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yameoto · 14 days ago

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SUPERNOVA CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

kpop idol caitlyn X her insatiably horny junior

"Noona is so cool!" You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. "Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Her talents are seriously wasted. Wah, her visuals are really otherworldly. Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants—" Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look, at that last one. “It doesn't say that.” You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

tw; dom/sub!caitlyn, brat!reader, idolverse, girlcock, semi-public sex, sex in dance practice rooms, mirror sex, handjobs, handjobs during vlives, voyeurism, mild age-gap, age hierarchy dynamics, use of korean honorifics. idol!caitlyn x idol!reader wc; 5.1k. ao3

notes: set in modern day runeterra. ionia encompasses the entire region of asia in league which i personally find stupid but i dont make the rules. fluff/smut/humour. derivative of korean culture (kpop idol au) + pokes a lil fun at stan culture. no prior kpop knowledge is needed (though it would likely help) the sex is filthy regardless. wrote this after finding caitlyn is only a 1/4 white like hallelujah jesus

CAITLYN looks stupidly good. Like stupid, stupidly good. Her grey sweatpants are slung low on her hips, waistband of her briefs peeking out. Sweat-slickened abs glare back at you, from the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The outline of her bulge is visible. These are all observations that you latch into like an IV-drip hooked-up to your wrist, in order to stay alive—lest you die from the fatigue. And boredom.

“Please,” You grumble, head slumped on your knee as your arm drops to the floor, phone abandoned Candy Crush side, up. “Please, please, please, can we go home?”

“No,” Caitlyn huffs, hands on her hips, looking entirely too good as she takes a momentary (and you mean, momentary) break to swig a sip of water, before she hurls herself right back into it, sweaty and stunning.

The two of you have been trapped in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. Or, more accurately, Caitlyn has trapped you in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. You would rather be snuggled up and content in the comfort of your dorms; rather than slogging away in the basement, like you’re still trainees clawing your way up the company ladder inch by inch—rather than the four-time daesang winners, face of Ionia’s girl-groups’, and other innumerable accolades under your belts that seemingly mean nothing to your fearless group leader. At least, at the moment.

You’ve long slunk to the floor, sleepy eyes tracing the way sweat rolls down Caitlyn’s nape as she re-runs the movements for about the zillionth time. Her shoulder-blades flex through the thin fabric of her shirt, sweat dampening into a darkened pool in a way that should be gross, but on her, it just looks sexy. The ache in your muscles has simmered to a low burn, by now. Jeez, your eyelids are slipping. Thank God you have your sweet leader to ogle. The sight of Caitlyn’s bulge peeking through those sweatpants is practically your sole motivator in keeping your eyes open.

“You know,” After what feels like a decade, you pipe up again, because time has begun to melds together. “You’ve got it. Seriously.” The swig of water that sluices down your throat is lukewarm and unsatisfactory. Fuck, you’re thirsty. “The stage is a week away. You’ll be fine.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow at you through the mirror, incredulous.

“When in the world has fine ever been good enough?”

Okay, sure. Caitlyn’s right. But she’s more than fine. Almost-perfect, actually—and come seven days—her dance moves will indubitably be heaven-sent and her ending fairy will probably trend #1 on three different social media platforms, and you will most definitely tug her ear endlessly about it, like the benevolent, supportive junior you are.

Seven days prior, however—and all you are is tired, grouchy, and maybe just a little bit horny.

“I crave the sanctity of my blankets.” You lament, hand falling over your forehead as you languish on the floor, because the sun has probably set by now and you are seriously contemplating the possibility of dying of old age in this godforsaken practice room. (Not that that would be so bad, if Caitlyn were with you).

“You can go home, you know,” Caitlyn sighs, twisting around to face you, sneakers squeaking on the glossy wooden floors.

“How am I supposed to sleep without my favourite member as a bolster?” You pout, snatching on the chance to act a brat, immediately. Caitlyn just rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch upwards, so negligible that if you weren't so tuned in to all-things-Caitlyn, you might’ve missed it.

“Clingy.” She mutters, like she doesn't love it. Loves being your favourite. Not that it matters, because the glimmer of hope that flickers in your chest when Caitlyn crouches down in the direction of her bag—is immediately quashed when she only taps her screen, and the speaker rewinds all the way to the start.

You’re really starting to hate this song.

“Are you serious? That’s not enough to rouse your cold, dead, heart?” You whine, because usually Caitlyn would've caved to your grabby-hands and doe-eyes by now (especially with the way you look; lips parted and shining with spit, water trickling down your chin down the column of your throat, from the leftover rivulets of your water-bottle.) Not that Caitlyn doesn't notice. She’s just really, really determined to get this right.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“You work yourself too hard.”

You stretch to a stand, elongated and cat-like before you slink over and sling yourself dramatically along Caitlyn’s back. Her expression contorts into exasperation. She attempts to turn her head, to face you—to no avail. Not when you’re pushing her up against the mirror and the pinning her down against glass with the power of aggressive spooning on your side. Her hand shoots out to brace against the mirror, as your fingers hook the hem of her sweats, and Caitlyn stiffens under your thumb, lips falling open against her will.

“Darling,” She inhales, in that addictive, throaty accent of hers. Caitlyn sounds almost pained, as she catches your wrists—though she neither takes them in or wrests them away. The both of you have full view of the rising tent in her groin.

“What?” You smirk, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, like the sneaky little bastard you are. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to practice with a boner, unnie. That must hurt.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitches, and her knees almost buckle, if it weren’t for the way your arms tighten around your waist and squeeze the growing problem at her crotch. Your fingers twine with the string of her trackpants, loosening them under slim, deft fingers.

“Honorifics? Really?” Her voice is tight. She’s screwed. You only ever whip those out when you want something, seeing as how you've been speaking informally to your technical senior since your very first meeting, in trainee days, (an accident she so loves to recount on variety shows. “It’s not my fault you just looked so young and pretty, unnie.” You’d fumble in defense, eyes wide and doling out the extra sparkle for the cameras as they zoomed-in on your frantic apologies, laugh track sure to be edited in. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You’re lucky I was too kind to scold you,” Caitlyn sighs, and—in a dramatic show of theatricality—flips the inky-blue curtains of her hair behind her shoulder, much to the hosts delight. “I can be really mean, baby.”

That had been a hit. Probably because of the way her drawl had lilted playfully and she’d cupped your jaw in the most egregious display of fan service you’d ever seen. Caitlyn’s always known how to wrap the media around her pretty fingers; and your stammer and ensuing blush had mercilessly crowded your feed for at least two weeks, afterwards.)

That’s in public, though. In private?

Caitlyn is a puddle to the graze of your fingers along her hipbone, and the glide of your breath up her neck. Dark eyes meet hers, hooded and intent, reflected in the pane of metal in front of you. It’s certainly a sight to behold. The two of you are both dripping in sweat, Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, bare-faced and glowing—hair tangled up in that loose ponytail that you've always found so much hotter on her, than any amount of hours in the styling chair could ever produce.

“I really need to..” Caitlyn’s protests sound weak even to her own ears. Especially when heat pools in hot, throbbing waves that rush straight to her dick, and she's cut off by her own gasp when you nuzzle in the nook between her shoulder-blades and your hands—beautiful, cunning hands—ghost over her crotch and squeeze. Her entire world lurches into a haze, body spasming upwards.

“Unnie,” You breathe, sweet and soft, like the devil in her ear, “please fuck me.”

Just like that, Caitlyn can’t take it any longer. A low, strangled noise rips from her throat, eyes fogging over and black eclipsing blue. Lithe hands coil around your wrists, and flips your positions entirely—thrusting you right up against the glass.

Her muscles are throbbing, hours of dance practice flaming up her bones; but she pins you down with the strength of a woman possessed, all the same. As far as Caitlyn’s concerned, she’s like a sleeper agent to your bedroom voice, and the fact could never shine with more clarity, than now (other than the time you’d done a Lola Shark impression in an interview and she’d gotten, to her horror, embarrassingly hard underneath the blanket thrown over her lap. She’d had to call in a bathroom break, to take care of it—much to your smug, haunting amusement).

In the mirror, you watch as Caitlyn’s breathing shallows into pants, tongue licking hot up the stretch of your neck to under your jaw. Neither of you miss the brief, smugly satisfied spark to your eyes and glowing hot between your thighs, even as both squeeze shut when you arch up against Caitlyn’s bulge. She grinds down against your ass, and you moan, so brazen she almost can’t believe it.

“Shit. You're so shameless,” Caitlyn mutters, breaths rushing harsh against your shoulder as she fumbles with the knot at your sweats, rutting hopelessly into the coil of your figure. The moment thread slips free, pants pooling to your ankles as you bend over, head thrown back—Caitlyn’s brand-name briefs soak with a splurge of pre so intense she almost thinks she’s come early.

“You want my fingers?” Caitlyn asks, just to be a bitch. Your eyes squint open to glare at her through blurry vision and through an even blurrier visage.

“Don’t joke,” You spit, voice hoarse with want. It's meant to sound demanding, but all it comes out is whiney, and Caitlyn’s laugh sends shivers down your nape.

There’s a millisecond in which your mind empties completely, and it's almost cruel how you can only see the reflection of Caitlyn’s cock curving upwards from her underwear rather than the real deal.

Caitlyn’s grasp is like steel around your neck. She thrusts you forwards, your flushed cheeks smushing against the cool surface of the mirror as your stuttered breaths puff in grey clouds of condensation. A groan wrangles itself out of your throat from being manhandled like that, knees wobbling the moment you feel something hot, thick and so, so wet press insistently against the backs of your thighs. Arousal has already begun to drip down your legs, running down in rivulets and moistening the floor under your feet. Yours or Caitlyn’s—you don’t have the eyes to know.

“Unnie,” You breathe, shakily, voice raw. Your fingers are slippery against glass, and you whimper when the familiar stretch of two fingers sinks into your cunt. You slide open, just like that, and Caitlyn temporarily wrenches you back so that you can see your fogged-up reflection in all its full, filthy glory.

“S’not enough,” You pant, back arching and ramming urgently against her digits she’s spreading you wide, with—so eye-wateringly slow. Maybe it’s the fact that you've been working yourself up, blatantly eyeing her down, for hours since your head checked out of training and your brain devolved into its most primitive urges in coping with your mind-numbing boredom.

“Not enough?” She grins, sharp-toothed and devastating, adoring the upper-hand. “What? You need a third finger, baby?” The noise that tears out of you is almost like a wounded animal, and you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so overcome with need and prolonging this teasing sounds like torture.

So, you answer with the obvious, “Your cock.” You hiss through gritted teeth, because Caitlyn loves it when you beg for her dick and you’re too hare-brained and empty to do anything more than push back, impossibly deeper into her fingers. They sink to her knuckles of entirely your own volition, without her having to do so much as twitch.

Caitlyn’s laugh is practically a goad in itself. The lush curtain of her lashes are lowered, irises swallowed up by the deep dilation of her pupils. Still, though, she takes her time in playing with you, just a little longer. Revels in the way you thrash around her fingers, fucking yourself back, desperate.

Herself is one thing. Her dick can only take so much, however. The ache becomes too much, too soon, and the second she runs her glossy head against the drenched, hot pulse of your hole—she can’t not shudder, knot in her throat, before her fingers slip out of your pussy and your consequent whimper is interrupted by the plunge of her cock.

“Hah, baby..” Caitlyn whimpers, eyes fluttering back as she fucks you against the mirror, nails dragging up your hips and digging into supple flesh. Never has Caitlyn felt so at home, submerged in the deep, velvet ocean of your cunt.

“Unnie—” You gasp. It’s the one word, echoing over and over, like an all-consuming siren song throughout your head—with each gasp that comes with every thrust of Caitlyn’s hips, motions growing sloppier as the exhaustion of hours of tireless exertion catches up to the both of you. She nips at your ear, then down the curve of your nape, to the unblemished skin of your upper back. Teeth grazing, pads of her fingers leaving scorching trails as she gropes up your body—your mind a jumbled, fuzzy mess. Her cock plunges in and out, still guided, though she never slips out more than mid-way; bodies sticking together like gum. Like she can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment—even if it is to pummel your cunt until you can hardly take it anymore.

It’s only when the pumps and rolls begin to slow into simple, gentle rocks, to absolutely nothing but a twitch—that your mind clumsily clasps onto a semblance of clarity, hasty and brief, like you know it’ll slip away and out of reach, soon. “Wha..?” You rasp, half-slurred, even if what you really want to whinge is; What’s goin’ on? Why’d you stop? And, please, please, please. Don’t stop. Keep goin’. Fill me up. Please, don’t ever stop— and other half-baked nonsense that you’ll be glad your tongue was too thick and heavy in your mouth to spill.

“I can’t mark you,” Caitlyn grunts, and your eyes sharpen, just a little. Her tongue peeks out from her lips as her expression looks disproportionately distraught, like it’ll be the end of the world if she doesn’t stake some sort of physical claim on you, eyes darting downwards to your unblemished shoulders with a low growl of frustration.

Distantly, that part of you is still clinging onto reality, knows she’s right. That your comeback is in a week’s time and risking a hickey or a bite-mark or worse (because Caitlyn is stronger and sharper and rougher than her delicate figure should ever have been allowed to be), is a bad, bad idea.

But the larger part of you—the part of you that is currently being railed by her unnie’s cock and trying desperately not to squirt cum all over the practice room mirror—rasps out a reckless, ragged, “Who cares?”, and that’s all the permission Caitlyn needs.

Caitlyn pulls out, and slams herself in again, grip on your waist, bruising. Your hands go sliding, uselessly against the steamy surface of the mirror, long fogged-up under the slick tangle of your bodies. She’s mouthing slurred nonsense into your ear, the music speaker knocked over by one of your ankles and emitting distant sounds from where it's rolled, to the other side of the room. Neither of you could give a single fuck.

Not the least, when Caitlyn’s hand is sliding up your throat and thumbing over your gaping lips. It feels as if a pink-hued fuzziness has descended the room and become a thick veil over everything, and when her fingers slip into the hot, wet gasp of your mouth—it's only right for you to take the digits in your tongue and suck.

“Ahnngh—Cait—”

“When did I say you could speak informally to me?” Caitlyn husks, fingers pressing deeper into the roof of your mouth. In your reflection, you can see the razor angle of Caitlyn’s jaw as she nuzzles into your ear. The obscene glisten of your spit, coating her fingers and coasting down your chin as her digits languish between your parted lips. You look every bit like her precious fuckdoll, right now.

“Unnie—”

“Ah-ah.”

“Sunbae.”

“Mm. That’s better.”

Her free hand skims up your shirt, slipping up the taut lines of your body and flicking idly at one nipple. You whine, garbled around the gag of her hand, and Caitlyn lets out a moan of content when your pussy tightens around her shaft.

“Fuck,” She pants, teeth sinking down into your shoulder and you buck, even though the pain barely registers with how Caitlyn barrels her cock in you, deeper, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your thighs are shaking. “M’gonna—hfgh—”

Her hips draw upwards, and Caitlyn cums like a faucet. All of it, inside you. Outside of you. Dripping from your still-leaking cunt and droplets getting fucked out with each, desperate thrust as she moans, guttural. “Take it—fuck—” Caitlyn groans, harsh and insistent as she pounds, your pussy squelching—so wonderfully wet—as your fingers scramble against the glass, her fingers cramming deep inside your mouth.

“Ah-ah—fuck!”

The two of you go crashing down, sliding down against the mirror and onto the floor with a twinning, indecipherable slew of obscenities, a boneless, panting heap, still moving in tandem.

You both slump, slippery and sticky. The song on the speakers re-starts, yet again, from the other side of the room, though it's the first time it's even pierced your ears in the past forty minutes. Caitlyn groans, pushing her nose into the crook of your neck, arms tightening around your waist. The mirror is splattered in both your cum.

“We’re gonna have to clean this up, aren’t we?”

“..Probably.” You sigh, still leaking around her cock as you angle your head, the two of you slotting together like missing puzzle pieces.

Twenty-four hours and countless Kleenex wipes later (and really, cleaning your own cum from floor-to-ceiling mirrors—with two half-guilty reflections staring right back at you—is an uniquely humbling experience); it was totally worth it to see Caitlyn appropriately red, after the crash of post-nut clarity.

It’s your one, blissfully empty day before comeback promotions launch you all into full-throttle. You intend to enjoy it while it lasts.

“Your latest Lotte CF went viral,” You pop behind her, totally innocously if weren’t for that familiar, impish glint in your eyes. Caitlyn sighs, not even glancing up from the stove, completely nonplussed. Probably because Caitlyn could record herself taking a piss and it would chart #1 on Melon.

“The seonjiguk is simmering.” She ignores you. You ignore her right back.

“Look at those dimples,” You beam like a little shit as you wave the video in her face. “Maybe you should go into acting. The GP would go crazy.”

“No thanks,” Caitlyn snorts, hand lifting upwards to stifle a brief yawn, sleeves coming up all the way to her knuckles. “been there, done that.”

“Oh, right. All your Piltovian film connections.” You hum, idly tracing the underneath of Caitlyn’s elbow as you lean over her shoulder to watch her cook. She’s markably improved from her humble beginnings of blackened, bubbling slag (what was once instant Buldak), or the scotchmarks that still hail the kitchen tiles, to this day.

“Mhm. I was almost poached. My mother wanted me to—what was that? Follow in her footsteps.”

“Well, I’m grateful that you didn't,” You hum, into her shoulder. You poke her side, grinning. “Then you wouldn't have met me, and wouldn't that be tragic?”

Caitlyn scoffs, but you feel her sink a little deeper into your embrace, eyes flitting to settle onto the top of your head, as you nudge into her. You both, really are grateful.

You’re pretty sure Ionia is grateful, too.

Whatever the day, it always feels like Caitlyn’s name has taken up a permanent residence in the nation’s newsites. ICE PRINCESS. AI VISUALS. ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Her quarter Piltovian and subsequent accent injects an ‘attractive exoticism’ (or whatever management had stapled to your files, at the dawn of debut), that had made Caitlyn internationally explosive, too.

The Kiramman surname certainly helped. Caitlyn’s debut was like, the biggest plot-twist in nepotism, ever. It was like if Nicole Kidman’s kid suddenly became Hatsune Miku. Not to mention the fact the Kirammans are the largest benefactor of Hextech, whose global rollout of leading-edge tech has gone unmatched. Of all careers for the Kiramman’s mysterious, devastatingly attractive daughter to take—this is the one that took the entire globe off-guard. Including the great and glamorous, Cassandra Kiramman.

Of course, the initial shock long lapsed underwater, with the constant roil of the media waves. Caitlyn’s fame, however, has not.

“Noona is so cool!” You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. “Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Ah, her talents are seriously wasted. Is she an angel? Her visuals are really otherworldly—”

“Get that away from me.” Caitlyn swats your phone away with a scowl, pretty pink flush glowing on her features.

“Don’t act all coy,” You prod her so-highly-lauded cheekbones as Caitlyn huffs in annoyance, though begrudgingly leans against the touch anyways. You squish. “We all know you’re preening inside.”

“I am not!”

“Ooh, sexy. I love it when your accent comes out like that.”

Caitlyn groans, because you’re impossible, and just twists so that she’s facing you, back against the kitchen counter. You reach behind her to switch off the stove.

She hooks her fingers into the hem of your pyjama shorts, thumbing over familiar cotton. She sighs outwardly, propping her head up on your shoulder and slumping forwards to rest the cold press of her nose into the crook of your shoulder. Her fingers skim up your shirt, absently rubbing circles into the plane of your stomach.

“You know I hate it when you read those.”

“About how you look like an eepy bunny when you’re sleepy? Or that you have moles in the shape of a giraffe on your nape.” You arch a brow, looking past her as you flick through the blurs of text in various degrees of capitalisation, on your phone. A subtle smirk lifts your lips. “Hey. Is that true? Let me check.”

She scowls, and then almost looks offended that you don’t know that already (You do. Caitlyn also has a darkened, heart-shaped birthmark indented in the crook of her inner thigh—but that’s just for you to know, thank you very much).

Your voice raises a pitch. “Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants!”

Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look. “It doesn't say that.”

You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

Oh, now Caitlyn’s cheeks go red. You push valiantly past the triumphant flutter in your heart, in favour of continuing your teasing. Hey—there’s no schedule today, the dorms are all to yourselves—and you’re on a roll.

“Look. They wanna steal your eyes and put them in a boba drink.”

Thoroughly fed-up with your antics, Caitlyn snatches the phone out of your hand, and you immediately squirm, to lunging for it. Caitlyn’s ridiculous height advantage has the one-up on you, though, and you puff out an aggrieved yelp of protest when she dangles it above your head, like a dickhead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” You complain, like your comeuppance wasn't exactly what you were hoping for. Except you were more aiming for a pin-you-against-the-fridge, fuck-the-insides-out-of-you type of comeuppance. Not a sordid reminder that you need a stool to reach the top of Caitlyn’s head. “Don’t lord your freakish Frankenstein genetics over me!”

Caitlyn laughs, eyes flickering down. “Are you on your tip-toes right now?”

Your eyes narrow, because you do not appreciate having the tables turned on you. Your hand shoots up to cup her jaw, tilting it upwards. Caitlyn softens, putty in your hands, adorable furrow in her brow melting away along with her pride as she sinks into your palm with a soft sigh, arm falling to her side.

There we go.

“It’s not my fault you avoid socials like the plague. I’m just doing my duty to take care of my leader’s PR. Your fans are starving.”

Caitlyn grumbles, “Well, let them starve.” though it comes out pinched between smushed lips, cheeks squishing like a dumpling. So heartless, like she’s not the industry’s princess and probably makes up a total of 50% of the company’s annual income. You know exactly why, as you cradle her face in her palms and watch as she leans upwards because no matter how disgruntled Caitlyn acts, or how shockingly humble she is under that front of aloof, arrogance–she definitely preens under attention.

Just. Only yours.

“Hey, you know what? We should go live right now.”

“What—?” Caitlyn stammers, flabbergasted by the sudden change in direction, “Don’t—“

Too late. Within seconds, you’ve swiped your phone back from her limp hands and flipped the vlive on. Recording. Like, now. Damn, you're speedy.

“Ah..” Caitlyn’s expression smooths over to that charming, impeccably gorgeous grin of hers that shows off the sharp curves of her cheekbones and has won her the hearts of a nation.

You pull her to the couch, and under the scrutiny of the camera—Caitlyn acquises with little more than a subtle elbow to your ribs, when the both of you go thudding into the cushions with a low oomph.

Then, you flop against her chest, and the stream of hearts that ensue are absolutely incredible, comments rolling in faster than you can read them. There’s a reason why the two of you are the most popular pairing in the group.

“Hm. Is it on?” You muse, faux confusion tugging on your pretty features. Knitted brows and a plush little pout always do the job, especially when you add a sneak of tongue. No doubt to be screenshotted and re-uploaded countless times, within the next hour. “Hello? Can you guys hear us?”

Which is, you know, the perfect time to grab Caitlyn’s dick through her pants.

A choked noise resounds beside you, and you don’t glance over, for you’re too busy fiddling with the phone and the settings and all other kinds of bullshit that is really just an excuse for you to focus your attention on snaking a hand down Caitlyn’s waistband, just out of view of the camera. “Oh! It’s working. Did you miss us?” You beam, as Caitlyn struggles not to either sock you in the stomach or throw her head back and moan.

If anybody notices Caitlyn’s pupils are suspiciously blown, it doesn’t come up. What does come up, is her ever traitorous cock that lilts immediately into your touch. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“Aw, little Caity’s missed me, too,” You croon, as your sneaky fucking fingers stroke idly along her girth, underneath the veil of her sweatpants and just over the thin fabric of her underwear. Caitlyn visibly bristles, because, 1. You’re jacking her off. 2. She hates that your coo instigates a flood of love-bombing so intense, that the hearts on the screen almost completely obscure the both of you. 3, and the most important one; you just gave her dick a nickname!

“Cait.” You tease out, eyes glittering, not even bothering to conceal your amusement as Caitlyn’s hips buck upwards, her fingers pinching against your sides, lips completely shut mum, for fear she’ll let slip a moan on camera. “C’mon. Say something. You missed them too, right?”

Gods. Caitlyn hates you. She really, really hates you. Just—not enough to not shove your hand away when it starts to peel away the waistband of her underwear. If only because the feeling of precum soaking its seat, sticking to her skin, and not because she’s itching for the sweet relief of your hand around her cock.

“..Hi,” Caitlyn forces her winning, boxy grin, and the years of practice make it an admirably unstrained effort. Maybe she really should go into acting. “Mm. Long time no see, hm?”

“Unnie’s being awkward, today.” You snark, all sly, and Caitlyn shoots you a glare. She’s rewarded by the sudden, fervent warmth of your hand wrapping around her dick, and then the harsh tug of your fist that has her knees jerking upwards and her dastard slit spurting out a shiny, hot glob of precum. She swallows back a low, strangled whine, like a dry pill. Oh, Gods. She’s supposed to say something.

“Ah, just..—we’ve—ah—”

In a rare show of mercy (because apparently, you’re not out to throw both your careers to the dogs), you swipe the phone back with the most cherubic, triumphant grin to adorn your face, literally ever. Catilyn lets slip a barely-audible hiss as your fingers coil, just a little tighter, stroking up and down—thumb running back over the swollen, gloatingly shiny cockhead.

“We just had a long time in the practice rooms for our comeback, yeah? So we’re pretty tired. Right, unnie?”

Oh, you're really pushing it, now.

“Mm. We’ve been—working. Really hard.” She has to lean out of the screen to release a silent, desperate gasp, nails digging into the back of the couch as she tries to rut up into your hand in a way that doesn't obviously send the sofa, trembling. You idly thumb over her slit, smearing the thick, embarrassingly copious amounts of pre down her length. It twitches in your palm, as you ramble on about schedules and the comeback and spoilers and other things that have long become white noise in Caitlyn’s ears. Her hips chase your touch, brazenly, now. She barely even realises when you’re calling it quits; early, too. Because obviously, this was all just to fuck with her.

“Caitlyn,” You sing-song—smirking (supremely unsubtly), at the camera. “Say bye-bye.”

She only just registers the comment. Barely. “Bye.” Caitlyn’s voice is a low croak, hips arching upwards off the couch just as you end the live. Just in time, too, because—

“Oh, fuck.” Caitlyn releases the longest moan of her life, cum spilling over your fist, and she collapses back into the couch. Your phone falls from your hand, and you’re practically shaking with laughter.

(“Little Caitey,” Caitlyn grumbles, after the fact, with your head nestled between her thighs in apology, “That’s preposterous. What’s so little about her?” Nothing. But there’s no fun in that, is there? At the slow, sly smile spreading on your face, Caitlyn groans. “What?”

“You referred to her in third-person.”

“..Please just suck me off already.”)

#(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works !#arcane #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman fanfiction #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x you #trans!caitlyn #arcane x reader #arcane smut #written solely for me but if u enjoyed it. i adore you #surprisingly not the most self-indulgent thing i’ve penned but close #kpop!caitlyn

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dindjarindiaries · 3 months ago

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I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” / “It’s hot when you talk back.” / “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” (18+)

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You were pacing the floor of your flat, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, when you heard the telltale knock. It was the pattern the two of you had set long ago. Usually, it would make your heart race for a whole different reason. Tonight, however, it was simply anger.

You unlocked the door and let it slide open. Din stood there with his gloved hands set on his hips, his fingers tapping anxiously against his belt. His helmet straightened as his visor gave you a careful once-over.

"Hey." He lowered his hands to his sides and nodded towards the comlink that was still clutched in one of your fists. "Is everything okay?"

You took a step back, wordlessly inviting himself inside. Din hesitated a moment before striding through the doorway. You took a deep breath for composure, but the effort was in vain, and you snapped the same way the door did behind you.

"You're back in town, and I have to find out from a vendor?"

Din huffed, lifting a single hand back to his hip. "Is this the emergency you commed me for?" He used his helmet to gesture to your comlink again.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you crossed your arms. "Were you even going to tell me you were here?"

"So, you're not in danger?"

"Answer the damn question."

Din sighed. His helmet swung to the side, his voice lowering as he responded. "I'm just passing through. I'm not supposed to be back yet."

"But you are." Your jaw flexed. "And I had to find out from a vendor, Din. A stranger."

Din paused, his armored chest rising and falling in a steady breath. He then shook his head and started to walk forward. "I don't have time for this."

Before he could pass you, you set your free hand firmly upon his cuirass, splaying your palm across the silver metal and forcing him to stop. His visor was just inches away from your face, but you were too focused on your own rage to make note of it.

You swallowed hard, and when you finally spoke again, your voice was smaller, exchanging some of your anger for your hurt. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Din exhaled a light breath. After a few heartbeats of silence, he lifted a gloved hand to gently wrap it around your wrist. "I'm not."

Your gaze searched the void of his visor. "It feels like you are."

Din looked down as he lowered your hand from his chest. For a moment, he held your hand between his own, but he released it not long after. "Like I said before, I'm just passing through." His modulated voice was strained. "I'm not even supposed to be here."

You circled your jaw, your stare still focused on his visor. "I understand that." You steadied yourself with a breath and went on. "I just wish you had told me. I would've liked to see you." Your gaze flickered down in a moment of shyness. "If only for a little while."

Din tilted his helmet. "I can't always let you know where I am. It could jeopardize my jobs."

You frowned. "I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I know." Din sighed again and set his hands back on his hips. "But if I comm, then I risk someone hearing, and if I'm always here, they'll know where to find me."

Your brow shot up at his words. These were starting to sound like parting words. "What are you saying, Din?"

Din looked down and shifted his weight between his feet. "I'm just asking you to understand, as a friend—."

His words made your fragile recollection of yourself shatter. You tightened your hand into a fist around your comlink again and pointed the other finger into Din's chest. "But we’re not just friends, and you fucking know it."

Something shifted in the air as the words sat between you. Din's chest had stalled, his visor taking its time with giving you another once-over. You remained where you were, your own chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as you gripped onto whatever self restraint you had left to keep yourself from losing your cool.

It felt like forever until Din spoke again. His voice sounded far away, as if his mind was somewhere beyond this moment and this room. It was a rasp so low and so quiet that you could barely hear it. "It’s hot when you talk back."

You blinked a few times, your traitorous body preparing itself to melt at the words. Your stomach did backflips as you fumbled for something to say. "Are you serious?" You scoffed, flattening your hand against Din's cuirass to push off of it. He stumbled back a few steps, but was never at true risk of losing his balance. "I finally call you out on your shit, and that's all you have to say?"

Din shook his helmet at you before he chuckled. The sound was breathy, somehow managing to both piss you off more and to spread the hot flame that had started to burn deep within you. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Din stepped forward, reclaiming the space you had tried to put between the two of you. He looked down at you, his helmet tilting as he spoke in a voice that was lower than you had ever heard it, practically a whisper that crackled through his modulator.

"You try to fight me every time you want to fuck me."

Your jaw dropped, and your heart went right along with it. Over and over again, you ran his words through your mind, but you couldn't begin to process them. Your body was starting to heat up so much, and so quickly, that you were about to break out into a sweat.

Din kept his voice low as he went on. "The reason why I can't see you when I pass through here is because I won't be able to keep myself away from you." He nodded towards the door that was still at your back. "When you let me inside, all I want to do is take you to your room and keep you there until everyone in this town knows I'm here because they've heard you screaming my name."

Your heart was thudding so hard against your chest that you were convinced Din could both see it and hear it. You were still staring up at him with wide eyes, breathing as if you had just run a race. Never once did you ever think you would hear such words from him, no matter how much you had hoped for it—and even dreamed about it.

Din let out another soft chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Your gaze gave him a slow once-over, buying you time as you still struggled to speak around the sudden lump in your throat. "Only if you really mean it."

Din wasted no time lifting his hands to the sides of his helmet. When the metal slid away from his face, the first thing you caught sight of was his brown gaze, which was practically black in his evident desire. The heat of the room increased tenfold with his obvious attention set on you. "I can prove it."

It was impossible to keep yourself away from him. You drifted closer out of instinct, your hands rising to the back of his neck as his settled on your waist. "What about your job?" You shook your head. "I don't want you to jeopardize it for me."

Din lifted an eyebrow. "I'd rather jeopardize a job than jeopardize what we have." He was so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he went on. "Especially now."

You hummed and began to smile at him. "Okay." Your nose brushed against his. "But you're not fucking me as a friend, right?"

Din huffed. "No." He tightened his hold on you, bringing you impossibly closer. "I'm loving you as yours." He nodded. "If you want to be mine."

You grinned, your lips teasing his as you echoed his same words back at him. "I can prove it."

Din returned your smile, and as his hot mouth finally met yours, you knew it would be a promised fulfilled, for both of you.

#wowzaaaaaaa i need a man like him fr!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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vifilms · 1 year ago

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# LETTING IN WHITE HEAT ✶ abby anderson!

❝ vision go black, blood, letting in white heat.❞ ft. brakence

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, f!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, labeling this as dubcon bc abby is mean but she’s sweet after, mean!abby, top!abby, bottom!reader, sub!ellie, loser coded!ellie, voyerisum, kinda mean rough sex, jealous!abby, slight nipple play, strap use r!recieving, abby has one filthy mouth, mommy kink, aftercare, abby is kinda really mean

her jealousy is soft at first, small ticks easily missed if you weren’t looking. the way her blue eyes would become cold like the atlantic, void of any warmth anytime another girl hugged you for a little too long, lingering touch your smooth arms, or the one time at a frat part this ellie chick your hair wrapped around a slender finger. she wouldn’t really react, besides pulling you closer to her, resting her chin on your shoulder, abby’s long fingers intertwined with yours. she knew you were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see it, people were going to hit on you and it maybe it was annoying at times when abby just wanted you to herself, but she ignored them and just focused on you. but tonight? god, she couldn’t control it. she was failed miserably to keep her cool. it was happening right in front of her, and you weren’t dismissing ellie’s advances like you normally would. no. not at all. you were encouraging her by batting your long, luscious eyelashes at her emerald eyes. leaning away from abby and into her, letting your fingertips grazing the tattoo on her forearm as you giggle, fucking giggling, at a lame joke ellie was telling you. abby would deck her if you wouldn’t get upset about it. you’d forgive her, eventually, but abby knew some groveling would have to happen on her end. no, she wouldn’t have it this way. still, the situation nagged her in way she despised. apparently abby wasn’t giving you enough attention you had to seek it elsewhere and god, abby was going to make you regret it. baby let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah? your little friend can even come, quietly she whispered in your ear.

it’s how you ended up in this position, getting fucked within an inch of you life, on all fours and your delicate fingers gripping the railing of the frame at the edge, headboard crashing against the wall the abby’s thrusts. lamely, ellie was fully clothed sitting in a velvet green chair placed next to the mirror, not like she could move. abby made sure of it. her brown leather belt bound ellie’s wrist so they laid flat in her lap, lust building up in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. abby’s pierced nipples on display, burly arms flexing as they gripped onto your ass, slapping every few thrusts, letting her meaty hands smooth over the sensitive area. all ellie wanted was to be in the mix, but abby would not let her. every grunt from abby’s lips made ellie’s dripping pussy clench. it wasn’t fucking fair, her keeping you like this, all to herself. the recoil of your ass and abby’s moans mixed together was enough to make ellie cum just from rubbing her thighs against each other, but the blonde’s filthy mouth only made matters worse, pushing her to the edge quicker than she would have liked. really, even expected.

“what you think she could fuck better than me, baby? is that why you were flirting with her? huh? what? too drunk on my cock you can’t fucking talk?” abby laughed before picking up her pace, a light mumble of mommy slipped past your whimpering lips, but it was loud enough for them both to hear. “that’s right, baby. mommy always has to punish you when you’re being a spoiled brat. what? you think she can fuck you like this? she’s half my size. couldn’t even pick you up even if she tried.”

ellie felt humiliated but she couldn’t stop herself from the pressure building up in the pit of her stomach. “c’mon ellie, i know you’re close. show me what a fucking loser you are and come for me. right now, baby. yeah, just like that. ruin those pretty boxers for me.” it doesn’t take anything else ellie to squirm in the chair, spurts of white, hot cum flooding her boxers, pretty eyes rolling into the back of her head as she slumped in the chair.

abby could fully focus on you now, all the attention she could give fully on you.she slipped her the strap out of your swollen, puffy pussy and made you ride her. intentionally, she wanted to punish ellie. she wanted her to see the pussy she would never have, gush over abby’s cock. your beefy girlfriend watched as you bounced on her cock, the swell of your tits bouncing rapidly as you fully sat on the girth. abby could feel the base nudge against her clit each time, her breaths becoming more erratic, watching her stupidly pretty girl chanting out mommy mommy mommy as her hips jerked sinfully. abby decided to help you, even if you didn’t deserve it.

she met you halfway, bucking her hips, meeting you with her strong thrusts as she bent her head down to suck on the perky bud. “mommy, fuck, please can i come?” but it seemed abby still had a bit of cruelness left in her. she released your nipple with a soft pop! she shoved her middle finger and ring finger into your mouth, before instructing you “suck.” abby chose to ignore you, but you obeyed. continuing to ride her cock as she made you practically gag on her long digits. when she felt like you had enough, she circled them on your clit. “you tell me, baby? do you deserve to cum?”

abby smirked as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to concentrate enough so you wouldn’t come without her permission. she’d only punish it for you later when the two of you were back at home. “i think….” abby slapped your ass with her free hand, letting her blunt fingernails digging into the delicate flesh. “you’ve been a bad girl tonight. haven’t you? what have i told you before? c’mon, let me hear it.”

“mommy only lets good girls cum.” between every word, abby delivers cruel thrusts to your cunt, making your pussy clench around her cock.

then abby was whispering in your ear, “but since we have an audience, i’ll just punish you at home, yeah?” she pauses, before she applies more pressure on your clit. “now, ride my cock like you mean it, baby.”

once your pace quicken, abby could feel the pressure build up, could feel her clit pulsating. she was close, but she needed you to cum first. need more than the air she breathed. god, she knew you were close too. you were slamming on her cock, chasing the high you could only get from abby and she knew exactly what you were craving. she removed her grip on your ass guiding you and wrapped it around your throat, applying just the amount of pressure you craved.

“yeah, is this what you needed? just needed mommy to choke you? i know, babygirl. are you going to cum for me? yeah, you are aren’t you? cum all over my cock. fuuuckkkkk, yes. yes. good girl, such a good girl for me.” you practically screamed out her name as you squirt everywhere, abby finds her release with you. abby’s thighs, yours, the sheets beneath you drenched in your sweet slick. and all ellie could do was watch as you collapse into abby’s body. your entire body shivering as you seeked comfort in your lovers’ arms. she watched as abby soothingly rubbed your back from the tip of you spine to your lower back. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but ellie couldn’t hear them, intentional by the blonde for her not to. abby nearly crumbled as she watched abby take care of you, cleaning you up and assisting you with putting on your clothes. you sat on the edge of the bed, completely in a daze, waiting for abby.

once abby was dressed, she walked over to ellie, towering over her, sitting or standing didn’t really matter. with a mean grip, abby held ellie’s chin, applying enough pressure to get her almost bruise. “next time you flirt with my girl, it’ll be you getting fucked an inch within your life and unlike my beautiful baby, i’ll leave you alone like the dirty slut you are, unable to fucking walk, talk, move. got it?” abby left with you in her arms, but to ellie it sounded more like music to her ears.

pathetically, ellie watched as the couple walk out of the room, abby whispering in your ear as abby kissed your temple, shutting the door behind them. and then it dawned on her. she was still fucking tied up. fucking anderson.

an: yeah.......so this is a thing. hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! god do i need a blonde girl to fucking rail me

#god im so horny!#ahh!#abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut

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coyotes-rules-of-change · 6 months ago

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The Bro Phone

As he stared at the phone, he figured a lone and worn down beach-side payphone like this one would be the perfect catalyst for an urban legend. Now, dared by a friend, he steps up to the modern relic to follow the simple process laid out in the local lore: pick up the phone and put the speaker to his ear.

Not even a dial tone. The stupid thing doesn't even work, but then—

Bro

Hold on. Did he really hear that? He presses the top of the phone tight against his ear to be absolutely sure, then, after a few more moments...

Bro

Hahaha. No way! He chuckles, perhaps a bit of a dumb chortle for his tastes but the whole thing seemed so novel he couldn't help it!

Bro

Huhuhuhuh... His chuckle was lower now, and duller. He was dumbfounded by the repeated word coming through the supposedly dead line.

Bro

His shirt unravels and falls as sand onto the sidewalk while his jeans slide up his calves, past his knees, crawling all most all the way up his thighs until the cut of the leg so short the garment barely surpasses the classifications of a brief. His bony chest and skinny legs are exposed to the open air and the thought brings a vacant grin to his face.

Bro

With the arm free from his ongoing one-note chat with the handset, e flexes his bicep, showing off his slender frame—a comic and futile gesture. But he needs to flex if he wants to be a

Bro

His biceps grow and the individual muscles of his upper arm begin to define themselves as they inflate.

Bro

Two pecs swell out of his formerly flat chest. His skin tone is adopting the perfect tan.

Bro

And below those pecs, abs carve their way down his torso, joined by a newly formed adonis belt.

Bro

His chicken legs pump up with muscle and lengthen giving him extra height—the bro phone makes sure bros don't skip leg day.

Bro

His jawline sharpens and stubble sprouts across his cheek. A mustache and a goatee form around his lips.

Bro

A final change. A bulge forms in his gym shorts. "Yooooooo. I fuckin love this!" He bellows.

And finally, he responds back to the repetitive voice in the payphone:

Bro

A click. A dial-tone. Another happy bro.

The awareness of his surroundings return and he remembers the friend who just witnessed the change. At that moment he looks up from the payphone and looks at you.

His new strength, agility, and speed left you with no chance. One second you're trying to escape and the next you feel the plastic pressed against your ear and a single word enters your mind.

Bro

#male transformation #dumber #jockification #curse #male tf

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peachsayshi · 11 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ domestic diaries

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: I saw this gif (top right image) & wrote a post about nanami getting turned on seeing his wife in an itty bitty tank, and I cannot get this out of my head. I need this man to **** ** until I'm ******* and ******. this is very self indulgent. forgive me lskjfd

ೃ⁀➷ tags: smut; masturbation; oral (f receiving); nipple play; p in v; rough sex; reader wears glasses

feb 3 - 8:31 pm

"look at how wet you are-" nanami exhales, a strand of gold kissing his forehead. the muscles of his strong stomach flexing when he unfastens the last button of his shirt. he pulls the fabric over his broad shoulders, taking in your hungry eyes roaming all over his body. rough hands instantly trail to the belt cinched around his waist. you whimper when he loosens the buckle, your fingers circle over your clit just a little faster as you watch him yank the leather band out from between the loops.

"n' you're hard..." you softly pant, licking your lips which only continues to exacerbate your husband’s madness to have you.

he palms over the prominent tent that's formed against his slacks, his length stiff from the sight of coming home to you earlier. you were innocently standing in the kitchen, wearing your black thigh high socks and a pair of shorts along with an itty bitty tank top that did nothing to cover you. midriff out, nipples prominent. your hair a mess, and your glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of your nose.

it was in that moment when the realization struck nanami. when he pondered when was the last time he taken you to bed. both of your schedules have been busy. neither of you have been in the mood for making love, too worn out from the stresses of every day life.

so, his reaction towards you shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. he just wished that he noted the dry spill that's hit your relationship a little bit earlier.

"hi, baby", you sweetly greeted with a smile, as he stood there dumfounded with admiration. "you're home late, I was worried you might miss dinner-"

nanami loosened his tie, swallowing the hard lump that formed in his throat as his skin scorched with heat. he can feel it prick the tips of his ears, singe the the highest parts of his prominent cheek bones, and burn it's way down his neck. he stalked towards you before you allowed yourself to get distracted, and circled his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

you were taken aback by the urgency, but you soon melted in his arms and found yourselves in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

nanami smiles - an angelic grin, full of reverie. you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from pathetically moaning at the gesture.

your husband doesn't make it easier by treating his exceptionally attractive self with such nonchalance. so completely clueless by the power he has over you.

he boldly stares at you, eyes falling to the peaks of your breasts, the tips furiously prominent against your tank top and begging for attention. he followed the path down the lower half your naked body, to the triangle between your legs where you were fingering yourself in anticipation. half your legs were still concealed by your thigh high socks, your glasses slowly falling down your nose.

he drops his shirt to the ground, bringing those fingers to push back that infuriating rogue strand of hair that carelessly fell. he cups your knees, his thumbs stroking your socks lovingly as he nestles himself between your legs. his jaw twitches when you spread your lips for him, your arousal strings of sweet sugar. nanami leans forward to peck you tenderly at the source of your desire, and the sound that travels out of your throat is so desperate he nearly cums on the spot.

"shit-" you curse, your hands moving to rest on your lower belly so nanami can touch you as he pleases.

he uses to fingers to spread the petals once again, before placing his tongue flat to broadly stroke up your slit. his eyes flutter close and the drawl of his hum is deep, sending a shiver up your belly. you bring one hand to the locks of his hair, massaging his scalp lightly as you keep the strands from falling over.

"haven't tasted you in a while, my love," nanami sighs. his hot, heavy breath fanning your cunt.

he dives in with no mercy, making your hips buck into his face while he fucks you with his mouth. he pays extra attention to your clit, sucking on the bud and flicking his tongue back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth...your fingers dig into his scalp, your upper body nearly off the mattress as you hold him close. when nanami slides two fingers in to stretch you out, your eyes simply vanish to the back of your head. you're so soaked by the time you orgasm, tremors shaking your clenched thighs that nearly squeezed your husband's head.

you taste yourself on your tongue when he kisses you. it's sloppy, wet. completely primal. nanami only stops to remove his slacks, rbefore eadjusting your position when he climbs on the bed.

"take your glasses off," he commands, and you oblige as you place them by your side.

he flips you over, lifting your hips and creating a lovely slope on your spine. his hands graze over the socks pinching the meat of your thighs, and he widens your stance before aligning the heavy tip of his cock to your entrance.

your words are reduced to vowels, and when your husband gradually pushes himself against your folds, you release a long cry as you grip onto the sheets for support.

"oh fuck,-" nanami purrs, before pulling back and rutting deep into you. "uh-you feel s'good, s'warm..."

"kento-" your whine out his name pornographically, which makes your husband thrust into you even harder, "kento, more...please, please, please-ah~"

your tank top rides up as your body rubs against the mattress, your sensitive nipples brushing over your cool bed sheets. he's usually so gentle when fucking you, calculative even - but not tonight. tonight, his movements are unrelenting. whenever that mushroom head hits your sweet spot it has you seeing a cluster of white stars in your eyes. the sound of skin slapping skin echoes all around you, with nanami's grunts following in harmony. he's rough when he holds your hips because he's unable to hold onto any self control, because you're sucking him in, and milking his cock.

you anticipate the soreness to come.

when you orgasm a second time, tears prick your eyes from relief - it's been so long since you've had your husband inside you that you forgot how pliable you become in the process. he's so close now too, his flow staggering as his hipsstutter, until he finally releases his full load inside you.

it takes you both a few minutes to gather yourself. you can feel your husband grow soft inside you. you turn around to face him when you finally detach. sitting upright on your knees as you circle your arms around your neck, and bring your face in front of his.

you moan into a kiss, his own hands cupping your breasts chastely, his thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples.

he rubs his nose over yours, his lips finding your cheeks as he kisses you. "you okay, my love?" he asks, always the gentleman for checking in. "m'sorry if I was rough, I..." he sighs, stealing another kiss from your lips before whispering, "I didn't realize how long it's been..."

you sniffle, your body coming down from the rushed high. "m'okay, kento..." you dreamily reassure, your lips seeking his own for another kiss, "that felt so good..."

"yeah?" he smiles before nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and tracing that dangerous mouth down the curve of your neck. "felt good for me too, baby..."

you're like sand between his fingers, slipping through the cracks of lust and love. nanami leaves a trail of kisses down your collar bone, moving further until his lips circle over the tip of your breast.

you hiss when he sucks on it, using his hand to cup the weight. the sensation of his thumb makes you pulse between your legs, and you gaze down to watch him slowly pull away to release the bud. his eyes stay fixated on your chest, a small string of saliva connecting from your nipple to his bottom lip. he uses his thumb to wipe it away, stroking the hardened peak.

"want to keep going?" he speaks in a hushed tone, lifting his head up and resting his chin against your chest to gauge your mood.

"yeah," you sigh, wanting nothing more to ride along this intimate dance until your bodies can no longer keep up. "yeah, let's keep going..."

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction

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sunlightmurdock · 2 months ago

Note

That older bf Bradley thought about picking you up from the bar was 🥵…I could reader letting a ‘sorry daddy’ slip for the first time when a little tipsy and he would absolutely lose his mind.

ooo an interesting contribution to this post! I’m just imagining that it’s once he has gotten you home, and you haven’t once let up on making it known exactly how badly you want him.

Like he had really planned on taking you home and putting you right to bed — especially after the little performance you had put on in his car, but you’re only tipsy, and especially handsy tonight. He’s just playing along, really, still planning on turning you down just for the sake of teasing you just as much as you like to tease him. You’ve gotten him to the couch, your thighs hugging his hips and your fingers messing up his curls, sucking your way along his throat

“You know, I have to be on base tomorrow at 6am, right?”

You’re still grinning as you nip at the clean shave of his jaw, pushing your fingers under the fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry.”

This makes him chuckle. He sits back and spreads his knees, parting your thighs with them, leaning his head against the back of the couch. His eyes flutter shut as you push his t-shirt out of your way and lean down to kiss at his chest.

Sitting in his dimly lit living room, rocking yourself against his jeans — that both of you know you’ll have him out of pretty soon.

“You’re not sorry.” He scoffs, smiling as he slips his hands under your skirt to squeeze at your ass.

This, in turn, earns a big, giddy, smile from you. He lifts his arms and bites at his bottom lip as you tug his shirt up and over his head. You don’t even fight to keep the smile off of your face as he drags you closer, pulling you against the rough denim on his lap.

“I am sorry,” You giggle, curling your fingers into his roots. “You know I just miss you.”

With that, his arms wrap around you as he pushes off of the couch and twists the two of you. You land on your back with a sharp gasp and his big hands kneading at your thighs, his eyes dark. “Yeah?”

He leans forwards, his bare chest hot and bearing down on yours. Kissing your mouth, sloppy and deep. One hand trailing the underside of your bare leg until his fingers are skimming the lace he had gotten well-acquainted with on the drive home. “You’re sorry, baby?”

And there’s just something about it all, something about the weight of his body on top of yours and his warm, wandering hands, and his fucking talented mouth — it just slips right out. Quiet and breathy against his earlobe as your ankles cross behind his back, “Yeah, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Regret comes first, feeling his lips stop against your collarbone. Then embarassment, as he sits back on his knees, brows raised and lips parted. You wait for him to speak, already shrinking back and moving your arms to cross awkwardly over your chest. Then, he reaches for his belt.

You watch, blinking as he tears the buckle open and pulls the leather from the loops, his the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he does.

His hands are on you harder this time, grabbing firmer, rough as he tugs at your hips until you’re laying down flat. One of his hands curls hard into your roots, his lips stretching into a grin. His lips are at your earlobe this time, his voice rough, “Say that again.”

#this is a queued post #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #older bf Bradley

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prettygiri222 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi baby idk if ur requests are on but can u pls do a black reader who doesn’t have a lot of ass (baby I be reading these fanfics (not urs) and it always has black women with fat ass and big boobs and I’m like 😔 that ain’t me) and who doesn’t smoke, with like anyone but maybe wit eren or Connie, thank you sm girl and even if u don’t do this I appreciate u reading this hottie.

Girl I feel you, my shit not the fattest either but I do smoke myself so that's why it's present in some of my stories😭

Connie x Black Fem Reader SMUT

“stop playing with me mama,” Connie quickly ushered your naked bodies into his bedroom. clothes lost from the heated makeout session that took place on the leather couch in the living room. the movie playing long forgotten on the flat-screen TV. “get on the bed.”

“ah!” you let out a little gasp when he brought his large hands down and delivered a slight slap to your ass. excited for what was coming next you let out a little giggle as you crawled onto the bed. you got into position as you always did, missionary. with you on your back and pulling back your legs so they rested near your head.

Connie loved being able to see your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure. the way your eyes crossed when a particularly strong orgasm raked through your body. the access he had to play with your small tits, his huge hands dwarfing them. he loved the way you clenched extra hard when he tweaked or sucked on your nipples leaving them puffy and sore in the morning.

your slacked jaw gives Connie free entry to your mouth to spit and suck on your tongue, mixing saliva. you're left breathless, gasping for air unable to kiss him back with moans being forced out into his mouth by his deep strokes. or when halfway you would give up on holding your leg and clutch onto him for dear life. your smaller body jostling against his sweaty one as he pounded into your pussy, basically drowning in your slick.

but today he wanted to try something different.

“can you get on your hands and knees for me please?” your boyfriend asked, staring intently at you from above. your cunt was already glistening from just making out but he was no better. his dick was standing at attention between his legs just waiting to find its way inside you.

“ok…” you meekly replied wanting to please your boyfriend. you slowly dragged yourself into the new position. the arch you presented to your boyfriend was utterly pathetic. you felt embarrassed feeling more exposed despite holding yourself open for him only a few moments ago.

“you can do better than that,” Connie said. you felt him nudge his dick against your soaking cunt.

“I can't” you let your head fall against the mattress. god, this was so humiliating. until now Connie never mentioned anything about wanting to try doggy style but you hated it. always jumping into a position that allowed the two of you to be face to face. you loved the sight of Connie above you. his happy trail that led to a sharp v-line, the way his abs flexed after every thrust made you so wet and his caring eyes that watched your every move to see how you would react. a cute way to tell that Connie was close was the way his pink lips quivered faster the closer he got to his orgasm.

but the underlying reason you preferred missionary above all was because anytime you watched porn you noticed how in every video the girls in doggy always had the fattest asses, something you didn’t have. but it wasn’t something that made you self-conscious. you just didn’t think you would enjoy it as much cause of it.

you loved your smaller body and showing it off. like earlier today, you were wearing a tight baby tee and your favourite pair of low waisted jeans that showed off your deep back dimples. Connie could not keep his hands off you, they trailed your exposed skin before pulling at your belt loops. it was his signal that he wanted them off.

Connie on the other hand didn’t mind indulging in your love for missionary. seeing his girl happy and fucked out made him feel good but he felt like he wasn’t able to give you all he had. Connie's dick wasn't the biggest but it was really thick and girthy with a downward curve due to how heavy it hung.

what he noticed after prodding around at your insides with his fingers and memorizing all your soft spots was that your most sensitive spot was upwards, toward your stomach. so in missionary he could only brush it and not abuse it how he wanted.

wanting to hear no more of your complaints Connie took matters into his own hands. he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed where he was standing. before you could turn and see what he was doing he pressed his hand in between your shoulder blades and forced you down face first into the mattress. “oh sweetie, but you can”

your newfound arch was delicious. your upper body was pressed flat against the bed creating a deep curve in your spine that led to your ass that was being held up by Connie. you turned your head to the side so you could breathe

“look at you, so talented,” he praised, marvelling at your body. it was amazing how you could take his dick like a fucking champ yet you were so tiny compared to him. his huge hands swallowed each of your asscheeks as he kneaded them while teasing the tip of his dick against your slicked hole.

“I'm going in,” your boyfriend gave you a brief warning to prepare for the stretch but you weren't ready. you're so used to his curve going down towards your spine so feeling it go up into your tummy was new.

“oh my goddd” you whined out. he bottomed out quickly, his tip kissing your cervix. you instinctively pulled away from him already feeling overwhelmed.

“where you going ma?” Connie stuck his thumbs into your back dimples to give him some leverage. he easily pulled you back onto his dick. you let out a cry as he forced himself inside. “you feeling me deep inside?”

“yeaaa,” the wet squelching sounds of your pussy coating his dick could be heard. some of your wetness dripped down your thighs. after each thrust you could feel yourself being stretched out to fit his size. “all in my tummy pa”

the view Connie had was amazing. he spread your brown cheeks so he could watch himself slide in and out of your tiny cunt, the pink of your pussy appearing when he pulled out. he watched as your creamy paste began to coat his dick. pap! pap! pap! it was like music to his ears.

you were already soaking wet, the sheets underneath where you two connected was drenched and turning darker in colour. so for the pure obscenity of it Connie spat on the shaft of his dick. he groaned watching as your hole greedily slurped it up along with his dick.

“you hear that mama?” pap! pap! pap! Connie gave you a second to listen to the sounds your body was making. it was straight-up pornographic. “that’s how you know I’m hitting it right.”

“uhuhuh” your boyfriend was showing you what you were missing out all this time during missionary. his cock struck the same spot each time. it felt so good that it was starting to hurt.

the force of Connie's pelvis slapping against your ass was enough to send you flying forward every thrust. and each time he pulled you back like you were a fucking ragdoll. you couldn't do anything but take everything he was giving you.

you reached out to trying to grab something, whether it was the sheets, his arm, the bedframe, you just needed something to brace yourself. Connie watched as your tiny hands struggled to grasp at his sheets.

your poor pussy was going to be bruised in the morning from how rough Connie was being. once he found your sweet spot he didn't let up, the intensity he was pounding at it was insane. he didn’t let up, not that you would allow him to either.

each time Connie pulled out your pussy just sucked him back in. pap! pap! pap! the sight and the sounds you were making had his dick twitching, aching for release. and your cunt felt like heaven, all warm and wet. he wasn’t going to last any longer in this position. “ma, I'm so close.” he groaned.

“me to me to” you moaned out against the bed. the growing feeling in your stomach was about to burst. your legs shook like a fawn taking its first steps. you sunk further into the bed arching deeper into Connie needing just a bit more. his tip reaching your cervix was the final push, “m’cumming” you whined out.

you pressed your face into the sheets when the overwhelming feeling hit you. Connie let out a low whimper feeling you clenched tightly around his cock stopping him in his tracks. unable to pull out he was forced to release inside you, painting your insides.

“knew your lil ass would love it.” he chuckled watching you twitch underneath him. he waited until your sopping cunt stopped spasming around his dick. one you both finished your orgasms he pulled out watching as his cum mixed with your fluids spilled out of your quivering hole.

hope this was to your liking <3 my requests are open but I'll do another post on that later

#anime smut #aot smut #x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader smut #black y/n #aot #connie smut #connie x black reader #connie springer #connie x reader smut #connie x

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roadkillxd · 2 months ago

Text

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL: gun metal ghost.

Thanks to the anons that suggested the featured kinks!

Soap x M!Reader x Ghost ↪ 1892 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant Soap, cis male dominant Ghost, cis male submissive reader, heavy cnc roleplay, gunplay, implied somnophilia, threat of murder, referenced necro (just a comment Soap makes), virginity kink, breeding kink, sweat/scent kink, impact play, dirty talk, degradation/humiliation, praise, biting, begging, body worship, crying, deepthroating, breath play, oral sex, analingus, fingering, anal sex, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, and mentioned aftercare.

You jolt awake at the feeling of cold metal trailing down the ridges of your bare spine. You feel an unpleasant emptiness, and your cock is hard and dripping where it’s trapped between your stomach and the bed sheets, surely tacky and wet with pre and sweat. Before you can truly get your bearings, a hand grips your hair and another covers your mouth.

“Doon’t scream,” Soap says from in front of you, low and gravelly. His hand slips from your hair, and the familiar click of a gun safety being switched makes you shudder, grunting when the barrels pressed beneath your jaw.

You try to take stock of your surroundings—Soap kneels in front of you, left hand pushing the gun into the soft flesh beneath your jawbone to keep your head propped up, his right palm pressed over your lips, fingers digging painfully tight into your cheeks. He looks smug, though there's a hunger overshadowing the slight tug of his lips and the twinkle of his blue eyes.

There’s a wetness between your thighs that makes you squirm, the feeling of cooling saliva quickly replaced with the swipe of a hot tongue licking over your hole. You cry out behind Soap’s palm, reaching to grab at his forearms only for two skeleton-patterned gloved hands to catch you by the wrists and tug your arms behind your back.

“Keep em’ there,” Ghost says, making sure his legs are locked with yours to keep you pinned, his tone as simple as if he’d just ordered you to watch the corner.

Your hands twitching is greeted with Soap’s palm slipping from your mouth, only for the gun to quickly replace it, clacking against your teeth before the acrid taste of gun metal invades your taste buds.

“You heard the man,” Soap grins, tapping his finger gently on the trigger guard, “wouldn’t want m’hand ta slip, now would we? Not tha’ it’d stop us…”

You whimper around the barrel, feeling Ghost groan against your hole, and try to blink away the oncoming tears as Ghost returns to messily licking you out, and the reality of your situation washes over you. Ghost’s practiced in his motions, and despite the circumstances there is no rush to the way he works you over, like he has all the time in the world. You dig your nails into your forearms, crossed at your back as Ghost slips a thick, surprisingly soft finger into your clenching heat, having removed his gloves at some point.

Soap is hard in his own jeans, the outline of his cock mere inches from your face. Your jaw aches around the gun, unable to swallow properly around the bulk of it as drool drips heavily down your chin to form a small puddle on the thin bed sheets. Soap gently rocks the pistol in and out of your mouth, watching with rapt attention how your tongue flexes restlessly along the slide.

The pink muscle flicking at his finger where it rests on the trigger guard seems to be his limit, as he shoves the gun forward just enough to make you gag before yanking it out, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks as you cough.

“Ghost,” Soap grunts, handing the gun off to the Lieutenant behind you, feeling it press flat between your shoulder blades, the cold ridges pressed to your spine by Ghost’s palm holding it there. Soap grasps your jaw with bruising strength, tugging you up to meet his eyes, “lookit you, pathetic fuckin’ thing.”

The clink of Soap’s belt catches your attention as you glance down, only for his palm to connect hard with your cheek, making you cry out as he roughly grabs for you again.

“Look. At. Me,” he growls, your breath stuttering in a hiccup as you hold his piercing gaze even through the blur of tears. You can see the movement of him pulling his cock free in your peripheral, and whimper as he slides the sticky, soft head of his cock along your trembling lips.

“Open that mouth, baby,” he rumbles, fingers digging into the joint of your jaw when you hesitate too long, “be a good lil’ hure fer me.”

Your mouth falls open on a shuddering moan as Ghost presses the tips of two fingers to the gland of your prostate, massaging the swollen bulb with sniper precision. Soap’s prick slips past your lips, muffling your whines around the thick, meaty length of his cock.

You can feel Ghost shift behind you, the gun trailing till his arm is hooked under your armpit, barrel dug into your jaw once again. The scrape of denim is rough along the back of your thighs, the soft cotton of his jumper bringing attention to the aching turned stinging along your back, where you can feel now with clarity where Ghost sucked hickeys into your bare skin while you slept, hyperware of the grooves where his teeth dug into your skin.

“Bloody perfect,” Ghost murmurs, chest vibrating against your spine with the rolling deepness of his voice. His hips absentmindedly rock against yours, his breath hot against your cheek, the bulk of his weight pressing you to the mattress as he presses jarringly chaste kisses along your jawline, to the corner of your lips stretched taut around Soap’s thrusting cock. Soap gives a growling groan when Ghost’s tongue slips out, lapping lazily at the ring of spit and pre that froths around the seal of your mouth.

You feel Ghost’s free hand fumbling between your legs, the sound of his trousers being undone barely audible over the ringing in your ears. He groans as he frees himself, and you whine at the fat length of his cock slipping between your cheeks and catching on your rim.

You struggle in earnest, trying to pull your head away from Soap’s cock while your hands, trapped beneath Ghost’s bulk, shove at the man’s stomach. Your teeth graze the sensitive flesh of Soap’s prick and he quickly pulls free from your mouth, cuffing you upside the head for the trouble.

“Don’t,” you choke out, voice sleep rough and sore from where Soap’s cockhead had tapped the start of your throat, “please don’t, I’ve never—”

You sob as Ghost’s hips twitch, the head of his cock spreading the rim of your arsehole wide without quite pushing in.

“Heard that, Ghostie?” Soap purrs, rocking his hips to slide his slick cock along your cheek, your warm tears against the swollen flesh making him shiver, “know how much you love a virgin hole.”

“Fuckkk,” Ghost groans, pressing his face against your neck, catching the thin skin between his teeth. His balaclava is shoved up over his nose, the scratchy material rubbing against the sensitive skin behind your ear and making your traitorous cock twitch and leak.

“Going to fucking ruin this arse,” Ghost growls. He’s suddenly rough with you, like a switch has flipped inside him. The gun is dropped to the floor somewhere as Ghost hauls you back onto your knees. He mounts up, heaving chest pressed to your back, one strong arm wrapped around your torso while the other lines up his cock with your twitching hole.

You sob as he shoves in, giving you no time to adjust when his pelvis immediately meets your ass, heavy balls slapping against yours before he’s pulling back and shoving back in, over and over. His thrusts are steady and deep, and you instinctively grab at Soap’s wrist and waist, shoving your face between the crook of his muscled thigh and leaking cock, muffling your moans into the sweaty skin there.

“Can’t help but feel good, huh?” Soap coos mockingly, fingers carding through your sweat slick hair, “never having taken cock, yet you’re moaning for it like a slut already. You know you were made for this, just needed us to show you.”

You nod against Soap’s skin, breathing his musky scent in deep, pressing the flat of your tongue to his furry balls before suckling one into your mouth to earn a breathy groan from him.

Ghost grunts and growls like an animal above you, his mouth sucking mark after mark along the side of your neck, an expanse of purples and reds that’ll be impossible to hide. His cock is so big, each time he bottoms out pushing against the squishy walls of your limits, feeling like he’s in your fucking lungs, and the bulk of his fat cockhead catches on your prostate with each in-and-out movement.

Soap uses your hair to guide you up the pulsing length of his prick, letting you lather your tongue along the prominent vein that travels up the side, pulling his foreskin down so you can lick and suck at the glans of his tip.

“He’s gonna breed you full,” Soap rumbles, voice soft as you slobber on his cock, “fill you with his cum ‘till it takes.”

“Please,” you gasp, muffled against Soap’s cockhead and bubbly with spit and precum, “please please, Ghost, please.”

Ghost growls like a shout, making you cry out as his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and his hips begin to jackrabbit it into you, the lude sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh echoing throughout the room, the wet plap plap plap aided by the froth of his own saliva that leaks from your puffy hole down his heavy sac.

“Yeah, Simon? Gonna fuck a baby into his little virgin hole?” Soap goads, pulling your head down his length as you let out a pathetic moan, gagging and choking when your nose presses to the thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock, eyes crossing as he holds you there, only able to breathe in the thick musk of sweat trapped there.

You clench up tight around Ghost as you struggle and asphyxiate around Soap’s prick, and Ghost cums with a shout muffled into the bloody wound of your shoulder. His hips slam into yours, bouncing off your ass where you can already feel the red sting of bruises forming, before his movements stutter, buried to the hilt as he fills you deep with his load.

It’s Soap who lets out a moan next, yanking you off his cock just as he cums, decorating your purple-red face with his spend as you cough and heave for breath. You reach up to pull his foreskin back down and seal your lips around his tip, whining brokenly as he strokes the last of his cum onto your waiting tongue.

It’s the taste of him that does you in, swallowing him down with a keen as your cock pulses and spurts cum onto the bed sheets below.

You collapse fully to the bed, cheek pressed to the sweat damp sheet cooling in the night air. Soap pets at your hair, his nails scritching gently at the base of your skull and making your skin tingle pleasantly. Ghost is a large, comforting weight along your back, his soft but heavy cock still buried inside you and occasionally twitching with another pulse of cum he shoots into you with a shudder and what you can only describe as a whimper from his scratchy throat.

He licks over the lazily oozing wound of his bite mark, the both of you floating as Soap slips from the bed to begin your guys’ aftercare routine.

#smut #mine #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #x male reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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jayke0 · 7 months ago

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Bondage and BJs

Pairing: Jake Lockley x g/n reader

Summary: You grant Jake with a treat while he's tied to a chair.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: Oral (m receiving), bondage/ropes, Dom!Reader, Sub!Jake, degrading, use of “whore”, edging, begging, orgasm denial, mention of Steven, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,410

A/n: This was inspired by this lovely art by @/halcyon1796 on X!

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading and editing ily.

………......................…………………………………….

“Colour?”

Jake blinks at you a few times, the words not registering for a few seconds.

“Green. Green, cariño…”

The poor man is practically bursting out of his jeans. Tight ropes bind him to the chair, his biceps bulging between the lines each time he clenches his fists. A light sheen covers his warm gold skin and runs the length of his chest all the way to his waistband, where his stomach is twitching with the lack of stimulation. Despite the compromising position, and the obligatory stain on his pants, a dark grin is stretched wide across his face, urging you to continue your game.

“Good,” you flash him a smile and pat his thigh as you shuffle closer to him on your knees. “Good boy.”

You're sure you see his ears prick up like a damn dog at the praise, the idea of it making you chuckle while you sit comfortably between his thighs and fiddle with his belt, looking up at him brazenly.

His smirk falters a little as you tease him, slowly unbuckling his belt and dragging the leather from the metal clasp with remarkable patience.

Jake wouldn't have it any other way. He loves it when you tease him, make him wait for you, it just makes him unbelievably harder. Sweat beads on his forehead and curls his hair, his thoughts completely enrapt with you.

Finally, you work open his pants, refraining from literally licking your lips as you gaze at his twitching length in the confines of his boxers. “Look at you, baby, twitching so much for me.” You tease with a smile as you run your finger along the length of his cock, getting a groan and a jump in response. “Lemme help you out a little.”

The adam's apple in his throat bobs as he swallows hard, eyes fixated on your hands and the way your thumbs hook under his boxer’s waistband to let his cock spring out. Cold air hits him and makes him gasp, biceps flexing again as he sucks his lip between his teeth to chew on.

“You're usually more talkative than this, Mr Jake Lockley; is someone lost for words?”

The man grumbles and looks at you with pleading eyes, ones that you're still yet to gain the strength to say no to, so you do as he silently pleads and wrap your fingers around his thick length.

The action makes an exasperated sigh escape from your boyfriend's lips, his nostrils flaring a little while your fingers squeeze him gently.

“Mi vida…” he mumbles softly, feeling each of your digits squeezing him. A bead of pre-cum spills from his tip in time for you to catch it on your tongue, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. The muscles in his stomach strain, making his length twitch as you tap it against your tongue and glare up at him through your lashes.

Pulling away, you let a string of saliva pour over his ruddy tip and stroke it over his length, relishing in the way he's already huffing and squirming under the bare minimum of your touch.

”Finally,” he breathes as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, enveloping the tip and appreciating the salty taste. You sit up, twisting your head slightly to the side before taking almost all of him in one go; needless to say, Jake's reaction is pure gold.

His head falls back with a loud wail, back arching off of the chair as his thighs try to squeeze together. To his displeasure, you're already one step ahead of him, hands placed firmly on his thick thighs to keep them parted as you pull off again.

“Jake, you're gonna be a good boy for me now, aren't you?”

He nods frantically, a whine rumbling in his throat.

“Promise?”

“Yes! Yes I promise. Please darlin’... I need ya, I need that mouth.”

The way he ruts his hips up should aggravate you, but it only makes you want him more.

Taking him about half way this time, you hum around his cock, feeling his thigh tense under your tight grasp while your other hand occupies itself with wrapping around the rest of his length; and he keeps his legs open, as per your command.

The twisting motion you start has proven to be greatly successful with your boyfriend in the past, and he never seems to get bored of it. You turn your head as you bob up and down on his length, your hand twisting in the opposite direction to create a delicious friction for the man. You're quick to stop his rutting with a glare through your eyelashes, not even having to pull off to make him whimper and stop his movements in his tracks.

He distracts himself by leaning his head back once more, and you watch all the muscles strain in his neck delightfully; it's such a wonderful sight seeing him like this.

“Damn cariño… shit. Love the way ya Suck my cock, ya always know what I like–.” He moans out, his hands now pawing at the ropes that are keeping him in place. “Wish I could just fuck that pretty mouth… make ya drool all over me...” His words are assertive, but his tone is far from it. You simply grin around him and start moving faster, taking him a little deeper each time.

His body is shaking at this point, already sensitive from the edging you'd put him through before even having taken his pants off. “Ah fuck!– Mi vida, I ain't gonna last– I gotta cum...”

You pull off. “What do you need to say?”

The man grumbles and thrusts his hips up.

“Watch it,” you dig your nails into his thigh, making him squirm and whimper quietly. “Want me to edge you again, baby? ‘Cause I will. I'll edge you for as long as it takes for you to stop being a desperate and disobedient whore.”

He buries his face in his shoulder for that one, looking away from you ashamed and flushed. Jake doesn't react the same to degrading as Steven does, his responses are usually more subtle, more embarrassed. Steven, on the other hand, will happily welcome degradation with a loud moan followed by a desperate whine; and Marc… well, you haven't gotten that far yet.

“I'm sorry, mi amor. Please let me cum, I've been so good for ya, waited so long.” Jake’s bottom lip sticks out just a little, something he'd picked up from Steven. “Please, cariño. I need ya…”

Once you're satisfied with his apology, you wrap your lips around him again as before and sink all the way down, enveloping him fully. You pull off just enough before starting a fast pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth and hearing his beautiful moans.

You're able to look up at him just enough to see him watching you, focusing on how your lips stretch and drool all over his cock. his eyes meet yours, and suddenly he's arching his back and twitching fiercely, warmth filling your mouth while his orgasm runs through his body like hot lava.

You feel his muscles almost instantly relax and his breathing slow, his cock already going soft in your mouth as you swallow what he'd spilled. “Good boy,” you smile up at him widely, “my handsome boyfriend.” Your words are genuine as you rest your head on his thigh, pressing soft kisses.

“Mhm… mi vida..” Jake is sleepy, and you can easily tell that by the big dopey grin on his face, the one he usually has when he's had a long day or you've pleased him.

Standing up, you place a kiss on his lips and forehead before moving behind him to untie his sore wrists, a soft inhale coming from him as he rubs his biceps.

“Sorry baby, but I had to really tie you down. You're like a fucking rhino sometimes,” you both chuckle softly at your observation before you lean over him to look at him. “You wanna go to sleep, huh?”

A simple nod from him tells you all you need to know.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @red-hydra @summonthesoups @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @midgardian-witch @minigirl87 @mooksmouse @justafandomgvrl @boredzillenial @eyelessfaces @silvernight-m @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @femmeanonymelives

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon boys #jake lockley #moon knight smut #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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alex-wire-mesh · 1 year ago

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Flat Flex Transport Belt

Flat flex transport belt is made from high-quality materials for long-lasting performance. This transport wire belt is simple setup with minimal maintenance requirements. It is also named flat flex conveyor belt.

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The post Flat Flex Transport Belt appeared first on Alex Wire Mesh

#Conveyor Belt #Conveyor Belt Wire Mesh #Falt Flex Belt #Flat Flex Belting #Flat Flex Conveyor Belt #Flat Flex Mesh Belt #Flat Flex Metal Belt #Flat Flex Steel Belt #Flat Flex Transport Belt #Metal Conveyor Belt #Steel Conveyor Belt #Wire Belt #Wire Conveyor Belt #Wire Mesh Conveyor Belt

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random-thot-generator · 1 year ago

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A Nice Guy

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK x FEM READER

Summary: You've teased and taunted your neighbor Kyle for months on end, curious to see just how much a nice guy like him can take before he snaps. (And then, ya know, smut happens.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Explicit language, Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, Rough sex, Good boy Gaz has left the building, No use of Y/N

(Notes: This is just a smut purge, folks. Don't think about it too hard, just go with it. Hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 2.2K

Ask anyone in your building about the soldier who lives across the hall from you, and they all will basically tell you the same thing.

"He's a good lad."

"Solid bloke."

"Couldn't ask for a better mate."

"Such a nice young man."

So, general consensus: Kyle Garrick is a nice guy.

Maybe a little too nice, you think.

You see how he looks at you, where his eyes linger. He may be a nice guy, but he's still a red-blooded man under that faded ball cap and warm, friendly smile. He just needs a little... push.

So, push him you do.

You make it hard for him to ignore you. It starts with lingering touches and longing looks, but soon graduates to less subtle overtures.

You stop him for a chat sans bra in the chilly hallway, an innocent smile on your lips when your nipples pebble under your tight tank top and his attentive gaze. He licks his lips and tries his best to maintain eye contact, but he fails again and again before you finally let him off the hook.

You see how his warm brown eyes darken and his breath hitches when you 'accidentally' brush your hand against the front of his trousers at the post boxes. You murmur a shy apology and bite your lip, but he sees the way your eyes slide down his torso to catch on the bulge below his belt. You raise your brows and smirk before sauntering away.

But Kyle Garrick is a nice guy.

He tries to avert his eyes when you bend over in your short skirt to pick up the keys you dropped, because, oops! you're such a little klutz. If he happened to catch a glimpse of red lace disappearing between your thighs, it's never mentioned.

He grins and bears it when you press up against him in the crowded lift, apologizing even as you back your ass up against his crotch. You're rewarded for your efforts when you feel his cock twitch in interest, and he leaves the lift with his workout bag clutched over his jock.

His smile is strained but indulgent when you stroke his thigh under the table at the pub. Your friends sit around you, laughing and drinking, oblivious to the torture you're inflicting on the poor man beside you. You giggle then hiccup, announcing that your last glass of wine went straight to your head. It's obvious that you're a little too drunk to be held responsible for your actions. Yet he never offers to remove your hand or stop you, so you knead his flexing thigh for the rest of the night.

Poor Kyle.

It becomes a game to you, winding him up. You revel in his pent-up frustration; love how he now glares at you with that feral light in his eyes when you peer up at him with innocent guile. You know he wants you, and you want him, too, but watching him struggle to maintain his control is just so addictive. It's a high like nothing you've ever experienced before, and you know you won't be satisfied until you make him break.

You just never expected him to break the way he did.

A fancy boxed mattress gets delivered to your flat, the delivery guy insisting that it's yours; the invoice backs him up. There's a card attached to it, a short note scribbled inside:

'Congratulations! You won!'

Did you win some random drawing? Sign up for a chance to win online? Then again, you're always buying raffle tickets from the kids in the building for some fundraiser or another.

It must be serendipity. You had been complaining about your old mattress hurting your back just the other day in the lift, and then, boom! A new mattress appears. You shrug it off and smile, pleased with your stroke of good luck. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth, you decide, and begin to drag the box into your flat.

"Need help with that, pet?"

It's Kyle, leaning in his open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, benign smile on his face. He's dressed for a lazy day at home- a tee, sweats and trainers, so, it's no bother helping you out. He steps forward and lifts the box to his shoulder, muscles bulging under the tight fit of his tee.

"Lead the way," he says, herding you back into your flat, making you jump when he kicks the door shut behind him.

He helps you remove your old mattress and unboxes the new one, grinning as you laugh in delight at the way it expands to full size before your eyes. The two of you wrestle it into position on your bed, then he helps you with the sheets.

You're bent over smoothing out the wrinkles when you feel him step behind you. You glance over your shoulder and the air catches in your throat. His legs brush the backs of your thighs as he steps closer, a dark, hungry expression on his face.

"Kyle—"

That's all you get out before his big hand lands on the small of your back and he slides it forward to press your chest into your new mattress. "Sorry, pet. Can't help myself," he apologizes, but he doesn't sound like he's sorry, and he doesn't remove his hand.

But Kyle Garrick is a nice guy. He would never take advantage of your vulnerable position. He would never crowd you forward, never grab you by the waist as he buckles your knees with his. He's not the type of guy who would manhandle you onto all fours on your brand-new mattress, would never dare to yank your leggings and panties down your thighs before burying two fingers knuckles-deep in your pussy.

Your grunt of surprise says it all.

But this is Kyle Garrick, the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet.

Yet the man who is now kneeling behind you with his fist clenched in your hair doesn't resemble that nice guy at all. This man is anything but nice, and he is intent on ruining you.

You whimper out a pitiful cry as his hand connects with your ass, hot and stinging. "Ah!" you squeak, embarrassed when you feel a trickle of arousal slip down your thigh.

His laugh is low and dark as he crooks his fingers inside you and smacks your ass again. You clench down hard on his stroking digits, gasping a cry when he plants his thumb on your clit and rubs hard, fast circles into it. Toes curling, your body jolts away from the intense stimulation, but he just barks a mean laugh and slaps your ass again before hauling you back.

You try lifting your head, but he tightens his fist in your hair and pushes your face back into the mattress with an amused, breathless grunt. "Oh, no ya don't. You wanted to tease me, huh?" he pants out as he hauls his cock and balls over the top of his sweatpants. He smacks the head against a reddened cheek. "Make me lose control?" he husks out as he hikes your hips higher. He grunts out a laugh. "Congratulations, pet. You won."

The words on the card dance before your eyes as his first thrust shoves your head into the pillows, sheets rucking up at your knees. Your shocked little cry makes him huff out another laugh. "Do ya like your prize, sweetheart?" he bites out, holding his full length inside you. He grips your hips hard enough to bruise as his chin drops to his chest. His breath hisses through his teeth before he mutters, "Fuck. Knew you'd feel good, but shit..."

He grunts out a low growl as he draws back his hips, a slow drag that acquaints you with every ridge and vein of his cock. You're clenching desperately, walls spasming as they try to cling onto his retreating length. He groans as he withdraws, not stopping until the ridge of his swollen tip catches on the rim of your entrance. He forces himself to look away from his glistening, wet length, yanking your head back to meet your eyes.

"Should I be the bigger person here, pet? Should I give ya what ya want, or should I tease ya with it?" he asks with a wicked grin as he circles his hips.

His hips then flex and his cock inches in just enough to give you hope before he pulls out again, and the walls of your cunt clench like a fist, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

You squirm and whine, trying to push your hips back, but he holds you firm. "Ah-ah! C'mon, I want to hear ya say it, first. Tell me what ya want." When you only whimper in frustration and jerk your hips, his hand cracks over your ass again as he gives your head a rough little shake. "Say it," he snarls.

Your mind is reeling. It's too much and not enough, and it's all happening so fast, but you got what you wanted. You made him break, you just never considered that he could break you, too, but now it's happening, what you've always wanted to happen, and it's...

... Just. Too. Much.

"You!" you cry out, plaintive and high. "I want— you!"

He sighs in satisfaction, his breath gusting over your back. "There she is. There's my girl," he moans, then spears your body on his length again, relishing the way your eyes go wide, how your lips form a perfect little 'O'.

He grips your hair and gives your head a lazy shake. "Now, say you're sorry," he croons.

You heave a sob, squeezing your eyes shut, shaking your head no, even as you begin to chant out a breathy, "'M sorry, 'm sorry. Sorrysorrysorrysorry..."

A dark chuckle makes you shiver as he folds himself over your back, his plush lips pressing a tender kiss behind your ear. "I forgive you," he whispers, letting go of your hair to smooth it away from your face. "Now, show me how sorry you are."

Hooking his hand over your shoulder, he takes hold of your hip and proceeds to pound you into the mattress. You keen his name out as your back arches, and his next thrust collapses your knees. "That's it, love," he puffs out, riding you into the bed. "Cry for me... Tell me how sorry ya are... for making me wait so long."

You would if you could, because you are sorry. You are so-so sorry for making him wait and denying yourself, but words escape you. With his big hand splayed between your shoulder blades, his hips rocking between your trembling thighs, the ability to speak abandons you, leaving you to babble incoherent sounds into the sheets.

His grunts and hissed curses are your benediction. His bruising thrusts battering your tender folds, the slap of his balls against your swollen clit are your atonement. The sweat that drips from his chin to patter across your back is his blessing.

This is how he forgives you.

Your pelvic muscles tighten, walls bearing down. He's worked you up so fast, your building orgasm takes you by surprise. It barrels past you at a speed that you can't keep up with and slams you into a wall, your release gushing as your core contracts. You clench so hard it makes you cry out, a pleasure that dances on a razor's edge of pain.

"Bloody— hell!" Kyle whines, bowing over you as you grip him like a vice. "I can't... You're too... Fuck!" he snarls out.

His hand grips your shoulder as his hips begin to piston, rutting into your tight, spasming walls as he comes unhinged. A string of curses and praise pour over your head as his weight presses you into the bed. He's dragging your orgasm out to a point of overstimulation, but there's no escape. You lie beneath him and pay your penance, wailing when he wrenches another orgasm from your body on the heels of the last one.

Your spine curves when you cum, cunt pulsing, working to pull him deeper, and it's all over for him. He plows forward with one last feral growl, and then his body seizes up behind you, cock buried to the hilt between your shaking legs. His hips jerk with his release, his breath choking off in his throat.

And you're just... gone.

You can see, you can hear, you can feel, but your brain isn't really processing any of it. Awareness is slow to return, but eventually you become aware of the heavy weight covering your prone form, can feel the heaving breaths warm and damp against your neck, notice how hot your skin feels compared to the cold, sticky puddle on the sheets between your spread thighs.

You moan and twitch, unable to move, stirring the man above you into action. The heavy weight is lifted away, and you feel buoyed up on the new mattress, your body now floating with your blissed-out brain.

Kyle flops over on his back beside you, hooded eyes peering up at the ceiling as he tucks an arm behind his head. He waits until his breath has evened out before he turns his head to look at you. There is hesitance in his expression and caution in his gaze, but hope is there, too, flickering behind his eyes.

You blink, sighing out a breath as your lips curve into a slow smile.

"Thanks for the new mattress, Kyle."

He smirks, brown eyes going soft and warm as he hooks his arm around your waist to drag you closer. Hand cupping your ass, he claims a kiss before he whispers against your lips, "You're welcome."

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