#High-quality bed frame | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harryspet · 9 months ago

Text

lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately. At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it.

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow.

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him.

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in.

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again.

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”.

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest.

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness.

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath?

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him.

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not.

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages.

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was.

You didnd’t know any better, but he did.

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again.

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.”

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him.

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?”

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were.

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth.

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit.

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you.

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched.

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued.

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before.

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate.

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.”

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away.

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club.

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet.

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft.

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck.

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape.

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him.

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you.

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face.

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air.

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied.

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you.

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach.

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong.

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts.

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way.

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed.

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt.

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening.

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea.

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly.

“So?” He replied dismissevly.

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up.

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury.

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small.

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings.

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.”

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable.

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink.

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard.

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm.

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like.

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck.

You melted against him.

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere.

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced.

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple.

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies.

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious.

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes.

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end.

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you.

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further.

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered.

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together.

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water, “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual.

You kept sinking.

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you.

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together.

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,” Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him.

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of.

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips.

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him.

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

#dark fic #rafe cameron #little space #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader

1K notes · View notes

wisecura · 7 months ago

Text

Sweeter (NSFW)

SatoSugu x f!Reader p.2 - 4k (all for the fuckin' smut)

summary: THE PWP FOR: entering high school only to be met with the two hottest strongest sorcerers of your generation was not something you were prepared for. so, what happens when they take a strange liking to their cute, sheltered underclassman?

an: man I'm getting some good practice for writing smut. I hope it's as coherent as my tired brain thought it was. loosely proofread, so please enjoy-

MINORS DNI AFTER HERE

warnings: do not read if you are sensitive to dubcon, or any kind of dark fic topics, small age gap (not even mentioned, they're past high school), arranged marriage, poly relationship, possessive undertones, manipulative undertones, manipulative, some gaslighting, Dom-Suguru, pussydrunk, creampie cleanup, breeding kink, virgin reader that somehow knows how to deepthroat a large cock (with minimal instructions-first try!), if they sound mean-i'm sorry, immature (sheltered) reader,

did you want to read it again?

The wedding was straight out of a fairytale, bathed in the rich, traditional colors that only added to the day’s dreamlike quality.

There he was—Satoru, the man you were about to call your husband.

Each time you glanced at him, dressed sharply, standing poised and perfect, it took your breath away. Marrying the most sought-after bachelor around, a man wrapped in prestige, wealth, and unmatched power and strength, felt crazy. The only word to describe it was surreal.

Satoru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as they announced your union. The kiss–though he'd kissed you plenty of times before, was now on the lips. A little deeper, holding the back of your head, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away too quickly, leaving you breathless.

During the reception, amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, you caught snippets of conversation from Satoru’s relatives, their voices low, gazing at you with a gleam in their eyes. One topic staying constant on their tongues: producing an heir.

It was a layer of expectation that loomed large, suddenly making your new reality even more daunting than you had anticipated.

As the night drew to a close and the estate began to quiet down, the weight of what was expected in your marriage truly settled in. Would Satoru really expect... that... so soon?

The thought of... consummation, when you hadn't even been dating, churned in your stomach as you hesitantly approached his, now your bedroom door. All your belongings were already here, making this vast place your new home, but this final step—something you felt completely unprepared for—loomed large.

With a shaky breath, you knocked gently on the door. The sound echoed slightly in the still hallway, perfectly in tune with the rapid beating of your heart. When the door finally swung open, Satoru loomed above you, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling from the room, haloing him in an almost ethereal glow.

"You came," he remarked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice as if he hadn't fully expected you to follow through. You stood awkwardly a the door, feeling a little shy. Where you not supposed to-

"Come on," his hand reaching out to grasp your arm, pulling you into the room with a gentle tug that caused you to stumble slightly. As you regained your balance, your eyes quickly scanned the room.

It was strikingly sterile, devoid of personal touches, which made it feel less like a bedroom and more like an impersonal guest room. You assumed your belongings had already been neatly stored away in the closet. However, what really caught your attention wasn’t the room’s lack of personality but rather what—or rather, who—was on the large king-sized bed.

Suguru was there, lounging casually as if his presence in this intimate setting was the most natural thing in the world, the sight throwing you off.

"S-Suguru?" Your voice wavered, tinged with disbelief. He hadn't been at the wedding celebrations, and it had been months since you'd last seen him. Overcome with a mix of surprise and relief, you quickly crossed the room and threw yourself onto his lap, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Even I didn't get this reaction," Satoru muttered from behind you, his tone a mix of amusement and mock offense.

Suguru's response was a deep, resonant chuckle that vibrated through his chest, warming you with its familiarity. The position was intimate, but you'd sat on their laps plenty of times before.

Obviously nothing would happen tonight if he was here.

"It's been a while, pretty girl," Suguru murmured, his hand gently caressing your face and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, realizing just how much you had missed his presence.

"Heard you got married while I was gone," his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as you nuzzled closer, reveling in the comfort his presence provided. The familiarity of his scent and the steady beat of his heart soothing your nerves.

"Ok, now I'm starting to get jealous," Satoru's voice came from behind you. You heard his footsteps as he approached, and you felt the bed give way under his weight, his body pressed against your back, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

Suguru's hand reached over your shoulder, affectionately patting Satoru on the head.

"Now why would you be jealous? She's your wife," Suguru teased, his voice light but carrying a note that stirred a chill down your spine. You were still not quite accustomed to being called someone's wife.

"And here you are, all cuddled up next to her," Satoru huffed, his tone playful yet pointed.

"You promised we'd share, Satoru. Don't get greedy now," he added, reminding Satoru of some unspoken agreement that seemed to include you in their plans. You felt nervous as you let outa small breath.

"Promised you'd share?" The words slipped out, small, tinged with disbelief as you craned your neck to look up at Suguru. Almost instantly, you felt Satoru's presence push behind you. His body pressed closer, his breath warm on your neck, and his arms cinched tighter around your waist—a clear sign he didn't appreciate being ignored–even for a moment.

"Of course, sweet girl. We couldn’t possibly let you end up with just anyone," Suguru replied, his tone casual but obviously carrying an coolness that had you momentarily stunned.

"But what do you mean by 'share'?" The question hung awkwardly in the air, your brain not fully wrapping around his meaning.

Suguru's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, technically, you can only marry one of us, right?"

Before you could digest this, Satoru piped up from behind, his voice laced with a mix of jest and arrogance, "And I’m the heir to the Gojo family, so obviously I’m the better choice."

This boast earned him a scathing look from Suguru, who, despite the tension, continued to stroke your head in a seemingly soothing manner. Yet, the gesture now felt more like a claim being staked, adding to the surreal-ness of the situation.

"You've always been part of us, yeah? Every moment we've spent together built towards this. It's natural for us to be together. All ours."

Your mind reeled, struggling to piece together the implications of his words. "I... but I thought we were just friends. What do you mean I've always been yours?"

Satoru's breath was warm against your ear. "Think about it. Who's always been there for you? Who have you spent all your time with? It's always been us, hasn't it? It's not just friendship. It's more than that, and deep down, you know it," he whispered, each word designed to reshape your understanding of the past few years you shared together. Willing you to understand.

"But... How? A marriage is supposed to be between two people–a man and a woman–not... not this," you protested weakly, trying to grasp the reality they presented against everything you thought you knew–everything your clan has taught you.

Suguru laughed softly, a sound that used to comfort you but now seemed to carry a darker undertone. "Who says it has to be just two people?–man, woman, same difference. What we have? It's special, unique. We don't need to follow society's rules. We make our own rules because we're meant to be together. All of us."

Satoru nodded, adding, "Exactly. Why limit ourselves? You're ours, and we're yours. We've shared everything, haven't we? Our food, our time, our secrets. Sharing our lives through marriage is just the next step."

Your face flushed red, a mix of confusion and realization washing over you. "I... I do love you both," you admitted, your voice trembling. "You are the most important people in my life. I can't imagine being without you." Despite the situation, your heart knew these feelings were genuine. You've obviously never confessed, and this just felt so new. So nerve wracking.

Suguru's expression softened, his earlier laughter fading into a more sincere, tender smile. "And we love you, too. More than you can imagine," he assured you, hands collecting your hair together. "We've never planned to let you go, not now, not ever."

As Satoru buried his face deeper into your neck, you felt the warmth of his breath and the gentle kisses he planted along your skin. Each kiss was soft, almost reverent, as he murmured right into your ear, “No matter what happens, even if you wanted to leave, we wouldn’t let you. You're part of us, and that’s how it’s going to stay. We’re in this together, forever.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell with happiness. It felt right, being here with them, more right than anything else ever had. They were no longer just dreams or fantasies—they were real, tangible–and you finally saw them for what they were.

Yours.

Suguru’s hands joined Satoru’s at your waist, tightening his hold just as his gaze pierced into yours. His question was direct, catching you by surprise. "Have you been with anyone before?" His eyes seemed to search for any hint of deceit in your response.

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he meant, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. "No, I’ve.... never been with anyone. I don’t even really know how all this is supposed to work," you admitted, feeling your heart race under his intense attention.

Sensing your nervousness, Suguru suddenly took charge, his voice firm as he instructed Satoru to give you some space. "Scoot back a bit, let's not crowd her," he said, a playful note creeping in his voice. Satoru moved back reluctantly, mumbling a mix of playful huffs and complaints. “She’s my wife,”

"It'll start with kissing," Suguru ignores him, instead focusing his attention on you. "Already done that," you chimed in quickly, remembering the kisses shared with Satoru, the one from the alter-really only wanting to be helpful.

You didn't expect Suguru’s poutily looking away. A hint of annoyance flickering across his face. Sure, he expected the two of you to already kiss when you were married but…. "Satoru’s already kissed you…." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Curious, you asked, "What’s wrong?" Satoru couldn't help but chime in with a grin, "Suguru’s jus’ jealous." Your face turned a deeper shade of red at the tease, but before you could respond, Suguru pulled you into him, his lips meeting yours in a deep, all-consuming kiss. It was intense and filled with an urgency that seemed to be fueled by Satoru’s taunting.

His hands trial down your body, squeezing and pulling you closer, exploring you completely. You're sat in his lap, as he forces your hips to grind into his, an obvious bulge pressing against you, his eyes damn near black–blown out, watching you closely as you break for air.

Looking down, his palms massage your thighs, hitching your nightgown up higher, fingers finally reaching your covered slit as you let out a small whimper from the contact.

You felt all eyes on you, and couldn't help the nerves that coiled in your stomach–even now with you splayed across his lap on display, hungry eyes watching you–you still felt embarrassed. You heard shuffling from behind you, turning your head to meet Satoru-but before you could, Suguru’s hands grabbed your chin to face him.

“Eyes on me, Doll.” The breathy puff of air you let out was all instinctual–the way he so easily commanded your attention with his pet names. And the tremble in your rolling hips forced his eyes back down, trailing his hand across your chest, your stomach, and finally down to the soaked fabric. “Satoru, I think your wife likes me more.”

Your hands grip onto the fabric of his shirt, and you so desperately want to look back when you hear the slick sounds from behind you, Satoru’s annoyed sulky puff at Suguru’s comment sounding out around the loud, wet slaps.

“hah–gimme a minute with her, and let's see who’s talkin’–” But once again Suguru ignores him, his fingers teetering the border of your panties, obviously distracted, before finally sliding a finger along your drenched folds. He lets out a soft chuckle, burying himself in deeper, a sickening squelch reverberating the room, now matching the pace of the sound behind you. So filthy, and you really didn't know any better-

You can't help the low moan you let out, or the way your nails dig into his shoulders, hips bucking into his thick fingers, seeking a release you didn't expect. And just as sudden, he withdrawals his fingers, bringing them up to your face, as if he were scolding you.

“Look at how filthy you are.” he coos out, voice husky. “So cute.” You’re beet red.

"Please, tell me you’re gonna let me have a taste.” Satoru's voice sounds out behind you, begging, more desperate than you've ever heard from him before. “C’mon Suguru, please.”

You could hear the rasp in his words, laced with heavy desire, as you watched Suguru shocked, no- stunned at the request. You couldn't see his face, but the audible fapping noises behind you were enough to give you a picture.

“What do you think, doll? Should we let him taste?” His voice dripping in amusement, as you shake your head, mouth agape, “t-that’s nasty, Sugur–” before you could finish your protest, Suguru leans over you, pulling Satoru in by his neck, pushing you down on the bed in the process.

Now hovering above you, slotted between your legs–his hardened length firmly pressed against your center. You finally have a clear image of them both, as you see his fingers being shoved into Satoru’s mouth, grip choking him, and the lewd image of his fingers fucking into his mouth would stay ingrained into your mind for weeks after–you've never seen him so rough before.

And what shocked you moreso was when Satoru practically moaned at the contact of your taste on his tongue, lolling out, leaning into his aggressive hold as if it were the most natural thing ever. He greedily laps Suguru's fingers, fingers gripping Suguru’s wrist close, eyes rolling back, a sinful expression gracing his face.

You have a clear view of just what Satoru was up to behind your back, his massive hand actively stroking his girthy cock, now inches from your face. You can't keep your eyes off of it as you study it religiously. You've never seen one before. Was that thing supposed to….fit inside you? ]

Suguru chuckled lowly at your reactions, gaze locked onto you before pulling his fingers from Satoru’s mouth, releasing his hold on his neck.

“He’s such a nasty boy, don't you think? Getting all hard from his wife being felt up like that.” Your eyes find Suguru’s again as he watches you closely. You can't respond-and how were you supposed to with two very large, very big men standing over you?

“You nervous?” you nod before you could stop yourself. Without hesitating, he pushes himself into you, spurring a small whimper from you, “It’s okay baby. We’ll take good care of you.” His fingers find your clit through your panties, as he continues grinding into you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge, mind going fuzzy as you watch Satoru stroking himself.

His eyes meet yours, glazing over, pupils matching Suguru’s, and they both sense your impending orgasm growing with every passing second, your body responding to Suguru’s touch despite your initial hesitation. "You're so wet already, doll," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels so tight ‘n warm.”

Satoru chuckles, licking his lips as he watches Suguru's movements, leaning down to hover over your face, “Wanna taste?” And before you could answer, he’s leaning into a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips, and you can taste your own slick on him.

Breaking away, his fingers make their way to your mouth, eyes watching you, burning you. He moves his thumb away from your mouth, replacing it with the tip of his cock instead, tracing your lips with it. "Open up."

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you hesitantly part your lips, allowing Satoru to slide his cock inside. Your eyes widen as you taste him for the first time, a salty white thickness coating your tongue. Suguru takes this opportunity to slide a finger inside you once again, curling it just right to hit that spot.

You moan involuntarily, your hips bucking against his hand, allowing Satoru's cock in deeper, almost choking on it. Satoru smirks, his hands moving to grip your head, guiding your movements. He loves the way you look with his cock in your mouth, so innocent yet so sinful. He thrusts deeper, his hips rocking against your face, as you continue slurping on his thick cock. “Eh eh, no teeth baby, hollow out that mouth, jus like that, goooood girl–”

“Cmon now Satoru, she can't breathe.” Suguru reprimands lightly, your head going dizzy at the lack of oxygen.

“You sure you're a virgin?” Satoru moaned out, “sure doesn't seem like it.”

“Easy now, Satoru, don't make me tie you down.” You barely catch the words, Satoru filling your mouth as drool pooled around the edges. You’d complain, but the moans coming from Satoru were godly, and the feel of Suguru grinding into your clothed cunt had easily clouded your thoughts.

“So good fer me,” Satoru praises, pulling his cock from your mouth, leaving behind a trail of saliva. They both are mesmerized at how your body takes them both so well, each stimulation eliciting such a vulgar reaction from you. You already looked fucked out and they haven’t even started.

Suguru pulls your panties down now, fixated on your weeping bare cunt, drawing satorus attention. “Sucha pretty little hole.” His fingers trail the edges, before dipping inside, and you moan at the intrusion.

“Let's keep this mouth busy, yeah?” and before you know it, Satoru’s cock is back on your tongue, thrusting in deep, as you gag. The sight of your pretty mouth struggling to accommodate him only spurs him on, and you do your best to relax your jaw–only hoping that you were doing it right.

Suguru's eyes flicker with a primal hunger as he watches you struggle to adjust to Satoru's cock. He withdraws his fingers from you slowly, leaving you aching and empty for just a moment before he replaces them with something much larger.

You feel his cock press against your entrance, causing your eyes to widen, not sure he’d be able to even fit there. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, gripping your head firmer as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. Suguru leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "Relax," he whispers soothingly. "It'll be easier if you just relax, baby."

You nod, trying to settle down, trusting him completely, he slowly pushes himself inside you, his thick length stretching you wide open. You whimper around Satoru's cock as Suguru fills you up, pleasure and pain melding together in a heady mix, the stretch almost unbearable.

Satoru groans at the feel of your throats vibrations, as Suguru gives you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, his hips rocking into yours in a slow, steady rhythm. Satoru matches his pace, thrusting in sync with Suguru. You feel completely filled, sandwiched between them both. They take turns praising you, their voices muffled by their own pleasure-filled moans.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." Suguru's husky voice echoes through your mind as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper inside your sloppy pussy. "Such a good girl, taking both of us so well." Satoru adds, his breathing labored as he watches Suguru claim you, eagerly awaiting his turn.

Their movements become more erratic as they lose themselves in their lust, their hands roaming over your body possessively.

Suguru's thumb circles your clit faster, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, as Satoru thrusts harder into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You moan around him again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him, causing his hips to stutter. They continue to worship your body, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Should I cum in this pussy?” Suguru says, staring down at you through hooded eyes.

His words send a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy, your walls contracting around him involuntarily. His grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming rougher as he groans, "Fuck yes, I'm going to cum inside you, this pussy will be dripping, ‘m gonna give you so much." His eyes bore into yours, filled with a possessive hunger that makes you squirm. Satoru groans at the sight, his cock pulsing against your tongue.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth momentarily to trail wet kisses down your neck, leaving your mouth open for you to sputter out a string of curses and moans. He circles your nipple with his tongue, making you arch into him as Suguru continues to fuck you mercilessly. “Fuck, she's so responsive.” His own climax building at the sight of your impending orgasm.

Suguru grunts in approval at your response, his hips driving harder into yours, his cock stretching you deliciously. You can hear the offensive wet sounds of their movements filling the room, making your core clench even more around Suguru's length. "you're so goddamn tight,"

Suguru curses, his control slipping. Satoru's lips leave your nipple to trail kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to cum for us, aren't you, sweetheart?" He asks huskily, his hand wandering down to grip your thigh, holding it aside so he could see better.

"Mhmph," you moan, nodding vigorously, your body trembling under the dual assault. Suguru grunts, his pace relentless as he feels your pussy begin to spasm around him. "That's it, take it all, you're doing so well," Satoru praises, his voice rough, strained with arousal. Suguru's movements become erratic as he chases his own climax, his thrusts becoming rougher, deeper, more primal.

"Fuckfuck–yes, cum on this dick,” He curses as his orgasm hits, his cock pulsing inside you as he releases hot streams of cum. Your walls tighten around him, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, making you buck wildly against him.

Suguru growls as he feels you clamp around him, cursing as he sinks his fingers into you tighter. Satoru watches intently, his hand gripping the base of his cock tightly to prevent himself from cumming too soon. Suguru's movements slow, but he doesn’t pull out, letting his cum fill you as he catches his breath. "Holy shit. You were holdin' out on us."

Suguru presses soft kisses against your neck while he waits for you to come down from your high. Suguru withdraws from you slowly, his cum trickling down onto the king bed below you. Before you can catch your breath, Satoru takes his place, his cock pressing against your sensitive entrance. "My turn now," and before you can protest, he thrusts in deep as Suguru leans in to capture your pathetic whimpers with a filthy kiss.

Satoru's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deeper into you–the stretch so familiar but so different, his movements calculated to drive you wild. "So wet,so sososo so good," he groans, his pace increasing steadily. He loves the feeling of you around him, the way your walls clench with each stroke, recovering from your orgasm-pulsating just right-so hotsohotsohot, Suguru’s cum working as a lube for your poor abused hole–no doubt overstimulated. Suguru watches from the side, stroking himself lazily as he watches Satoru claim you, his own lust rekindled. They both lose themselves in the moment, completely consumed by their desire for you.

"You're going to take every drop," Satoru grunts, his own orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as you feel your climax approaching at a scary speed, your body begging for release as he hits all the right spots.

When you finally cum, your pussy milks him greedily, pulling out every last drop of cum. They both groan in pleasure, the sight of you too good to pass up, as Satoru pulls out, he chuckles at your spent form, the sight of his cum dripping from you making him hard again already. Collapsing on the bed next to you, spent and satisfied.

He reaches out to trace patterns over your sensitive folds, playing with the mess they've made together, slick pooling at his fingertips. "Look at what a good little slut you are, stuffed by two men's seeds," he teases, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your thigh before looking over at Suguru with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You think she can handle us both filling her up?"

Suguru looks over at you with a hungry gaze, he runs a hand through his dark hair, eyes trailing down to where their cum pools between your legs. "We'll have to see," he says, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He moves closer, positioning himself beside Satoru so that they're both looming over you, staring down at your spent form. "But first, Be a good boy, Satoru, and clean her up."

His hand on the back of his head, but you don't think he needed much convincing. Satoru leans forward without hesitation, his tongue licking up the mixture of their cum from your inner thighs- drawing patterns, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of both of their essences mixed with your sweetness. You whimper at the sensation, your body still sensitive and now overstimulated.

Suguru watches, his hand gripping Satoru's hair tightly, his own cock stirring again at the sight of Satoru’s tongue dipping into your pussy, tonguing the white mixture, with a nasty blissed out expression.

"Spread wider for him, doll," he instructs, his voice husky with desire. You obey automatically despite you craving the need to shut them tightly, your legs trembling as Satoru's tongue delves deeper, arms pinning your bucking hips down to the bed.

You moan out loudly, your body writhing beneath him, as Satoru licks and sucks at your swollen clit, relishing in your responsiveness, swallowing down every drop that your pussy gave him.

Suguru reaches over him to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples gently as he watches Satoru work his magic on your sensitive nerves. "Such a good girl," he praises, his free hand stroking his hardening cock again. "So responsive, so eager for more. You really ready for round two?"

Satoru smirks up at Suguru, licking cum from his lips before leaning up to meet his lips in a filthy kiss. You watch in a haze of pleasure as they share your taste, their tongues tangling together hungrily. When they finally pull apart, Suguru's eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at you.

"I think she's ready for whatever we want to give her,"

did you want to read it again?

come home, this one has a second home

1K notes · View notes

tfwbluu · 6 months ago

Text

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — sub!riki & dom!reader, both of them are idols, reader’s older than rik’s by a year, noona kink, oral (m. rec), edging/overstimulation, degradation/praise, bondage, blindfolds, creampie, pet names + reader calls him baby boy, pictures/sextape, aftercare.

WORDCOUNT — 2.4K

NOTE — i mixed like three reqs into this one cs i got lazy zzz im just gonna drop this and leave (,, ‸ ‸ ,, ) rik’s just wants to be a good boy. . lmk if i missed smth in the warnings.

You had just finished a photoshoot with one of the brands you're an ambassador for. Finally getting home, you unlocked the door to the private space you shared with Riki—a place meant just for the two of you to escape and enjoy some “quality time”. You figured it was still early enough to take a nap together, especially since you remembered he only had one comeback shoot scheduled for the day.

Walking in, you heard faint squelching noises echoing through the halls. Curiosity piqued, you followed the sounds, your steps growing quieter as you approached. The soft, high-pitched whines bouncing off the walls grew louder until they led you to your shared bedroom.

Peeking inside, you were greeted by the sight of Riki, completely lost in his own pleasure. He sat on the edge of the bed, desperately jerking himself off, his stage makeup still intact, though he'd changed into one of his hoodies and a pair of sweats. His hand worked furiously, his cock slick with precum, but no matter how hard he tried, he seemed unable to finish.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Riki froze, his head snapping toward you, eyes wide in shock. His cheeks turned a vivid pink as realization dawned—he hadn’t noticed you’d come home. His cock twitched in his hand, dripping with precum, as he scrambled to process the situation.

“My, I never thought you’d have the guts, baby,” you teased, stepping into the room and locking the door behind you. “Couldn’t even wait for me?” you pouted, now standing directly in front of him.

Riki’s head dropped, his gaze fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. His hands gripped the bed sheets beneath him, his cock pressing heavily against his pants, flushed and needy.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” you demanded, gripping his chin and forcing his face to meet your gaze. His breath hitched, a soft yelp escaping his lips as you lightly slapped his cock, watching it twitch in response.

“Didn’t even ask for permission,” you continued, your tone sharp but laced with teasing amusement. “Such big hands, and yet you can’t even make yourself cum without my help, hmm?”

“N-no, noona,” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His face burned with humiliation and arousal, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You know what happens to naughty boys, don’t you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Undress. Sit on that chair.”

You stepped back, giving him space, and watched as he obeyed, his hands trembling slightly as he began to strip. His flushed skin glistened under the soft light, his eyes flicking nervously between you and the floor.

You walked to the dresser, retrieving a small box as Riki obediently stripped himself bare. His skin prickled with exposure and vulnerability as he stood completely naked before you, while you remained fully dressed. His eyes wandered over you, unable to resist admiring every detail—the way your perfectly styled hair frames your face, the sharp intensity of your gaze, and the bold, glossy red of your lips that seemed to command his submission without a word.

He twitched at the sight, unable to hide how much just looking at you affected him. Settling into the cushioned chair, he watched you anxiously, anticipation bubbling in his chest as he tried to guess what you had planned.

“Sit still for me, okay, baby?” you mused, your tone light and teasing as you walked toward him with a small box in hand. Placing it on the table beside him, you opened it deliberately, keeping its contents hidden from his view.

Before he could ask or peek, darkness overtook his vision as you slipped a blindfold over his eyes. Deprived of sight, his remaining senses sharpened. The warmth of your breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine as your lips placed a feather-light kiss on the mole there.

“Sensitive?” you teased, your voice like silk as your hands wandered up and down his torso. Your fingertips grazed his nipples, teasing them lightly, and he twitched under your touch.

“Ngh… noona…” he whined, his voice laced with need. His cock, flushed red and angry, throbbed as he unconsciously bucked his hips into the air, desperately seeking relief that wasn’t coming.

“Ah. I almost forgot,” you said, your tone playful as you reached into the box. Pulling out a length of crimson rope, you let it trail through your fingers. “Lean forward a little for me, and put your arms behind your back, baby boy,” you asked sweetly, your words soft yet commanding.

Though hesitant, Riki obeyed, leaning forward and presenting his arms. You worked with practiced precision, winding the rope securely around his biceps and forearms, binding them to the back of the chair. The knot you tied was firm yet intricate, finished with a delicate, decorative bow.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you stepped back to admire your masterpiece. Riki trembled with desire, his body taut with tension. The way his arousal dripped onto the floor below only added to his delicious vulnerability.

You bit your lip, grabbing your phone to snap a picture of him. ‘Pretty,’ you thought, moving to tug on his hair and pulling him into a kiss that he whined into.

“N-noona… p-please,” he whimpered, his voice shaky as his hips bucked into the air, searching for any kind of friction.

You started a small recording, capturing his tied-up, blindfolded form. Blowing lightly over his flushed, throbbing length, you watched as a shiver ran through him, his gasp breaking the quiet, desperate for the warmth of your touch.

“Say hi to the camera,” you cooed, filming his entire body, wanting to preserve this moment forever.

“H-hi...” he managed, his voice a soft, shaky whimper.

“Are you okay with me recording, baby?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, it’s okay…” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled and leaned in, leaving a soft peck on his lips. “Good boy,” you murmured, watching his cheeks tint with warmth.

You set the camera on the table, perfectly positioned to capture the two of you. “What were you saying again? Please what, sweetheart?” you asked, your voice a sultry purr as you leaned in closer.

“P-please... touch me,” he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise! ‘M sorry for touching myself without your permission—ah!”

His apology dissolved into a moan of relief as your hand finally wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly, almost lazily. Each deliberate movement of your hand was a taunt, drawing out his pleasure while you watched him unravel. His arousal slicked your palm as his chest heaved with shallow breaths.

“So needy...” you cooed, your lips brushing over the mole on his abs before trailing upward, kissing his neck. You left a trail of red lipstick marks as a reminder of your claim. His moans grew heavier, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“N-noona, please, need m-more!” he begged, his body straining against the crimson ropes, the bindings leaving flushed marks on his skin.

Helpless and utterly at your mercy, he could do nothing but take what you chose to give, his desperation spilling from every gasp and whimper.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you began with delicate kitten licks on his swollen tip, savoring the way he twitched under your tongue. Your lips wrapped around him lightly, sucking just enough to make him shudder, while your hand stroked the rest of his length in slow, deliberate movements.

A soft gasp escaped him as his hips lifted slightly, thrusting into your mouth instinctively. You allowed it, letting him chase just a little relief, all while keeping your pace teasingly unhurried. His body tensed as he teetered on the edge of release, his cock twitching in your grasp. But just as he was about to spill over, you stopped. His frustrated whine filled the air.

“Noona…” he whimpered, his voice shaky and desperate.

“Remember, darling,” you said with a teasing smirk, your hand brushing over his throbbing length, “only good boys get to cum.” You resumed stroking him slowly, watching his hips twitch as you built him back up.

You teased him relentlessly, stroking and sucking him just enough to push him to the edge, only to stop each time he neared his peak. It left him breathless, his whimpers growing more pathetic with every denial.

Finally, his trembling body betrayed him. He came suddenly, thick ropes of release spilling onto your hand and his stomach. Relief flickered across his face, but it was fleeting as your touch never faltered.

“F-fuck… Noona!” he yelped, his voice breaking as your hand began moving faster, not giving him a moment to recover. His oversensitive body writhed against the crimson binds, and within moments, another wave crashed over him, spilling more of his release.

“You’re so tense, baby.” you teased, coaxing every last drop out of him.

“Noona~!” he cried out, his third climax ripping through him, his release pooling on his toned abs alongside the red marks of your kisses.

His flushed face, sweat glistening on his skin, and tear-streaked cheeks made him utterly irresistible. His swollen, red lips practically begged to be kissed, and you obliged, silencing his whines as your mouth claimed his, your hand finally slowing.

‘Fuck, he’s so pretty,’ you thought, finally taking a moment to admire him fully.

Slowly, you undressed, leaving only your top, before positioning yourself atop him. Aligning his still-hard cock with your slick entrance, you slid down his length. He let out a choked sob at the overwhelming sensation, his sensitivity making every movement more intense.

“Such a big cock, filling me up so good, yeah?” you praised, moving up and down on him, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“T-thank you, Noona… feels so g-good!” he babbled, his head falling back in ecstasy.

You tugged his head forward by his hair, pulling off the soaked blindfold, and his glassy, tear-filled eyes met yours. Silencing his desperate noises with a deep kiss, you muffled his cries as you rode him harder.

“F-feels... ssoo guhd, nnnmh... f-fuck plees, noona... p-pleasee...” he mewled against your lips, his muffled voice trembling, but you understood him perfectly.

“You’ve got one more in you, baby?” you murmured, your forehead resting against his. “You’ve been such a good boy—just one more, hmm?” Your thumb softly caressed his damp cheek as you held his gaze.

He nodded weakly, his voice lost to the pleasure consuming him. Your movements became frantic as you chased your release, your hand dipping down to stroke your clit.

“N-Noona… c-close…” he mumbled between broken moans, his body trembling beneath you.

“Hmm, cum inside me, baby,” you purred, your hips meeting his thrusts as you felt the tightening coil in your belly snap.

Both of you reached your peak in unison, his warmth spilling into you as your walls clenched around him, soaking his cock in your release. You sighed in relief, easing off him as his cum spilled out, dripping down his length and pooling beneath you.

“D-did I do good, noona? Was I a good boy?” he asked, his voice soft as he looked up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes.

“Yes, you were, baby. Such a good boy for me,” you praised, gently caressing his flushed cheeks.

Reaching for your phone, you ended the recording with a satisfied hum. But before setting it down, you couldn’t resist snapping one final picture of Riki—trembling and spent, his body adorned with your red kiss marks, glistening with sweat and streaked with cum.

“Smile, baby,” you cooed, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you admired your masterpiece, saving the photo as a private keepsake for your eyes only.

Putting your phone down, you turned your full attention back to him, your eyes raking over his trembling form.

“You okay Ki?” You asked gently, patting his head.

“Hmm, ‘m okay,” he mumbled, gazing up at you with adoring eyes. You couldn’t help but think, cute, as you gently squished his cheeks.

“Wanna kiss.” he pouts, “let me take off the ropes first baby.” you mused, removing them slowly.

Fuck. You can’t help but feel a sense of pride looking at the marks on his skin, ‘All mine’ you thought possessively.

“Let’s take a bath, okay baby?” you said, holding onto him as you walked him to the bathroom.

You guided Riki to sit on the toilet while you prepared the bath, testing the water until it was just right. Once the tub was ready, you helped him ease in, his muscles visibly relaxing as the warmth enveloped him. After slipping off the rest of your clothing, you joined him, settling in front of him.

With gentle hands, you washed him, massaging shampoo into his hair and carefully cleaning his body. Between each motion, you left small kisses on his skin, earning soft hums of contentment from him.

Afterward, the two of you dried off, his tired hands fumbling to hand you one of his hoodies. You chuckled at his persistence and slipped it on, indulging his request.

Finally, you both climbed into bed, Riki instantly wrapping himself around you, his lips pressing light kisses against your neck.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, his voice quiet.

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be sorry,” you reassured him, your fingers gently threading through his damp hair. “Plus, you looked so pretty f’ me.” You teased, unlocking your phone and showing him the lewd pictures and video you had taken. His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed pink all over again.

“Hmph, I just wanted noona so bad, was thinking about you the whole time I was recording the comeback stage. Couldn’t help myself,” he huffed, burying his face against your skin. “Hyungs were annoying too, kept teasing me for missing you,” he added with a pout, looking up at you with those wide, puppy-dog eyes.

“I’ll talk to them later,” you replied, smiling softly. “Let’s take a nap, yeah? You must be tired.” Your hand moved to stroke his hair, lulling him further into relaxation.

“Kiss?”

“Okay, you big baby,” you giggled, leaning down to press a long, soft kiss to his lips. “Sleep well, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, noona,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth as his eyes fluttered shut, completely at ease in your arms.

#( tfwbluu )#enha x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #niki smut #niki x reader #riki smut #riki x reader #ni ki smut #ni ki x reader #sub enhypen

663 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 7 months ago

Note

For monsters would robots or mechs be considered under the umbrella? If so I'd love to see one of those

robot!2000 x human!Reader Good to know: smut, filming

A/N: I'm not sure they count as monsters, but we don't care about it here, so here it is:

"Are you sure it won't hurt me?"

"It'll be fine, Y/N," the director says, holding up a sleek, black remote. A tiny red light blinks at its center. "See? I can turn it off anytime. You've got nothing to worry about."

His words don’t entirely soothe the flutter of nerves tightening in your stomach, but you decide to let it slide. Instead, you take a steadying breath and let your gaze drift to the set. They've dressed it as a bedroom this time, with warm, earthy tones and fabrics that seem to glow under the studio lights. A plush comforter and layers of silky throws drape over the bed in the center. Their textures and hues are softened by the bright glow. It’s familiar and ordinary, yet there’s one aspect that pulls your gaze: the robot. Perched at the edge of the bed, it sits still and silent. Its steel-blue body catches the light in sharp reflections. Its hard lines and edges define a shape that’s more machine than man. Where eyes should be, two glassy lenses stare blankly ahead, they are more like headlights than anything else. There's no nose, no lips, just a featureless mask of metal. The craftsmanship is impressive, each seam welded with care, every surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, but despite the quality, it’s still unlike anything you’ve worked with before.

"It’s just a trial run, Y/N," the director assures you, a touch of seriousness entering his voice. He knows you are hesitating. "And remember, we can stop at any moment. You are in control."

"Yeah," you reply with a sigh. There's still a thread of doubt in your mind, but a spark of curiosity flickers to life as well. How would this even work? What would it feel like? Your imagination spirals through possibilities that feel both thrilling and unsettling.

“Think of it as a high-tech vibrator with some... extras," someone quips from the crew, breaking the tension. You let out a huff of laugh at the absurdity of it all but still feel yourself relax a little. Looking at it now, cold and mechanical, it’s actually easier to imagine it as an oversized toy than a person.

"Alright, let's begin," you finally say, shrugging the soft robe off your shoulders and letting it pool at your feet. Bare and exposed, you cross the set with slow, deliberate steps.

Though you've been on sets like this many times before, it feels strangely unfamiliar now. There’s an odd hollowness to the room; you’re acutely aware of being alone in front of the cameras. Each lens is trained intently on you, capturing your every movement. Before, there was always someone by your side to share the stage with.

But now, it’s just you and… it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you can’t help but glance back and forth between the crew behind the lights and the motionless hulk of metal before you. It sits there, rigid and silent. You feel its presence but can’t shake how empty it seems.

After a moment, you call out, "What should I do?" You squint toward the lights, knowing the director is there, though you can’t make him out through the brightness.

"Get to know it better," he replies smoothly, his tone both encouraging and calm. "I won’t turn it on until you say so."

"Does it have a name?" you ask, stepping closer until your leg brushes his knees. It's cold against your skin.

"Two Thousand, for short."

"Still a mouthful," you mutter, earning a snort from somewhere off-set, and you roll your eyes with a chuckle of your own.

Turning your attention back to the robot, you take a cautious step forward, positioning yourself between its legs. The metal frame looms over you, so still that it feels both fragile and imposing. You shuffle carefully, aware of every inch of space, worried that a single misstep might send it toppling.

"Okay, 2K," you murmur, almost to yourself. Standing there, bare under the watchful eyes of the cameras, you feel a strange vulnerability with something that doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

The lights catch the robot’s exterior, highlighting its metallic shell in shifting hues of steel and blue. With a slight tremble, you reach out, fingers brushing its cold face, feeling the smoothness of its mask-like surface. It doesn’t give under your touch; no warmth, no softness. Your fingertips trace along the hard lines and rigid contours, searching for something familiar, something human, or monster, that isn't there. Each feature is crafted with an almost unsettling precision, as though whoever designed it aimed to capture a form but left out the essence. One of your hands trails down from the robot’s face to touch its shoulder, feeling the ridges and seams where each piece of the outer shell connects.

"Alright, 2K," you whisper, inching closer. Your fingers explore further down, testing how it might feel to embrace this odd, unyielding body. Its chest is solid, a sleek, polished surface that feels strangely impersonal, and yet… as your hands slide over its torso, you can sense the immense complexity beneath the exterior, the intricate network of wires and mechanisms that make it tick. A part of you wants to press your ear to its chest, to see if you can hear something, a hum, a pulse, anything that might hint at life within this shell, but you know you would find nothing.

"I'm ready," you murmur, glancing up at the cameras and bright lamps surrounding you. The weight of their gaze feels heavier now as if just remembering that you are not alone. At least, not entirely. You give a small nod toward the lights. "You can turn it on."

A moment passes, and you catch a slight flicker behind the robot's eyes as the director presses a button on the remote. The room holds its breath, the silence thickening as you watch the lifeless machine come to life.

Slowly, there’s a shift. The machine’s joints emit a faint whirring sound as it adjusts its stance, trying to seem relaxed and comfortable. The blue lights in its eyes brighten, and its head lifts a little. Though you can't be sure, it feels like its unblinking gaze is fixed on you with a weight that wasn't there a moment ago. It’s subtle, but there’s a presence now, an awareness that sends a ripple through the air.

“Hello, 2K,” you say. Your voice is softer now, almost like a whisper. You reach out again, feeling the same cold metal under your fingertips, but this time, it’s as if the machine acknowledges your touch, its head tilting slightly in response.

"It can't speak yet," the director interjects, cutting through the charged atmosphere. "It can understand what you say, but we still need some programming before it's finished."

You nod, absorbing this information. "And what should we do?" Your voice is steady but laced with uncertainty. In any other filming scenario, you could rely on the other actor to take the lead, to help you navigate the scene if you feel lost, but right now, the only companion you have is the robot who merely sits on the bed, staring at you silently.

The director clears his throat, his gaze shifting from the monitor back to you. "Just engage with it. Think of it as a scene with a living character."

You nod slowly, but when you’re sure the cameras can’t capture your expression, you can’t help but grimace. It’s definitely easier said than done. The concept of treating this cold, unfeeling machine as if it were alive feels impossible.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing in your veins. "Okay, 2K," you sigh again with a hint of determination in your voice. “Help me make this interesting.”

Your words seem to reach deeper than you thought they would because the next second, its, no, it doesn’t feel right anymore, his hands lift from his hard thighs, palms smoothing over your hips with a surprising gentleness.

"Oh," you gasp, taken aback by the shock and coldness of his touch.

“Told you it can understand you,” the director says with a hint of laughter dancing in his voice.

You blink, trying to process what just happened. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

The robot’s hands remain on your hips, steady and firm, yet the way they linger carries a strange tenderness. The cool metal against your skin becomes a focal point, heightening your senses, and making the world around you fade away just a little.

“Let’s see where this goes,” you say. “So, what now? Do you have a plan, or are we just improvising?” You mean it as a joke, but the robot reacts anyway.

The whirring sound grows louder, a mechanical hum resonating through the air as his grip on your hip tightens just enough to pull you onto his lap. Another shocked gasp escapes your lips as you feel the hard edges of his frame press against your own soft thighs. The contrast is startling yet strangely thrilling.

"We have to do something with the sound," some murmurs in the background.

Your hands instinctively find their place on his wide shoulders, fingers curling into the smooth surface of his metallic body. The way he holds you is surprisingly secure, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he’s navigating the balance between strength and caution.

“Okay, 2K,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, a playful challenge underlying your tone. “What’s your next move?”

His hand from your side slips up to your breast, gently exploring the softness of your flesh in his cold grip. The contrast of his metallic touch against your skin sends a ripple of sensation through you, hardening your nipple instantly. You hold your breath, the moment feeling both intimate and surreal as his fingertips glide over the underside, tracing the outline in careful exploration.

“Oh,” you murmur with a hint of chuckle. “You’re definitely more curious than I expected.”

You lean into him more, allowing yourself to embrace the moment. “Show me what you’ve got,” you say playfully.

Your heart races with anticipation, but his response is immediate. You feel his grip shift slightly, adjusting his hold around you so you sink more against him.

“What do you think of this?” you ask, cupping your breasts and pressing them together in a way that angles them for the cameras, ensuring they catch the moment. “Do you like it?” You try to shake off the awkwardness that comes from the robot’s silence, the lack of an audible answer hanging in the air tensely. Instead of words, 2K reaches out again. His movements are smooth and deliberate. His thumbs glide over your skin, brushing against your nipples. The coolness of his metal touch contrasts sharply with the warmth of your body.

“Wow,” you breathe out, caught off guard by how responsive he is, despite his silence. His exploration feels almost intimate as if he’s not just following instructions but genuinely interacting with you. You instinctively arch toward him, craving more of his curious touch.

The cameras continue to roll, capturing every word and every movement, but the watchful eyes are slipped to the back of your mind by now.

“Let’s move on,” the director says quietly. His voice cut through the haze of your focus. As usual, you want to follow his instruction without hesitation, but as you glance down between your bodies, you find… nothing. Your eyes widen in recognition, and confusion washes over you.

“Where- where is his dick?” you stammer, looking up at the bright lights as if they might offer some explanation for the sudden gap in your understanding, but before anyone can reply, the 2K reacts. With a smooth mechanical grace and a whirring sound, the plates beneath the sleek metal of its abdomen slide apart. His cock emerges, firm and gleaming. It juts out between your bodies, stealing your breath away for several seconds.

"This guy is full of surprises, isn't it?" You ask, almost laughing.

The director hums with a chuckle. "I believe you know what you have to do from now on."

A few silent seconds stretch out before you finally speak up again. “But how does it work? Does he need to consent? I mean-"

“Y/N, it’s a robot... he’s really just a giant vibrator."

“Yeah, but-" The longer you look at him, the more difficult it becomes to see him as just a hunk of metal, especially when his smooth, mechanical hands start to caress your bare skin. He draws delicate circles on your sides, the touch sending shivers up your spine, and gently pulls at your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to elicit a gasp from your lips. Each calculated movement blurs the lines between machine and human, igniting a flicker of warmth within you that makes it impossible to ignore the growing excitement.

"I think we can call it consent," somebody says in the background with a touch of surprise in his voice when the robot grips your hips firmly, lifting you slightly off his lap just enough to glide his cock across your damp folds. The cold touch on your heated center sends a ripple over your spine and your hands tighten on his shoulders with anticipation. You feel weightless in his strong grasp as he effortlessly supports your body, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to ease you down onto his length. Each inch of him stretches you, testing your limits, and you can’t help but feel grateful for the preparation you did before filming. He slips inside you with surprising ease, filling you completely until every inch of his erection is enveloped within you. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you wiggle against him, seeking friction and fueled by a surge of curiosity. The coolness of his metallic form contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from your center, creating a tantalizing sensation that dances between discomfort and pleasure.

"I want a close-up," the director says to someone.

As you adjust to the fullness, your body instinctively reacts, contracting around him, eager for more. With each subtle shift of your hips, your breath hitches in your throat. The robot responds to your movements, adapting to your rhythm with uncanny precision. His hands remain firmly on your hips, guiding you gently as you rock against him, drawing out moans that echo in the quiet room.

You can sense the curiosity of those watching, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. It's new to them too.

You lean back slightly, arching your back for the camera as 2K's shaft glides in and out of you. Each thrust pushes you higher, and you can feel the pulse of desire building within you, throbbing and urging for more. You feel every subtle shift, every thrust, as he adapts to your movements. His body responds seamlessly to your desires. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you so completely, sends waves of pleasure radiating through your entire being. You feel like a raw nerve, perched on his lap with his arms around you, holding you and guiding you up and down on his cock. You rock your hips against him, half-delirious, seeking that perfect angle that sends your pleasure soaring. You feel him respond once again, adjusting his hold around you as his movements become more urgent, more insistent. He matches your rhythm, driving deeper into your bouncing heat.

In the back of your mind, you are still aware of the cameras filming you, and you try to do what you usually do for the right angles and records, but every fiber within you urges you to be selfish and chase your pleasure.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan as you feel the tension coiling tightly in your abdomen. Your breaths come in quick, shallow gasps, mingling with the soft, whirring sounds of the robot. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a blend of raw human desire and robotic precision for your pleasure.

You grip his shoulders tighter. Your nails scratch over the smooth, metal surface. “I’m close,” you croak out. Urgency laces your voice, but before you can finish the sentence, something shifts. A high-pitched moan escapes your lips as you jolt on his length. The moment the robot's cock begins to vibrate, the world around you blurs, and all thought evaporates in your foggy mind.

The vibrations travel through you like a current, sending shockwaves of pleasure from your core. Each pulse ignites your senses, overwhelming you in the best possible way. Instinctively, you arch your back more, pressing down on him harder. The metal surface of his erection, once cool, now feels alive against your heated walls. The rhythmic buzz amplifies every movement, and with each thrust, you swear you can feel the vibration in your pussy on the tip of your fingers too.

You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips in a maddening rhythm. It feels as if the entire world has narrowed down to this one electrifying moment. Your breaths come faster, more desperate, each gasp mingling with the mechanical hum of the robot.

You are teetering on the edge, and then, with one final surge of vibrations and powerful thrusts, you feel it. Your body trembles as the pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and blissfully adrift in your climax.

As your mind clears enough for you to lift your head from the robot’s shoulder, you gaze up at the director, noticing that the lights have dimmed slightly, casting a softer glow over the room. “How was it?” you ask breathlessly, still suspended in the remains of your incredible release. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around his rigid cock, instinctively trying to milk something more, craving that sweet sensation once again.

The man watching from his seat smirks with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I think it will work.”

#monster romance #monster smut #sweet asks #robot smut #robot x reader #robot x human #robophilia

931 notes · View notes

duskidolsmut · 11 days ago

Text

BLACKPINK: Porn Live Experience - Parte 2

Context: The second live was more intense, bold and full of tension. The members explored new limits, responded to tough challenges from fans and provoked each other like never before. Before closing, a new challenge was launched — and it promises to turn the next fan meet into an unforgettable competition.

Tags: BDSM, domination, humiliation, foot fetish, piss, golden shower, anal sex, anal virgin, blowjob, hairy pussy, clamps, submission, pet play, public sex, deserted alley, live cam, private live, sadism, oral sex, dirty ass, squirt, cum in ass, power play, sexy clothes, leather, dirty boots, concrete, dirt, disgust, degradation, improvised threesome, voyeurism.

W: 6.339

The door opens slowly.

Jennie walks in first, wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt—covering just enough to tease more than it hides. She closes the door unhurriedly, then saunters over to the tripod where the camera sits. Leaning in, she turns it on. The first close-up? Her tits, half-revealed as she bends down and the shirt gapes open.

Jennie (voice low, almost a whisper):

“Did you miss us… or were you already touching yourselves without us?”

Lisa appears next, her hair in a high ponytail, black lace lingerie peeking under satin pants split at the sides. She heads straight for the bed, sitting cross-legged.

Rosé follows close behind—a wine-red robe over bare skin, hair loose, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She’s holding a remote—maybe for the camera, maybe for something else.

Jisoo enters last: a black tee knotted above her navel, plain panties underneath. She shuts the door slowly, then walks right up to the camera, crowding the frame like she could step through the screen.

The four settle into the room—Lisa lounging on her side with a lazy grin, Rosé kneeling at the center of the bed, Jennie stretching against the headboard, and Jisoo sitting facing the camera, knees parted.

Jennie:

“Challenge number one… who’s going first?”

They exchange glances, like they all want to. The silence is cut only by the slow throb of music and breaths heavy with anticipation.

Rosé: “Come on, hit us. We’re already wet.”

"You’re taking a midnight stroll through the park. You see a homeless man jacking off around the corner on a bench. He doesn’t know who you are and doesn’t know you’re there. What do you do? Do you help him get off? Do you stand there and watch? "

The camera lingers on Jennie, still perched at the edge of the bed, light slinking down the curve of her cheek. She stares into the lens like she’s speaking only to you. The room holds its breath around her. Waiting.

Jennie: “Picture it… an empty park, that smell of wet grass and damp earth rising in the cold air… everything icy, darkness swallowing it all, and some guy there, slumped on a busted bench, the sound of his zipper echoing as he jerks off, clueless that I’m watching…”

Her hand drifts to her throat, voice thickening.

Jennie: “Maybe I’d squeeze my thighs, y’know? That pressure… like my legs already know what’s coming. Maybe I’d lean against something… bite my lip ‘til it hurts just to stay quiet. And all of it… imagining his face if he knew someone was watching. Knew someone was coming for him… without him ever knowing.”

Rosé’s breath hitches audibly. Lisa sits up straighter, eyes locked on Jennie with a wicked little smirk.

Lisa: “Fuck, Jennie… now you gotta go. Bet you won’t actually leave the camera rolling while you grind on that nasty bench.”

Rosé crouches in the corner, snatching up a handheld action cam, plugging it into a laptop just off-screen. Her fingers fly over the settings.

Rosé: “Private stream’s live. Highest quality. Mic’s so sensitive it’ll pick up your whimpers.”

Jennie rises slow. The white shirt hangs loose but leaves nothing to the light. She walks to the door, pauses, fingers tracing the frame like it’s living skin. She glances over her shoulder—eyes cold and hungry all at once.

Jennie: “Hope you love public indecency.”

Silence. Then, barely there, Jisoo murmurs with a slanting smile, never looking away.

Jisoo (soft, lethal): “You’d better come for real, Jennie. ‘Cause when you get back, I’m gonna taste how wet you are—proof it wasn’t just an act, you fucking tease.”

The camera cuts to Lisa’s face, utterly rapt. She lets out a shaky laugh and crosses her legs tight, like she’s holding back. Rosé taps a final key, voice fraying at the edges:

Rosé (breathless): “Stream’s live. Jennie, you’re ours alone. Don’t make us regret this.”

The screen cuts to black for a second. The soft hum of a car engine fades in. The image returns—a camera pinned to Jennie’s coat, likely at chest height. Slight tremors in the footage, her breath steady but audible. Headlights slice through the dark. Jennie turns onto a side street lined with low trees and empty sidewalks. A park appears to the left—a dimly fenced-in space, metal benches, a few flickering lampposts casting weak light.

She parks calmly. Kills the engine. Sits in silence for a few heartbeats.

Jennie (whispering to herself, a smirk in her voice):

“Darker than I remembered. Perfect.”

A car door opens. Light footsteps on damp pavement. The camera sways with her movement. She crosses the street, hands in her coat pockets. Not a soul in sight.

Cut to the bedroom. Lisa kneels in front of the laptop, eyes locked. Rosé sits with her fingers pressed to her lips, shoulders tense. Jisoo lies on her side, a pillow wedged between her thighs, watching silently. Jennie’s voice filters through the laptop speakers—low but clear.

Back to Jennie. She steps into the park. Branches rustle in the wind; her shoes crush loose gravel. A bench waits ahead under a tree.

Jennie (still whispering):

“There. Right there.”

She approaches slowly. Her breath hitches. The bench is empty, but the scene is already vivid in her mind. She sits, deliberate. The metal bench creaks, icy against her bare thighs, making her shiver. The air smells like wet earth and her sweet perfume, tangling with the cold breeze. She crosses her legs, squeezing tight, and scans the shadows. The camera stays steady. Only the wind, their shared breaths, and the tension—thick, like something’s about to snap.

Cut to the bedroom. Lisa buries her face in a pillow and giggles, nervous.

Lisa:

“Holy shit, she’s really doing it…”

Rosé (grabbing the laptop mic, voice husky):

“Jennie, you filthy girl, are you touching yourself? Show us. Rub that pretty pussy for the camera.”

Back to Jennie. Her legs uncross slowly. Her breathing roughens. Her fingers slide down, skimming over damp fabric, pressing against her clit—already throbbing. The bench creaks again, cold metal biting her skin. A quiet moan escapes as she whispers to herself, voice wrecked: “Fuck, I’m soaked…” But the camera catches every word.

Jennie (whispering, fever-hot):

“You with me? Because I’m getting wet just thinking about you watching…”

Footsteps echo in the distance—a guard? A stray passerby? Jennie freezes for a second, heart racing, but her fingers don’t stop, grinding harder against her soaked panties, lust outweighing fear. She tilts her head. The lamplight flickers behind her. She shifts on the bench; her coat slips, revealing a sliver of bare thigh. Her breath goes uneven.

Cut to the bedroom. The girls are glued to the screen. Lisa’s hand slides up her own thigh. Rosé exhales sharply. Jisoo closes her eyes for a beat. The tension there is just as unbearable.

Jennie’s breathing comes in muffled, broken moans—like she’s fighting not to scream. The camera catches every slick sound of her fingers, the image of her hand rubbing her soaked pussy.

Jennie (whispering, voice shaky with lust):

“Fuck… you’re watching me… holy shit, this is so messed up… my pussy’s dripping for you…”

Suddenly, the crunch of fast footsteps cuts through the night. Two pairs, running, getting closer. Jennie’s eyes fly wide, her body locking up, her heartbeat so loud the camera picks it up. She tries to adjust on the bench—thighs trembling, fingers hesitating but still pressing into her pussy, unable to stop.

The first runner appears—a sweaty guy, earbuds in, shirt clinging to his toned chest. He blows past her without a glance, lost in his workout. Jennie holds her breath, sweat sliding down her neck. She fumbles to pull her jacket over her thighs—but her phone vibrates in her pocket, and Lisa’s voice slices through, sharp and commanding:

Lisa (low, dripping with malice):

“Don’t you fucking stop, you slut. Think you can cover up now? Let those men see your wet cunt. You stop, I cut the live right now.”

Jennie chokes, her whole body shaking with fear and need. Her hand dives back between her legs, fingers thrusting and rubbing her clit hard, the wet sounds echoing in the recording. The bench creaks loudly, betraying every jerk of her hips.

Then the second runner arrives—slower, older, breath ragged in sweatpants that tent over a half-hard cock. He passes… then stops, just feet away. The camera shakes violently with Jennie’s trembles. She doesn’t dare look, but she feels his stare—like he can see through the jacket. The man breathes heavy, frozen, and a faint metallic snick—maybe his zipper—cuts the silence.

Lisa (voice lower, almost moaning into the phone):

“Fuck, Jennie—he’s checking you out? Let him watch. Rub that pussy ‘til you come right in front of him. This is yours now, whore—take it.”

Jennie gags, eyes wide with lust and fear, her hand shoved in her pocket fucking her pussy with two fingers, wetness dripping down her thighs. The guy steps closer, the sound of his zipper cutting through the night. He pulls his cock out—half-hard, thick, about 8 inches, slick with sweat and reeking like he ran a mile without showering, the head glistening with a mix of sweat and pre-cum. He stares Jennie down, a dirty grin twisting his lips, voice rough.

Guy: “Liking the show, huh, sexy? Need help? Then suck this.” He grips his dick, swinging it toward her, the musky stench hitting Jennie’s nose.

Jennie freezes for a second, her heartbeat so loud the camera picks it up. Her clothes slip further, pooling at her shoulders, her tits almost bare under the thin shirt, nipples hard against the fabric. She licks her lips, trembling, but lust wins over disgust. She leans forward, the bench creaking loudly, and grabs his sweaty cock with her free hand, sticky heat coating her fingers.

Jennie (whispering, voice desperate and hoarse): “Fuck… god, it reeks…” She hesitates, then groans. “But shit, I want it… Lisa, you bitches watching this? I’m… I’m sucking this nasty dick…”

Her tongue flicks the head, the taste of salt and skin flooding her mouth. The stench of sweat and stale piss makes her gag, but she takes him slow, lips wrapping around the tip, tongue swirling as she fights nausea. The guy groans, shoving deeper, forcing half his cock down her throat—rotten flavor mixing with dizzying lust.

Lisa (through the phone, voice cruel, near-shouting): “Yeah, you slut, suck that sweaty dick! Laughs. Take it all, Jennie, prove you’re the whore we know you are.” Pause, lower. “Tell him what you are. Say it loud—let him hear you’re a filthy fucking cumslut!”

Jennie moans around his dick, drool and sweat slicking her chin. Her jacket hits the ground, leaving her exposed—shirt riding up, soaked panties on display. She pulls off, panting, tears of disgust and arousal in her eyes, and stares up at him.

Jennie (voice shaking): “Fuck… I’m a slut…” Whimpering. “A nasty bitch sucking dirty dick in the park…” She takes him back, faster, his tip hitting her throat, the rancid taste making her choke.

The guy fists her hair, yanking hard as he fucks her mouth, wet, gagging sounds echoing. Jennie chokes but keeps going, fingers still grinding her clit, body shaking as she cums again, her panties dripping onto the bench. He groans, cock pulsing, and shoots down her throat—thick, bitter spurts making her swallow convulsively. She coughs, the taste of cum and filth turning her stomach, but licks her lips, grinning brokenly at the camera.

Jennie (hoarse, wrecked): “Holy fuck… swallowed every drop…” Spits, trembling. “Tasted like fucking garbage… Lisa, you bitches better have came watching this…”

Cut to the bedroom. Red light spills over black sheets. Lisa’s legs are spread, panties shoved aside, fingers plunging into her pussy as she moans, eyes glued to the laptop. Rosé, writhes with her dress hiked up, rubbing her clit hard. Jisoo sits gripping her tits under her shirt, breath ragged, smirk filthy.

Lisa: “God, Jennie, you actually sucked that nasty dick!” Moans, laughing. “You fucking champion—drank every drop!” Fingers faster. “Get back here, slut, we wanna taste it off your tongue!”

Rosé (drunk, shouting): “Jennie, you legendary whore!” Giggles, moans. “You sucked that rancid dick on camera? Fuck, I’m cumming just watching!”

Jisoo (voice dark, licking lips): “You humiliated yourself so fucking good…” Grins. “Hurry back, bitch. We’re gonna punish you for that show.”

(Back in the park, Jennie staggers up, jacket abandoned, shirt askew, panties soaked. She grabs the jacket but doesn’t cover herself—thighs and pussy glistening as she walks to the car, cum and sweat still on her tongue. She smirks at the camera, exhausted and feral.)

Jennie: “Coming home, you deviants.” Weak laugh. “Hope you liked my dirty mouth…”

The camera stays fixed on the room. The lights are still dim, now tinted purple. Jisoo sits against the wall, legs spread, staring at the floor like she’s lost in thought. Rosé, more relaxed, takes a sip of wine, cheeks still flushed. Lisa paces, restless.

The door opens. Jennie steps in. Her jacket’s disheveled, hair stuck to her forehead. Her eyes are wide, her whole body trembling. She doesn’t speak. Just shuts the door behind her. The silence lasts a second and a half—until Lisa crosses the room and takes her. Lisa slams her against the wall and kisses her violently—a wet, filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue. Her hands grip Jennie’s face like she wants to break her.

Rosé (panting):

“Fuck…”

Jennie tries to speak, but Lisa silences her with another deep kiss. Their breaths fuse. Lisa’s hand slides down Jennie’s side, to her inner thigh, where her fingers find…

Lisa (nuzzling her face):

“Soaked… like you fucking dripped just thinking about us.”

She drags her fingers slowly, then presses between Jennie’s legs, feeling the slick heat there. Jennie bites her lip, eyes still down. Lisa stops. Stares at Jennie like she’s something sacred. Then leans in and licks the corner of Jennie’s mouth with the tip of her tongue.

Lisa (almost a whisper):

“You taste like cum.”

(Grins, dirty.)

“Did you swallow? All by yourself?”

Jennie pulls free from Lisa’s arms, still trembling. She walks to the bathroom without a word, only the wet drag of her socks on the floor. The door shuts with a soft click. The room stays quiet for a beat. Rosé laughs, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice is still rough with arousal.

Rosé:

“Holy shit… she came back wrecked. Did you see her face?”

Lisa (still licking her lips):

“Came like an anonymous slut on a park bench. I’m in love.”

Jisoo moves closer to the screen, eyes half-lidded. She looks calm—but something’s shifted. Darker. Heavier. She sits at the edge of the bed, legs crossed.

Jisoo (locking onto the lens, dead serious):

“Who’s watching? You liked that, huh? Watching one of us lose it live… like you had any control.”

Rosé cackles and flops into the pillows, tearing open a pack of gum.

Rosé:

“This stream’s gonna get nuked off the internet.”

The laptop camera pings—a new message pops up on the live screen. White text on black, scrolling slow.

» Can I be mommy jisoo’s toy please mommy jisoo

Lisa throws herself back on the bed, laughing hard. Rosé’s eyes go wide. Jisoo, though? Silent. She reads. Thinks. Then turns to the camera with a look that’s ice and venom and sex all at once.

Jisoo (voice low, slicing):

“You wanna be my toy?”

A pause. She stands slowly, picks up her phone, types. Then smiles at the lens—small, almost cruel.

Jisoo:

“Then come. 19th Street. That dark alley by the abandoned gallery. Tonight. 2:40 AM. I’ll be alone. You’d better be too. Let’s see how loud you moan without a camera.”

Lisa lifts her head, shocked. Rosé chokes on her gum.

Lisa:

“Fuck… She’s actually going?!”

Rosé (equal parts terrified and turned on):

“Jisoo, you don’t even know who that is!”

Jisoo (calm smile):

“Doesn’t matter who it is. They’ll kneel the same.”

The chat explodes—emojis, begging, frantic keysmashing. The girls’ breathing picks up. The camera zooms on Jisoo’s face—unshaken. The shower runs in the background, Jennie still washing off. The world outside starts feeling too small to hold this game.

The bedroom camera catches Jisoo standing before the mirror. She pulls her hair into a low ponytail, loose strands framing her face. Her expression is neutral, focused—but her eyes gleam with quiet wickedness.

Jisoo’s phone camera activates discreetly as she bids the girls goodbye with a flick of her wrist. She doesn’t say where she’s going. They know. Lisa just watches. Jennie, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a towel, mutters:

Jennie (under her breath):

“If she doesn’t come back… it’s on us.”

Jisoo walks alone down the wet sidewalk. Streetlights flicker intermittently. Her black bodysuit clings like a second skin—shiny fabric cutting aggressive lines around her curves. Crisscross straps frame her hips and abdomen; the plunging neckline bares just enough to skirt indecency. The bottom half is carved out, demanding stares from every angle. (She wears a thin, open coat over it—part of the game. Knee-high black boots with sharp heels click against concrete.)

The city is quiet. Just distant horns, the occasional growl of an engine, and her own footsteps. As she nears the turn—a street of low buildings, faded graffiti, and dead neon signs—she slows. Her heartbeat stays steady. Absolute control.

Jisoo rounds the corner. The alley is near-empty. A single streetlight bleeds weak light onto the pavement. Leaning against a spray-painted wall, propped on a metal gate, is Kelly.

The girl can’t be older than 21. Straight blonde hair spills over her shoulders. Her face is delicate, almost childlike—wide blue eyes glinting with nerves. She wears a denim miniskirt and a plain white crop top, revealing a serpent tattoo curling up her ribcage. Another tattoo (feathery wings in fine lines) marks her forearm. She bites her lip as Jisoo approaches.

Kelly (soft, slight accent):

“You came…”

Jisoo (flat, cold):

“You said you wanted to be my toy. I don’t play games.”

Kelly swallows hard. Takes a step forward. Hesitates. Her gaze drags over the bodysuit, the neckline, Jisoo’s unblinking stare. She almost retreats—but can’t.

Kelly (whispering):

“I… didn’t think you were real. I just messaged you. Like… testing…”

Jisoo (unchanged):

“And now? How far will you test this?”

Jisoo closes the distance. Their bodies almost touch. She threads fingers through Kelly’s hair, calm, then tilts the girl’s chin up with her thumb.

Jisoo:

“How old are you?”

Kelly:

“Twenty-one.”

Jisoo:

“Good age to be shaped.”

A beat. Silence. The air between them thrums. A car passes somewhere in the dark. Jisoo releases Kelly’s chin and steps back.

Jisoo:

“Are you ready to obey?”

Kelly trembles. Glances around—the alley’s deserted. Her eyes lock back onto Jisoo’s. Slowly, without breaking contact, she sinks to her knees. Cold concrete bites her skin. Jisoo watches with clinical detachment, like appraising raw material. Then—a faint smile.

Jisoo:

“Good girl.”

Jisoo (low, commanding voice, adjusting her phone):

“Fuck, Kelly—you really ready to be my pet, you little slut? This camera’s catching every second of your humiliation.”

—Jisoo hits record, the phone blinking red—

“I’m filming this to show the girls how I break a pathetic fan like you.”

She steps closer, heels cracking against concrete.

“Take your clothes off. Now. Just the skirt stays.”

Kelly shudders, hands hesitating—but obeys, yanking her top over her head. Her small, pink-tipped tits bounce free, nipples already hard from cold and fear. She stands there in just the skirt, face burning, arms crossing over her chest. Jisoo laughs, swatting her hands away.

Jisoo:

“Look at these fucking tits—”

She leans in, inspecting.

“Like a doll’s. So fucking cute I wanna bite ’em.”

Jisoo grabs her bag, pulling out two shiny metal clamps.

“You’re my doll now, Kelly. Stay still.”

—She clips one onto each nipple, metal teeth sinking into tender flesh. Kelly whimpers, tears welling, body shaking.

Kelly (voice trembling, pleading):

“Ah—Jisoo, it hurts so fucking bad…! I’m trying, but Christ—!”

Jisoo (cruel smile, twisting the clamps to make her moan louder):

“Shut up, doll.”

She tugs a clamp, rolling it between her fingers.

“Pets don’t complain. They obey. I’m hurting you ‘cause you deserve it, slut.”

—Leaning in, hot breath at Kelly’s ear—

“Lift that skirt. Show me your pussy. Now.”

Kelly sobs but obeys, shaky hands hiking the skirt to her waist. Her cunt’s exposed—hairy, dark curls glistening with sweat and arousal. Jisoo smirks, grabbing two more clamps from her bag as she kneels to inspect.

Jisoo:

“Fuck, what a wild little bush—”

She drags a finger through the hair, making Kelly twitch.

“Cute. But you’re not done suffering.”

—Jisoo clips a clamp to each pussy lip, metal biting deep. Kelly SCREAMS, tears spilling as her body writhes.

Kelly (gasping, voice breaking):

“Holy shit—! Please, slow down, I can’t—fuck, it’s too much—!”

Jisoo (laughing, yanking the clamps to make her shriek):

“Damn, you cry pretty, doll.”

—Light slap to Kelly’s cunt, clamps jingling—

“Pets take whatever their owner gives ‘em. Lie down. I’m gonna use you for real.”

Kelly collapses onto the filthy alley ground—skirt up, clamps glinting under dim light. Concrete sticks to her skin as she whimpers. Jisoo stands, shoving her leather bodysuit aside to reveal a smooth, soaked pussy. She straddles Kelly’s face, cunt hovering inches from her lips.

Jisoo:

“Look at my pussy, whore.”

She rubs her fingers through slick folds, showing the wetness.

“You’re gonna lick till I cum on your face.”

—Grinds down hard, juices smearing Kelly’s mouth—

“Suck, you fucking pet—SUCK like you’re meant to!”

Kelly gags, tongue lapping clumsily as Jisoo rides her face. The taste is strong, salty—Jisoo’s hips piston, clamps swinging from Kelly’s tits. Jisoo moans, fisting her hair to shove her deeper.

Jisoo:

“Yeah—just like that, bitch! Harder!”

—Throws her head back, then suddenly FLIPS, shoving her ass over Kelly’s mouth—

“Now eat my ass. It’s a little dirty—been a while since I cleaned it.”

Cruel laugh as she grinds her hole against Kelly’s tongue.

Kelly gags at the bitter, musky taste. Hesitates—but Jisoo YANKS her hair, forcing her tongue inside. Kelly sobs but licks, the camera capturing every wet sound, every muffled scream. The alley echoes with Jisoo’s moans and Kelly’s choked cries—humiliation immortalized on film.

Jisoo (breathless, dominant):

“Fuck—your mouth’s made for this, pet.”

—Rides her face harder, nearly suffocating her—

“Lick my dirty ass till I cum. The girls are watching… and you’re being the perfect little slut for me.”

Glances at the camera, grinning.

“Y’all enjoying the show, bitches?”

Jisoo pulls back from Kelly’s mouth, a slick strand still connecting their lips for a heartbeat before snapping. She wipes her thumb over Kelly’s swollen lower lip, then drags it down her chin, her throat, stopping just above the frantic pulse at her collarbone.

“Look at you,” Jisoo murmurs. “All that pretty noise you made.” Her hands slide down, palming Kelly’s breasts—squeezing just shy of too hard—then lower, tracing the serpent tattoo like she’s memorizing its path. Her nails scrape lightly over the girl’s ribs, making Kelly gasp.

“Up.” A sharp tug on Kelly’s hair forces her onto unsteady knees. Jisoo steps back, tilting her head as if inspecting art. “Hands behind your back. Arch that spine.”

Kelly obeys, trembling. The streetlight catches the sweat at her temples, the flush spreading down her chest. Jisoo circles her, boots clicking on pavement.

“Better.” Jisoo’s smile is all teeth. “Fuck, you’ve been such an obedient pet, doll.”

A low, cruel laugh. “Licked my dirty boots, drank my piss, ate my ass… Guess you’ve earned a reward.”

She yanks Kelly’s hair, forcing her upright against the cracked wall. “Stay put, slut. Your owner’s gonna spoil you.”

Kelly trembles, hiccuping sobs, but obeys—pressing her cheek to the rough, cold concrete. Her skirt’s still hiked up, clamps pinching her nipples and clit. Jisoo kneels behind her, hands spreading Kelly’s ass apart, revealing her virgin hole: tight, pink, glistening with a faint musk of sweat.

Jisoo’s tongue drags slow circles around the rim, savoring the salt and heat. Kelly moans, high and broken—shame and need tangled in her throat. The phone captures every sound: wet slurps, Kelly’s muffled whimpers, Jisoo’s sadistic chuckle.

Jisoo (lips brushing Kelly’s skin):

“Fuck, what a pretty little virgin hole.”

Her tongue plunges deeper, making Kelly jerk. “Never taken cock here, huh?”

No answer needed. Jisoo spits, then shoves a finger inside. Kelly’s body fights the intrusion, clenching too tight.

Kelly (shrieking, legs buckling):

“Jisoo—fuck, it hurts! I’m a virgin back there, goddamn it—!”

She tries to squirm away, but Jisoo grips her waist, nails biting flesh.

Jisoo (twisting her finger deeper):

“Shut. Up.” A sharp smack to Kelly’s ass—the clamps jingle. “Pets don’t complain. They come from the pain.”

She scissors her finger, the tight ring of muscle finally yielding. Kelly’s cries dissolve into ragged moans.

Jisoo (breath hot against Kelly’s ear):

“Just getting you ready for something bigger, doll.”

Then—heavy footsteps echo down the alley. A heavyset Black man appears, sweat-stained shirt clinging to his chest, loose jeans sagging. His eyes widen at the scene—Jisoo’s leather bodysuit glistening under the flickering streetlight, Kelly trembling against the wall. He stops, confused but visibly aroused, voice gravelly with desire.

Man:

“Y’all good here, girls?”

His gaze locks onto Jisoo’s exposed cunt, the bodysuit’s crotchless design revealing more than it conceals. A thick vein pulses in his neck as he adjusts himself through his jeans.

Jisoo (rising with a predator’s grace, lips curling):

“Everything’s perfect, big guy.”

She saunters toward him, hips swaying, the bodysuit’s latex catching the light with every step. Kelly whimpers behind her, but Jisoo doesn’t glance back—her eyes are fixed on the bulge straining against the man’s zipper.

Jisoo (trailing a nail down his chest):

“Wanna play with my pet?”

She gestures to Kelly, who hiccups a sob. The man’s breath hitches as Jisoo leans in, her whisper dripping with malice.

“She’s virgin back there… but you can break that tight little ass. Just the ass—understand?”

A sadistic wink. Her hand slides down to palm his cock through denim, feeling its heft.

“My condition? You fuck her hard. Leave her wrecked.”

Kelly (twisting away, tears streaking mascara):

“J-Jisoo, please—”*

Her protest dies as Jisoo’s hand cracks across her cheek. The sound echoes. Kelly’s knees buckle, but Jisoo yanks her up by the hair, forcing her face-first into the wall.

Jisoo (growling in Kelly’s ear):

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You’re mine.”

To the man, jerking her chin toward his pants:

“Show her that dick.”

The man grins, shoving his jeans down. His cock springs free—thick, veined, easily 9 inches, the head glistening with pre-come. The stench of sweat and musk rolls off him. Jisoo laughs, low and thrilled.

Jisoo (kneeling beside Kelly, gripping the man’s shaft):

“Fuck—this’ll ruin her.”

Jisoo (voice icy, laced with dark amusement, kneeling before the man, her fingers wrapped around his cock—hot, sticky, and thick in her grip):

"Fuck, this tight little virgin ass of yours can’t even handle this dick, can it, pretty boy?"

She laughs, low and throaty, her thumb swiping over the swollen head, smearing precum across her palm. The scent hits her first—sour sweat, dried piss, and the musk of a long night’s desperation. Her nose wrinkles, but the thrill of control curls in her stomach, hotter than the disgust. She licks her lips, tongue glistening pink under the flickering alley light.

Jisoo (glancing at Kelly, who whimpers against the brick wall, her fingers clawing at graffiti):

I’m getting you ready, doll. My pet’s gonna take this cock—but first? I’ll make it nice and slick for you.

A cruel wink at the man. Then she leans in, lips parting, and spits right onto the tip. The saliva drips thick down the shaft, pooling in the veins. She doesn’t give him time to react before her mouth sinks down, swallowing him inch by inch. The taste is rancid—salt and skin and stale arousal, like he’s been fucking all night without a shower. She gags once, throat fluttering, but forces herself deeper, nails digging into his thigh.

Jisoo (voice muffled, cock straining her lips):

"Christ, you reek…"

Her words vibrate around him. She sucks harder, tongue swirling under the head, teeth grazing just enough to make him hiss. The man groans, tangling a hand in her hair, but she slaps his wrist away—her pace, her rules. Wet, filthy sounds fill the alley: the drag of her lips, the choked gasps when he thrusts up, the drip of spit and precum onto cracked concrete.

The phone propped on the trash can captures it all—the sheen on his dick, the tears welling in Jisoo’s eyes as she gags, the way Kelly sobs and grinds her thighs together.

Jisoo pulls off with a wet pop, coughing, strings of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock. She spits again, thick and deliberate, watching it slide down his length.

Jisoo (breathless, wiping her chin with the back of her hand):

"There. Now it’s dripping me."

Her gaze flicks to Kelly, still trembling by the wall.

Jisoo (crooking a finger):

"Come here, bitch. Your turn."

Kelly shuffles forward, eyes wide. Jisoo grabs her by the hip, spins her around, and spits again—this time, right onto her clenched hole. She rubs it in with two fingers, slow and merciless.

Jisoo (gripping the man’s cock, guiding it toward Kelly’s ass):

"Relax, or this dick’s gonna split you in half."

A pause. A shared breath. Then—

Jisoo (smirking):

"…Actually, don’t. I want to hear you scream."

The man tries again, the swollen head of his cock pressing against Kelly’s tight hole. She whimpers, her body tensing as he forces himself against her, the resistance making her gasp. Tears streak down her flushed cheeks, her fingers clawing at the rough concrete beneath her.

Jisoo watches, her patience thinning. With a sharp exhale, she grabs Kelly’s hips and yanks her backward, impaling her in one brutal thrust. Half his length disappears inside her ass in an instant.

Kelly’s scream pierces the alley—high, ragged, shattered. Her back arches violently, her thighs quaking as a sudden gush of squirt erupts from her soaked pussy, splattering onto the pavement beneath her. The scent of her arousal mixes with the damp, grimy stench of the alley.

Jisoo laughs, low and dark, before dropping to her knees. She doesn’t hesitate. Her tongue drags through Kelly’s dripping folds, lapping up the mess with deliberate, almost casual hunger. The taste is sweet, salty, tinged with the musk of sweat and the sour tang of the city around them.

Jisoo (murmuring against her skin, voice thick with amusement):

"Fuck, you came, you filthy bitch."

She licks another stripe, slow, savoring it. Then grips Kelly’s thighs, forcing them wider.

Jisoo (grinning up at her):

"Look at you. Dripping all over this nasty street. Look at him."

She slaps Kelly’s ass, making her jolt.

Jisoo (to the man, sharp):

"Fuck her harder. Don’t stop till she passes out."

The man obeys, his thrusts turning rough, erratic. Kelly’s hole stretches around him, her breath coming in broken sobs. But he’s weak—barely three minutes in, his hips stutter. A choked groan, and then he’s spilling inside her, hot cum flooding her ass, dripping out around his softening cock

Jisoo’s nose wrinkles in disgust. She shoves him off with her foot, sending him stumbling back.

Jisoo (mocking):

"That’s it? Pathetic."

She crouches, swiping two fingers through the mess leaking from Kelly’s ruined hole. Holds them up, glistening, then licks them clean with a slow, deliberate drag of her tongue.

Jisoo (grabbing Kelly’s hair, forcing her head up):

"Your turn, pet."

Kelly whimpers but opens her mouth, tears still streaming as Jisoo shoves her cum-coated fingers past her lips.

Jisoo (watching her swallow, satisfied):

"Good girl."

She releases her with a shove, then gestures to the ground.

Jisoo (coolly):

"On your hands and knees. Now."

Kelly obeys, trembling. Her ass is red, her hole still glistening, her thighs sticky. Jisoo steps onto her back, settling onto her like a throne, her boots pressing into Kelly’s spine.

She looks straight at the camera—eyes sharp, mouth curved in a smirk.

Jisoo (laughing, voice dripping with malice):

"You see this, you fucking whores? Look at her. My little pet, destroyed."

She grinds her heel down, making Kelly gasp.

Jisoo (reaching for her phone, flicking it open):

"This video’s gonna break the internet. And you—"

She leans down, patting Kelly’s cheek.

Jisoo (mock-sweet):

"—you’ll get a very generous cut. Now stay here and recover, yeah? This alley suits you."

With that, she steps off, striding away without a backward glance. The camera lingers on Kelly—collapsed on the concrete, shaking, her breath ragged, her body used.

The screen cuts to black.

The door swings open.

Jisoo steps inside, tossing her keys onto the dresser like she’s just returned from grocery shopping. The mood in the room shifts instantly—thickens. The other three girls freeze mid-motion, eyes tracking her. Jennie, already sprawled across the bed with her legs lazily crossed, is the first to break the silence.

Jennie (grinning, voice dripping with faux innocence):

“Was it as… messy as we imagined?”

Jisoo doesn’t answer right away. She peels off her coat and lets it drop to the floor in a deliberate heap. The fabric lands with a whisper, but the sound feels loud in the charged air.

Jisoo (calm, wiping nonexistent dust from her hands):

“Better. I recorded everything.”

(Pauses, glances at the camera.)

“And I’ll show you later. Every. Single. Second.”

She sinks onto the edge of the bed, her posture deceptively relaxed—but her eyes lock onto the lens with a predator’s focus. The corner of her mouth twitches. Not a smile. A promise.

Jisoo (sweetly):

“Actually… I’m putting it up for sale. Anyone who wants to watch that little blonde bitch on her knees, begging? They’ll pay top dollar.”

Rosé, perched on the armchair, arches an eyebrow. Her wine-red nails tap against her thigh—once, twice—a staccato beat of amusement.

Rosé (mock-scandalized):

“Jesus Christ… This livestream is derailing.”

Lisa, stretched across the couch like a satisfied cat, lets out a low chuckle.

Lisa (purring):

“Or finally on track.”

A sharp ping cuts through the room. The laptop screen lights up with a highlighted notification from the livestream chat. The girls lean in, shoulders brushing, as the message blinks into view:

“Imagine a BP fan meet where each member competes to see who can make the most fans cum in 30 minutes. The queue would wrap around the block.”

Silence. Absolute. For one heartbeat. Two.

Then—

Jennie (lips curling, voice a velvet threat):

“Someone’s mind is filthy tonight… And I’m obsessed.”

Lisa rolls onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. Her eyes gleam.

Lisa:

“A fan meet like that would end our careers.”

(Grins.)

“And start something way more fun.”

Rosé chews on the tip of her thumb, a habit when she’s turning over a dangerous idea. Her gaze flicks between them.

Rosé (murmuring):

“Wait… Could we actually compete? Like, count for real?”

Jisoo crosses her legs slowly, the movement drawing every eye to the deliberate shift of muscle under skin. She tilts her head, addressing the camera like it’s a confessional.

Jisoo (deadpan):

“We do have a fan meet in two weeks. All I need is a stopwatch…”

(Pauses. Lets the implication hang.)

“…A chair. And a line of desperate idiots ready to blow their loads on command.”

The room erupts—laughter, yes, but beneath it, something hotter. A challenge. A dare. Jennie stands, stretching her arms above her head, the hem of her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Jennie (low, teasing):

“You really want this? Lines, sweat, moans on a fucking timer?”

(Steps closer to the camera, eyes dark.)

“Then come prove it. But don’t just bring your desperation… Bring stamina.”

Lisa (stretching lazily, a wicked smirk playing on her lips):

"Well... if you're still alive after today, congratulations."

(She rolls onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands, legs kicking idly in the air.)

"But let’s be real—most of you won’t last five minutes once we start. And that’s before the toys come out."

Jennie (running fingers through her hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp):

"And if cumming just watching this wasn’t enough..."

(She leans back against the headboard, thighs squeezing together deliberately.)

"Then buckle the fuck up. Because Part 3? Oh, we’re rewiring your fantasies."

Rosé (voice dripping like honey, slow and syrupy):

"The fan meet’s coming... and we’ve got our next challenge locked in."

She drags a remote down her collarbone—clicking it on—and the room hums with the sudden buzz of unseen vibrators. A collective gasp echoes from off-camera.

"Hope you’ve been practicing your edging, babies. You’ll need it."

Jisoo (not even glancing at the lens, adjusting the tight knot of her top):

"Thirty minutes. Four members. One scoreboard."

A beat. Her eyes flick up, dark and challenging.

"And oceans of cum waiting to be spilled. For us. Because of us."

Jennie (suddenly crowding the camera, lips almost brushing the lens):

"You wanna see who can make the most fans break?"

Her whisper is a hot, filthy secret, her breath fogging the glass.

"Then bring lube, batteries, and zero shame. Part 3? It’s gonna wreck you."

She nips her tongue between her teeth, winks, and saunters away—hips swaying like a metronome set to ruin.

Lisa (holding up three fingers with a mocking salute):

"BLACKPINK: PornLive Experience—Part 3... is real competition."

She pops the ‘P,’ grinning as the other girls groan in unison.

"And just so we’re clear?"

( slow, deliberate lick of her lips.

"We cheat."

The screen dims—BLACKPINK’s logo glitches into view, throbbing in time with bass-heavy synths. Right before the fadeout, Rosé’s voice curls through the darkness like smoke:

Rosé (off-screen, laughing low):

"Goodnight, perverts. Hydrate. Rest those trigger fingers."

(A muffled moan, then a whisper:)

"…You’ll need stamina for what’s coming."

[LIVE ENDED]

🔞 BLACKPINK: PornLive Experience – Part 3 - COMING SOON

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #lisa smut #lalisa smut #jennie smut #jisoo smut #rose smut

211 notes · View notes

simmerkate · 2 months ago

Text

🌿 Cottagecore Infant Furniture Set 🌿

Public Release: June 24th, 2025

Add a whimsical touch to your Sims’ nurseries with this dreamy Cottagecore Infant Furniture Set. Designed with soft wood tones, cozy cushions, daisy accents, and a variety of adorable prints, this set is ideal for storytelling, screenshots, and slow-living gameplay.

🧸 What's Included:

Cottagecore Chair A comfy rocking chair with pastel cushions—perfect for feeding or snuggles. Comes in multiple swatches to suit your nursery vibe.

Cottagecore Baby Bouncer (Round) A soft, circular bouncer featuring an arched ivy frame with daisy danglers. Fully recolorable with several calming print options.

Cottagecore Baby Bouncer (Rectangle) A more structured bouncer with a clean wooden frame and leafy fabric options—pairs beautifully with the Ivy Arch.

Cottagecore Crib A wooden crib with sweet daisy-shaped cutouts and plush bedding. Includes a selection of cozy, cottage-inspired swatches.

Cottagecore Teddy An adorable plush bear wearing denim dungarees and a white tee with red mushroom prints. A perfect finishing touch for any cottagecore nursery.

Ivy Arch (Standalone)A decorative ivy + daisy arch that adds charm to any infant space. Great for pairing with the rectangular bouncer or using as decor.

🎨 Details:

Multiple Swatches across all items, not just leaf patterns!

Base Game Compatible

Custom Thumbnails included

File Format: .package

Public Release: June 24th, 2025

⚠️ Important Notes:

These items use 4K textures for the best visual quality. If your game or PC struggles with high-res content, this set might not be for you.

Some meshes are slightly high poly, so please use with caution if you have performance limitations.

Socials

Follow me for updates, sneak peeks, and more custom content!

Instagram: @SimmerKatex

Facebook: facebook.com/simmerkate

Website: www.simmerkate.com

CurseForge: SimmerKate

Patreon (xx) ad-free

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #the sims 4 cc #the sims cc #skcc #thesims4 #thesims4cc

205 notes · View notes

rainrot4me · 22 days ago

Note

What do you think the creeps would like and not like to be gifted (ALSO I LOVE UR WRITING SM ITS SCRUMPTIOUS OMGG🫶)

✦ . jeff the killer

✓ Likes:

Weapons. A custom knife? He’ll squeal like a little girl.

Leather jackets or gloves. He’ll act casual, but he’ll wear it every day.

Something handmade but unpolished—he actually loves when things look a little messy and real. Like a charm bracelet with crooked beads? Top-tier.

✗ Dislikes:

Anything “cutesy” or frilly. You give him a heart-shaped pillow and he’s like, “You sure this was meant for me, or…?”

Overly practical stuff like socks or planners.

Anything that smells too “clean” (floral candles, bath bombs).

✦ . ticci toby

✓ Likes:

Hoodies. Oversized, soft, preferably in muted colors.

Handmade stuff. If you knit him a scarf? He melts.

Fidget toys or stim-friendly items.

A photo of you two in a cute frame. He’ll act awkward about it, but he cherishes it.

✗ Dislikes:

Cologne or grooming kits. He doesn’t like attention to his appearance.

Fragile gifts he might break on accident. It makes him feel guilty.

Loud or flashy things—think: clunky jewelry, neon clothes, etc.

✦ . eyeless jack

✓ Likes:

Vintage books, especially anatomy or medical texts.

A sturdy, high-quality knife (but a nice one, not flashy).

Candles—especially earthy, smoky, or spiced scents.

Comfortable blankets or bedding. Bonus if it smells like you.

✗ Dislikes:

Gag gifts or anything meant to be “funny.”

Jewelry—he doesn’t wear it and doesn’t want to start.

Anything overly scented or floral. It messes with his senses.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

✓ Likes:

Flasks, lighters, survival gear.

A playlist or burned CD labeled with your handwriting.

Soft, quiet clothing like henleys, worn-in sweaters.

Coffee beans, dark chocolate, or whiskey. Something bitter.

✗ Dislikes:

Expensive gifts. He doesn’t feel comfortable being “spoiled.”

Bright colors or flashy designs. He likes things muted and practical.

Plush toys—he just doesn’t get it.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

✓ Likes:

Cameras, film, or anything vintage tech.

Leather-bound notebooks or journals.

Framed black-and-white photos (bonus if it’s of you).

Gloves or gear with function over fashion.

✗ Dislikes:

Novelty stuff (funny mugs, gag shirts). He has no patience for it.

Over-personalized items—he’s private, doesn’t like his name on things.

Anything glittery or sparkly (he’s annoyed).

✦ . kate the chaser

✓ Likes:

Combat boots, zip-up vests, and gear that blends function with edge.

Knives (the sleek, pocket-sized kind).

A charm bracelet with charms you have picked out to mean significant things.

Practical gifts—if it’s something she can wear or use while hunting, she’s into it.

✗ Dislikes:

Super girly gifts, unless it’s ironic.

Anything fragile or breakable—it’s going to end up destroyed.

Stuffed animals. She’ll give it to Toby.

✦ . ben drowned

✓ Likes:

Limited edition video games or merch.

Energy drinks, snacks, and custom controller skins.

A hoodie or t-shirt of your preferred band or fandom. He likes to “claim” it.

Headphones or game-related accessories.

✗ Dislikes:

Books (unless it’s a game lore compendium).

Anything “mature” or fancy—he’ll side-eye a leather wallet like it insulted him.

Decor that isn’t his taste (he hates minimalism).

✦ . clockwork

✓ Likes:

Leather jackets, boots, or bold accessories.

A locket or necklace with something sentimental inside.

Blood-red lipstick or perfume with a spicy, musky scent.

Polaroids of the two of you in chaotic moments.

✗ Dislikes:

Soft pastel anything. She’ll laugh but never wear it.

Jewelry with dainty chains or tiny charms.

Anything that tries too hard to be “domestic.”

✦ . laughing jack

✓ Likes:

Candy—always. Especially weird or imported stuff.

Chaotic plushies (think: ugly-cute ones).

Colorful art supplies or glitter bombs.

Anything handmade and eccentric. If it looks cursed? Even better.

✗ Dislikes:

Gift cards. He’ll take it personally.

“Normal” gifts (socks, books, mugs). He’ll fake sob and ask why you hate him.

Food that isn’t sweet—he will not eat it.

✦ . slenderman

✓ Likes:

Elegant items: fountain pens, rare books, vintage watches.

Gifts with effort behind them—poems, letters, a framed drawing.

Things that match his space: black, silver, clean lines.

✗ Dislikes:

Cheap, mass-produced things.

Anything gaudy or neon.

Noise-based gifts like musical cards—immediate banishment.

꩜ .ᐟ

165 notes · View notes

reidology13 · 8 months ago

Text

we could make it better (breaking every habit)

Spencer Reid x fem ex-famous!reader

Summary: After Spencer overcomes his addiction, he seeks out the company and forgiveness of an old flame. cw: talk of addiction, a little sad? mostly fluffy though a/n: technically a part 2 of my fic based off making the bed by olivia rodrigo, but it can definitely be read as a oneshot. maybe they are a bit unhealthy, but they're cute and that's all that matters. also this was so incredibly delayed cause my phone drowned so I'm posting this from my dad's computer

Part 1

They say time heals all wounds, and standing at the door of his past mistake, Spencer hoped it had healed hers the way it had his. It had taken him too long to find her, for his pride to break down enough to ask Garcia to search for her. A few years ago it would have been all too easy, a few years ago she was on the cover of every magazine. Now she was the public's favourite conspiracy theory, the biggest where did she go? post made on some website full of self important nobodies.

Where did she go? A small house in a small town, a few hours from D.C, just close enough that Spencer had gotten in his car without a second thought the moment he had her address. Maybe it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Spencer had seen much more of her than the house she lived in.

As he lifted his fist to knock, doubt crept in for the first time since the beginning of his endeavour. Was he right to apologise, to show up at the doorstep of the person he hurt worse than anyone else in his life, and say sorry? Sorry. ‘Sorry’ was a puny word that could never hope to mean anything compared to what he had done, how he had used her. But it would have to do, because he had not come all that way to turn back at the flashing neon sign that said ‘CLOSURE’.

Knock, knock, knock. Was three knocks not enough? Knock. God four was too many and the last one had been so separate from the others it was clearly an afterthought that she would think was weird before she even knew it was him on the other side of-

“Spencer?” The door opened, just enough for her face to be visible through the small opening. She was so much more beautiful than he remembered, although he really didn’t remember much from back then.

“I’m sorry.” Well that was one way to get to the point. He smacked himself internally, scolding himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate, not even saying hello or asking her how she was doing.

“Do you wanna come in? You look like you need to sit down.” She pulled the door open, stepping back to let him in, and Spencer froze. She was allowing him into her home, her space, he who had squeezed her dry, used her up and tossed her aside when he didn’t need her anymore.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer found himself sitting on her couch, the awkward tension between them palpable as he sat silently in regret of every decision he had made in the last week.

“So,” She prompted, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, better. You?” He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him anything about her life, about her. She was a stranger, really, a stranger that used to be someone he knew. He wanted to know who she was then, on that day, in her house sitting across from him.

“I’m good too. You look better.” He knew what she meant – he didn’t look high out of his mind. The far wall of the room was covered in framed pictures of her and what he assumed were her family and friends. Some were from her childhood, some were taken in front of the very house he was sitting in.

What surprised Spencer were the photos, though few and far between, where he made an appearance. The Fourth of July party, a bright, sunny photo full of smiling faces. The poor quality of the picture did nothing to disguise the bags under his eyes, nor the dead look in hers. Her birthday, a photo of her blowing out the candles on her cake, blurred from his shaky grip on the camera.

“I don’t remember that one.” He pointed to a picture of the two of them, a dark photo that he nearly hadn’t recognised as himself. The ability to not remember had been his favourite thing back then, now the haze left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Makes sense, you were… you were bad. It was taken right near the end.”

“I am sorry, really.” Neither of them spoke after that, the silence a warm blanket rather than a thick smog. The apology wrapped around them in a warm embrace, they did not choke on it.

She moved first, after what felt like the most peaceful eternity, slipping her hand around his, holding it in the space between them. He looked down at their joined hands, his gaze slowly drifting up until it landed on the soft smile spread across her face.

“I missed you.” She squeezed his hand gently, although it felt like she squeezed his heart instead, “I missed you from the moment I met you. It’s nice to get you back.”

“I missed you too.” He didn’t know how to explain the way it had taken him a month to get sober enough that reality hit and he realised what he’d lost. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it without having to actually say something about his addiction. He’d always been good at avoiding the topic, skirting around it with suggestions and subtle confirmations. The word ‘addiction’ made him feel weak, like he’d been defeated. He’d talked about his problem once, in a room full of people who had been through the same thing, and even then he hadn’t been able to say it.

“You’re so strong, Spencer. You’ve come so far.” It was like she could read his mind, see every fear that haunted him and soothe it accordingly.

“So are you, I mean, you got out of everything.” His eyes dropped to his lap in shame of everything that he hadn’t noticed, all of the obvious signs of just how not okay she had been. All that she must have been going through, that he had been too far from reality to know existed, even when it was staring him in the face.

“You say that like you didn’t.” It was a simple sentiment, but maybe that was what hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t some mantra he’d heard hundreds of times, or a complicated conversation with his friends where they tried to talk to him without saying anything that actually mattered.

He got out of it.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” The way he looked at her in that moment could only be described as reverential, she was the brightest star in a sky that he had never truly seen before.

“No I’m not.” The way she said it like a definite fact made Spencer’s heart start to crack, “Do you know why I have those pictures up?”

Spencer shook his head, “Tell me,” he said the words under his breath, as if they were surrounded by people in the empty room, “I’m not going to find you any less perfect.”

“Hope. I could never get the thought out of my head that you would come back.” She shook her head, gaze locked on the ground like she couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke. “It was stupid, and then you actually did, and that’s stupid all over again.”

“You’re even more perfect than I thought.” Spencer laughed, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, happy and sad and something he couldn’t put a name to. She was still holding his hand, he realised, and he used that information to interlace their fingers, placing their joined hands in his spare palm.

“I’m stupid and lucky, that’s what I am.” She snorted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No, not stupid.” Spencer drew circles with his thumb on her palm as he spoke, “Lucky, maybe.”

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, us, you know that.”

“Eventually, yes. Not right now.”

“Not right now.” She confirmed, nodding slowly. They were both there, and that would have to be enough, at least for the moment.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds hurt/comfort #Spotify

287 notes · View notes

auspicioustidings · 2 years ago

Text

Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

2K notes · View notes

zillifurniture · 2 years ago

Text

Unveiling Opulence: Mont Noir Cal King Bed by Zilli Furniture

Experience lavish comfort and style with the Mont Noir California King Bed from Zilli Furniture. Upgrade your bedroom to a realm of luxury.

#modern furniture #Mont Noir Cal King Bed #Zilli Furniture #California King Bed #Luxury Bedroom Furniture #Opulent Design #Bedroom Elegance #Contemporary Bed #High-Quality Bed Frame #Stylish Bedroom #Comfortable Bed #Alf Italia

0 notes

quixotical-lymbo · 7 months ago

Note

Omg hey !! I hope I'm not bothering you and hope you have a good day :3. Can I pretty please request a tfone sentinel x fem!reader (cybertronian)

So, like, the reader is a popular social media influencer and they're dating sentinel to boost their image and popularity. They act like a perfect couple in public, but when they alone they both kinda toxic to each other (ykwim?).

Reader only sees the relationship as a formal partnership and doesn't take the relationship too seriously, but sentinel becomes kinda like obsessed with them and can become rlly possessive and jealous

It doesn't have to be a whole fic, I'm just happy if you write it, and i hope those are enough details (take your time w it too :3)

Pairing: Sentinel Prime x fem!high-status!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Warnings/Tags: Power dynamics, cuddles, toxic relationships, and Sentinel being Sentinel :( Word Count: 500+ words

Distant laughter and music grew fainter as the two cybertronians walked further down the hallway. One standing tall with a beaming smile that could send the stoniest bot into a giggling mess, and the other, shorter but as pretty as the bot she clung to. The couple entered a room and once the large golden door closed behind them, the beaming smile on the Prime's face plate dropped as a groan left his dermas.

"Remind me never to host parties back to back, especially ones where I make a guest appearance," Sentinel stretched his arms above his helm and sighed as his limbs gave a satisfying pop. The Prime waited for a response that never came. Sentinel turned to find you sitting by your vanity. You peered at yourself in the mirror holding a buffer and carefully giving over the spots where bots had the fortunate pleasure to touch you, there weren't many but you had to be sure. You were so engrossed with your task that you didn't see the figure approaching you from behind. You jumped as Sentinel's face appeared by your helm, his chin resting on your shoulder as he leaned in close to hold you. A shudder ran down your spinal strut as his arms encased around your waist.

"Sir?" You mustered up the nicest tone and leaned away.

"Do you know what I see when I look at our reflection, ___?"

"What, sir?" You decided to humor him to avoid another tantrum.

"Two halves becoming one," Sentinel turned his helm enough to plant a kiss on your cheek. You couldn't dodge it with his servo holding your helm in place. Sentinel didn't move back that far, just enough to graze his dermas against the surface of your cheek. "Together they're perfect but only one needs the other to survive…"

You gasped as the servo on your face wrapped around your neck cables.

"Wanna guess which one of us that is?" Sentinel cooed into your audials. You had enough of his little mind games and shoved the Prime away from you, standing up and shuffling to the other side of the room. You were only a few steps away from the door when you were lifted off of the ground and thrown onto the berth.

"Ngh-! Sentinel-" You spat while using your elbows to lift yourself up, Sentinel's frame hovered over yours and pressed you into the berth. "-get off!"

"Relax, I just want to spend some quality time with my conjunx," Sentinel watched as you struggled to push against his chassis. "Unless you have other things to do than being in the presence of your lovely partner?"

"I…" You closed your optics, pushing down the annoyance at the closeness between you two, and compelled a smile to match the one on the bot pinning you to the bed. "No, not at all."

"Wonderful!" Sentinel buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your cables as his arms hooked underneath your own. You raised your arms and loosely looped them around Sentinel's helm, your servos lightly rubbing the back of his helm to soothe him into recharge. The sooner he falls into stasis, the sooner you can sneak out and regain what little freedom you had.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banners by @kodaswrld !!

#tranaformers #transformers one sentinel prime #transformers one sentinel prime x reader #sentinel prime #sentinel prime x reader #toxic relationship

147 notes · View notes

shnoob · 8 months ago

Text

Sal Fisher x GN! Reader

A/N: Hey everybody! Warning this is my first fan-fic writing soooo. If you have any requests, feel free to ask in “Suggestions!” Also, the quote used below is from the TV show “Dexter”.

CW: Angst but turns into fluff <3. Also warning quality gets bad at the end.

Word Count: 0.8K

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Sal have been dating for quite awhile. Ever since meeting in high school by Larry, you two have been inseparable. Even when Sal thought by introducing you to the ghosts you’d run away, or seeing his face for the first time you’d find him a “disgrace” or “disgusting”. What he wasn't aware of is that none of that ever mattered to you, nor ever will. Although you’ve reassured many times before this wasn’t the truth, insecurities can take over.

And so tonight when you looked down on your phone, expecting a sweet text from your boyfriend saying goodnight, instead your eyes wandered on a message of goodbye. Although not in exact words, the true meaning behind: “We should talk.” is always a blinded way being one foot deep into your grave.

Tonight, expecting to put on your favorite mix-tape while getting ready for bed, dreaming of all the ventures you’d go on with Sal, instead you got the wind trying to push you back as you race through the empty streets of Nockfell as it's trying to tell you to go away. Turn back. But you know you never will, not on him. If it wasn't for the wind, it was the solemn look on Larry's face when you knocked on the door of the house the boys shared, staring at you trying to muster up an excuse for being outside so late. “Y/N, I know.”. Is all the tall man said, leaning on the door frame with the moonlight shining on his body. “I really don’t think he wants to see you r-”. “Larry please.”. Trying to push you back out of the house, it was no use as you turned your body away from the scrawny arms and raced up the steps as quietly as you could.

“..Sal?”

You know he’s in there. The soft plucks of guitar strings, tapping of his foot, and the purrs from Gizmo disturbed as Sal lifts his hand rubbing him due your sudden appearance. “Sal, I know you are in there. Just..please, let’s talk?”. It feels like an eternity passes by waiting for a response from the blue-haired boy. Standing there. Waiting. Lets talk, we should talk. Shuffling comes from behind the door, hearing the weight lean into the planks as the creeks come closer.

“..Let's talk.”

That's when you saw it. It wasn't anger, disgust, or rejection painted on your boyfriend's face. It was tears. Sadness. A moment of vulnerability. Once from gripping onto the doorknob, it was the shoulders of your boyfriend who now was shaking from underneath you. The noises of sobbing filled your ears as you rubbed his back, rocking back and forth where you stood. “I'm so sorry..” He cried, choking on his words as you felt your sides gripped under his grasp. “You have nothing to apologize for..cmon lets get inside the room, yeah?”. Ushering Sal inside, you managed to get him to his bed despite the lack of light. Neither of you said a word, just staring into the abyss of darkness as you waited for the bluenette to calm down with small “Shushes” and “It's going to be alright.”. Overtime, his breathing from once a rigid pace slows against your hand, squeezing it tight as he swallows. “I’m, so sorry.”. “Dear, don’t-”. “No, seriously. I’m so sorry.”. A familiar touch grabs onto the sides of your face, staring into the orbs of the man you love so dearly. Well, one. “Y/N I..I was thinking. You know everything about my face, my past..my mother.” He whispers the last part, briefly looking off to the side before cutting you off. “I know I don't need to talk about it, but you deserve to know. I’ve always felt like this was how things were meant to be, that I deserved this. From what happened to me to the Addison Apartments, all of it has felt like a path that has been engraved for me. So I never stopped to think that maybe this doesn't apply to everybody; that people don't always get what they deserve..”

“If what you deserve is a white picket fence, and your kids all around, and a husband who loves you. What if the least you deserve is a real human being, and what you get is me?”

Your breath hicks at his last words. “You deserve so much more than this—me. I mean look at me-feel me.”. Moving your hands to his, he guides you up and down his scarred face. “Do you feel this Y/N? This isn't what a boyfr-”. Feeling your lips onto his, a small smile forms onto his face as he grabs you in deeper. “You’re right.” Once you finally break apart, leaving only the spaces for your nose keeping you apart.

“This is my husband, and I love him dearly. White picket fence and all.”

#sally face headcanons #sal fisher #sally face fanart #sallyface #sally face #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sally face fandom #salfisher #larry johnson #ashley campbell #travis phelps #writing blog #female writers #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #shnoob

156 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 9 months ago

Text

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 23: Shibari

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) shibari/kinbaku, bdsm/bondage, softdom!Damien because I said so, oral sex (m receiving), a bit of dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, some degradation, cum play, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: As we conclude kinktober 2024, I figured it was only fair to make good on my promise, so here is the Damien shibari fic you have all been waiting for <3

The rope was tight, but the pressure was snug, almost comfortable, as you knelt in the unfamiliar position.

You couldn’t move; your hands were bound behind your back in a manner that ensured they stayed between your calves; legs tied at the ankles, the rope hooking over your knees to keep you kneeling on the bed. Another rope had been box-tied around your chest, framing your breasts with an unyielding weight that, if you breathed too deeply, made you feel trapped—but it wasn’t at all unwelcome.

You had been curious, and Damien had been a willing participant—a keen teacher.

When you’d gotten invested in the concept, the pretty red rope you had glanced at once or twice without buying; looking at the patterns people were tied into; bodies contorting in strange and erotic ways, you bit the bullet.

“Want you to tie me up like—” you had scrolled for a picture, raising your phone to his face. “Like this.”

He swallowed his coffee the wrong way, and turned to cough, spluttering in response to your question.

“Really?” He collected himself, looking at you with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. “I don’t—I mean, yeah, no, I can—are you sure?” He looked amused, but it didn’t hide the excitement in his voice. “I don’t want you to be, like—if the rope makes you uncomfortable…”

“Damien,” you’d purred, wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering against his cheek, “Please.”

He grinned, then, nodding.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Yeah.”

Damien had spent so long on the knots that you’d almost fallen asleep. But the result was too high in quality to go unnoticed.

You felt pretty, bound for him in the surprisingly strong linen rope. The knots made patterns over your body, and his hands brushed over them, watching the texture indent your skin as he admired his handywork.

“Good with your hands.” You closed your eyes, appreciating his touch as he trailed his palms over your sides.

“Don’t I know it.” Damien hummed, tugging at one of the knots to see if it would come undone.

It didn’t. He smiled.

“You feel alright?” He met your gaze, “Not uncomfortable…?”

“I’m…” you searched for the proper words, “Do I look pretty?” You smiled softly, eyes pleading.

“Always,” he grinned, “You’re beautiful.”

“Even tied up like this?” You pressed.

“Especially tied up like this,” he huffed a brief laugh, raking his eyes over your form. He dipped his face down, kissing you gently. “You want me to untie you?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking.

On the one hand, you’d gotten what you wanted; he’d tied you up and showed you how it felt, how it looked to be confined within the thin strands of rope.

You’d never said you wanted it to be sexual.

…You figured it was just implied.

“Hey,” you must’ve made a face, pouted or huffed in a way that caught his attention, because he called your name to snap you back to reality. “I’m gonna untie you, princess.” He smiled, the apples of his cheeks a faded pink.

“No—” You jerked your shoulder back abruptly, and Damien raised his hands in surprise. “I mean—no, I don’t…”

You looked up at him hesitantly, almost embarrassed to be enjoying yourself despite the mutual satisfaction you knew you were both getting out of this.

He leaned forward, cupping your face and rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

“What?” His voice was quiet, but the gentle nature of his tone did nothing to hide his exhilaration. “You wanna stay like this?” He leaned in, brushing his lips to yours as he spoke. “You like being tied up for me?”

You breathed, almost a gasp, at the sudden shift in his approach to you.

It wasn’t as if you were foreign to his ability to switch on a dime, go from smiling and giggly to suddenly domineering; but it was different when your limbs were tied together, and the power imbalance was completely skewed in his favor.

You liked it.

“Yeah…” You whimpered, hoping a verbal response would be all it took to convince him to press his lips to yours for a real kiss, rather than just the ghost of one.

“So, what should we do?” He smirked, “Can’t fuck you with your legs closed like that. I could untie your ankles…”

“No, don’t—don’t,” you whined, dead set on staying completely restricted. “Just want…kiss me. Please? And…touch me.”

Damien was on you as soon as you finished your sentence, waiting for the moment you told him what you needed so that he could give it to you.

He caught you in a deep kiss, poking his tongue through your lips and swallowing the excited moans that fell from you. You writhed in your constraints, and he grabbed at your skin, avoiding the knots that covered you in favor of the soft flesh beneath it.

He pulled back from your lips, placing his hands on your tits and squeezing sharply. The stimulation made you cry out for him; your skin, sensitive from the way the rope pinched you, was only further overwhelmed by the way he dug his fingers into you, kneading your breasts. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking over the bud and smiling against your skin.

“D—fuck,” you tried to reach up, desperate to touch him while he licked stripes over your chest, but you quickly remembered that the rope completely hindered your ability to do so. “Fuck!”

He scraped his teeth over your nipple before moving to the other one.

“Let me—please, let me—fuck my face.” You were panting, need laced through your body like the rope that wound around you, and you wanted to taste him.

Damien groaned against your chest, nipping the plush skin before raising his face to match your line of sight.

“Yeah?” He kept his hands on you, caressing your sides.

“Yeah…” You whimpered, “Please, Damien.”

“Fuck,” he undid his fly, pulling himself from his boxers. “Come—” he held your shoulders, manipulating your trapped body to lean you forward.

He hesitated.

“Can I…” He looked confused, “Would you feel alright lying on your side? Like—you can stay…you know, but it’s easier to—”

“Do what you want,” you smiled at him, “Anything. Any way.”

He let out a long breath, thrilled by your words. The glint of lust in his eye brightened.

He moved you, carefully, onto your side, letting you acclimate yourself to the position. The rope twisted against your skin, and your thighs ached, but it was a satisfying feeling all the same.

“Gonna be gentle.” He brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t even think about it.” You smirked, unabashed by your interest in having him wreck you.

Damien grinned. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Mm.” You rolled your eyes before looking up at him and opening your mouth.

He hummed, pressing his thumb to your tongue when you stuck it out over your bottom lip.

“What do you say?” He finally gave into the unholy urge, wrapping his other hand around his cock.

“Pl—e,” your soft whimper was deadened by the thumb he still had pressed to your tongue.

“Good girl,” he praised, removing his hand from your mouth, and stroking your cheek. “Keep your mouth open.”

You did as you were told, letting out a soft gasp when he slapped the head of his cock onto your tongue.

“That’s it.” He swiped the tip over you.

You moved your neck forward, trying to bob your head over his cock, but he grabbed the rope that went around your back and tugged, halting your attempts.

“Be patient, baby,” he muttered, focused on the way your tongue felt on him and the way the rope strained under his hands, “Just a little longer.”

You whined but acquiesced nevertheless; he’d give you what you wanted, you just had to let him draw it out first.

“Open wide.” He finally tired of teasing, pressing his thumb to your jaw and applying minimal pressure to coax your mouth open wider.

He pushed into you with a moan, watching the way you instantly hollowed your cheeks and pressed your lips over his length, trying to take him further.

“Fucking—yeah,” Damien’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before he forced them back open, eager to watch you. “So fucking pretty. You look so pretty tied up for me like this.”

You looked up at him, aware of but not caring about the drool that puddled near the corner of your lips as you moved over his cock. You whimpered around him as if you were trying to speak, and he pulled back.

“What?” The rise and fall of his chest was so intoxicating from the angle you were in, curled up beneath him. “Too much?”

“More.” You licked your lips, chasing the taste of him.

He groaned, eyes darting over your mouth as you traced your lips with your tongue.

“Christ, alright,” he feigned vexation, tugging again at the rope that fell over your back. “Come on, princess. Open.”

You parted your lips again, and the moment you opened your mouth wide enough, Damien thrusted into you.

You gagged on him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but any discomfort was drowned out by the thrill of being used in such a perverted way, in such a sinful position.

“This is what you wanted?” Damien growled above you, one hand fiddling with the knots on your back, the other cupping the back of your head; both were beneficial for leverage, and he used it to his advantage, dragging you over his cock and watching tears prick the corners of your eyes. “When you showed me that picture? Hm? When you asked me to tie you up—this what you had in mind, princess?” His head was tilted towards his shoulder, watching intently as your spit spilled over your chin.

You spluttered, choking on him, and completely unable to do anything about it; your hands were bound, your mouth was full—but even if none of the limitations had applied, you still wouldn’t stop him.

On the contrary, you only ever wanted to encourage his depravity.

“You’re fucking drooling, baby—you’re so fucking desperate,” he was panting, pulling you over his cock at the same pace his hips moved forward. You swallowed around the intrusion, and he whimpered. “You—shit—you’re so—such a slut.”

You couldn’t help but smile around him, happy to be able to pull whiny sounds from him when he was the one who held all the control.

“I can’t—wanna cum down your throat.” Damien’s resolve was breaking, and you stuck your tongue out to swirl over the underside of his cock as he fucked your mouth. “Fuck—” he swallowed a moan.

You did it again, swiping your tongue beneath him with every frenzied thrust of his hips.

“Good girl, keep—just like that…” He had finally given in and let his eyes close, losing himself in the wet warmth of your mouth. “God, I could—where do you want it, baby, huh?” He peeked down at you with lust-blown eyes.

You moaned around his cock, tears finally flowing freely from your eyes when he got deep enough to knock them from your lash line.

“Could cum down your throat,” he reiterated, “Or on your tits, look so fucking nice covered in me.” He weighed your reactions, finally suggesting the option he hoped would be your preferred choice. “On your face—make a fucking mess of your pretty face.” He moaned at his own words, painting a picture of what you’d look like tied up and covered in his cum.

You made a happy noise, humming from the back of your throat in response to his proposal.

He pulled out of you with a grunt, fisting himself.

“Keep your mouth open, princess—close your eyes,” he waited for you to follow his instructions, and when you did, he offered a deep sigh of satisfaction. “Good girl—let me cum on that pretty face. Stick your tongue out, baby.”

Again, you obliged, listening to the wet sound of his hand stroking his cock, coated in your spit.

“F—head up, baby, come on—” he grabbed the back of your head again, “Come on, just like that, princess, just—fuck, fuck, yeah—” He came with a strangled moan of your name, watching as his cum painted your face.

He panted, tilting his head back and swallowing a sigh before looking down at you.

You grinned up at him, smeared with your spit and his cum; tears dried to your cheeks and skin blotchy from all the excitement.

Damien tucked himself back into his jeans, sprawling out on the bed beside you.

“Okay?” He searched your face.

“More than.” You reassured, trying to inch yourself closer to him.

“Happy?” He threw you a lopsided grin, trailing a finger through his spend on your cheek and pressing it to your lips.

You opened, sucking his cum off of his finger.

“Very.” you released the digit with a pop.

He stared at you, tracing your features with his eyes and taking in how wrecked you looked.

“Take a picture, Dames,” you smirked, “It’ll last longer.”

“I could just leave you tied up like this, you know.” He laughed.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You goaded him.

“Uh-huh—so would you,” he quirked a brow, looking at you knowingly. He sat up, tracing the rope that bound you with his fingers as he began to look for the loosest knot. “Let me untie you, baby.”

You nodded, letting him get to work on undoing the bindings.

“I liked it,” you muttered, “I liked it a lot.”

“I know,” Damien laughed, finally pulling at a knot just right to make it come undone. “But I can’t do much with you in this position.”

“You planning on doing something?” You tilted your head to catch his gaze, smirking.

“Much.” He reiterated with a smile, “But I need to get your legs loose enough to spread them, first.”

#kinktober 2024 #damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas fic #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic

306 notes · View notes