#I Like The Ladies In The Miniskirts ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 1 year ago

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Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

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iznsfw · 10 months ago

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Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself.

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung.

It’s all because of her.

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation.

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it.

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do.

hey, it reads, you need to—

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it.

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands.

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together.

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth.

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours.

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin.

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look.

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane.

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?”

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to.

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection.

Deception can’t lead you away.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?”

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart.

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve.

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for.

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder.

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.”

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin.

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You.

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that.

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger.

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right.

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service.

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already.

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her.

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game.

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.”

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.”

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected.

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too.

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity.

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again.

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction.

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you.

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you.

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers.

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs.

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care.

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes.

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff.

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent.

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung.

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down.

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open.

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good.

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore.

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both.

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?”

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips.

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had.

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect.

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking.

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker.

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some.

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too.

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting.

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

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t00thpasteface · 7 months ago

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i feel like such a Guy when people are like. isn't this lady character so narratively compelling, and i'm like yes absolutely, i think she has a lot of fascinating things going on psychologically, AND ALSO i enjoy drawing pictures where her boobs are about to pop out of her bra and her miniskirt barely covers anything

#this is about veronica and serana and almalexia and houlihan and uhura and shelly and every other woman ever #i like women and i show my appreciation through horrible slobbering lesbian sexualization #shebbz shoutz

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omgthatdress · 2 years ago

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the major takeaway from last night is that Karl Lagerfeld was more of a personality than a designer and that Yves Saint Laurent was the clear winner of that rivalry.

For those who aren’t familiar, Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent were both fashion wunderkinds who emerged in the late 1950s, both appointed heads of major brands at the same time, and had very intense rivalry. Yves Saint Laurent took over Dior after the passing of Christian Dior, helped cement the brand as a major player in fashion, and then after a disastrous stint being drafted into the French army, built his own fashion brand that went down in history with its unique and diverse and always evolving looks.

Karl was always kind of behind Yves. He designed for a lot of major fashion brands, and managed to establish himself at the top of the game at Chloé, but he didn’t get his full on legendary status until he took over Chanel in 1983. This history of the Chanel brand was already pretty frought, with Coco Chanel modernizing and defining the fashion of the 1920s and 30s, but being forced to shut down during World War 2, during which she collaborated with the Nazis. Behind the Bastards did a pretty great two episodes on her. When the brand returned in the 60s, fashion had changed tremendously. Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and Balmain had all taken over mid-century fashion, and now that aesthetic was being taken over by mod, the miniskirt, and the likes of Mary Quant, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. So when Chanel came back it was largely seen as a stuffy old lady brand, which it remained until Karl took it over.

Now, this is where Karl actually did something really impressive that you honestly can’t take away from him: he took a fashion house in severe decline, one that had been in its flop era for literal decades, and he made it hip again, while still managing to stay true to the ethos that Coco Chanel had laid out.

Chanel is clean, minimalistic, and classy. It is easy to wear, effortless, and always extremely glamorous, which is what made it so iconic in the 20s and 30s. Given that the 50s and 60s were all about making a fucking effort, the thing that the brand managed to keep doing well was its suits. You know what kind of suits I’m talking about. Tweed jackets and midi skirts, neat tailoring, delicate pastel colors, pearls and camellias and chains. It’s not so much that it was edgy and exciting but it was expensive and it was *Chanel* and people wore it for the status symbol alone. That is what Karl took advantage of and managed to re-invent.

That sort of aesthetic fit perfectly into the you-can-never-be-too-rich-or-too-skinny 80s, when wearing status symbol clothing was everything.

Then, in the 90s, he managed to keep things exciting by following exactly what was on-trend at the time and incorporating elements of street wear and hip-hop.

However, after that, he kind of lost his edge and just rested on “it’s Chanel” rather than actually pushing the fashion envelope. By the time he died in 2019, he was a fucking dinosaur and fashion had long since moved past him. The thing that he was ultimately most well known for was his own very distinctive look and flamboyant personality.

Before I ever started studying fashion, I knew who Karl was because I’d seen him so many times, and I’d seen parodies of him so many times. I knew *him* but I didn’t really know his work. And I think having an incredibly boring Met Gala dedicated to him reveals that: his actual artistic legacy is skinnier than the models he used to berate. Karl Lagerfeld built his brand on his diva personality, and that sort of personality and outlook just isn’t hip anymore. Fashion is always about moving forward, and Lagerfeld’s beliefs should remain fossilized in the past.

#Karl Lagerfeld #Met Gala

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msbigredmachine · 4 months ago

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You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 1

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 2,500

Warning: Hints of smut, stalking, bullying

FINALLY! I've fleshed out this WIP. I'm so proud of myself! Hope you like it. Enjoy!

---------------

Evelyn squeezed into the crowded elevator, relieved that she’d gotten in before the doors could slide shut. She combed her fingers through her wig, smoothed down her blouse and took a deep breath as another work day that came too soon was about to start. Stepping out on the fifth floor, she fixed her face like she didn’t wish she was back in Cancun sipping on some Piña Coladas at her beachfront cabana.

The offices of Wow Magazine buzzed left and right, with employees and staff bustling about as the latest edition of the fashion Bible was published on print and digital media today. Evelyn plastered a smile on her face and accepted their glowing compliments on her outfit. Dressed in a cute off-white sweater blouse, a white pleated miniskirt with sheer Fendi ‘F’ tights and black stilettos, the ‘Editor-in-Chief’ nameplate pasted to her door reminded her every day that she couldn’t be caught dead looking a mess at any time.

“Latte for Miss Ashton?” Her assistant, Faith, entered her office ten minutes later with her usual Starbucks order. “Welcome back, boss. You look refreshed and ready to go already!” she chirped, setting the Styrofoam cup down on the mahogany desk. "How was your vacation?"

"Way too short. I wanna go back already," she replied. "So what's on my agenda today before I change my mind and get outta here?"

Faith laughed and scrolled down her iPad. "You got a meeting at ten with Tessa on September’s feature cover. Your lunch meeting with Roger from Finance is at noon, then there’s a couple of itineraries that need your approval. I’ve already emailed them to you."

"Sounds good." Evelyn took a sip of her coffee and chatted some more with Faith before she was left alone to get settled. At five to ten, she was walking to the conference room when she caught a glimpse of a tall, powerfully built man standing at the reception area, his back only visible in profile. His well-tailored pinstripe gray Gucci suit was a perfect fit on his big frame and all the musculature underneath. A jolt of interest pinged through her for this attractive stranger, but it was quickly replaced by shock as he turned around and his dark eyes met hers.

This was no stranger at all. It was her worst nightmare!

It had been several years, but there was no mistaking that face. It was bad enough that she’d had to look at it every single day for much of her teen years. Said face also haunted her TV on Friday nights, and given how he'd made her life miserable, she couldn’t forget it if she tried.

Oh no. No, no…no!

She felt her stomach drop when his eyes widened. Fuck! He recognized her, too! She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his fiery stare as his lips formed her name.

“Evie?”

Hearing him address her by her shortened name snapped her temporary paralysis. Ducking her head, she almost stumbled in her heels as she rushed into the conference room and slammed the door shut. Flattening her back against it, she exhaled shakily, her heart racing at a million miles a minute as she struggled to process what she’d just seen.

More frightening was the sight of him walking into the conference room just a few moments later with Tessa, Wow’s Artistic Director, a cheery smile on her face as she announced,

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the cover star for September’s edition, WWE Superstar Roman Reigns!”

Focusing on the meeting was difficult. Staying professional was even tougher knowing her tormentor sat mere feet away, staring a hole through her the entire time. She wanted to throw up as Tessa gushed over the magazine’s newly-penned partnership with WWE, which came with a cover feature for its biggest star in their most popular edition of the year. This also meant that in just a few short weeks, Evelyn would have to see him again, as it was her job to oversee his photoshoot, wardrobe, and the interview itself. Even more nauseating was that Management was to hold a lavish yacht party this coming weekend celebrating the partnership with Joe as their special guest of honor. Clearly, a lot had transpired while she was away, and she didn’t like any of it one bit.

Neither Tessa nor Faith noticed her eagerness to get out of there when the meeting finally, thankfully ended. She quickly darted into the break room nearby and fought to catch her breath, hating that she was running around like a cornered rat. Luckily the room was empty, meaning no one could see her in her flustered state. She was known for her cool calm demeanor, but one asshole had just come into her world and turned it upside down. Again.

She couldn’t believe this! Why was the Lord testing her like this?

Joe Anoa’i had single-handedly almost ruined her entire high school experience. For one, he made sure no boy came near her during her first three years. She was the constant butt of mean jokes thanks to his stupid football teammates, led by him and his twin cousins Jon and Josh Fatu. Her locker would often be spray-painted with derogatory names or overflowing with trash, and, at one horrific time, used condoms. She remembered the tears she’d cried after she had to clean up that disgusting stuff all by herself in front of everyone.

When her father was transferred out of state right before her senior year began, she had been beyond relieved. Most teenagers would have been devastated to be uprooted for their last year in high school, but Evelyn was ecstatic. She was never going to see Joe or his cronies again, and it was the chance to finally have a normal high school experience.

She could vividly recall the last time she saw him. She'd been so happy at the prospect of escape that, when he paused in the hall to watch her clean out her locker for the last time, she made full eye contact with him for once and laughed in his face.

"Sayonara, bitch," Evie cheesed, smiling smugly when a scowl darkened his irritatingly handsome face.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, walking up to her, his expression intense.

"Gettin’ away from you and this fucking school forever. You’ll never see me again and I don’t gotta deal with your bullshit anymore," she replied coldly. Stepping past him, she almost fell over when he grabbed her arm and yanked her back, colliding their bodies together.

Joe leaned down, towering over her petite figure, and growled, "Oh sweetheart, trust me when I say you'll see me again. I’ll find you wherever you are, no matter how long it takes. That’s a promise."

Evelyn recalled his raspy last words with trepidation. That he had indeed found her, just like he’d threatened, spooked her to no end.

Behind her, the door clicked open, and the air in the room changed. Shifted. Charged with a palpable tension. Through the reflection of a nearby window, she saw Joe shut the door behind him. With her heart in her throat, she kept her back turned and did her best to ignore his approaching footsteps. But with only a few long strides, he was standing right behind her, boxing her in his much bigger body. She hated the way her skin prickled and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Blood pounded in her ears as his familiar scent reached her nose, triggering memories of when he had mercilessly tortured her in school. She stiffened at the reminder and struggled with her body's response to his closeness. Close enough now that there was very little room for her to escape even if she wanted to.

His hard chest molded against her back. His thick, muscular arms stretched across the table she leaned on from both sides, trapping her. She could feel every inch of him, every muscle attached to her like steel to a magnet. Her breath caught, torn between shoving him away and giving in to the arousal that pulsed through her body. When she felt his mouth close to her ear, a shiver coursed down her spine.

"Evie," Joe breathed. His low, husky voice uttering her name set off the butterflies in her belly and spread heat through her body. As his hands moved to her shoulders, her skin broke out into goosebumps and her nipples hardened into sharp little points, chafing almost painfully against the lace of her bra. Despite her body's involuntary reaction, she held herself rigidly, staring straight ahead, giving no indication that she could feel anything.

"I thought I was imagining things," he went on in that gruff, yet velvety tone, "But no. I'd know that face anywhere.”

“Oh look, the leader of N’Stink is here. Long time no see,” Evelyn finally spoke up, her tone cold and clipped.

“Leader of what?” he laughed. She didn't see what was so funny.

“That was my name for you and the evil twins. Jon and Josh. I remember you all,” she said.

Joe smirked. “Who knew little Evie Ashton was so creative.”

“I’m not ‘Evie’ anymore. I go by Evelyn now.” She dared to glare up at him and despised the way her knees weakened immediately. He was more gorgeous than he was twenty years ago and was still able to effortlessly awaken her body with just one look, with just his proximity. It reminded her how, as a teen, she had been so confused and embarrassed by the way she simultaneously loathed him and desired him. Unfortunately nothing about that had changed.

"This is the other reason I knew it was you." His mouth was by her ear again. To her complete shock, he pressed himself against her, and she sucked in a breath as what felt like an impressive erection lightly prodded her backside. "All you had to do was come near me and you had me so hard I couldn’t walk straight sometimes."

Hold up!

Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no damn idea how much I wanted you, Evie,” Joe elaborated, licking his lips as he gazed at her. “I wanted a taste of them soft lips. Your tits. Your pussy. Hell, I still do.”

Evelyn clenched her thighs together, failing to stop the rush of warmth between her legs at his unexpected words. “You’re fuckin’ lying,” she stammered. This coming from the same guy who regularly made fun of her skinny frame and horn-rimmed glasses back then. Total bullshit!

He shook his head. “I'm not. You feel that, don’t you?” He grinded against her again, nudging the back of her skirt a little higher up her thighs. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the fuck away from her, but all that came out was a whimper. She glanced down, seeing his strong, tanned hands now grasping her hips, lining up her ass directly against his crotch. Mindlessly, she pressed back against him, her body giving into the urges despite her brain’s protests. Lust coursed through her, drugging her into docility. The same thing kept happening back in high school. Even when she was furious at him, he'd affected her so strongly on a physical level that she felt almost drunk when she was around him. What was worse, he was the first and only boy who had turned her on like that without even lifting a finger. Not even Chuka, her ex-fiancé, ever set her body on fire like this, despite his numerous attempts.

As a teenager, she would daydream during the day, and at night, laying alone in her bed, fantasize about being with Joe Anoa’i…wondered what it would feel like, imagined the heights he could take her to if they ever had sex…

Encouraged by her complacency, Joe’s lips trailed the crook of her neck, and her head tilted back reflexively. His steel length felt like it was branding her through her skirt. She panted heavily, air expelling in short bursts from her lungs as his mouth trailed ever closer, ghosting over her jawline and her cheek before finally landing on hers, sucking her bottom lip. For the life of her, she wondered why she didn’t push him away. Perhaps it was because she was starved for a man’s touch which had been missing for the past year. Or maybe because it was a kiss she’d dreamed of; a kiss that would set her ablaze and burn her from the inside out. It was the kiss she’d wanted for two decades but never got. Until now.

Evelyn could hear her inner, mentally-scarred teen scream for joy as she turned in his arms and kissed his soft lips back with a defeated moan. The energy between them had amplified tenfold, making her heart race, urging her to dive into him. Joe seemed to read her mind and, pushing her up against the table, slipped his tongue into her mouth, his hand leaving her waist to curl around her throat. It was the simplest, yet the kinkiest of touches which unleashed a tsunami between her thighs and another moan against his lips. She felt his dick pulse against her belly as the kiss became more urgent, hungrier. With a gentle nudge of his foot, he spread her legs wider apart, and her body jerked with surprise when he shoved his other hand inside her skirt, boldly cupping the mound protected by her panties.

“Just like I thought, you’re wet as fuck. Did I make you wet like this back then? Huh?” Joe goaded, his lips an inch from hers, making her feel every word he uttered. "Tell me."

Evelyn couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back, or her body grinding against his fingers as they circled around the dampness on her underwear before tugging the satin material to the side. His hand on her neck slipped lower to grab her breast, fondling it in his large palm as his lips latched onto the side of her throat. It was an attack from all fronts and Evelyn was very much losing the fight.

Until his finger dipped inside her wetness, which her brain computed as one lascivious act too many and finally snapped her back to her senses.

“Okay, stop! Stop it!” she hissed in a panic, pushing him off her. She glanced around the room, hoping no one else was there as she adjusted her clothes, and then raced out of the room as fast as her heels could carry her, desperate to get away. She slammed her office door shut and did not come out again until he left.

On her desk, the invite to the yacht party taunted her in its fancy, elaborate lettering and graphics, a craftwork that would have impressed her if it didn’t make her want to vomit and run away forever, or better yet, book another flight to Cancun never to return.

How the fuck was she going to get through the week?

And where the fuck was her vibrator when she needed it?

END OF PART ONE

----------------

Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #wwe #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black oc #the tribal chief #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns imagine

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m4y4wasnthere · 5 months ago

Text

betting at the bar

dallas winston x fem!reader short fic

warnings: MAJOR smut. barely any plot. , alcohol mention, degrading, minor mention of cat-calling, smoking mention, choking

a/n: i never bothered to learn alot of card games, so js pick wtv u want

the lights were a dim red, almost straining you’re eyes as you focused on the hand you had infront of you.

you were in a card game, playing with Tim Shepard, Buck, a few from Tim’s gang, and none other than Dallas Winston himself.

you had a good rep, mostly known for your looks. it wasn’t all that bad, until people start thinking you don’t have a brain. thats why this game was started, Dallas and Tim had a bet on wether or not you were just a pretty face.

you were aggravated with their belittling towards you, the bet and bickering between them beforehand took place right infront of your face. they both had no shame. you were about to prove them wrong.

Dallas bet in your favor, you were smart and weren’t just any dumb broad.

You weren’t too close with Dal, you guys always had some sort of awkward tension between the two of you, had no clue why or when it started. He didn’t necessarily do anything bad, Dallas just made it clear he avoided you.

Your attention was quickly brought back to the game when you heard Tim speak up.

“C’mon pretty lady, why dont you pick a damn card already.” He winked at you with a ugly smirk. You knew Tim as well as you knew Dallas, good enough to know he was an alright guy but ugly when he got drunk. He was drunk off his mind and you knew by the way he was flirting.

Dallas grit his teeth, remaining silent, his eyes piercing into yours from across the round table. You threw down your hand with a sly smile, and you sipped your wine.

Jaws dropped throughout the table, and the only one unsurprised was Dallas. He slyly smirked as you watched a few of the guys throw their cards down in a hissy fit, walking away. Tim lost a few bucks to Dallas, and you started collecting your earnings.

“I swear she cheated Dal.. I swear..it! She must’ve bribed someone with her looks or somethin’” Tim’s words were slurring together as he failed to comprehend his loss. “Go to bed man, you lost fair and square.” Dal threw his beer bottle in the trash and looked over at you again.

“What made you wanna bet in my favor Dal? Never thought you’d think so highly of me.” you walked over to his side and leaned your back on the table. “ don’t get the wrong idea man, i know you ‘s all” he reached over beside you to get a dollar off the table surface, making his face inches from yours.

“You know me?” you said in a slight mocking whisper. He kept his arm planted behind you, making your face start to heat up. “You think I don’t know why you dress up like that, doll?” His eyes drifted around your face, starting to linger on each detail of your body more than the last, “short little miniskirts that make your ass barely peek out, just enough for guys to peek but not get the full thing.. tank tops that make your tits pop out.”

His voice was slow, low in a whisper. His words struck you, and you blushed at how descriptive he was.

“Dal I don’t know what you’re talking about I-“

“Don’t lie to me, man. I’m not stupid.” Dallas broke away from you, and turned away. Making his way towards the stairs that led up to his room.

You stood there stunned, unsure of what to do.

He stood at the step of the stairs, without looking back at you said, “you coming or not?”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed, his message unclear.

“I’m not letting you walk home after drinking all that wine, you’re staying here tonight.”

He took a cigarette out and lit it, getting a drag and looking over his shoulder before speaking again.

“I just complimented your tits, what other way would I ask you to sleep with me, doll.”

Your face blushed from his forwardness, but you quickly followed him up the stairs, straight down the hallway to his bedroom.

He opened the door and it smelled like cigarettes, beer and him. His smell wasn’t something you could easily pinpoint, it wasnt bad, it was just, there.

He took off his shirt, revealing his toned body. Slightly sweaty from the body heat of the bar in general, you couldnt help but stare.

“Like what you see? Take a picture or whatever the saying is.”

You quickly looked away from him and stood awkwardly infront of the door.

“I thought you hated me or somethin’ Dallas, are you that drunk?”

He walked closer to you, making you back up against the door. You felt goosebumps rise when his breath hit your ear.

“ never hated you, ‘m not drunk. How’d you expect me to act with how you look?”

He placed his arm on the doorway above you, trapping you against his body and the door. Blush was creeping on your cheeks.

“you don’t know how much you effect me, do you, doll?”

You werent thinking as you trailed your fingers along his abs and rested your hands ontop of his chest, and you certainly werent thinking when you kissed him.

His hand creeped under your skirt, groping your ass. Your heartbeat was quickening with each second as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He swooped both his arms under your ass and picked you up, your legs subconsciously wrapping themselves around his torso.

The kiss didn’t break once, both of you starting to form beads of sweat across your bodies.

He laid you on the bed, pinning you down in the process.

“You’re just gonna let me handle you like that? You’re such a fucking whore.”

“Dallas..”

You whimpered his name. You reached out for him, wanting to wrap your arms around his neck, anything for him to be closer.

He pinned your arms above your head, kissing you aggressively. “You like it when I handle you rough like this, huh doll?”

“Yes” you barely managed out “please don’t stop dally..”

He unclasped your bra with one of his hands and threw it to the side. He immediately started sucking on one of your tits, pinching and kneading the other.

You arched your back, giving into him more, your free hands tangled themselves into his hair.

“Dallas finger me please. I’ll do anything.”

You begged him to please your aching core, your panties being soaked.

“Mm, you’re so needy. How’d ya think the other guys would react if they ever saw you so desperate?” He traced the middle of your underwear with a finger. “Only they’ll never get to see you like this. You’re mine doll. You got that?”

You nod your head and whimper to his slight touch. His finger moves away, “Say you’re mine y/n.”

“I’m yours Dallas. All yours.” You gasped out his name.

He took your panties off and slid his finger over your wet folds painfully slow.

“Dal-“ He pushed his finger in, and starts pumping in and out of you.

You moaned and scratched his back, until you had an idea. You started to rub his hard-on through his jeans, he groaned in response.

“Doll, stop that.”

You certainly didnt stop. You tried to go at the same speed he was fingerfucking you at until he pulled his finger out and stopped touching you entirely.

he stepped away from the bed and started unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

He didn’t break eye contact once.

“Dallyyy” you whined for him. His silence was making you want him more.

“You needa learn how to act properly slut. Either ya shut up or your not gonna be able to walk for a few weeks.”

He aligned himself up to your folds and you stayed quiet, you knew he meant what he said.

He inserted himself in and you both groaned, “Dal, fuck me please. I’m sorry for teasing, ’m sorry, just please, make me feel good”

He looked down at you and smirked. He started slow but gradually got faster and wrapped his hand around your neck.

Blissful moans and whimpers kept escaping your mouth, the room being filled with you and skin slapping.

“Dally, I’m gonna-“

“You can hold it.”

You ached to release, your mind slowly becoming numb to the amount of pleasure you were receiving. Your tongue stuck out, and you could barely hold it in any longer.

You felt him twitch inside you, and his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Doll, I’m gonna cum. Cum with me. Now.”

You released on his command and you felt his warm load fill you to the brim. You moaned his name over and over again throughout your high and sighed as he pulled out of you and laid next to you.

“Dallas, what uh, what does this make us?”

You were laying next to him, your head laying in one of his arms.

“I dont know man, we can talk about it in the mornin’. go to sleep doll.”

He pulled you onto him in a lazy embrace. The two of you didn’t speak at all the rest of the night, you stayed up for a bit listening to his peaceful breaths.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#the outsiders #dally winston #dally winston smut #the outsiders dally #dally winston x reader #dally x reader #the outsiders dallas #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston

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nats-firefly · 1 year ago

Text

look what you made me do

dark!sorority!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: she did this for you

warnings: dark fic, mentions of blood, murder, toxic behavior, stalking, power bottom!nat, strap on use, slapping, scratching, possessiveness, smut 18+

a/n: another repost, this is required reading (she's making a comeback ladies (gn))

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 4k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

Natasha Romanoff wouldn’t call herself a possessive person. She was never one to hold on to things for a long time, or really care about them sticking around.

Until you came around.

From the second you saw Natasha you were hooked. Her smug grin and carefree snarky attitude immediately lured you in. You’d never wanted anyone else so bad in your life, and the redhead never felt so wanted. But the feeling of wanting and being wanted was not one Natasha was familiar with. The fight between wanting to keep you to herself and her detached personality an everyday battle.

She managed it, upheld the same rules she kept with every one else with you, even though everything in her wanted to break them. Don’t spend the night, don’t let them leave a mark, don’t chase, and most important of all leave them wanting more. She was almost as obsessed with how many people chased after her than with herself. Then you came along and threatened to change that.

She didn’t understand what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you would look for her whenever you had class together, or how if you bumped into her on campus you’d always offer to go for coffee. And that one time Natasha was cold and you offered her your jacket, that was a day she would never forget.

It was early spring and the day looked deceptively warm outside Natasha’s window. The sheer tights, miniskirt, and long sleeve in her closet almost screaming at her to be worn. It wasn’t until she was halfway across campus that she realized those were not enough layers. As if that wasn’t enough of a start to her day, some freshman on a bike almost bumped right into her, the close call sending her into the bushes and making her tights snag on the small twigs.

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath.

“Watch where you’re going, kid!” She heard your voice before she felt your hand on her lower back, her cheeks involuntarily reddening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She reached down to where her tights were snagged, but couldn’t quite reach.

“I got it-”

“No you have to be careful, it will rip.”

“Yeah, Natasha, I got it, now stop moving,” You hand grabbed onto her thigh, the gesture somehow more intimate that any other moment you’d spent together between hickeys and clothes falling to the floor. “There you go, good as new.”

She noticed the way you stopped yourself from kissing where the twig had been. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Natasha bit her lip as she looked up at you fighting the urge to connect your lips. She had class to attend. You were just a tardy waiting to happen. “Wanna grab coffee?”

“I-” A wind blew past the two of you, making Natasha’s words falter as goosebumps rose to her skin. “I have class.”

“Do you want my jacket?” Your question was so unexpected she didn’t even have the chance to protest before you were draping the material over her shoulders. “I’ll see you later, Nat.”

And with a kiss on the cheek you were gone and Natasha Romanoff has never been the same. Ever since she revelled in the attention you gave her, got drunk on your compliments and breathed your admiration every time you were around. She couldn’t let something so sweet get away from her.

You only wished she’d tell you. Ever time it seemed like you were one step closer to her she would take twenty steps away. You weren’t exactly fond of it but Natasha was worth playing games for. You’d be her pawn for as long as she wanted.

She couldn’t help the way her head picked up from the book she was reading in a far away corner of the library when she heard your laugh. Natasha didn’t like the way she couldn’t control the smile threatening her lips, but it quickly faded when her eyes zeroed in on where this girl - is that fucking Gen? - you were with was touching you. It was just a friendly touch on your arm but it still made the redhead sick to her stomach.

You didn’t notice her, too focused on trying to finish the project you were working on with your assigned partner Gen. The project was due the following week and the two of you had procrastinated long enough. Natasha watched you the whole time. She changed where she was sitting to behind the two of you after she had finished her work, not wanting to risk any chances of you looking up and seeing her.

It wasn’t until the sun had set and the library was closing that you and your partner got up to leave. Natasha was already upset, watching you like a hawk. It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that she got mad.

“Do you wanna grab coffee?” She heard your voice in the distance, making her stop in her tracks. She held her arms close to her body trying to keep herself from pacing.

“It’s late, I probably shouldn’t,” She said, starting to walk away from the library. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Another touch to your arm and Natasha was on her way towards you, almost fuming. Nobody gets to touch what’s hers.

“Y/N, hey,” Her voice had no traces of anger, her hands slid up your arm to your shoulder as you turned to her, her fingers stroking the back of your neck. You smiled down at her, your hand instinctively reaching down to her waist and pulling her closer.

“Hi Nat,” You answered. She almost purred with your hands on her. “What are you still doing on this part of campus so late?”

“I was just working late,” She said, pointing her head towards the library you were just in. “Do you wanna grab coffee?”

“I’d love to,” You said, then pulled her closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I have really good coffee at my place.”

“That’s funny, I was just gonna suggest we go there anyway,” She laughed, an airy gasp leaving her lips when yours touched just below her earlobe. “Do you invite all the girls you meet to your place?”

“Only the pretty ones,” You joked, pulling away from her and taking her hand. She slyly let go of it, walking alongside you in the direction to your apartment building. You lived a short walk away from campus, the whole time the two of you walked, Natasha though about all the other places Gen might have touched. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” She said, her arms snaking around yours. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin. “What were you doing in the library so late?”

“Working on a project,” You answered, walking up to your building door. Natasha noticed how you failed to mention the girl. It meant you had something to hide. In reality you knew how Natasha got sometimes when you hung out with other people. You thought it was hot, you just didn’t want her to bother poor Gen. They were in the same sorority after all. And last time she saw you with another girl from her sorority she kicked her out, you never saw her again.

Natasha nodded her head, following you into the building silently watching your movements. When the two of you stepped into the elevator it wasn’t long until the redhead was pressed against the wall with your head buried in her neck. Her hands gripped your shirt while she pressed herself closer to you, only pushing you away when she felt you sucking a little too harshly.

She turned to the mirror, examining her neck and seeing a deep red fading. “What the fuck, Y/N, you know I don’t like that.”

“Right, you only like being associated with me when it’s convenient to you, must’ve forgotten.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, turning around. The elevator doors opened and you stepped out, the redhead following closely behind.

You unlocked your door, avoiding the redhead’s question. Natasha, however, was not ready to let it go. “Don’t ignore me.”

You sighed a long sigh, putting your backpack down on the floor as she walked through the door, flicking the door closed behind her. Your jaw clenched as you stood back up while Natasha walked towards you with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You act like you own me, but every time I make an attempt to return the gesture you push me away, why is that?”

“Do you not like it?”

“Well if you’re gonna do that, do it like you mean it,” Your face was inches away from hers, an angry fire lit behind her eyes.

“You want me to mean it?” She asked, her hands sliding up to your neck, twirling some of the baby hairs are the bottom of your neck around her finger.

“Yes,” You whispered, inching closer. She leaned in until your lips were mere millimeters apart. Her hand pulled your head back roughly before your felt her lips connecting to your skin. You moaned, your hands automatically finding their place on her hips and pulling her closer.

Her teeth grazed your skin, her grip on your hair tightening before she made you look at her again. “You’re mine,” She pushed off of you and pushed you back until you fell back onto your bed. “Not anybody else’s,” She straddled your hips, grinding down on the strap between your legs. “Other people don’t get to touch what’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t want anybody else to,” You said, bucking your hips up against hers. Her hand wrapped around your throat as she leaned over you, putting more pressure against your airway.

“Mine,” She almost growled, lifting her hips and roughly pushing off of you. You gasped, sitting up onto your elbows while you caught your breath. You watched her shimmy her underwear down her legs, quickly scrambling to take off your own. She moved forward and grabbed onto your hands, completely pulling off your pants down before crawling back onto the bed.

“Do you think she wants you?” She asked, her eyes never leaving your body on the bed as she crawled over you. “Think she wants anything more than this?” Her hand wrapped around the strap, pushing it against you. “This is all you’re worth,” She chuckled, darkly, hovering over you. “And it’s all mine.”

You don’t remember telling her you were ever with someone else, but you were too dazed to care. Her nails dug into your thighs as she lowered herself to the toy between your legs. Your head fell back, a moan escaping your lips when she took the tip of the strap past her lips. Her head bobbed up and down the length of the dildo, her cheeks hollowing out with every movement. It wasn’t long before the redhead was crawling back up your body.

“Natasha,” You tried pleading, hand wandering her body as she positioned herself. “You- She-”

“Shut up,” She said, her hand circling back around your throat. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

She lined up the toy with her entrance, sliding the tip along her clearly dripping folds. Your hands moved to slide over the top of her thighs, fingers reaching up to her hips then sliding back down.

“See what you do to me?” She asked, whining as the strap slid over a sensitive spot. Your lips turned up into a smirk as you gripped her hips and made her sink down onto your strap in one swift movement. “Fuck Y/N!”

You knew you had her.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, bucking up into her again. The moan she released something almost angelic. You wanted to hear it again.

She whined, rolling her hips onto yours as her hand made its way back around your throat. You felt her grip tighten as she licked a long stripe up your neck to your ear. “Do that again.”

Your hands slid around to her ass, squeezing her soft skin and moving her hips up and down your length. She moaned against your neck, her hand scratching down from your neck to the top of your shirt. You hissed when her teeth grazed the skin on your neck, knowing you’d be left with a mark there in the morning.

“Natasha,” You groaned as she pulled away from you, moving your hips in rhythm with hers. She whined, moving her other hand to grip the top of your shirt before she ripped it open.

“You look so hot like this,” She placed both her hands on your chest, resting her weight on top of you as she continued bouncing on the toy. “So willing to be used.”

You squeezed her hips as she leaned back, running her hands up your chest to your face. She tugged some loose strands of your har sticking to your skin back, then leaned back down to connect your lips one more time. Your hands wandered down to her ass again, making her whine against your mouth.

She ran her nails down your arms to your wrists, taking you by surprise and roughly pinning them above your head. “You’re mine to use.”

You watched her with a smug grin, loving the way her breasts bounced in her tight shirt. She moaned, a long drawn out sound as she worked herself closer to the edge. “Mine to fuck,” Her voice became airy, her head falling back as she rolled her hips onto yours. “Mine to do whatever I want with.”

She leaned back, moaning as her movements became sloppier. Her hand gripped your jaw, her grip tight as she rutted against you.

“You close?” You asked, gripping onto her hip with one hand and her arm with the other. “Why don’t you cum for me then? Make a mess for me Nat.”

“Fuck,” Natasha moaned over you, her walls tightening around the toy as she rode out her high, moaning and whimpering with your movements. You flipped the two of you over, pushing the toy into her deeper, enjoying the way her face contorted with pleasure.

“Is that all I am to you?” You asked, face inches away from hers. You pressed your hips further into her, making her whine. “Only something to make you feel good?”

You easily slid the toy in and out of her, the toy hitting all the right spots. She picked up her head to look at you in the eyes, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back with a sigh before pulling out. Natasha whined, leaning up on her elbows with a confused expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” You picked up a shirt from the floor and moved towards the bathroom. “I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, Nat.”

“Since when did that ever make a fucking difference?” She asked, moving off the bed and in front of you. She slid her shirt over her head and let her skirt drop to the floor. Your gaze lowered to her naked body, her smirk growing as you caught your lip between your teeth. “You don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”

She pressed you back against the doorframe, dipping her head into your neck and leaving a trail of small hickeys down your neck. Her hands slid down your arms and placed your hands on her hips, leaning closer to you. You could feel her slow breaths on your face, and you didn’t realize you moved forward until she was pressed against the opposite side of the door frame.

Natasha’s smirk grew, her white teeth now peeking out from between her lips. “You don’t wanna press me up against the wall and fuck me until I can’t even think anymore?”

“I never said that,” You growled before connecting your lips again, the redhead’s hands entangling in your hair and pulling you flush against her. Your hands reached down and pulled her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Natasha moaned, her lips trailing down your neck as you slid the toy back into her.

She moaned against your skin with ever buck of your hips, her whole body jolting with your movements. By this point in the night you didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know Natasha had littered your skin with deep bruises. She didn’t want Gen to have a single doubt in her mind, you were Natasha’s, not anybody else’s.

Natasha whined into you, hands pulling your head back to look at her. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” You watched her bounce another few times, waiting for her to become more desperate. You tilted your head, smirking when she tightened her grip on your hair and whined. “Please.”

“I’m all yours,” You said, watching her face scrunch up as her orgasm started washing over her. Natasha’s hands gripped onto your shoulders as she came for a second time, her head leaning back onto the doorframe. Your lips kissed down her neck, quickly finding her sweet spot at the corner of her jaw.

Her legs unwrapped from around your waist, your grip on her hips faltering as you slowly eased her down. Natasha pushed you away before you could leave anything permanent. She slid her hands down your chest, admiring the small bruises she left in her wake, tracing the scratches she etched onto your skin.

Natasha loved when you were like this, when your skin was covered with her. There was no way anyone would look at you snd not think you had someone you belonged to. She was pleased with her work, she doesn’t have to worry about Gen.

—

Natasha wasn’t planning on following you into the library the next day, she really wasn’t. But you sent her a snapchat of you after you showered and she noticed some of her marks had faded faster that she would’ve hoped. She was only doing this to make sure Gen didn’t cross a line.

She watched you greet her, the same friendliness you had offered yesterday. Everything was fine until Gen stupidly decided to ask about the marks on your neck.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” You said, looking over your shoulder. Natasha wondered if you knew she was there. You didn’t, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on you. Gen, however, seemed like she had a death wish by how insistent she was on knowing where all the hickeys came from.

“I just don’t get how you have so many, Jesus, Y/N,” Her fingers traced the ones on the side of your neck and you subtly scooted away from her.

“They’re hickeys, Gen, don’t be a fucking moron,” Natasha muttered under her breath, roughly turning the page of the textbook she was pretending to read. The redhead noticed the way you didn’t welcome Gen’s touch, the way you almost flinched away from it. Gen was about to learn an unpleasant lesson.

Whoever Natasha wants, Natasha gets. There’s no standing in her way.

—

You ended up leaving the library much later than you’d planned. Gen had to leave early, telling you she was being called into an emergency sorority meeting. You knew the drill. You knew it was her gaze you were feeling through the day.

Poor Gen. She was nice, and she loved Tri Delta, it’s a shame Natasha would have to kick her out.

You were packing up your things when your phone buzzed with a text from Natasha. You were wondering when she was gonna text.

Come over?

You answered you’d be there soon. Natasha might be a little extreme, but just enough to keep you hooked. A sick and twisted part of you loved how she went out of her way to make sure she had you.

Because that’s the way it would always be. She had you, and would have you for as long as she wanted, but you’d never have her. Strangely, that was enough for you.

You made your way across campus to Natasha’s sorority, the usually busy campus eerily quiet at this time of the night. When you walked up to the large house, a cold chill ran down your spine, the usually buzzing mansion suspiciously quiet even for this late at night.

The strong smell of bleach was the first thing that welcomed you as you stepped through the door. You watched as two of Natasha’s sorority sisters walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with bloodied rags and a bucket.

“What the fuck?” You somehow walked further into the house, ignoring every instinct telling you to get the fuck out of there. You spotted a pledge walking past you, her face pale as she carried a bucket of what seemed like bloodied water.

You continued your way to the staircase, noticing the small droplets of red on the steps. Your stomach turned, wondering what in the hell could’ve happened and why there weren’t any authorities at the house.

“Maria,” You spotted the brunette wiping down the wall, small streaks of red following the rag in her hand. “What the hell happened?”

“You know how she is,” She shrugged and turned back to the wall. “Just Nat being Nat.”

Your head turned to the other end of the hallway where Natasha’s bedroom was. Your chest tightened at the heavy trail of blood leading into the room.

“It’s a shame,” You snapped back to Maria who continued to wipe the wall. “I liked Gen.”

You swallowed hard as you took careful steps towards her bedroom, trying not to step on any of the blood. Your hands shook the closer you got to the door, having to wipe them on your pants before you entered the bedroom.

“Nat?” The redhead was straddling a body on her bed, her clothes completely drenched in blood with smudged handprints covering her chest and neck. She turned her head to look at you, roughly pulling the knife out of the unfortunate girl under her. Your eyes widened in horror when you noticed it was Gen.

“Y/N,” Her voice was sweet, and somehow inviting. “You made it.”

“What did you do?” You walked towards Gen, but Natasha stopped you, the bloody knife pressing up against your stomach as she looked up at you. “Nat-”

“She needed to learn her lesson,” Her cold stare bore into you, invited you in, drowned you in her affection. The blade of the knife slid over your clothes before you felt the tip pressing against you. “Nobody comes between me and what I want.”

“Natasha she never did, she-”

“Shh,” The tip of the knife pressed further into you, Natasha’s free hand gripping your jaw and making you look at down at her. “She needed, to learn, her lesson.”

Your chest heaved up and down, your stomach twisting when you noticed her blood was smeared on your face now. You wanted to throw up. Natasha’s lips tugged upwards, bringing your face down closer to hers.

“It’s okay, baby,” She said, her breath brushing over your face. “There’s nothing between us now, it’s just us.” Her lips touched yours and for a moment you forgot what she had just done. “It’s just you and me now.”

It’s just you and her.

Your eyes were locked onto hers. How could someone so perfect do something like this. Gen groaned from her bed, your eyes trailing towards her. Natasha’s grip on your jaw tightened, the knuckles grabbing onto the knife turning white with rage.

“Don’t look at her,” Her voice was almost unrecognizable. “You’re mine.”

She pushed you back before moving towards Gen again. In one swift move, before you could stop her, Natasha sank the knife into the other girl’s chest. Blood spattered on your cheek, Gen’s body went limp.

Natasha turned back to you, her hands shaking and tears in her eyes as if she had just caught up to her actions.

“All I wanted was you,” Her voice cracked. “I wanted you to myself.”

You didn’t know what you were doing, but you stepped forward and took her into your arms, her small frame shaking with her sobs. “You have me.”

“I did this for you,” She said as you both fell to your knees, Natasha almost limp in your embrace, a small smirk tugging on her lips as she nuzzled into you. “Look what you made me do.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #dark!natasha romanoff #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha romanoff smut #*singsong* she's making a comebaaack #bonk.nat

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Backburner 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is easy going until he’s not.

Characters: Sam Wilson, this reader is known as Dizzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The appletini goes right through you. Before you can trade your empty glass for your usual mimosa, you excuse yourself to ladies. You're always the one looking for a bathroom.

You scurry through the bar, growing racuous as nine o'clock approaches. You dip into the women's room and claim a stall. Ahhhh. They say you shouldn't break the seal but you don't have much of one.

You come out of the bathroom humming to the Madonna hit and nearly slam right into another body. Sam catches you by your shoulders and chuckles as he keeps you from falling out of your platforms. You giggle and take a step back, his hands falling away reluctantly.

"Hey, so how about that appletini? Delicious?" He asks.

"Oh, thank you, sir! That was so nice! You didn't have to buy the whole table a round."

"My pleasure. What's a girls night without a free drink or too, heh? I'm sure you get quite a few," he smirks. "With outfits like that?"

You look down at your fluffy sweater and the skin tight miniskirt. You don't show so much in the office. You only realise then you must look silly.

"Ha, thanks, sir, they sorta clash though."

"Look good," he winks, "so when do you girls start dancing?"

"Hehe, sir," you giggle, "my friends aren't really dancers. We're a bit old for that."

"Mm, really? You don't look that old to me."

"Well, I mean, we're not in college, you know," you tug at your feathery cuff, "anywho, my friends are waiting."

"Yeah, so are mine," his timbre dulls, "guess I'll see you Monday?"

"Monday funday!" You agree and bound past him. How nice to run into him.

You rejoin the girls as they chat about a classic movie drive-in being held down on the park. It sounds pretty cool. You offer to bring a blanket if they want to sit on the grass an watch.

The rest of the night blows by. Fridays always do. Saturday is full of catching up with your parents and your to-do list. Sunday still has laundry and groceries on your roster, with a few hours to chill and play animal crossing.

You arrive at the office feeling refreshed. You message the girls before you get started. All of them want to plan your next outing, hopefully sooner than later. It will be nice to get back into that habit, especially with all the changes that seem to be happening with your friends. Maybe next time you'll have something to report.

"Sam," you call over to him as he steps off the elevator, "I have your gym clothes!"

You hop off your chair and swipe up the bag from under your desk. You were sure to toss it all in with your weekend load. You round the desk and hand it over to him as he makes a face.

"What's wrong?" You ask as he accepts the bag.

"This," he raises the Dunkins cup in his hand and gives a blech, "some idiot I know recommended it. Not very good... more sugar than coffee."

"Oh, no, well, I can make you a coffee or run out to Roasters?"

"Ugh, why are you so good to me, b-- diz?" He groans and hands over the cup.

"It's my job! I'll be back in the flip of a bee's wing!" You promise, "not gonna lie, I need a breakfast smoothie like no one's business."

"Damn, that sounds better. Grab me one of those instead."

"Sure, what kind?"

"Surprise me, Diz. You always know what I want," he winks and swings his gym bag as he struts off.

With a mission, you jump into action. You sway in the elevator impatiently then burst out in a flash of energy. You go down to Roasters and join the queue. It's always busy but you don't mind the wait. You can watch the dog walkers and the birds on the wires through the windows. You order two strawberry kiwi shocks and tip the barista.

Back at the office, heads hang over desks, yawns waft through, and grumbles are aimed at screens. You flit by and breeze into Sam's open office door. As you do, he shoves something back into his gym bag.

"Oh, sorry, I... the door was open," you apologise and present the smoothies.

"Ah ha, yeah," he cringes and wipes the back of his neck, "um, I didn't know it was you but..." he dips his hand back in a pulls put a pair of familiar panties with a little blue bow on the front, "think maybe there was a mix up."

You giggle and set down the tray and quickly retrieve your underwear, "so sorry, sir! Must've been static."

"Happens," he chuckles as he watches you tuck the panties onto your pocket. "You know, I almost did think they were mine but uh... not really my colour."

You laugh at his joke, "stop!"

You touch your cheeks in embarrassment.

His dimples soften as he looks at you. His expression hardens and his dark eyes cling to you. His pokes his tongue out and hums.

"You were wearing those on Friday?" He asks.

You squeak, "sir!"

"Curious," he grabs a smoothie as he steps closer, "a skirt like that, what's the point of panties."

You cough and stammer, "Sam..."

He sucks on the straw as he keeps his gaze on you, a fervent heat radiating off of him. He pops his lips free and licks them, "I'll let you in on a secret, Diz," he comes closer and wiggles the straw at you, "I never wear any." He adjusts his stance as he sets his feet wide and watches you, "I like the freedom."

"Sir..." you gurgle.

"Why don't you do me a little favour? Your good at those, aren't you?" He purrs and slurps from the straw again, "go put those on and at the end of the day, you can leave them in my bag."

You're struck dumb by the suggestion. You're not the best nuance but he's being anything but subtle. Sam is a great boss and a nice guy, but he's being anything but right now.

"I can't--"

"You will," he grins, "just like you do everything I tell you, Diz." He looks down at the cup and turns it in his hand, "mmm, sweet... bet you're sweeter, huh, baby?"

He backs up and stirs the smoothie with the straw. You stare and blink. He's going to laugh and tell you he's playing around like he always does. He sits and stares at you. He's as serious as you've ever seen him.

"Don't forget yours," he motions at the other cup.

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #falcon #captain america #drabble #series #au #bad bosses #backburner #mdu #marvel #avengers

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permanentlyfemale · 3 months ago

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you should be sitting on my cock right now. warming it for hours. topless so I can grope your huge bimbo tits, but in a micro miniskirt. for modesty ❤️ no noise, no words from you. just sitting on my cock politely like the good little lady you are. maybe my buddies will come over to play poker while you sit on my lap like a cute little fucktoy. you will be ignored, but we will talk about your tits and grope your body all while my cock rubs up against your sensitive spots.

aaaa sir this made my pussy sooo wet! that doesn’t make me a girl tho, right? i’m sure all your friends will still think i’m a man when im crying with my big boobs bouncing on display and pussy full of cock. right?

#detrans kink #detrans me #detransition kink #fakeboy #forced detrans #ftm detrans kink #ftm misgendering #ftmtf kink #ftmtf

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mayakern · 1 year ago

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As a fat lady with a huge butt I was like. Oh I probably can't get a miniskirt :( BUT I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN MY GIRL MAYA HAD ME!!!! longer in the back..... You're incredible

HEHEHEHE YES!!! i got u!!!

i feel like bc most of our models have some sort of badonk situation it can make the skirt look all one length if ur not thinking about it/dont already know

until you see the photos of devin

#ask #store #wife blogging #high babe sorry for once again highlighting ur relative lack of ass #i promise my wife does have an ass (this is important to them) theyre just not Stacked #literally without these photos of devin tho u’d think the skirts are all one length

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fugmanssexystories · 1 month ago

Text

Who Wants to be Naked?

My long tme girlfriend, Paige and I have been together for a little over a year and a half. We have had a very strong relationship for a while, passionate, caring, and unbreakable.

When we were looking for something to do on a Saturday night in May, she suggested we just stay at home and do a game night. To be honest, it didn't sound exciting, but I went a long with it because it is what she wanted to do, and it really was her choice as the last time I chose what we did. "Sounds great baby, let's do it!"

Paige could sense that I wasn't too excited by this plan, but she had other ideas. "Trust me baby, you will enjoy yourself!" She winked at me, and I had the feeling I was going to have a good time.

I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I can't wait until Saturday and game night. Part curiosity, part the reason that I get the next choice in what we do. It did seem like it took forever for Saturday to come around. Finally it was Saturday morning and Paige was going out to run a few errands before tonight. I figured she was getting snacks and stuff.

When she got home, I helped her get the groceries and stuff from the car, and she had a few bags of chips, some candy and some beer and wine, and a couple of other bags that she was quick to grab from me. "Isn't it just the two of us, I don't think we are going to eat and drink this much."

She smiled as I put the bags on the counter, "I may have invited a friend, don't worry, you will have fun."

I helped her put the groceries away, she grabbed a box and a few other bags and ran into the bedroom and locked the door behind her. This both brought an air of mystery and one of excitement into the day, and now I really could not wait until tonight. About an hour later she came out of the bedroom and I asked her if everything was ok, she just smiled and gave me a kiss, "perfect baby!"

I could not help to notice that she had a little bit of excitement to her. This was infectious, as the closer it came to evening, the more excited I got to see what was going to happen.

About 5:30 the doorbell rang and I jumped to see who it was, anticipation built as I got to the door and saw the pizza delivery person. "Two large cheese and pepperoni pizzas," she said, "28.56" I handed her the cash and closed the door. I thought 2 large pizzas, just how many people are coming?

By the time I put the pizzas on the counter and sat down again, the doorbell rang again. I went to the door and opened it. I was excited to see Anna, Paige's best friend, and a real looker. It looked like Anna was dressed for a night out. Her long brown hair done up, make up to perfection, silk, barely see through blouse unbuttoned just enough to see her lace bra peeking out with her the top of her cleavage visible, short miniskirt and long stockings, capped off with high heels. She was going to break hearts wherever she went.

I always noticed the stark contrast between Anna and Paige. Not to mention Paige's beautiful locks of blonde hair, somewhat tan skin tone and voluptuous figure, compared to Anna's who is more streamline, darker toned skin with smaller curves. Both women extremely attractive in their own way.

I announced to Paige that Anna was here, I closed the door and brought Anna to the kitchen. I offered her a glass of wine while she waited for Paige to come into the kitchen.

Moments later, she walked into the kitchen, she was dressed to go out, a long killer royal blue dress that clung to her body like a second skin. Her make up and hair done just right, not too much, but enough to enhance her natural beauty.

So here it is, a Friday night, two gorgeous ladies hot pizza and tons of snacks, it's going to be a fun night. I will say with the two of them all dressed up, I felt a little under dressed. I grabbed a glass and poured Paige a glass of wine and one for me as well. Weraised a toast and Paige said, "here is to a fun game night!" Hear hear!

I passed out some plates and we all had some pizza and settled in for a comfortable evening at our house. And thanked Paige for inviting her to the house, and they both made comments on how gorgeous they both were, I had to agree, and I did. They both smiled at me and I refilled their glasses as we finished our pizza and made our way to the dinning room..

Paige excused herself and said that she would be right back with the games. I caught a glimpse of her body as she exited the room, I noticed the high heels, stockings that led directly to her bottom. She had a perfectly round backside and the skin tight dress exposed the fact that she was wearing a thong.

She really dressed up to stay at home all night playing games. I didn't mind as the eye candy on both sides of the table was definitely one of the highlights to game night for me.

When Paige returned, she was carrying several decks of cards and Jenga dare. I didn't even know we had Jenga dare, but it was going to be an interesting night. We started off with a few games of rummy as the wine was flowing freely and we were munching on some snacks. By the time we were finished with the regular deck of cards, we were all feeling really good. By the time we started to play Jenga, we were all feeling frisky with each other. The dares in the game were relatively tame, but it did have one highlight when Anna and Paige had to share a kiss, and that really turned me on. I am certain that they felt me watching them and it had an effect on me, right after their lips parted, they both turned to look at me with a wink and a sultry smile.

Paige said, "this game is boring, let's liven things up a bit."

Anna smiled and looked at me, "I'm game!"

I nodded that I was up for anything.

Paige said here is a new game, she brought out some hand written cards and put them on the table in front of us. "When it's your turn, draw a card, but you must ask the question to both players, if the first player refuses to answer the question, they must remove an article of clothing. And the next player has to answer. If the first player chooses to answer the question, the other player has to remove an article." Paige looked at both of us, "everybody understand the rules?" Anna and I looked at each other and agreed.

Anna asked, "what do you call this game?"

Paige thought for a minute and answered, "Who wants to be naked?"

Paige picked up a card and read it out loud, "have you ever had a sex dream about someone in this room?" She looked at Anna for her answer, Anna responded by removing her silk blouse to reveal her sexy lace bra.

Anna looked at me, "you have to answer!"

The rules said I had to answer, they did not say I had to elaborate, so I simply said "yes!"

It was Anna's turn to draw a card, she smiled and read it out loud, "have you hoped to see everyone in this room naked, or have you already?" The question goes to me, if I answer than Paige needs to remove something, if I don't answer and take off something, she has to answer. This was a tough one, but I think I would rather hear her answer. I removed my shirt.

I looked at Paige and she confidently said "yes!"

I begged for her to elaborate but she just kept her response to "yes!"

My turn to draw, I read the card, then re-read it before saying it out loud..."have you had sex with everyone in this room?" I looked to Paige, she smiled and removed her shoes. I was curious on why she didn't want to answer, but I'm fine with her removing her clothes too. I looked to Anna, she thought for a second, downed her glass of wine, and smiled, "not yet." Her response had certain parts of my anatomy spring to attention as the realization of tonight's possibilities entered into my brain.

She looked for a response from Paige, who simply smiled and drew the next card.

She showed us the card, the top said "Bonus" the writing underneath said "whoever holds this card can remove one article of clothing from every player at a time when they choose." She decided to hold onto it for the moment. "Anna, it's your turn!"

She drew her card and smiled as she read it out loud, "pick one player and kiss them passionately for 1 minute, other players need to remove 1 article of clothing."

Anna looked at me, and then at Paige, "go ahead and remove your pants, I want some more of Paige." With that she quickly went over and locked lips. I removed my pants and watched as my girlfriend and her best friend made out in front of me. It didn't take too long before my erection was straining against the only article of clothing I had left on. My tool against the fabric was noticeable in front of these two gorgeous women.

We didn't start a timer or anything, but the kiss seemed to last forever, not that I minded or anything. When they finally removed their lips from each other, I could tell that both of them were in a state, Anna saw my condition and winked at me, "your turn!"

I drew the next card and read it out loud. "What was the least sexiest place that you have ever had sex?'

I looked at Paige, and she answered..." When I was fresh out of high school I worked for a grocery store, I had the keys and I brought my boyfriend in after we closed and we did it in the walk in freezer."

Paige answered, so Anna had to remove an article, she removed her skirt, revealing her matching panties that went with her bra. Her body was very tan as I looked at her up and down. Her long legs covered with the sheer stockings a bit of skin then straight up to her panties, her belly button with the little ring in it up to her bra and cleavage, she was amazing and it wasn't just me who noticed. I caught Paige looking at every inch of her friends body, in fact she asked if she could turn around so that she could see her entirely, I must say, I did not protest at all.

Paige drew the next card, "if there was no regrets and no repercussions, you have 24 hours to sleep with anyone in this room, who would you choose?"

She looked at Anna, and Anna responded by slowly removing each stocking. She made a show of it and both of us were staring at every inch of her legs being exposed. After the show, Anna looked at me, and I had to answer. I could not believe that the words left my mouth, but in front of my girlfriend, I finished my wine and said that "I would love to see, feel and taste every inch of Anna's body!"

I looked at Paige, expecting an angry or horrified look on her face, instead, she smiled at me, "might be your lucky night, but we might have to share!" Paige looked at Anna and said, "I want to use my bonus card now, each of you have to remove one article of clothing."

I had only one article left on, but Anna was about to reveal something that I have been wishing for all night. She stood up and smiled, "can I have some help?" Not sure who she meant Paige and I looked at each other and stood up together and went over to Anna. We each stood behind her and slid a shoulder strap down. I wanted to bend down and kiss her shoulder but I resisted. Apparently Paige couldn't as I watched her nuzzle into Anna's bare shoulder and neck. I unclasped her bra and Paige and I slowly slipped the material over her breasts gently touching her nipples as we dropped the lace down to the floor. She stood topless in front of us. I couldn't help but to kiss her shoulder as well before I went back over to sit down.

Paige looked at me, "no sir, you need to remove them," as she pointed to my underwear. Remember, it is hiding (not very well) my erection. "Rules are rules."

Anna encouraged me to take them off as well, she smiled and asked if I needed help. I didn't need help, but was not going to turn down a chance for her to help me out of them. Paige and Anna both came over and helped me unvail my hardness. They both reached their hands inside the waistline and pulled them away from my skin as to not injure my protruding member. When all of my hardness was on display, both looked at my erection, looked at each other, then looked me in the eye. Anna told me, "nice!"

I went to the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of wine and refilled everyone's glasses. I couldn't help staring at Anna's bare chest, beautifully shaped with small hard nipples poking through the air, they looked like the needed a good sucking is all I could think about. When I went to Paige to fill her glass, she looked at me as if to say, I know, they need to be sucked.

I was disappointed as I just lost the game, but Paige said I can continue, but obviously I wouldn't be able to remove any clothes, therefore I either had to answer everything or figure out something else. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but given the situation, I wasn't going to argue.

I sat back down and waited for Paige to draw another card. She showed us the card, in bright red on the top of it read, "Penalty!" And right below that, the card read "you must remove one article of clothing off of your own body."

As she stood up and removed her stockings, she tried to make a show of it like Anna had already done. Anna and I stared as her legs became more and more visible underneath her dress. As she smoothed her dress back down, I could not help but think, why is she still dressed? I was naked and her friend was one step away from being completely naked herself.

Anna drew her card and read it out loud, "what is on your sexual bucket list that you have to try before you die?"

She looked at me, I have to answer, the best part is either way, Paige has to lose her dress if I answer. "Tough question, but I have always wanted to be tied to a bed while multiple woman use my body for their own pleasure."

Anna and Paige looked at each other, then at me, and both of them smiled at me. All eyes moved to Paige as she had no choice but to remove her dress. We both watched as she bared her legs, then her thighs, and above her waist, wow it was taking forever, but I loved watching her do it. As she lifted it above her breasts, she revealed that she was not wearing a bra. Her bare chest exposed for everyone to see.

I heard Anna gasp as she saw her friend's bare chest. Paige stood there in front of us, bare breasts, wearing only a thong. I have always loved Paige's chest, very voluptuous, large with large nipples that could dial a rotary phone when she's excited and she was. To have her show them off to another topless woman was exciting for me, I tried to resist, but I had to touch myself.

Anna caught a glimpse of what I was doing, and declared,"no sir, that I believe is against the rules."

I removed my hand and brought it back up to the table top. I am in a unique position now, I am completely naked and one of them will be right along with me after this round. I hoped for a good card and picked up the next one on the pile and read it out loud. "Tell me one thing, other than straight sex, that you want someone in this room to do to you sexually, be descriptive!" I looked at Paige, awaiting her answer. She looked at Anna, then at me and stood up, removing her thong. She stood there naked in front of the two of us, you could see that she had recently shaved completely, not a strand of pubic hair was to be found, just her moist lips glistening between her legs. She looked so tasty and I couldn't wait to dive between her lips with my tongue. I looked at Anna who was licking her lips as she stared at Paige's naked form. I watched Anna as she was transfixed by her friend's nude body.

Anna said, "woman, you look sweet enough to eat." Paige smiled at the compliment. When she sat down, her legs opened slightly and both Anna and myself were trying to get a better view.

Paige looked at Anna, "well, what's the answer?"

Anna took a drink of wine before she looked at me, "I want your girlfriend to hold me down and lick me until I scream out and come, then you slide your hard cock down my throat. I want to feel every last inch of you push past my lips. I would give up the right to breathe to have you all the way inside of my mouth. Then I want you to slide it in and out until you can't resist but to fire everything you have down my throat. And after you come in my mouth, I want your girlfriend to kiss me so that we can share every last drop of both of our come."

Paige and I both drank the rest of our wine, looked at each other and smiled. We then told Anna that since we were both naked, that she won the game. She jumped up, her breasts bouncing with the rest of her gorgeous body, and declared "I want to be naked!"

Paige and I both stood our naked asses up and went to help Anna with her last stitch of clothing. We went to her and each kissed her passionately before slowly kissing our way down her body. Her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, we each spent a few extra moments on her nipples. I swirled my tongue around the taut little bud, gently nibbling on it. Her hands grabbed the back of our heads, keeping us at her nipples.

Just like the girls did to me, we both put our fingers inside the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs as we trailed our tongues down her torso, finally exposing her entire body to us. Paige was definitely enjoying herself as she gave Anna's bum a gentle playful slap. Anna cooed with excitement as her friends hand found her bare flesh. I went around to the front and planted my lips at her belly button as she held onto my shoulder for support. I felt pressure being applied, forcing me downward until I reached her private opening. She smelled of arousal and I could see moisture on her shaven opening. It was so inviting that I reached out with my tongue and slid it between her lips once. Anna moaned with satisfaction and suddenly Paige was right next to me. She whispered, "can I have a taste too?"

I leaned back for her to take her turn, "mmmm, you taste incredible!" I had to agree and couldn't wait for us to venture to the bedroom. Paige grabbed Anna by the hand and Anna grabbed me by my tool as we all walked down the hallway to the large king sized bed in our bedroom.

I don't know about the women, but I couldn't wait to get in the bedroom. Such possibilities, three naked people, lots of social lubricant, who knows where this will end up. I officially love game night and want to schedule more in the future.

Once we got into the bed I let the girls have a little fun while I watched them kiss and explore each other's bodies. I watched as they kissed each other passionately fondling each other, Paige had her hand between Anna's thighs and Anna had her hands on Paige's bare ass. I laid back on the bed and just watched as my hand started to travel down my own body. When I got my hands wrapped around my tool I started to play, I couldn't help it, watching the two of them was really hot.

Paige pushed Anna down on her back and moved her tongue down her body. She slowed down at her nipples and swirled her tongue around each one before sliding down further. She inserted her tongue inside Anna's belly button and Anna took a deep breath. When Paige forced her legs open, Anna caught me playing, she smiled and winked at me before closing her eyes to enjoy her friend eating her out.

I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, Anna was definitely enjoying the special treatment that Paige was offering, and I knew that Paige was enjoying this as well. I stood up, still playing with myself and walked over behind Paige. Her bum in the air as she went to town feasting on Anna. I held onto Paige's hips as I slid my tool between her legs and inside of her vagina. She moaned in Anna as I slid further inside. I wasn't moving fast, more like slowly sliding in and out of her hole, coating my erection with her moisture. After about 10 or 15 strokes inside of her, I pulled out and went up by Anna's head. I poked her in the lips a few times before she opened her eyes and then her mouth. She bent her head backwards as I fed her my tool.

She moaned as she loed the taste of Paige's juices on me, then she began to swallow my meat as far as she could, she opened wide and grabbedmy cheeks, pulling me deeper into her mouth and throat. Holy cow, she was possessed and would only be satisfied if she felt her nose touch my pubic bone. It took a little while but that is exactly what she did. She moaned around me and then began to move her head back and forth, forcing me in and out of her open lips. I grabbed for her nipples and pinched them several times as she brought her hands to my hips and pushed and pulled me. I finally got her hint and forced myself in and out of her. I basically was fucking her face and she was loving every inch and every second of it, plus with my girlfriend moving her quickly to the point of no return, she was in heaven, and I am not sure about paigez but I was not having a bad time myself.

I noticed Anna's body starting to tense up and I knew she was about to explode into Paige's mouth, I think Paige realized it too, I soon realized that she was sucking on her clt while s had several fingers buried inside of Anna's holes. This just about sent me over the edge. A couple more strokes and I was filling her mouth with my seed. A moment after I fired away, she lost it and went crashing over as well, and just like her prediction during the gams, Paige came up and they shared a kiss, exchanging the come between them. Come dripped out the sides of their mouth and their tongues chased after it until everyone was all clean.

The women moved around and Paige laid down on her back on the edge of the bed. Anna jumped at the chance to get between her open legs. I watched as her fingers easily slid inside of her friends vagina. She moved her head down right above her clit and massaged it with her lips, sucking and licking Paige until she was breathless with excitement. I climbed on the bed and straddled her chest, sliding my already erect penis between her voluptuous breasts.

She held herself together as I slid back and forth between her breasts. It was exciting to see her face as her friend was between her legs and I was between her tits. Her body was being pleasured and providing pleasure at the same time. She caught my eye and I watched her as she started to reach heights before she was going to crash. I don't know if Anna was experienced or not in this type of thing, but she was definitely pleasing Paige with whatever she was doing.

It wasn't long before she was ready to go over the edge. I told Paige, "don't close your eyes, I want to see you!" She stared into my eyes as I could see her rapidly approaching the point of no return. Her mouth open wide, head tilted back as Anna pushed her over. She was moaning and her body was quivering underneath me. It was about all I could do to hold off until she finished before I exploded all over her chest, coating her with my fluids.

Once I stood up and moved off of the bed, Anna jumped right up and cleaned up my girlfriend's chest with her tongue. She even cleaned up parts that didn't have any of me on her. She played with her breasts, kissing, licking and sucking all over, but she payed particular attention to certain areas like her nipples, he neck and then they made out again.

It didn't take long before I was excited and standing proudly at attention. Anna and Paige both noticed my condition and whispered to each other. The next thing I know, I am helped onto the bed and Paige brought out our box of toys. She took out the restraints and they fixed me to the bed. Both wrists and both ankles, anything they were about to do, I was helpless to stop it.

I laid there helpless, erection standing straight up, begging to be played with, instead, hey played with each other. The knelt on either side of my outstretched arms and leaned over my body, exploring each other's mouths again.

I watched as their hands toyed with each other. I nearly lost it when I watched Paige hook Anna's nipples to the nipple clamps we sometimes play with, I could tell, Anna had never experienced this before, she squealed and screamed her excitement and pain all at the same time. I had a great view of these two women playing with each other and Everytime they would kiss, Paige would pull on the chain that connected the nipple clamps, lifting Anna's breasts by the nipple. It looked painful, but I think that after a while Anna began to get turned on by it, I know that I was definitely enjoying it.

I feel someone's hand stroking my tool, And I couldn't tell exactly whose hand it was, but watching them together and having someone play with me, had my member solid as a rock and ready for action. To say it was torment was an understatement, but I was in heaven with this treatment. I knew by the end of this night, I would have no fluids left in me to give.

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