestled in your neck so he can live inside the personal bubble you've created away from reality. But you're too insistent, gently coaxing him with small pats to his head until Jing Yuan finds himself staring back into your eyes. "In what way can you feel the aftermath?"

He's staring at your lips, "There's a vile taste in my mouth."

Your lips are immediately slotting over his own after that. It's soft, but sweeter than usual. He can taste a hint of brown sugar on your tongue, and perhaps it's because he's not directly consuming it, but he finds it easier to want more. So he leans in for more, grabbing the back of your neck to push you further into him. More, he needs more.

"You're going to swallow me up whole at this rate," you say with a giggle, parting slightly away from his lips and giving them a brief peck when he leaned slightly further into you, "But how did that taste?" you question.

"It tastes like someone's had an Immortal's Delight before coming in here," he jests, "It's good, I like that," he confirms before settling his forehead back on your shoulder.

"That's good, maybe I should drink more of them then before kissing you silly. I'm sure whatever you're eating now paired with Bailu's medicine won't give your tastebuds the best of flavors."

"That would make eating and drinking them a lot easier for my part," he mumbles from your shoulder, "Would have something to look forward to, being that Lady Bailu bans me from drinking such sugary treats at the moment."

You chuckle at the hint of sadness present in his voice, once again wrapping your arms around his shoulders so his senses are filled with your scent. Only then does his shoulders sink in relief - And you know that Jing Yuan will be fine for another day again.

"I can't guarantee that tomorrow will be any better from today," you mumble, "Neither can I guarantee that you won't be faced with a past that you were forced to move on from too soon for the sake of the Luofu," you let go of him to climb out of the bathtub, ignoring your clothes sticking to your skin as you extend a hand towards the man before you who meekly grabs it - squeezing your hand hard upon contact.

"I can however, guarantee that I'll be there waiting at the end of the day every time," you grab one of the fresh towels by the shelves to throw over his head, ruffling his hair slightly, "And take care of you when you want to just be Jing Yuan, and not the Arbiter General of the Luofu," you declare with a smile, "And kiss the vile taste of medicine in your mouth with the flavors of immortal's delight."

Before you can turn around again to grab a new towel to pat your clothes dry, Jing yuan tugs at your wrists and pulls you towards him. A hand coming up to cup your cheek before he bends slightly down to kiss you hard and hungrily. Kissing you breathless like you're all he has left - from back then and now in the present.

He can still taste the sugary drink on your lips - He wants to keep tasting them, he has quite a sweet tooth after all.

"I like the taste of immortal's Delight," he says, pressing his forehead against yours while he gazes at you softly, "So I hope you bought some for me too."

"I did, you can afford one cheat day," you grin, bringing both hands to cup his cheeks before pinching them, "But knowing you, you would still claim it tastes better on my lips, no?"

i- i'm. can someone tell i really love this man. like i want to wrap him in a blanket and say everything's going to be okay, that he can rest now because he's done his job and way more. that he deserves rest as much as the next person- i can volunteer to do that. please.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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hitomisuzuya · 1 month

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Hellooo <3 I love your writing so much, please take care of yourself and have a nice, nice day!

Can I request Scara smut, where reader and Scara are about to get it on but then she gets very shy as Scara undresses her.

Basically like him praising her and like soft smut.

If that's not too self indulgent - thank u thank u thank uuu!

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Soft, very romantic smut. Praise.

Please, and this counts for everyone, don't be afraid sound too self indulgent. My whole blog is self indulgent. This whole thing will be self indulgent ❤️

Scaramouche absolutely enjoys the intimacy of kissing. There was just this deep connection that came with it. His tongue curling around yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the way your arms wrapped around him to press your body up against his as hands hastily worked to remove clothes.

He reluctantly pulled away from a kiss that was rapidly making you weak in the knees to tug your shirt over your head. Immediately, a shy blush coated your cheeks as his hand slipped back to unclasp your bra.

"So cute," He purred, curling his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you would look at him. His fingers traced up the dips in your spine. "Keep that expression on your face while I undress you," He loves that you never got over how shy you felt when he was taking off your clothes.

A huge turn on for him.

He took his time removing the rest of your clothes, his lips grazing softly on your neck. The sensation never failed to make goosebumps rise up on your skin, a soft moan sounding from you as you relaxed into his touches.

Scaramouche could feel you melting, his hands sliding along your body. His cock pulsed seeing you shiver. "So responsive," He pressed a hungry kiss on your lips again, gently pushing you down onto the bed.

You wore the same shy expression as you watched him remove his clothes. Did you have any idea how delicate that made you look?

His hand caressed your cheek, his thumb skimming gently across it. "Let me make my pretty girl feel good," He captured your lips in another passionate, open mouthed kiss. The way you obediently opened your mouth for his tongue, soft moans breathing against his mouth sent him absolutely reeling.

He spread your legs, caressing the inside of your thighs before seeking out your clit. He pressed and rubbed his thumb around the swelling nub, his eyes trained on the way your body quivered in pleasure.

Your hips rocked into his fingers as they stroked between your folds. "That's my good girl, just let go and relax," He encouraged, gently pinching and rolling your clit between the pads of his fingers until you saw stars.

You writhed on the bed, pleasure jolting through your body as you grasped the sheets in your hands. The look in your eyes was one of hazy desperation and need.

A look that always made Scaramouche's cheeks flush with endearment for you. Nobody looked at him the way you did. No one needed him the way that you did.

"Scara, please," You said in a shaky tone, spreading your legs a little wider for him, "I need you inside me," Your pussy was starting to clench around nothing thanks to his ministrations. Your whole body trembled with need.

"As you wish, kitten," He never got tired of hearing even the haze that laced your voice with desire. He pressed the head of his cock against your throbbing clit, tearing a gasp from you. Your hips jerked to seek more friction in response.

Scaramouche let out a low, satisfied groan as he pushed his cock inside of you. "So warm, so tight," He bottomed out with a smooth, slow thrust, "so fucking perfect," His body shuddered in pure bliss.

Your walls clamped tight, and sensitive around his cock, the head kissing into your sweet spot in a way that made your toes curl. Your arms wrapped around him, clinging to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips never left yours, swallowing each and every sweet moan you offered him. You wrapped your legs around him, helping him push his cock as deep inside of you as it could go. "I love you," He said, pulling away for a moment in a show of vulnerability, "I love you so fucking much."

You put one of your hands on the back of his head, bringing it down for another kiss. His lips greedily captured yours, holding you against him like someone was going to take you away from. He couldn't ever let that happen.

Ever.

The bursts of pleasure were so intense that you could barely form any words. Scaramouche was worshipping you with every thrust, every squeeze and soft caress of his hands. He was utterly lost in the way you lost yourself in him.

"Cum inside, please," You pleaded, making him groan huskily, "I love you, Scara. I love you so much," Any other words you tried to form died in your throat, your moans bleeding into his husky ones.

Those four words never failed to make him cum. His arms tightened around you, craving to hold you closer than you already were as cum ribboned into you.

"Fuck," He hissed, nipping at your lower lip, "cum for me," He thrust his cock into your sweet spot until he ushered in your orgasm, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The way your cunt squeezed around his cock as your orgasm broke over you was nothing short of utter bliss for him.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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b1mbodoll · 7 months

Text

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + omorashi + wombfucking + degradation + noncon (he pees inside without asking) + oral / facials

❤︎₊ ⊹ mean dom sunghoon treats his obedient lil puppygirl like a dumb mutt n makes you do the filthiest things just for him :( cums on your face or humps your fluffy tail when you sit on his lap n he can feel it wagging against him 🥺 but there’s nothing he loves more than humiliating his little pup by pissing on or inside of you, moaning deeply as he releases himself and makes a mess of your hole.

↳ sunghoon’s been pounding your sore lil puppycunt for what feels like forever, a mixture of his cum and yours spilling out of your hole with each thrust, the slick sound of his cock driving into your pussy making your fluffy ears twitch and your face heat up in embarrassment. “you’re such a good girl f’me, pup. always take my cock so well, i can’t get enough of this pretty pussy.” his words make you keen, tossing your head back and clenching around his length. he’s so deep inside, you swear he’s fucking your womb at this point and you can’t stop your tongue from lolling out when you feel his dick twitch.

he doesn’t warn you beforehand and the warmth catches you off guard, the stream of his piss flooding your insides and making your tail thrash wildly as you tremble beneath him. “that’s right, puppy. take it, just fuckin’ take it. you wanna be good, right?”

the thought of sunghoon thinking you’re a disobedient pup makes your stomach drop and you agree embarrassingly quick.

“yes hoonie! ‘m a good girl i’ll take w-whatever you give me! use me however you want.” sobs and hiccups escape you as he continues to forcefully thrust into you while filling you up, some of his piss leaking out of your hole from how full you are. you cum just from the feeling of his piss splashing in your womb and it makes you whine, cheeks burning in shame.

sunghoon stays buried inside of your pussy even after he’s finished, thick cock keeping all of his fluids inside. “my sweet girl, you’re so filthy,” he teases, a faux pout on his lips. “such a little pisswhore you came so fuckin’ quick.”

❤︎₊ ⊹ when i say he cums on ur face i mean he quite literally rubs his thick cock all over ur face <3 leaks precum over every inch of it n smirks meanly when you whimper n nuzzle against his length, desperate to feel his seed on your skin

↳ hoon swears you’re the best cockslut ever. always so obedient for him and allowing your owner to use you however he deems fit. he knows you live to obey and the need to serve him outweighs any shame or humiliation you feel when he reduces you to a depraved mutt.

“get on your knees, princess.” his tone is stern and you’re already sinking to the ground in front of him before your empty little head has time to process his order.

sunghoon’s cock is wet and messy with globs of cum but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing his length with one hand and tugging your hair harshly with the other, spitting on your cute little face and laughing meanly when your ears lay flat against your head, nose scrunching in surprise.

he grinds his cock against you, the cum around his dick making a mess of your sweet face and the sight makes him groan, drawing guttural moans of pleasure from him. “c’mon baby, you know what to do.”

you do know what to do and it’s obvious when you immediately bring a hand to cup his balls, your mouth falling open to lap at them with your tongue. he’s trained you so well and it makes pride bloom in his chest when you take his balls in your mouth, noisily sucking them without having to be told exactly what he wants.

pleasuring sunghoon makes your puppycunt drip with arousal, your hips moving on their own and humping the air like a bitch in heat as your hole clenches around nothing, making you realize how empty you feel without his cock inside of you.

it doesn’t take long for him to blow his load and you can feel his cock twitch against your face as he nears his release, hollowing your cheeks in an attempt to send him over the edge. he tightens his grip on your hair and his orgasm hits him hard, his choked groans like music to your ears as his cum spurts from his slit in ropes, the creamy substance is thick and sticky and some of it even lands on your fluffy ears, white globs dripping from the tip of your ear onto your hair.

you keep your eyes locked on your owner as he cums and it’s almost overwhelming to watch, drawing high pitched whines from you as you cum untouched, sunghoon’s obvious pleasure enough to make you cream around nothing.

#♡.the honeypot #enhypen #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #💌.hybrids #💌.omorashi #💌.womb fucking #💌.degradation #💌.noncon #💌.oral

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ozzgin · 2 months

Text

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

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atlabeth · 3 months

Text

the first ball (aka luke goes a little insane)

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: okay these two literally just like. possess me because i am already thinking about them always. thank you to those who sent in requests, they were already things i wanted to write for them in the future so it's perfect!! we're all on the same wavelength fr i just needed to get this out before i started on them

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): luke is a lil sad </3 knightly duties are rough

once again, a mix of hc's and traditional fic!

okay so last time we left off luke had been knighted and you were kind of upset that he straight up promised to die for you.

since then, things have smoothed out a bit. The fire inside of you has cooled.

It was easy to get used to Luke’s constant presence. It was a bit more difficult to get used to what it truly meant for him to be a knight.

In private, he was mostly the same Luke you knew. When he would walk you back to your room at the end of the night and you would invite him in, and you’d sit on the floor and talk for much longer than you should. Go out to the balcony with him and stare at the stars, wondering aloud about your future. You would crack jokes in the hallway and he’d laugh like always—he’d actually talk with you, act the way you have for years.

In public, though, he had a different part to act. And that part was largely silent. During meetings he would stand with all the other knights, and the most you could get out of him was a slight smile or a glint in his eye when you looked over at him after something ridiculous was said.

More often than not, his role in your life was to trail quietly behind you or stand at attention.

Sometimes, when the knights would train in view of your balcony, you would stand there and watch, just so you could see Luke display some fierceness, some emotion other than the obedience that was required.

You had to get it into your head that you weren’t just you and Luke anymore.

You’re the Crown Princess, the sole heir to the throne, and Luke is the member of the crownsguard, a knight entrusted to your personal protection.

Things are different now, and you wonder how long it’ll take you to get that through your head.

and things are about to get a little more complicated for you both lol

It’s your first ball since Luke was knighted, which means that it’s the first ball he’s coming to with you.

When you were younger, you typically stayed home and you and Luke would mess around the entire night; stealing treats from the kitchens, giving your governess the runaround, and running out to the castle grounds to do whatever the hell you wanted.

Once you were old enough to accompany your parents, Luke would just have to be alone. His mother always went with your family, seeing as she was your father’s guard, but Luke only had servants and knights decades his elder for company.

He usually ended up training, roaming around the grounds himself, or thinking of you.

Actually, no matter what he was doing, he was typically thinking of you.

Luke would wait up until you came home and listen to you talk and talk and complain and talk about everything that happened. He could be seconds from falling asleep and then he would hear the horses and carriages and he would be back on his feet immediately, instantly going to find you.

You mostly complained—about how your feet hurt from the shoes, how you had to talk to so many stuffy nobles (he would remind you that by definition, you were the stuffiest noble), how you had to pretend like you cared about anything anyone was saying.

Luke doesn’t care, though. He’s always loved listening to you.

One thing is typically the same, though.

“I wish you were there, Luke.”

(So does he.)

Times seemed so simple then, when you were just there to be there—you didn’t have to think of the intricacies of politics, you were just a twelve-year-old who happened to be a princess.

And now you’re only two months from eighteen, and you’re already feeling all of the pressure.

Namely in the form of a marriage.

Relations with your neighboring kingdoms are shaky as hell but they’re a necessity if you want to keep any modicum of peace. No one likes it, but you’d like war a little bit less so you’ve gotta suck it up.

The easiest way to keep the peace is through alliances, and the easiest way to get an alliance is through marriage. Fortunately for Aurelda, the princess is eligible and seems to be the subject of many noble affections.

Unfortunately for you, that princess is in fact you.

And for like, the first time since Luke has been knighted, you’ve actually been separated from each other for the majority of the day

Luke had to get a lecture on knightly etiquette, this being the first ball he’ll have attended away from Aurelda. He’s gained a temper as he’s gotten older, and the last thing anyone needed was for him to lose it in the midst of peace talks.

And you were busy with all sorts of preparations. A meeting with your parents and their advisors ensuring you would know what to talk about, a meeting alone with your parents ensuring you knew how to act as the Crown Princess in times like these. A talk from your parents not as their daughter, but as their heir, on how to deal with the suitors you would meet.

Unlike the Aureldan nobles that would thrust their sons in front of you in the dim hopes of sparking your interest, the men you would meet at this ball would actually be potential husbands. Princes, sons of the richest dukes and earls—and you would be expected to entertain whatever advances they deemed appropriate, or worse—make the advances yourself.

The thought of it was a bit overwhelming.

And obviously, Luke is such a fan of it.

(He kind of wants to die just imagining it.)

(But he doesn’t tell you that.)

You leave Aurelda a few days before the ball to make sure you’ll make it in time (carriage rides go crazy)

unfortunately, Luke is on horseback alongside the rest of the cavalry and so you have nobody to save you from the continued lectures of your parents. They really just want everything to go perfectly, and you understand it, but you’re already tired of this.

You arrive the morning of the ball so you spend near the entire day accompanying your parents as they talk with the royal family—at one point you’re forced to go off on your own with their son who just happens to be your age.

He’s nice, at least—just dreadfully boring. You manage to slip away from him at one point after he gets distracted talking with a servant, and Luke follows you without complaint.

“Do not say a word,” you told him.

“As my princess decrees,” he said, amused.

At the end of it all, an hour before you’re meant to leave, you find yourself in your room with Luke. He’s standing guard at the door, and you’re making last minute adjustments to your appearance.

You should both probably be somewhere else—everything has to go perfect tonight, and you feel as if the entire staff has been in disarray trying to ensure that—but you had to get away.

And if you’re getting away, Luke is coming with you.

It doesn’t matter that it’s his duty—he would do it anyway. He thinks he’d do anything you ask.

You’re also very thankful that he doesn’t snitch on you—sometimes, you’re able to appeal to best friend Luke rather than Sir Luke.

You’re fixing up the last couple bits of your appearance, ensuring all your jewelry is shiny and your gown fits just right and your makeup is perfect.

The only sound is your sighs and hums and the clinking of your bracelets. You feel Luke’s eyes on you the entire time, and then he finally speaks up.

“I don’t like this, princess,” Luke said.

“Really?” you hummed. “I think I look quite dashing.”

“You always look beautiful,” he said, “but you know that’s not what I mean.”

“You don’t like much,” you mused, adjusting the position of your necklace.

“This ball is a bad idea,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you said. “It’s enough that my mother is staying home—if I don’t go, especially now that I’m of marrying age, it’ll be taken as a huge insult.”

“Let them be insulted,” he said. “Your safety is more important than their feelings.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned around and cocked your head at him. “Everything is going to be okay, Luke. No one would be bold enough to…”

You trailed off, your smile fading as the memories fronted. It had been almost two years and it still felt so fresh.

Of course Luke would be thinking of it—this would be his first ball in a foreign kingdom as your knight. His mind was probably reeling thinking of all the ways you could be murdered.

You shook your head before the memories could fully surface, before you could entertain any possible disasters. “It’s going to be okay,” you repeated, more forcefully this time. “You’ll be by my side the entire time, right?”

“Of course,” he huffed. “I just hate the thought of you having to go through all of this.”

“It is what I was born to do,” you said wryly. “I’m going to lead this kingdom someday.”

“Queen is a good title for you,” he admitted. “It seems so far away, though.”

You huffed. “And may it remain that way.”

You moved closer to the mirror to check your makeup, which was when you realized you forgot the most important piece.

You picked up your most prized necklace from your jewelry box and undid the tie. You attempted to get it back together around your neck, but for some reason you couldn’t get the knot from this angle. After a few fruitless attempts, your shoulders sagged.

“Luke,” you grumbled, “can you help me with this?”

You could see his raised eyebrows in the mirror. “If you can’t do it, what makes you think I can?”

You didn’t give him an answer, instead turning around to face him as you batted your eyelashes. “Please.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Please,” you repeated, jutting your lip out. “You can swing a sword—you can do up a necklace.”

Luke sighed, but he was already removing his gauntlets, setting them on your bed. “You’re dangerous, princess.”

You smiled inwardly, and once he was done and walking over to you, you held out the pendant.

Luke paused as he took it, and his eyes darted back up to yours with the slightest smile on his lips. “You still have this?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was from you.”

It was only five years ago, but it felt like a century. Luke had gone into town with his mother when your father was cooped up all day in meetings. He’d come back beaming brighter than the sun, proclaiming he’d gotten a gift for you.

Luke was paid a tiny sum per month at May’s request for the chores and work he did around the castle—she claimed it would keep him in order if he was rewarded for staying in order. It partially worked.

Luke saved for months under your nose, and used what meager gold he possessed to buy you a simple pendant from a merchant. Once again, your excited scream must have echoed through the entire castle.

You wore it every day for the next year and a half, but at some point after tragedy struck, it ended up out of rotation.

But you’d always had it, even when you weren’t wearing it.

Always.

“I just thought…” He glanced back down at it before looking back at you. “It’s not nearly as nice as your other jewelry.”

“It’s from you,” you repeated. “That means it’s my best piece.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and he gestured for you to turn around. You did, and you watched his work through the reflection.

His callouses scratched your skin ever so slightly as he moved your hair out of the way, and a shiver ran up your spine both at his touch and the cool air hitting your bare skin. You were silent as he positioned the pendant, not daring to even breathe.

He tied it together with deft fingers, and you smiled as you felt the leather cord settle around your neck again.

“And you said you couldn’t do it,” you said wryly.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself. Almost as if he’d forgotten you could hear him.

For a moment, time froze. Luke’s hands just barely grazed the bare skin of your neck, and your breath caught in your chest at his proximity. He’d done what you asked, but he didn’t move. You didn’t ask him to—you didn’t think anything would come out if you tried.

You could see his lips part, but they opened and closed a few times before he managed words.

“Princess, I—”

And then there was a very loud knock on your door, jolting the two of you apart. Air finally returned to you as you tried your hardest to will the heat out of your entire body, and Luke was putting his gauntlets back on quicker than you’d ever seen.

“Come in!” you exclaimed, voice higher pitched than usual as you smoothed out your gown and fixed your hair and felt the blaze beneath your skin.

Your lady’s maid opened the door, not even paying Luke a second glance. “I was wondering where you were, Your Highness.”

You forced a smile, thankful for all your childhood training that it would be at least somewhat believable. “My apologies. I required some time alone after the chaos of today.”

She nodded. “You needn’t apologize, Your Highness, but it is necessary you get on your way. Your Majesty is nearly ready, and it is imperative you enter together.”

You swallowed thickly as you glanced over at Luke. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you.

“…Of course,” you said. “Lead the way.”

You followed your lady’s maid and Luke trailed after you. For some forsaken reason your skin still burned where he’d touched you.

and you’re expected to entertain other suitors tonight with Luke in the vicinity.

god help you.

but anyways. you manage to regain most of your bearings by the time you reach your father—Luke still won’t look at you, but you can’t deal with that problem right now, even if it’s clawing at your insides—and your father helps calm you down before you go in.

You enter the ballroom on the arm of your father as the two of you are announced, and your hold on him tightens as you see the sheer number of people here. It all feels much more overwhelming than it did when you were younger—maybe because you understand what this all means.

You continue to stand with your father, clapping politely as other royals are introduced, connecting faces to names and descriptions that you’ve been quizzed on for years.

It isn’t long after the king of the kingdom you’re visiting gives his speech that you’re pulled into a conversation with your father, and it takes five seconds for you to realize this is what the rest of the night is going to be like.

You search for Luke by the wall with all the other guards, but you can’t find him. You sigh and let your attention be drawn back to the conversation at hand.

Luke, meanwhile, can see everything. He sees you looking for him, he sees you talking with the prince of a nearby kingdom, he sees both your and his father casually moving away to leave the two of you to talk alone.

He says nothing.

Not that he can, anyways. Luke stands at attention with the other crownsguard, specifically stationed next to your father’s personal guard. He’s within view of every exit, and he can’t help but profile every person that walks past him.

He’s especially honing in on every person that talks to you throughout the night. His mind is working overdrive trying to remember all the names of foreign royalty—he feels like he’s already made up ten worst case scenarios for how this night could go.

It only takes another hour for the prince of the kingdom you’re in to find you and spark up a conversation, and a muscle works ever so slightly in Luke’s jaw.

He already had to deal with that dull prince for hours, showing you around the castle and trying to start conversation and just making everything so dreadfully boring Luke was surprised you could handle it.

That was why you were the princess, after all. You could take everything in stride with a pleasant smile—Luke fought his way through his problems.

He couldn’t exactly fight through this one.

But you sure as hell could smile through it—and gods, your smile was beautiful. No wonder you were talking with what seemed to be your fifth prince of the night.

Whatever he says makes you laugh. The prince places his hand on your arm, and Luke feels himself flinch.

He’s thankful that the guards are the same as background decorations for a majority of the people here. He’s gotten good at controlling his emotions when he has to, but none of his slipups will be noticed. Not by the crowd, not by your father, not by you.

It’s a torturous existence that Luke’s got going on here. It’s his job to look out for you, to watch the every move of you and those around you, because he has to be the first to act if anything goes wrong.

But it’s not all that great for him when he’s just watching royal after royal vie for your hand.

At least, that’s what he figures they’re doing. He can’t exactly hear everything through the revelry, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Luke keeps going back to the two of you alone, you asking—pleading, practically—for him to help with your necklace.

The necklace he got you in a childish declaration of love, that he thought you had forgotten about.

You hadn’t.

It looks out of place, he knows that much—a piece of himself among gold jewelry and shimmering gems. A leather cord holding onto a rough piece of turquoise, your initials carved into the back in the corner—his own work.

You had a part of him with you as noble sons tried to woo you, as you tried to take the next step into your future.

He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse

Sometimes, Luke wonders if you know. Oftentimes, Luke wonders if you could feel the same.

He never lets himself entertain that train of thought for very long.

It doesn’t matter how he feels. It doesn’t matter if you went against all rationality and somehow felt the same.

Because you’re a princess—the heir to the Aureldan throne. Expected to marry and produce heirs and lead your kingdom into a golden age of peace.

Luke is just a knight.

Nothing will ever happen.

That’s the only thing he needs to remember.

But that doesn’t mean his lip doesn’t curl in disdain ever so slightly when the orchestra starts up, signifying the beginning of dances, and that tiresome prince offers you his hand.

You take it, smiling back at him as you walk onto the floor together with other pairs.

Remember your place, Castellan, he thinks.

It's a lot harder than it should be.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Text

Housewife

✨️Kink education with Elizabeth✨

The Housewife kink, also known as the 1950s Household, is a power play exchange dynamic that typically involves a dom and service sub. It is characterized by one partner being seen as a homemaker and one as the breadwinner. During the 1950s, the homemaker’s “job” was to take care of the household chores, dinner, children (if they had any), and following norms, their husband's needs all while being the picture perfect example of soft femininity and breedability.

Subs partaking in this form of play tend to wear dresses, heels, aprons, ect, while maintaining a clean home and cooking. Many people enjoy this dynamic due to its ability to come into real-life play instead of just hiding in the bedroom.

It is one form kink play that does not necessarily have to be sexual, but that's not why we're all here 👀

NSFW BELOW CUT

💕Peep Valentines Day Bingo Here 💕

Azriel x Reader

Summary - After a long day of interrogations, Azriel is more than pleased to come home to dinner made, a clean home, and a pretty wife.

Warnings - sub and dom dynamics, references to completely power exchange play, oral (mreceiving), slightly demeaning behavior towards females

A/N - I apologize for the delay. My little is going through a growth spurt and a little fussy today. Plus, it took FOREVER to find the perfect gif.

Azriel opened the door to his cabin. His shoulders were slumped forward, wings hanging slightly lower than normal.

It had been a rough day. He had been torturing the same prisoner for 3 days now. They refused to yield, they refused to break, and they refused to bend and give the shadowsinger what he wanted.

He knew that all would change the second he saw you, though. You were currently setting dinner on the table. Your hair was softly curled and pinned back, a soft touch of makeup graced your face highlighting his favorite features of yours.

You were wearing a blue sundress the flowed out at the bottom with heels and a blue bow in your hair.

“How's my wife today?” He took pleasure in knowing you would not address him until he addressed you. He took pleasure in knowing that within seconds of hearing his voice, you were trained to get him a glass of whiskey and greet him with a kiss.

“Azriel, you're home early,” you immediately went to the liquor counter, dress swaying as you did. You poured him a finger of whiskey, moving to add ice before walking to him and kissing his cheek. “How was your day?”

Azriel drank as you began removing his outer heavy layer for him, watching like a hawk as you hung his coat and placed his already kicked off boats into the precise place he had told you they go.

“Same prisoner as yesterday,” he watched you blink in confusion. “The bastard will not break and submit. Did you make dinner?”

You nodded enthusiastically, walking him to the table and getting him a plate. “I made your favorite.”

Azriel settled into the couch after dinner, watching you as you cleaned dishes. Every soft movement of your dress had his eyes locked on the hem. Each time you'd reach forward slightly, he was rewarded with a glimpse at the garter belt straps that connected to the satin tops of your thigh highs. It was a constant reminder to him that you were his present, waiting to be unwrapped so delicately as a reward for your continued obedient behavior.

“Angel,” he spoke softly. “Are all your chores done after this?”

It should have bothered you as a wingless Illyrian female to hand over submission so willingly out of hope you'd be rewarded with your mate's cock pounding into you over and over, but instead knowing you were about to be rewarded, that he was about to use you like a pretty cock sleeve, that had your thighs pressing together. “They are. Unless you wanted me to do something else.” A cool shadow began swirling your leg. Its touch was like soft kisses and left shivers in its wake.

Azriel leaned back, watching his shadow go on its mission, watching as you took a gasp, spine going straight before moaning his name. “Let me know when you finish.” He placed an arm on the back of the couch, scenting your arousal filling the air as you whimpered and went back to the last few dishes.

It wasn't fair. Trying to focus on scrubbing and rinsing as a shadow sat vibrating against your lace covered clit was nearly impossible. 5 dishes, you reminded yourself. He lets you leave them overnight to dry. Just 5 more. You focused on the dishes, doing the best you could to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs.

You almost jumped as rough hands ran up your arms. “My pretty little wife. My mate,” one of his hands wrapped and held your throat. His other hand ran down your chest, through the valley of your breasts, before settling on your hip. He started placing soft kisses along your neck, your ear. “How lucky am I to have such an obedient wife taking care of my home?” He squeezed your throat softly before his other hand began lifting Your dress. The hand on your throat moved to join the other one as he moved you away From the sink and to a different section of countertop, bending you over it and place one hand at the back of your neck to hold you Down. He groaned as his shadows held up that pretty dress, exposing those sapphire lace panties

"The dishes," you panted.

"Can wait. I can't. I've been hard since I walked in to you setting the table wearing my color, wearing a little bow tying your hair back like some innocent little thing." Your panties were moved to the side. Two fingers began to run the length of your core as Azriel groaned behind you. "So fucking wet I've hardly done anything."

You heard a muffled moan and could only assume he had put his fingers into his mouth. "So sweet, baby." You could hear him undoing his pants, feel as the head of his cock ran your folds. You could feel down the bond that it would be a long night.

You gasped loudly, gripping the counter with a mix between a moan and scream as he pushed into the hilt. Azriel wasted no time, threading one hand into your hair and pulling while the other held your hip. Azriel growled as you wiggled slightly, causing you to still. "Such a good little wife."

He wasted no time, setting a pace that had your toes curling in those heels that made your ass look phenomenal. Shadows quickly moved to hold the dress up, allowing the hand on your hip to move to your still covered clit.

There was something freeing about being below him, serving him, being used by him. It was enough for that coil to tighten faster as your mind went blank, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his heavy hard cock hitting every nerve inside of you, angling until he found the spot that had you scream his name.

Despite the roughness he fucked you with, the power you were freely handing to him, Azriel still sent wave after wave of his love, his admiration, and his pride down the bond. With each wave, that coil got tighter and tighter, your moans louder and more desperate as your body felt like it was on fire. "Be a good wife and cum for me," his fingers pressed down on that bundle of nerves, hips pistoning into you even faster as you screamed his name, walls milking his cock.

Azriel pulled out instead of following you over the ledge, ripping that dress off of you and leaving you in the lingerie and heels. He lifted you into his arms while you still came down from the high, your vision almost blurred.

You felt the soft bed under you, smelling the fresh sheets you had just changed hours ago. Azriel smelled them too as he positioned you with your head hanging off the bed. "You spoil me," his hands ran to your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipples.

His cock sat heavy and leaking near your face, soaked in your release, "Open." You smiled, opening your mouth wide, allowing him to push in just as two fingers slid into your heat.

He was gentle this time, for now at least, fucking your throat. You ran your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him. You were at his mercy, wiggling and moaning around him as the wet noises of his cock in your mouth and his fingers thrusting in and out of you echoed with his moans and occasional whimper.

His pace picked up as his fingers did, making him chuckle in satisfaction as you gagged around him. "You deserve a reward for how hard you worked today, don't you, y/n?" He groaned as you moaned around him, vibrating his cock as he held it deep in your throat. "Not a single thing out of place, every chore finished, and I came home to you looking like a delicious treat? What a good little wife." You felt your vision getting slightly blurry until he pulled out again, your pleasure almost maddening as he avoided the spongy spot inside of you and brushed your swollen clit with ghost like touches. "That's what you are isn't it? No thoughts in that pretty mind of yours but pleasing me and taking my cock like an obedient whore?"

You would have nodded, begging him to give you what you needed as you agreed to every word, but his cock was still occupying and twitching in your mouth. You knew from the way his fingers had become messier in their rhythm, from the way his words were getting breathy, from how each moment of your throat burning as he held himself deep inside grew longer and longer that he was close.

You had been dreaming of his all day. Dreaming for your reward for dusting, for cooking, for cleaning. The reward you'd get when he came home to a spotless house, to his laundry done, to you wearing your pretty outfit for him.

His fingers curled into the spot you needed, pressing and tapping there as shadows curled and flicked your nipples and his thumb ran gentle circles on your clit. You finished within seconds with no warning, crying around his cock, hands fisting the sheets.

Azriel fell over the edge soon after, spilling with his cock shoved all the way into your mouth forcing you to swallow what you could, head thrown back as his wings flared and he moaned your name without shame.

He pulled out, fisting the exposed length and allowing the last of his cum to land on your face, admiring the mess of drool, makeup, and his seed you had become. His fingers left your cunt, going to his own mouth as he licked them clean with a smile. He watched as your hand waved and the bathtub began to fill.

"I'm not done with you yet," he panted, hands trailing your body.

You smiled, your own hands running up and down his thighs. "I counted in that, but let me take care of your other needs first."

Azriel looked up, a wide smile on his face as he sent a silent prayer to whoever blessed you with acts of service as your love language. "I would really like that."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish

@novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer

As always- please let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist 💜

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x yn #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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kittykattropicanna · 4 months

Note

imagine mechanic!simon fixin’ your car with parts that worth thousands but he doesn’t want your money, he wants something else HEHEHEHEHEHE

HEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE right??????? Genius honestly.

mechanic!Simon would do anything for you :( but only when you obey him, be an obedient and listen..... he was doing you a favour by fucking you on top of your broken down shit box while the lads were on their lunch break, he saw how worked up and stressed you were, and you had the audacity to disobey him??? You want to get your car fixed free of charge? well, now you get nothing and he gets to take you however he wants, your job is to stand there and shut up like the good girl his training you to be ;)

TW: low-key public sex, thigh-fucking, orgasms denial, Si degrades you for being a needy, disobedient girl :( kinda humiliation, mean!Simon, age gap insinuated, Si shoves a dirty rage covered in grease in your mouth bc you won't stfu :(

Mechanic!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

You really aren’t well off, the savings you did have are definitely not accessible at the moment.

Your shitty ex had logged into your bank account the second he threw you out :( making sure you had nothing

He would always make you transfer him money for his crypto trading, he did it behind your back regularly meaning he new all of your information including your security passwords >:(

He had drained everything except £2.50 because “that’s all your worth” :((((((((

he was such a dick AHURGG >:(

Like Si promised, he checked out your car the next morning, taking you into the shop even though it was his day off.

Of course Johnny jumped at the opportunity to introduce himself, taking your hand and kissing it softly, wicked smile flashing across his face when he didn’t see a boyfriend accompanying you to the shop. :(((

An easy target in his eyes, you being with Si didn’t even cross his mind, a pretty, delicate thing like you wouldn’t be running around with a beast like Simon….it just didn’t make sense :(

Si stepping in almost immediately when he saw the way Gaz winked at you and licked his teeth, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat :(

You were HIS….HE found you, nobody else, and that’s how its gonna stay >:(

Maybe a bit of insecurity flared up as well….they were younger then him, more your age….

Johnny was a ball of energy, looked like he could be plastered on the front of some health and fitness magazine and Gaz had a certain charm to him, the type that could make even the most independent women fall to their knees.

They couldn’t be more different to Si’s rough and grumpy demeanour :((((

But the second you clung to his side, quickly turning your face away from them, flushed red and overwhelmed, it all went away :3

His, he didn’t even have to tell you, you clung to him instinctively, ran to him for protection, looked for him when you needed safety ;)))

He wanted nothing more then to take you right there, show them both how he could make you cum in ways they couldn’t, even if they had the best vibrater in the world on their side, they couldn’t give you the satisfaction he could :3

Watch the jealousy and envy in their faces as he praised you for being such a good girl, his good girl :)))

He didn’t have to look at your car to know that it was absolutely rooted, a first week apprentice could see that it would cost thousands of pounds to fix, even then, you wouldn’t be getting the best parts on the market meaning it was only a matter of time before it broke down again and became undriveable :(

Quickly slamming the hood he turns to you with a sympathetic look :(

“Listen lovie, its gonna be at least £2000, and that’s jus’ for ya’ engine alone, I don’ even wanna get inta the rest of it cuz fixin’ it is gonna cost more then the car itself”

With teary eyes you tell him you can’t afford to fix it, let alone buy a new car, its the only real possession you have to your name other then your phone and clothes :((((

You needed a car, you needed a way to get to work and its not like you can afford to take the bus!!!

But don’t worry sweet girl, Si’s gonna make it all better :((

Slowly he lifts you onto the hood and slides his hands up your thighs with a rough groan, that tiny little skirt that he picked out for you this morning was a really good idea ;)

Moving your panties to the side, he drags his thick finger through your folds, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he collects your juices :3

Your cheeks go red at how wet you are :((((( you’re so easy to get going, such a dirty, dirty girl >:(

“Don’ play dumb sweethear’, saw ya’ watchin’ me like a piece of meat, rubbin’ those thighs together like a whore, I know when ma’ girl needs some lovin’”

Pushing his thick fingers into your heat, a small whimper leaving your mouth from the stretch :(

“Quite love, don’t want em’ to hear us do ya’?” A chuckle falling from his lips as he opens you up more, spreading you open and preparing you for another one of his big rough fingers :(((((

Pumping in and out of your wet cunt at an agonisingly slow pace, holding your hips down so you can’t buck or move closer to him :(( try to take more then what his giving you :(

His the one in control, so don’t even THINK about it >:(

You let out a loud squeak when he forcefully pushes a second finger into your tight pussy :((( wet squelching sounds fill the room :(((

The same men staring at you like a piece of meat only moments ago, eating their lunch in the break room at the other end of the shop, completely unaware that Si was having his way with you :(((

Stimulating your clit with his left hand, he looks up at you with a wicked smile

“Don’t ya’ make a noise love, old Johnny boy won’t have a problem watchin’ and im sure ya’ don’t want tha’” >:(

His such a tease :(((((

Begging him for his dick, moans and whimpers getting louder as you squirm with teary eyes :(((

But that’s your biggest mistake…..

You went against his orders, he told you not to make any noises, to keep it down, but because you’re a little brat, disrespectful after all his given you, food, a roof over your head, a warm bed, a man to protect you….you’re getting nothing >:(

“My cock Darlin’? Oh no, no, no, no. Ya’ see lovie, good girls get what they want, obedient girls get treated right, not selfish little sluts that can't do what they’re fuckin’ told”

Removing his fingers from you, he undoes his belt and takes out his stiff cock :(((((

Its so leaky, pre cum dripping down his shaft, Si pumps himself a couple times, a low groan falling from his lips as he forcefully turns you around slamming your body against the car

“Imma tell ya’ what ya’ gettin, I’m gonna fuck your thighs for my pleasure, not yours, and ya’ gonna shut up and take it, no squirmin’ or moanin’, ya’ just gonna stand here and take it”

Taking a dirty rag out of his back pocket that he uses to wipe his greasy hands, he slaps your cheek signalling to open your mouth, shoving the dirty fabric inbetween your lips with a sadistic chuckle

“There ya’ go petal, much better isn’t it? Finally listenin’”

His thrust between your thighs, the feeling of pre cum coating your pussy is satisfying, but it didn’t scratch the itch of what being filled by his girthy cock did :((((

Your moans fall silent against the dirty rag he shoved in your mouth, the only sound filling the shop being his low grunts and skin slapping against skin :((

His hard cock rubbing against your clit giving you little satisfaction, Si was so mean sometimes, but he was right, his always right :((((

He did so much for you and the very least you could do was follow his orders, you got to comfortable :((( trying to take charge and disobey him when he knows best, he always knows best >:(

You can tell his getting closer, his thrusts get sloppier and his quite grunts tern more strained :3

After a few more deep thrust between your wet and sloppy thighs the feeling of his hot ropes cover your pussy and drip down your inner thighs :(((

He didn’t even try and make you cum :( greedy girls don’t get pleasure, they’re used as fuck toys, walking fleashlights that don’t deserve orgasms :((

And you know his just doing what’s best for you, teaching you the hard way, the only way you would properly learn :((

He makes you walk past the break room and out of the shop with his sperm running down your legs, wet thighs sticking together making you uncomfortable as you take each step, hot, flushed and unsatisfied :(

Once you get back into his car he makes a call to a friend that owns a car dealership. Si has done so much for his mate, the least he can do is hand over a car, and that’s exactly what he does :3

Whatever his angel wants, his angel gets, unless she misbehaves :((((

Your orgasm is just going to have to wait till another time…..and don’t you even think about touching yourself……remember, obedient girls get to cum, not dirty, dirty sluts that don’t follow the rules <3

The thing about mechanic!Simon is that his not taking your shit, he has no time for your attitude and will put you in your place immediately :( his training you to be his pretty little house wife after all :3

Request are open for Mechanic!Simon, I would love to hear your thoughts so feel free send them through and add to the AU.

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping - fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

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wintrwinchestr · 1 day

Text

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot.

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night.

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest.

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him.

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal.

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs.

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

“No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him.

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock.

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?”

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat.

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment.

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy.

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer.

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought.

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it.

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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konigsblog · 4 months

Note

Orla! Don’t listen to people trying to bring you down! Some of us like to read dark content like Kidnapper!Farmer!König, besides — Jesus Christ, you always put a warnings???

Would love to see more of this König scenario 🖤

this is such an old request and i'm so sorry, im only now just getting through these!! :( and thank you so much, i really appreciate your support <33 🎀

more kidnapper!farmer!könig, you say..? :3

tw/cw; kidnapping, weird and unusual punishments

kidnapper!farmer!könig can be so questionable with his punishments. when you talk back to him, he might stuff a carrot down your throat for misbehaving, watching you gag on it weakly. i mean, it's better than it being his lengthy cock, but he's secretly just training you to be able to take something long down your throat.

he can be so cruel to you. instead of sleeping on a comfortable bed, you sleep chained to the end of his bed with a collar wrapped tightly around your neck. he even puts out a bowl of water for you to drink, making you act like a dog as some unusual, cruel and degrading punishment. he gets off at the sight of it too; watching you eagerly do so like the zealous, obedient toy you are for him. :(

when he lets you sit outside on the porch, you're chained the fence, with rope burn across your body and bruises from harsh punishments. he'll occasionally bring over a basket of blueberries, handfeeding you them and encouraging you to speak. but, because he pressures you to talk to him, you can't help but get nervous and start crying when he asks you too many overwhelming questions. you look away, not wanting to see the cruel smirk plastered on his stupid face.

“do you need to sit inside for a little, my dear? or are you going to stop whining at me?” he asks, his large hand already gripping at your collar. he's glad that you wanna stay outside, enjoy august's heat and watch as he milks the cow's utters. but, if you want to go inside, you're forced to stare at a wall ‘til you can learn to be less sensitive and emotional. :(

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possumteeths · 4 months

Text

Like a Rotten Dog

Baldurs Gate 3, Rolan x Reader, Rolan x Human!Tav (Second person nondescript femme insert) 5,800 words, Porn with feelings, Rated E. Rolan POV. My works will never use the Y/N device.

Summary:

Rolan miserably fucks a pillow while thinking big thoughts. He thinks about how obnoxious you are and how it's completely unfair that you've forced him into such a state. Unfortunately for him, his train of thought betrays his determination to hate you. "What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon." "Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location."

Fic & tags under the cut or on ao3!

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He should’ve known that you would arrive at Sorcerous Sundries sooner rather than later.

Regarding Rolan’s well-being, you were like a bloodhound to his discomfort. You were always exactly where you needed to be, which was often exactly where he wished you’d keep far, far away from. With the sense of incoming doom in Baldur's Gate, he should’ve assumed you’d be hot on its trail and he was soon to run into you eventually.

Still, he wished you could’ve reunited under more pleasant circumstances. Your face lit up in recognition once you saw him behind the counter, only for your expression to morph through the motions of shock and anger before settling on disgusting concern. It was the concern that burned him, the bruise under his eye flared up like a fleshly bleeding wound and Rolan did everything in his power to keep his head held high. He didn’t need your help and he certainly did not need your pity. The very concept of pity coated his throat with the acidic taste of bile.

You had no right to swoop into his life and save him from his failures time and time again. For once, he wanted to fix his own problems. Lorroakan was a… difficult man, but a learned one. Rolan thought that if he could just toughen up and learn all that he could, perhaps he’d finally be free of your meddling. Perhaps he’d finally be able to sleep at night, unafraid of being an utter failure. Didn’t he owe that to his family? To himself? If he could just be better— a better man, a better wizard, then he could defend himself for once. He wouldn’t need you and your concern. He wouldn’t feel inadequate or unsure of himself ever again. If he could be a better version of himself, then he would be able to look you in the eye without all the shame that came with it.

How was it possible that you managed to look so good while he knew that you spent your days out there fighting and surviving by the skin of your teeth? All he’d done since reaching the city was bow his head and allow his master to use him as an outlet for his temper. He felt like a whipped dog who’d done nothing wrong besides give his utmost obedience and you looked like hope incarnate. Your pity felt like freedom although it burned like shame. By the time you left the shop, Rolan firsthand witnessed the steady growth of determination swell beneath your skin and he knew that you were soon to do something that left him no choice but to thank you for his life again.

At this point, there weren’t enough words in any language to voice the gratitude you were owed. The crumbs of respect that Rolan begrudgingly handed to you were too much and not enough. So far, the only recent decision he’d made for himself left his ego and body badly bruised. Sure, he’d taken charge of Zevlor’s incompetence and got as many people as he could to safety— but if saving the refugees were up to you, no one would’ve been left behind. Perhaps his siblings might not have been taken in the first place.

The creaky door to Rolan’s meager living quarters feels heavier than normal as he defeatedly pushes it open. All his confidence and what he used to think was talent awarded him the finery of a single room and splintery floorboards. He heads for a mostly empty red bottle atop a shelf and downs the last few dregs of it, hoping the potion might soothe some general aches and pains if it wasn’t enough to heal any of them. Earlier, you’d purchased as many health potions as the shop had in store, traded three magical amulets for an extremely powerful scroll, and tipped him for the trouble of bringing you everything you purchased. Throwing gold at him, you had the audacity to ask if he was alright with a tinge of fury in your tone. Gods he hated you at that moment. He was doing what he had to for survival. Because of him, his family had a roof over their heads. What was the cost of a few arbitrary wounds for the price of safety? What would you know about something like that?

Immediately, the thought is shut down by guilt and fresh anger has him slamming the empty potion bottle down. The rickety shelf rattles, but there’s no one around to witness his frustration. Right now, he can’t bear the idea of his siblings seeing the state of himself. Heavy feet drag him to a mirror and Rolan concludes that he doesn’t look awful, the wounds he wore were trophies that displayed his dedication to magic. Ugly to only the ignorant. No one but him could understand that. His siblings didn’t care to listen to reason, and Rolan didn’t need to ask his sister to know she was conspiring to do something about his problem— only she didn’t hold a candle to your ridiculous tenacity.

What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? What would you ask of him in exchange for your help? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon. Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location.

A fresh wave of outrage guides him away from self-depreciation, but it comes with a delicate aftertaste of something new. You asked him why he was so rude to you back in the grove, —the conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago— and Rolan haughtily remembers your displeasure in his lack of reverence. At least that’s how he chose to interpret your question. Unbeknownst to you, he had the makings of greatness in him too. You were just a stranger to him, a mere moment in his soon-to-be great story. One day he’d be a powerful and renowned spellcaster and you’d likely be a statue or a painting, felled in battle and remembered by few. Your meddling was only delaying the inevitable. You were keeping him from his destiny and you were upset with him for refusing to inflate your ego? Did you expect him to look at you like a wide-eyed pup, stars in his eyes in the shadow of your glory?

If he was less of a man, Rolan would’ve picked up a pillow and screamed into it. You’ve tainted the distaste he has for you and because of this, guilt-laced shame makes his stomach twist. A healing blister on his side reminds him that he’s a coward, he’s too stubborn for his own good and a tiny part of his pride rolled over on its back, belly up, tail wagging when he set eyes on you this morning. Even now, his tail flicks behind him in the way it does when he thinks of you. Rolan couldn’t find it in him to ask how you were faring, but now he regrets his clipped words and the demand for you to leave him and his problems alone. You weren’t going to listen to his plea anyhow, so why waste the words? He should’ve swallowed his attitude and spoken to you as a friend.

But— there lies the problem.

Rolan doesn’t have friends. He never felt the need for anyone's company besides his siblings. He’s bookish, too busy with his studies and his magic to go out of his way to socialize with anyone. Why would he? No one ever wants to talk with him, and when he finds himself forced into a conversation he’s overly aware of the humor that people find in him. No one respects him. Cal and Lia keep him company because they have to, and they’re all the support he needs. He doesn’t know the first thing about friendliness or pleasantry and he doesn’t care to learn.

After you wiped out the goblin camp and set his people toward hopeful safety, his sister told him to seek you out at your party— but you ended up coming to him instead. Caught off guard, all he could do was lamely conjure a few dancing lights for your entertainment and he wasn’t able to hold the spell for very long. His tongue felt as if it had become furred, he couldn’t remember what exactly he’d said to you but he did remember his sister’s horrified expression in response. She thinks he’s harboring feelings toward you, and he supposes her assumption is half correct. He has a lot of feelings pertaining to you but none of them were sweet and soft.

It didn’t matter anyhow. By all accounts, he should despise you (and perhaps he does), but the way he feels is overly complicated and tightly wound. Why do you dress the way you do? Why do you smell so pleasant? Caked in mud and splattered with gore, you manage to wear it all stylishly. Why do you care about everything as much as you do? Where do you find the motivation to put one foot in front of the other and carry on? Aren’t you tired? Every time you’ve sought him out, you ask if he’s alright before immediately offering your aid. You try to speak with him, you’ll ask him about his siblings out of politeness, but he always shuts you down like an idiot addicted to the taste of his boot wedged between his teeth. Everything you are rubs abrasively against everything he tries to be. His confidence is always received poorly while yours shines obtrusively enough that people are forced to love the way it blinds them.

You’ve done your best to put Rolan into a daze as well, but his determination to dislike you has become a core tenant of his personality. You deserve his thanks, you deserve his respect. You have every right to force him to kneel and then command for him to kiss your boots. The only thing you’d have to do for such worship would be to demand it. You could take it from him just as Master Lorroakan does. But you won't. The confusing, awful way he feels toward you would be so much easier to compartmentalize if you were cruel. He wishes disgust would replace your pity, that way it would be easier to justifiably hate you. If he could imagine you laughing at him, calling him pathetic, and exposing him for the coward he is, then he wouldn’t be rushing for his bed, hands already working at his robes to find the ties that hold his breeches at his hips.

This world is cruel and the animal law of predator against prey is just as prominent as it is amongst beasts. He’s survived thus far because of you and now he bows for false promises, willfully misleading himself into thinking that he’s anything besides a whipping boy. The punishment bruised and burned into him is deserved. For all that he’s given in exchange, he thinks that he’s gotten off easily if anything. Certain laws of nature shouldn’t be broken and he should not have gotten to this point by cheating his way along instead of taking the hits that came with his repeated failures. What pact has he declared in exchange for your patronage? What are the stipulations he’s agreed to? You’re not winged but you’re radiant just the same. Perhaps the obnoxiously attractive body you wear is an illusion, perhaps you’re a devil who followed him from Elturel with the sheer intent of ruining his life.

Caged and afraid, desperate to be anything besides what he is, you’ve rendered him into a broken thing. A broken thing whose throat is dry, whose hand shakes as he miserably gropes the swollen length of his cock. A stubborn part of his psyche still thinks he’s a man, you’re a pretty face and the closest thing to a friend that he’s aware of. Of course, you make him hard. There’s no shame to be found in a natural reaction to someone whose attention wanders back to him like a pet with a penchant for running away. In the quiet moments of whatever respite he’s able to steal for himself, Rolan’s wandering mind often breaches a handful of thoughts that he’s determined to keep under lock and key. If he lets his mind dash away from reason, sometimes he thinks about touching you, he wonders what you’d feel like if you were wet and wanting.

Weeks ago, while flipping through a book on anatomy from the tower’s library, he paused on a few figure drawings of a naked human woman. He dared to look at her breasts and the shape of her hips in a rather unstudious manner and his composure unraveled from there. He’s never wanted to dwell on things he finds unnecessary; women and all the struggle that came before sex felt like too much of a headache to pursue. Rolan’s seen what fools it makes of people, he’s seen more people than he cares to think about who are horns deep in grief after losing someone they loved. Keeping himself safe from such matters felt like the smartest thing he could do, he didn’t wish to expend time or effort to pursue anything with anyone. So… he didn’t feel like a pervert for utilizing the anatomical drawing of a woman’s body for masturbatory purposes. If he wouldn’t pursue anything real, this seemed more efficient than wasting his time daydreaming about physical touch and a certain someone’s attention. With one hand on the book and the other wrapped around his cock, he quickly worked himself to completion and that was that.

Unfortunately, the release didn’t bring him any pleasure. His orgasm only felt like a momentary distraction from the angry thing he’d awoken. Now he blindly seeks a sense of relief that he can’t seem to get his hands on because he doesn’t know what he’s searching for. For days, he thought about the damned book and the terms for various parts of a woman’s anatomy. He thought about their function and how it was more than likely that a woman could find herself in the exact predicament he was trapped in. Task after nonsensical task was performed for Lorroakan and all he could think about was the book hidden beneath its proper shelf and the way he wished he could somehow enchant it so the diagrams would be in color.

After a particularly brutal “lesson” that involved his naked back and a shock of lightning, he stole away to find his recent obsession. While lost in his thoughts, eyes tightly shut and a desperate fist working himself over, he proceeded to ruin the book with an errant splatter of his release. Once the first rope stained the pages, he didn’t care to lessen the blow. He was bitter with his master, bitter with his newfound curiosity that only grew in size. The hunger crept into him only because of weakness— He was a failure in too many ways and so Rolan felt justified in coating the diagrams with everything he had. Shame was far from him when he closed the soaked book to shelve it back into place.

That should’ve been the end of things, he wished more than anything to smother the awful birth of late blooming desire but the damned thing refused to simmer down and die. You kept that from happening. You left him with no choice but to use the promise of self-release as a coping mechanism. He’s always been an impetuous ass and he’s never felt the need to find any distaste in accepting the fact. He’s impulsive but Rolan felt he was too smart to asphyxiate on any lasting consequences. Rubbing himself raw was a byproduct of everything else wrong in his life. Why should he worry about consequences when you’ll be there to save him from whatever circumstance? He wanted to drink himself to death in Last Light Inn, but you wouldn’t let him. So he ran headfirst into the shadows, figuring that he’d either save his siblings or die trying and you apparated from the darkness to rob him of the martyrdom he aimed for. You took everything from him, smothered his pride, and strangled his ego as if his wants and needs meant nothing to you. You’re in his head, you’ve stolen all of his impulsivity and alchemically perverted it so that it all revolves around you.

And he can't hate you for it because you’ve destroyed his previous definition of hate.

He can’t drink in self-pity because he thinks of you and the disappointment on your features when you found him completely pissed and slurring his words. You told those little devils to stop serving him and shooed them away as if you were his mother. If he goes past his limits, all he can think of is your annoying face all screwed up in pity. Eyes soft, voice gentle. You’d probably let him rest his head on your lap only for him to vomit on your thighs. He can’t imagine you shouting at him even if he was to soak your clothes in wine and stomach acid and he hates you for it. You’d pet him with the gentleness you might administer to someone on their deathbed and ask in that awful pitying tone of yours if he felt any better.

He can't drink without thinking of you. He can't touch himself without obsessing over you. You’re the horrible reason he started this habit in the first place. He can’t even bare his flesh for his master to abuse without thinking of your gods' awful pity either.

“Are you alright?” Must be the majority of all the words you’ve ever said to him and he imagines you finding him like this, shoulders sagging as if too heavy for his spine with his hand shoved into his breeches. Sharp teeth sink into his lip and he tries to envision himself through your perspective. To you, he must look like a miserable excuse for a tiefling, and an even worse example of a man. He feels soggy, bogged down by the weight of his failures. The only aspect of his species that he displays is his pride and right now, such a concept is far away from where he usually keeps it. The mask of confidence is replaced with a whimpery fat-lipped need to feel anything besides the desire for self-flagellation, and he shudders in disgust while imagining you looking at him, pretty mouth held open for a moment while searching for the words to say.

“Does it hurt?” You’d ask carefully because you’re aware of how easily he finds the audacity to snip at you.

He doesn’t know if you’re asking about the bruises or the awkward way he strokes his cock. You wouldn’t ask him if he needed help, nor would you be shy about closing the distance between your body and his to take charge of the situation. You’d use your thumb and forefinger to pick up his chin and he’d look up at you, unburdened by the undead desperation that plagues his body. In his fantasy, he doesn't think about the complicated feelings he harbors for you, instead, he submits to the determination in your gaze.

In real life, he’d fumble his way through such an occurrence and ultimately be left racking his brain for an apology which he doesn’t know how to say. He doesn’t know how or when to shut up, he’d never let you take charge of him even while painfully aware that you’d figure out a miraculous way to make him feel better. He’d disappoint you and embarrass himself into the binds of a torture chamber of his own design. Even now, just squeezing himself over his clothes, he struggles to quell the gut punch of an orgasm that wants to swallow him whole. He wouldn’t last through your touch, he can’t imagine kissing you because on principle, he can’t entertain such a ridiculous thought. Not only is the concept too embarrassing to hope for, but he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d accidentally cut your soft human lips with his teeth. He’d say something idiotic and you’d slap him right in the face. Perhaps you’d find his body heat too estranged from yours, maybe you’d find his features too odd. Perhaps his shaking breath would betray the way he wants you to see him. Perhaps he’d pass out from all the blood rushing to engorge his cock and then he’d crack his head open on the ground.

Too aware of himself, he thinks that he’d try to kiss you like the muscled heroes in trashy books and he’d somehow manage to poke your eye out with a horn. Analyzing every possible outcome has led Rolan to believe that anything he could try would end up in complete failure. He’s… resilient, but his recent track record displays failure after hard-headed failure. To allow himself a proper delusion where he's able to touch and fuck you without envisioning tail curling embarrassment, he feels as if he needs to give you a reason to see him as anything other than a pathetic dog. He limps as he walks, his tail’s tucked between his legs and he’d bite you if your hand got too close. Why would you ever look down at that with anything besides disgust or pity? If you were to force his door open right now, he’d drench the inside of his pants with cum and before he was able to catch his breath, he’d find a way to make an ass of himself because when it comes to you, he’s mastered the art of behaving like a pompous prick.

You’d never want this… and he’d never be able to charm his way into being passably desirable. It would only add another foot of dirt atop his grave if he finally found the nerve to do something about the complicated basket of feelings he keeps on hand, only for you to reject him outright. He’d never find the right things to say so that this could have a squalid chance of poking its head into reality.

Still, he thinks about your hands sliding down his chest, slowly mapping out the shape of his body as if you intended to remember it. Humans are so soft, his skin is thicker than yours, his chest is ridged and he wonders if such a difference would be pleasurable or painful. Imagining your naked breasts, nipples pressed against his textured skin as he explores your soft curves with his hands makes a gritty moan fall from his lips. He would never be yours, nor would he ever know the pleasure of knowing your body— but he could pretend. He could convince himself that if the stars aligned once he sacrificed his soul, maybe he could have one night with you. A few hours would be sufficient enough for a lifetime of longing. A single kiss, a moment of your time would be enough fuel to help him mentally leap over everything that kept him up at night.

He wishes you really were a devil. The temptation, the need for you would finally respect the concept of reason. If he were to give you his soul, then at least you’d be bound contractually to give him anything he asked for. In all the stories, the seduction of such a being is inevitable. Even the strongest people succumb eventually. The prelude to his demise would drain his soul out of his balls and he’d finish without the disgust that usually rose after he figured out how to think again. In the sticky aftermath, he could say whatever drivel that would fall out of his mouth and you’d take it with an entertained eye-roll. Nothing he could do or say would matter if you had his name neatly signed at the bottom of a horrendously unfair contract. It would be a good deal on your end, you already have him weak and dependent on you so you could do wonders with the usage of his soul. Wanting you would be so much easier if you owned him. He couldn’t hate you or himself if he had no choice but to obsess over you. He wouldn’t chase away your constant presence in his thoughts if he’d given his mind away, completely at peace to let it rot in your greedy hands.

The bed creaks under Rolan’s weight as he finally lays down with a bratty huff. He buries his face into the mattress with his eyes tightly shut as if that would keep him from hating the desperate way he claws for his pillow. He already knows that his hand won’t suffice, he’s already bunny fucking the mattress, hopelessly grinding himself against the solid mass, wishing he could bore a hole into it without anyone discovering his shame. His breeches barely escape his ire when struggling with the ties takes a moment too long. They’re shoved down with a growl and his pillow is folded in half to then be shoved beneath his hips. With his thoughts soaked self-admonition, he finds enough of an in to slot his cock into the plush crease of his folded pillow. Nothing about it feels right, it’s loose and dry but he whimpers with the idea of what it represents.

Thankfully his rushing thoughts are a potent enough concoction to mask the way his mind struggles to imagine thrusting into you. He can’t think anymore, he’s so hard that it hurts and all he wants to do is thrust into the cushy relief of his pillow, panting into his mattress while obsessing over vague ideas of what your body would feel like.

You’re always so attuned to his well-being. Always so eager to offer your help. If he told you that the only thing he wants from you is to fuck you until he can’t think anymore, would you graciously bend over the nearest surface and offer your pretty cunt? The diagram painted such a vivid idea of what you’d look like. Apparently, your cunt swells similarly to his cock when aroused and he imagines the offering of a swollen flower, petals engorged with need and the dripping center of it drooling steadily in anticipation. You’d be so inexplicably soft. Humans are a ridiculous species, and he wasn’t immune to the inherent curiosity he holds for your kind. With zero real-life experience to go on, he believes that humans have heavier breasts. He thinks that fat settles differently on your species’ bodies and there just seems to be more to grab and hold onto. You’re tailless and he wonders if that might make it easier to drive deeper into your body if you were positioned on all fours. Lust soaked daydreams of hips and thighs torment him daily. He’s much larger than the four inches of your body’s comfortable limits (a fact provided to him by the anatomy book), and Rolan wonders if you’d be able to handle the intrusion of his cock.

According to the tiny font of raunchy, cheaply printed novelettes, it would be a tight fit but you’d eventually be shouting his name in place of any god you pray to. He imagines you reaching for his ass, your legs locked around his hips and you do your best to hold him deeply inside of you, wet heat begging him to remain buried in your depths. Women can orgasm contrary to popular belief, and aided by the combination of educational journals, books on body function, and a few trashy epics, he’s decided that at least once in his life, he’ll make a woman come for the sheer sake of curiosity. With you, he’d make you come as often as physically possible, but if he can’t have you he thinks that just once with someone else will be enough to quench the intrigue.

Gritting his teeth, he jerkily thrusts and grinds into his pillow. The bulbous base of his cock is painfully swollen and he closes his fist tightly around it, squeezing hard and wishing for the tight clasp of your body. He’d seal you up and pump you so full of come that you’d forget every sorry state you’ve ever found him in. The looming understanding that satisfaction will remain at an atrocious distance forces his hips into a frenzy, too stubborn to admit defeat. Rolan hisses in frustration due to the sorry pillow that doesn’t offer nearly as much friction as he needs. The needy mouth of your cunt would be so much tighter, so much wetter than this awful thing. You’d take him with a gasp of shock, surprised by the heat of his turgid cock as he encases himself inch by inch into all of that softness he imagines. The underside of his cock is ridged similarly to the rest of him, and according to the anatomy book, he differs in other ways as well. Would the shape of him shock you? Would your tight little cunt spasm around him as if in awe of the pleasure he brings? In the few dirty stories he’s discovered over the years, human women adore his kind. Blunt-headed human cocks pale in comparison to a tiefling’s. Filled to the brim, your eyes would roll back and you’d ask him to please fuck you. Would you tell him that he’s ruined you for all other men and you’ll need him from now on to satiate yourself? Rolan's delirious thoughts decide yes, those are definitely things you’d say.

More likely, you’d give yourself over with that teasing, snooty look of yours, all too aware that he needs you because you’ve learned how to read him like a book. He’d take you although the acquisition would feel more like blind surrender. You once asked if he intended to thank you for your efforts and he imagines you asking him to thank you for the privilege of just the sight of you. You’d spread your cheeks, exposing the vexing pink blush of your folds and he’d have no choice but to fall to his knees before you. He’d fucking crawl if you’d let him just breathe in the scent of your cunt. Even now, he feels light-headed and caught between too many contradictory points. His heart is wedged in his throat, his lungs feel strained and he swallows dryly while imagining what it would be like to drag his tongue between your folds.

Rolan curls in on himself and uses the heel of his palm to press against the pillow, desperate for more friction. Caught on a new train of thought, he pants open-mouthed, tongue painfully dry while imagining your legs spread over his face. He’s thirsty, he’s half alive and the short distance between your body and his mouth feels like torture. You bossily direct him to speak his adoration into your cunt and before he can promise that he will, you proceed to cover his ears with your soft thighs. You’ll call him a golden boy like you did when telling him that he shouldn’t leave the grove alone. Instead of telling him that his apprenticeship doesn’t make him some sort of golden boy, the term is given to him as a pet name. You like his eyes, you like his tongue and the way he’ll die before disappointing you again. You’ll reach for his horns, forcing his head up so you can grind against his mouth, and his tongue moves in untrained flat strokes because he doesn’t know what you like. He envisions fucking you on his tongue, thrusting it into your heat with the intent of worshipping the hidden sanctuary of your cunt. Your reward for his resignation, for finally giving you the thanks you deserve tastes like the safety he longs for and he feels at home with you above him.

In the present, his tail thumps against the mattress, and the pointed tip flicks in agitation as something final settles in his bones. This realization has been building in ferocity long before he began violating his pillow and he rubs his cheek against the mattress, breathing hard with the back of his throat feeling inflamed. The moan forced out of him crackles, his ragged breath sets it alight and the fiery resignation is executed through a blubbering whimper. Rolan’s hips punch forward as if trying to punish the pillow for its current form, he thinks that it should be you. He should be in your arms, he should be driving his pitifully sensitive cock against your skin, and he’d beg for the privilege of fucking your thighs because he can't bear the idea of disappointing your cunt with his ultimately early release. This should be an act of supplication. You’ve won. He’s at your mercy. He needs you, he needs you. You’ll save him from his pride once again and he’ll finally find the words necessary to declare to you what an ass he’s been.

As if his body was politely waiting for the mental submission, his spine straightens, and cum shoots from the head of his prick before he’s fully realized the impending threat of his orgasm. Reduced to sensation alone, Rolan rumbles out a long groan as he fucks a deluge of cum into his pillow. All he can do is thrash against the violence of his every sense expelling from his body in the form of viscous white sludge. His mouth hangs open stupidly as his frenzied thrusts soon dispel into non-movement. When it’s all over, he takes a long, slow breath and he’s surprised to discover that doesn't feel the pressing need to clean up his shame before hatred can find its way back into place. Right now, his wounds don’t exist, neither does his anxiety. His pride’s already fucked off to another plane and Rolan hopes it’ll take an extended holiday. He wants to confront you without it for the first time since you forced your way into his life.

Determined, his ego picks the pieces of itself from the ground as Rolan grinds his softening cock into the now cool mess of his release. He thinks that such a tribute has to be well received. With no experience with women, people, or conversations and social normality— Rolan has high hopes that the next inevitable run-in with you will end on a pleasant note. Of course, nothing of his fantasies will be realized, —he’ll hold those thoughts in the dreary prison he keeps them in—, but he’s resolute to to let you in on the secret respect he’s reserved for you.

You mean a great deal to him, and he hopes to let you know as such.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm sorry I made you read the word turgid, I thought it was funny and refused to edit it out lol.

#baldurs gate fanfic #Bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan x you #poki writing #Poki fics #bg3 rolan

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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

Note

one of my favorite headcanons for dio is that he doesn't allow his darling to wear panties. maybe even forbids it. he just loves easy access <3

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dubcon, edging, fingering, little bit of degradation/humiliation because dio is and always will be a big meanie, almost blade play ( his sharp ass nails ), suggested past abuse / sexual conditioning ( from dio ), orgasm denial / control, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ it’s always a good day when i get to write filth for the man, the myth, the legend: dio brando. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Do you even have the faintest clue why panties are forbidden, pet?” Dio asks, without looking up from the book resting against his crossed knees. “Page.”

with your fingers trembling, you obediently flip the page he’s done reading, shaking your head with a muffled and shy, “Nn— Nn.” with the hemming of your skirt stuffed into your mouth, you’re forced to bite down on it and keep it in place, high and out of the way of your vampire lord’s malignant digits.

the room was icy cold, but you weren’t trembling because of that. your thighs were shaking and sticky from his constant, torturously slow stroking of your sex. the length of his finger slotting between your weeping folds to probe, and you clench around air with a timid whimper. then, his thick knuckle grazed in circles, until your back arched and you tried to ride it. he would, then satisfied with your desperation to be stretched open, drag the sharpest point of his dagger-like, abysmal nail to tease your tender clit, threaten to cut into you.

your body wants to jerk back, escape his cruel taunting, but you were trained much better than that. you stood as still as you could, with your knees bent inwards against each other so that they don’t buckle, and watch his hand disappear between your legs as he tenderizes your sex, and then reappear a few moments later, sticky with your essence.

“No?” he teases, quirking a brow, but his crimson eyes stay locked on the page he’s currently reading, “Of course not. Why should you? After all, does a lapdog understand why it is that her master smacks her muzzle for yapping too loudly? Or does she simply accept that to yowl incessantly will get her popped in her pretty, little face?” there were memories behind his metaphor— the scariest moments of your time with Dio, when you disobeyed or annoyed him. you, too, had found your cheek stinging from his massive palm making contact, and had been banished from his lap to sleep on the cold, hard stone floor for your insolence.

“Page.”

you turn to the next. and you nod to show that you understand: it didn’t matter if you knew why Dio put the rules in place that he did for you, all that mattered was that you obeyed them.

“But, I will tell you.” two fingers worm their way to spread your netherlips apart, and you mewl and grip bundles of chiffon with your teeth, saliva soaking through the fabric. “I will never allow you to wear panties because of this right here. How easy it is to edge your soft, warm cunt when she’s completely exposed. Vulnerable.” when you shudder at the sordid way each syllable rolls off his sinful tongue, you catch a peek at his impish grin, before he jabs his middle finger against your entrance, with just enough force to feel your canal try to welcome the digit in, but he doesn’t slip it inside.

“L—Lord D—Dio!” you cry, the need to feel him take you all but overwhelming and you careen against his hand, hoping to coerce his fingers inside, “P—pleeeethhh…” you mumble, slurred, through your makeshift gag.

“I will have your little cunt drooling and tender for me whenever I please. Like she is right now, so hungry for cock that you can hardly stay upright. Milking air, wishing, begging for me to fuck it. You want me right now, don’t you? You want nothing more than for me to hollow you out? Break your body and your mind with my cock?”

you nod fervently, eyelids heavy with lust from his words alone, and your hips twitch and wriggle, whining for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

his eyes turn up from the page, and stare at your visage, nearly convulsing on his palm, before his tongue scrapes over a pearly fang, one signature dimple visible in the candlelight as he croons. “How much longer can you take this teasing, I wonder? Minutes? Hours?” you were shaking your head, hot tears in the corners of your eyes, but he kept going, as if he enjoyed how nervous the idea of being edged for hours made you. how frightened it made you. “Or perhaps, I leave you soiled and needy now, and play with you every day following, you’ll wake up, tied to my bed, with me between your legs, sucking on your sugary cunt— bringing you right to the very cusp of orgasm and then snatching it away from you no matter how you beg and cry for a release, until you’re so sensitive that the very sound of my voice in the dark alone forces you to cum.” your eyes roll back, defeated and moaning pathetically as he pulls his hand back from between your hips. your jaw hangs slack; the skirt of your dress sagging back into a skewed version of its place, and Dio shoves his dripping fingers into your mouth instead, forcing you to taste just how badly you want him, pushing them deep until you gurgle and choke on them. “The possibilities to torment you are endless and exciting, my love, and that’s why you will never wear panties again. Turn the Page.”

#dio brando x you #dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio brando imagine #dio brando smut #dio #dio x reader #dio x you #dio smut #dio imagine #jjba #jjba imagine #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba x you #jjba smut #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure smut #jojo’s bizarre adventure

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hockeymenarehot · 4 months

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haii luvely

i love your account so osososos much and i was wondering if you could do a 2007 tom being subbyy :)

thankkk u💞

Sub!Tom Kaulitz

yess! i can absolutely do this! <3

summary: exactly what it sounds like haha

warnings: fem anatomy reader, dom!reader, p in v, unprotected, u ride the d, begging, sort of edging?, you call him good boy lmfao, established relationship, sub!reader at the end

now playing: Get On Your Knees, Nicki Minaj ft. Ariana Grande

Your boyfriend, Tom, had always had the reigns in bed when it came to you. He liked the feeling of being in control, and he was super possessive towards you. You had always been so obedient and good for him, always feeding into his fantasies and letting him use you whenever he needed. You let him have complete control over you and your body in bed because you knew it made him feel good.

But lately you had been having fantasies of your own, imagining what it would be like if the roles were reversed. You were afraid to admit you were turned on by the image of him under you, begging with tears streaming down his face, just as he does to you. You were sure that he would immediately turn down the idea, but you wanted to test your luck either way. You were prepared to do whatever it took to see how pretty your boyfriend would look underneath you.

"No." Before you had even finished your sentence, you were met with your answer. "But please!" you looked at him with pleading eyes, doing your best to make him crumble with your puppy dog eyes. "I said no, you aren't gonna make me your little slut." He said, his gaze stern and trained onto your eyes. You huffed with defeat, but still your spirits were not entirely crushed. You came into this having more than one idea, of course.

For the entire week when you two had sex, you had tried to sneakily find your way on top of him, doing anything in your power to land a spot on top. But Tom was unrelenting. It always ended with him harshly slapping your ass, calling you a 'slut' and roughly fucking you into overstimulation. But you still hadn't given in. I mean, even if your attempts were in vain, he had been fucking you so good this week. It was fun to rile him up.

One day you came up to him with a bashful look, already making him put his guard up, having gotten used to your antics by now. "Please, lemme ride you Tom.." You looked up at him, your arms behind your back. You knew he was always weak to your gaze, and this seemed innocent enough, right? He stared at you for a few seconds, contemplating. You had been trying to pull shit on him throughout this entire week, so he had to be careful. Your offer did sound very appealing, though. Watching your tits bounce up and down as your struggled to ride him, tears streaming down your face, ruining your makeup did sound hot as fuck.

So he caved.

But what he was not expecting was how you were putting your whole heart and soul into taking his cock, not faltering or giving him time to catch his breath. He knew you knew the role you were meant to play, and you knew that he knew you were purposefully not doing just that. He had fallen into your trap, all because he wanted himself a good ride. He had failed to take into account just how well you could take his dick in reality, like you were made for him.

So here you were, tits bouncing in his face, your hands carding through his hair, and dirty words falling from your mouth. You felt and looked heavenly, and he was struggling to keep his mind in tact. He was trying to resist the pleasure, to maintain his dominance over you.

He should've known that the moment you sat on his aching cock was the moment he had succumbed to you, and honestly with the way your pussy was gripping him, the angles he was hitting in this position, he considered why he hadn't let you do this before.

He was trying his hardest to contain his moans and whimpers, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you were making him feel so good, especially when you were the one in charge. He didn't want to show you that you had proved him right, that sometimes it felt good to let go and let you do all the work for once.

He scowled at you "I-is that all you got? Huh?" You just laughed at him a little bit, looking at him with a lustful gaze. You could tell by his stutter that you were so close to winning. So, you leaned in and took the shell of his ear with your teeth, making him shiver by such a subtle touch. "Wanna say that again?" you whispered in a tone full of want, almost daring him to. Right after you said that, you completely lifted yourself off his cock, both of you wincing at the loss of contact before slamming your hips back down onto him. This finally got him as he moaned out a borderline pornographic moan. He looked so pretty like this, you thought.

After this moment you had total control over him, and you definitely used this to your advantage. You rode his dick like you would never feel him again, whines slipping from his lips as you clenched around him. It took a lot to hold yourself back as every once in a while his tip would hit a certain spot inside you, making your legs tremble and almost give out. You were determined to make him cum inside of you while you were the one in charge, and you also wanted to see how much you could get away with.

His hands found their way up to your tits, and you swatted him away, making him whine out a "Please- wanna touch you..." you gave him a look of faux sympathy "Hm? Do you really think you've been good enough for that? Do you think you've been a good boy?" You felt his cock twitch inside of you at the pet name, making your heart beat faster at the effect you had on him. It was then he truly let you treat him how he treats you, responding the way you would have. "No... P-please, wanna be a good boy for you. Show you how much of a g-good boy I can be.." You blushed hard at his words, and you could practically feel the hearts in your eyes as your stared at your boyfriend and listened to his words.

Feeling satisfied at his words, you picked up your pace, rocking your hips against his faster. He started to move from moans to straight up whimpers and whines, having lost all control. It felt so good to let you be in control. He moved his hands up to toy with your nipples, rubbing and pinching at them and making your head tip back as you rode him. "Ah!" he moaned loudly, and you could tell by his body language and how his cock twitched against your walls that he was nearing release.

But you wanted to play with him a little more, still feeling mildly unsatisfied. You lifted your hips off of him again, making him whine out. He looked up at you, confused. "Beg for it." His eyes widened a little bit, his face reddening. "W-what?" He didn't believing that you were asking him to beg. "Beg for my pussy. You really want it? Beg." He was so close to release, and he felt like if he didn't cum inside of you right that instant he was going to die. So he gave in. "Please! Wanna feel you around me, wanna cum inside your perfect pussy. Please, please, please..." Hearing him chant your name and pleas towards you made you heat up, God he was so fucking sexy. You decided not to prolong his torture, because you too wanted to cum.

You lined up with him again, slamming onto him. That time your legs seriously almost gave out, and the pleasure was starting to catch up with you. Your vision started to go blurry, but you were determined to finish the job.

You moved your mouth to his neck as you bit and sucked at the spot, painting it shades of purple and red. He groaned at your touch, his orgasm finally washing over him. His abdomen clenched as he came inside you, releasing a large load into your walls. His body shook with pleasure as probably the most intense orgasm he had ever had zapped through his body. His hand came up to card through your hair as your hips slowed, your mouth still latched to his neck, determined to mark him as yours.

After his orgasm washed through him his mind slowly drifted back down to reality as he realized what you had so mischievously gotten him to do. His hand came down to your chin, tugging you away from his neck. You looked at him with a sly smile "Soo...?" you were waiting for him to admit you had been right, that it did feel good to submit. Instead, he lifted your hips off of him and flipped you onto your back.

"Now you're really gonna fuckin' get it."

It was totally worth it.

#smut #tokio hotel smut #fanfic #x reader #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz

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