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princessbrunette · 3 months

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In need fathers day with baby daddy rafe, pretty pretty please princess 💕

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you always felt nervous going to tannyhill. not that you felt unwelcome, everyone in his life made it clear that rafe’s baby was of utmost importance to them — so with that came the kind and supportive treatment toward you. however, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden. if rafe wanted to be around you and his kid 24/7, he would do so — hell, he’d get back with you. due to feeling like this, your palms were all sweaty by the time you’d reached the front door, card tucked under you and baby carrier weighing down your arm.

he looks surprised to see you when he opens the door. still in his shirt and slacks, it’s clear to you that rafe had buried himself in work today. it only then occurs to you that father’s day might be difficult for him, giving his circumstances at all. you inwardly wince.

“uh, hey.” he eyes you, itching his cheek and peering into the baby carrier.

you clear your throat, bashfully holding out the card. he takes it in silence and you place the carrier down, picking up your sleepy baby and holding her to your chest. “happy father’s day, daddy.” you smile, voice soft as to not disturb your child too much. he softens a little, blinking.

“that today?” he breathes and you stiffen a little. surely he knew?

“uh, yeah. we got you a card, wanted to let you spend some time with her today if you’re not too busy.”

“if i’m not too— listen i’m never too busy to see my kid okay? or you. i’m— i’m never too busy to… see my family… and stuff.” it’s awkward, the sentiment too soft for his liking and he looks down, staring at the sweet, milk-plumped angel in your arms. “let me…” he reaches out and takes her, her fat little fists immediately stretching for him and curling into the material of his shirt making your heart swell. he was always oddly a natural at this, handling her so well. it always filled you with a strange kind of sadness, one that regressed you slightly to something more scolded and childlike because your own father hadn’t offered you that same generosity. yet, you were thrilled your baby would receive that love even if you weren’t together with her father.

“come in, please.” he stands aside, holding the door for you before picking up the carrier in his other hand— effortlessly walking it with the baby to the living room. “you walked here?” he converses, setting the carrier down and placing the baby back inside, crouching down to stroke her tummy with the side of his finger.

“took the bus. no way im walking with that heavy thing.” you chuckle quietly and he swivels his head to glance at you.

“should’ve told me you were coming i would have got you. y’know i really don’t like you getting on the bus with her, it’s not safe alright, there’s all kinds of lunatics out there.”

“we survived.” you shrug, and there’s a short silence before he stands up, reaching for the card and opening it up. you fiddle with the hem of your dress awkwardly. you never quite knew what to do around rafe these days.

you watch as he reads the contents. ‘to daddy, thanks for being the best and always looking after me. can’t wait to be able to tell you myself how much i love you.’ you sign it off as your daughter, but his eyes linger over it, your sweet handwriting scrawled around the brightly coloured paper — almost for a moment like you were saying it yourself.

“and before you ask, yes she said all of that herself.” you joke to ease the tension and he snaps out of it, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“our little wordsmith, huh?” he smirks, wandering over to the mantelpiece and displaying the card. it filled you with some kind of pride, though it wasn’t about you. “look uh…” he strokes his jaw, glancing over at the baby. “let me take you both out for dinner, yeah? my treat.”

“your treat? rafe its father’s day, we’re supposed to be treating you—”

“i know, alright but… i’m supposed to be looking after you, right? looking… looking after you both.” he corrects himself, walking closer to you until he was basically looming over you, eyes wide. “and— and i know this is a hard day for you too, alright— shit, it’s a hard day for me. gotta bond as a family at some point, you know that right?”

you nod, feeling a weight off your shoulders a little at the way the tension fizzles out.

“you sure? i don’t wanna take up your time—”

your incessant apologising makes his eyes flutter in irritation and he takes your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him as he ducks his neck down to be more at your level.

“you’re not… yeah? you’re not. so quit.”

you blink all dumb, not realising how badly you missed his hands on you even if it was just as an innocent gesture and you nod, not trusting your voice. you try not to overthink the way he leaves his hands there for a moment as he glances over at your baby, thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheekbone for a second before pulling away and patting his pockets. “has she slept?”

your brain malfunctions so it takes you a second, but soon you choke out a “y—yeah. had her afternoon nap she’s just still waking up.”

“good. i know somewhere quiet, got a host there who owes me a favour.” he strides to the carrier and lifts it before turning back towards you, blinking at you obviously. “well are you coming or— or what?”

“yeah. yes. i’m coming.”

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#anon #babydaddy!rafe #rafe cameron prompt

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codtrashsammy · 5 months

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This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it.

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away.

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound.

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan.

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here.

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him.

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite.

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts.

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love.

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything.

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining.

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #smut #tw crying #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut

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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again?

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad.

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good.

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi?

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous.

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there.

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know.

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger.

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage.

— You’re too young to stop believing in it.

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir.

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him.

— Could you two please stop fucking each other?

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space.

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement.

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time.

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge.

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention.

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention.

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something.

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son.

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing.

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends.

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore.

— I’m not in the mood right now.

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul.

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other.

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did.

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts.

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife.

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you.

— I’m not dumb!

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly.

— You just call me a different type of dumb.

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter.

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this.

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street.

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week.

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir?

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him.

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good.

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer.

— I wanted to study.

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house.

— You mean you and your ex’s house.

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again.

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again.

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying.

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions.

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s.

— Why you need a job?

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money.

— You have me.

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir.

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost.

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone.

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later.

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #fem reader #konig cod #konig x you

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lemonlover1110 · 21 days

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𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon.

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role.

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention.

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps.

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect.

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious.

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject.

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words.

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head.

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined.

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking.

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right?

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple.

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered.

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind.

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body.

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust.

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect.

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well.

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high.

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss.

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it.

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response.

A bath sounds nice.

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weaselle · 1 year

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i wanna do a thing where i lay out studies that show things in different primates that show us parts of ourselves as humans. Call it Primates: Through the Looking Glass or The Monkey in the Mirror or something

There are studies and documentaries that show things about Gorillas, Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Baboons, Macaques... that just make sense to me. That if shown right would make sense to a lot of people, i think.

like... they were studying this one group of gorillas --

okay wait. First of all, you know a silverback (the Big Male) of the group is not the leader or in charge or anything, right? He has a role, and it includes a certain amount of control, which i’ll explain briefly, but he’s not, like, in charge.

wait, you know all that Dominance/Alpha theory about wolves is all wrong, right?

wait wait wait, and also that like, the bull or the stag or whatever in a herd is not in charge of anything, right? right?

hold on. the wolves is it’s own post, the herd thing i might get back to, we’re on gorillas, okay. Silverback is basically just the male head of an extended family in which plenty of the leadership is handled by the women of the family.

There are often 2-4 silverbacks, but one, usually the largest, will clearly be senior to the others who are often his sons or brothers. Silverbacks have three main roles

1: defend the group from all physical threats aside from people, these threats are mostly random male gorillas, chimpanzee baby-snatching gangs, and the occasional leopard. Just his alert presence handles most scenarios, and then maybe a few times a year he has to risk his life fulfilling this responsibility. It is this role that provides most of whatever actual power he has over the group, namely this: while he isn’t necessarily the one deciding when and where the group goes on a daily basis, if the most powerful/capable silverback does decide to travel a direction, they pretty much have to go with him, the family isn’t safe without him.

2: make babies. And this is one area where the ladies of the group will sometimes sort of vote with their ovaries, and favor a silverback that isn’t the main one, like “yeah, Frank, you are the biggest, but honestly you’re a dick and we’re going to make sure the next generation of silverbacks isn’t another one of you.” When you see a main large silverback in a group of gorillas, it isn’t, like, his blindly loyal harem, they have to approve of him. Also gorilla females move between groups, and sometimes they take members with them or start new groups and stuff. Anyway i’m getting off track, one of the silverbacks jobs is making babies

3. keep the peace This functions a lot like being in the back seat with your siblings with your parents up front. Basically any disputes within the group have to be handled within a certain parameter of decorum, because if it gets too out of hand HE’s going to come over, and He’ll be upset, which is low-key terrifying because He’s huge, and there’s no telling who He’ll decide is at fault or what he’ll do about it, so letting a situation get out of hand is a losing scenario for everyone involved really. Tho typically he will favor senior females in disputes, in a “don’t you talk that way to your mom” kind of way.

one last thing, silverbacks don’t actually transfer power between silverbacks via battle every time.

Like i was just reading accounts from a multi-generational observational study of some wild gorillas that featured one big silverback just straight up taking over by performing the silverback duties better and becoming preferred by everyone else in the group. There was no fight, it just became, i do the job better, everyone likes me better, kicking my ass can’t change that, and boom, he was the primary silverback. And the other silverback might have been a bit dull, or a bit of a bully, but like us their species’ success is largely dependent on social intelligence; once he saw the writing on the wall, that other, slightly larger sivlerback didn’t even bother trying to change the situation with a physical fight, he understood what had happened.

okay so all that was just to tell you all this story. lol. Here’s what i saw in one documentary:

This very big, getting old silverback, who was hugely popular and successful, with a very large and tightly bonded family group, and a couple of his hulking adult sons backing him up. Everybody in his group seemed to love him a lot, he was particularly calm in that gentle giant sort of way, a safe, emotionally steady presence, happy to help raise his sons and daughters with kindness, and who could become a raging nightmare if pressed by a leopard ... exactly what a band of gorillas wants in a silverback.

But one of his adult sons had plenty of silver on his own back, and was getting itchier and itchier to be main man of the group, and this is where we start our little drama

It seems to be coming to a head, and the observers are nervous about a fight for the position. The silverback and his son are both are huge, probably approaching 400lbs, mostly muscle, with long thick fangs and skulls topped with jaw muscles as big as human biceps to wield those teeth, which nature has given them primarily to fight other gorillas with.

But then the next day, the old man leads the fam up the mountain.

it’s winter, which is why they have come down the mountain in the first place. But as we discussed, if he goes somewhere, they have to go, so they all follow behind.

up he goes, and then he sits. And waits. It’s cold and there is much less food up here at this time of year. There’s nothing to do but sit hungry in the cold. His size and metabolism makes him the most able to withstand the cold, but even he is pretty uncomfortable.

And so he sits. And his family, perhaps confused, but loyal, sits around him.

But his son, the other huge silverback, with years of training even as an adult under his wise father, is ready and able to go off on his own. Finally, he stands up, makes clear his intentions to leave this uncomfortable place. A small handful of the other gorillas stand with him -- if he goes down the mountain, then they can safely leave as well. He turns and heads down the mountain. After a moment, a few more gorillas leave the main group to follow. All in all it winds up being nearly half.

The wise older silverback thoughtfully watches his son leave with about half the group. He sits a while longer in the cold, in the company of those most loyal to him, and then takes them along a different path down the mountain

And those two groups still ran into each other sometimes, and were friendly. And sometimes a couple gorillas would change between the two groups. They were still close.

But i just thought that was such an elegant, meaningful way for that gorilla to handle that whole situation. And it makes a completely human sort of sense to me.

#science and nature #gorillas #primates

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hxxsxxng · 5 months

Text

ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE FAVORITE SEX POSITIONS

warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, kinda dubcon with sunghoon, titty sucking and probably other stuff

heeseung - missionary he loves looking his pretty girl in the eyes, seeing her facial expressions everytime he goes deeper. he likes seeing he face when she moans softly.

he leans down closer to your face and leaves small kisses on your neck, keeping his pace consistent. “it feels so good baby” he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe. you bring your hand up and run your fingers through his plum colored hair, keeping his head in the nape of your neck. “seungie, go faster, i’m getting close” you plead. he pulls his face away and grips your hips tighter, pushing deeper into your cunt. he speeds up his pace, making you both gasp. “yes ~ just like that” you let out, your lips agape. with a few more strokes, you begin to ride out your orgasm as he he fills you up with his warm cum. “i can’t get enough of this pussy”

jay - doggy FUCK. he quite literally goes feral over your cunt. he wants to bury himself as deep as possible, and he LOVES gripping your ass as he pounds you.

“shit baby, it’s so fucking tight” he groans as he slides the tip in. your pussy always sucked him in as soon as he started. he pushed the rest in until his pelvis met your skin. you couldn’t help to let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of being full so suddenly, even though you both have fucked a thousand times over. he rests both of his hands on your ass, griping them for leverage. he begins going in and out slowly, because he knows it takes a while for you to adjust. “so wet for me” he chuckled. he grabbed both of your wrists and crossed them on your lower back, holding them in place. he begins to fuck into you mercilessly, without a warning and you moan loudly. “fuuck~~~” you cry out.

jake - cowgirl jake is lowkey a switch. he likes to take control, but sometimes he loves when his girl is dominant. he isn’t against the idea. he enjoys watching her move her body so perfectly.

you sat up on your knees and grabbed his dick, gliding it across your wet folds. you are having such a hard time slipping it into you tight cunt, you have to spread the moisture. your other hand rests flat on jake’s chest as you slowly slide down his length. he bites his bottom lip and looks up at you with needy eyes, reaching out for your tits like a kid in a candy store. you begins to move your hips slowly, feeling jake get harder. your pussy is so wet the moisture has transferred to his stomach, though, he has always liked it messy. once you lean down to get better movement, his mouth latches onto your nipple like a magnet. the wet noises coming from your core was music to jake ears. his eyes started to roll to the back of his head with each stroke. “fuck ~ it feels so good when you ride me.”

sunghoon - spooning you and hoon are kind of lazy ( nothing wrong with that ) and spooning gives easy access. he especially love this when y’all are cuddling before going to bed, then it turns into something more ;)

he slid his hand up your stomach and onto your chest as you both layed in bed, him behind you. your hair smelled like coconut. his hardness pressing closer and closer to your already wet cunt. he brings his hands down to the waist band of your shorts, pulling them down your thighs. once the were down far enough to allow entrance, he released his dick from his boxers and slowly stroked himself. he rubbed his tip against your ass, and then you folds. you let out a small whimper at the sudden contact. he slides in and immediately brings his free hand to your love handles. he goes in and out at a constant pace, with his other hand covering your mouth to make sure you don’t wake anyone up.

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 4 months

Text

sarah cameron’s brother

pairings - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe always did things to piss you off or make you cry.

warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering. (18+)

You searched high and low in the cupboard, waiting for your eye to catch sight of the unopened packet of pink chips you had hidden in the back of the pantry. However after several minutes you came up short, the chips were nowhere in sight. “I swear I brought them” grumbling to yourself, checking once more before slamming the door closed and leaning back against the bench with a sigh.

Just as you go to walk back to your room, the door of the kitchen opens and Rafe walks in. Crumpled up bag in his hand, the smell of salt and vinegar just about smacks you in the face. “You ate my chips!” You shout, stalking towards your best friend's brother in anger. He was always doing something to anger you, he liked getting under your skin. “I don’t see your name on them” he states, he pulls his hand back and throws the balled up bag and it hits you square in the nose.

He chuckles deeply and moves to walk around you, your hand grasps the front of his shirt in frustration. “They were mine. You don’t even like that flavour! Stop stealing my shit!” He laughs again and stares down at you with an unreadable expression, his irritatingly gorgeous blue eyes inspect your face. “It’s cute how mad you get, you're under my roof so I’ll eat whatever I want” he states, his hand moves to grip your wrist, your fingers loosen instantly and he pulls you away from his shirt, rubbing his palm over the wrinkles. “That doesn’t mean you can just eat my stuff… Why are you always doing things to annoy me! Don’t you have a life?”

You don’t even know why you're arguing with him, you know he gets nasty quickly and has you crying in your room for hours. His words always hit too deep, they wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t have such a silly little crush on him.

“Y/n.. I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want. You live here for free, just because you're my sister's best friend doesn’t mean you can tell me what I can and can’t do. And honestly you need to get over yourself.. You think I’m ‘always’ trying to annoy you but maybe have you looked at yourself and realized you're the annoying one, you're the one who came in my life and disturbed my peace. I already have two annoying sisters I didn’t need you as well”

“You're such an asshole!”

“Cry me a fucking river… now get out of my face”

Your neck heats in anger, his words causing you to become slightly emotional. He knew why you were staying with them, he knew you couldn’t go home to your alcoholic parents and his dad wouldn’t take no for an answer. He knew the damage your parents had caused you and yet he still throws around shit like that.

“Fuck you!”

“You fucking wish… I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole”.

You can’t stop the tears that prick behind your eyes, your bottom lip trembles in embarrassment. “Your such a fucking asshole”.

Your feet carry you out the door before you can hear his response, climbing the stairs and slamming your bedroom door closed. Your fingers twist the lock as the tears fall from your eyes, silent sobs wrack your body as you press your palms to the back of the door.

“Open the door y/n”

Biting your lip when his voice bounces off the door, you're shocked he came after you. He usually spits out hateful words and leaves you to wallow in them. “Y/n open the fucking door”.

“Leave me the fuck alone Rafe” your voice cracks, swallowing down your tears in embarrassment. His fist meets the door causing you to jump back in panic, the door handle jiggles as he tries to open the door, you can hear him huffing behind the wooden door.

“I’m not playing around open the door”

You stay silent and move over to your bed, he kicks at the door this time in frustration. You knew he would be pissed off for a few hours but would get over it eventually. Just as silence falls over you the door swings open and you jump at the intrusion, pressing your hand to your chest.

“I told you to open the door”

“Leave me alone Rafe, I don’t want to hear anymore”

He closes the door behind him and walks over you, his fingers grip your chin when you turn your head away from him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, blinking the tears away. “It’s nothing new Rafe”

“What?”

“You make me cry all the time, don’t know why your concerned this time”

His eyes scan yours and he runs a hand over his face in fruatration. “I didn’t know I made you cry… I assumed you could take what I dished out”

You pull out of his grip and sit back down on your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Looking up at him with glassy eyes, he hated seeing you look this vulnerable.

“Not when you call me names or bring up my living situation” he takes a seat next to you, you can feel his thigh on the bottom of your toes. Sending goosebumps up your arms and down your back, your body shivers at the contact. If he notices he doesn’t comment, his eyes are on the picture of you and Sarah on your bedside table.

“You should have told me”

You shake your head, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape again. “You wouldn’t have listened or you would have just made me feel worse by telling me to grow up or something”

His eyes meet yours again and you both stare at one another in silence, you take this moment to appreciate his chiseled Jaw and buzz cut. His skin is soft and flawless, everything you expected when up this close. “I didn’t mean what I said”

“It’s whatever Rafe, I’ll get over it”

“No it’s not, I didn’t mean it and I didn’t want to make you cry. I just.. I don’t know why I always argue with you, it’s easier”

Your eyebrows crease together at his words, his fingers brush yours slightly and it sends shivers down your spine again. You drop your knees from your chest and instead cross them in front of you. “Why would that be easier than treating me like a human being?”.

“It’s easier to argue with you… because than.. because than I’m not constantly thinking about how I want to kiss you”

Your mouth suddenly feels like the Sahara desert, no words form in your brain as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I-”

His hand is on your knee, skimming across your thigh until his fingers grip at your waist. Your legs shake at the contact, excitement courses through your veins “What are you doing?” You whisper, it feels as though your heartbeat was in your ears. Your chest feels heavy with anxiety as his face inches closer to yours “Rafe”.

As though your voice brought him back to reality he swipes his nose against yours, you can feel his breath on your lips. A fresh set of goosebumps paint themself on your skin. “It’s so much easier just being an asshole to you but I can’t anymore.. not after seeing you cry, not after knowing the words I say cause you to cry alone”

Before you can respond, his lips graze yours, it’s not even a proper kiss and you already feel dizzy from his touch. Your legs unravel themself as your fingers find home at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until his body pressed against yours, his lips meeting yours firmer this time. Almost desperate.

Your nails scratch down the back of his neck as his tongue works against your own, your hips raised off the mattress until you could feel his heavy body against your sensitive one. “Fuck” he groans into your open mouth, your lips almost bruising from the fierceness behind his kiss, his fingers massage at the skin of your waist.

Your hands fall from his neck to creep under his sage green shirt, fingertips kissing the skin of his stomach. You can feel him clench under your touch, pressing his erection to your cunt. “Oh god” you moaned at the ache that gnawed at your sensitive bud, you needed friction. You wrapped your legs around his hips and flipped the two of you over until your clothed pussy pressed firmly against his bulge. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long” he mumbles, attacking the delicate skin of your neck, sucking and nibbling until your hips begin rolling against his cock. “Me too”.

His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, gripping your cotton covered ass cheeks. You're embarrassingly wet, your arousal soaks the panties you wore. His rough hands part your cheeks, you can feel your pussy opening waiting for the intrusion of his fingers but instead he presses you firmer against his erection. Rolling his hips into yours, your sensitive clit throbbing with each movement. “Oh fuck” you curse, your head falls forward causing your hair to create a curtain over your face.

Your forearms press against Rafe’s chest to keep you up right. One hand leaves your ass and slips under the two of you to grip your throat, he pushes you up slightly so he can get a look at your face. “You like that?”

“Mhm… I need more” he doesn’t say a word and instead slips his fingers inside your panties. The dampness of your pussy has him grunting, his eyes don’t leave your face as he toys with your clit. Your mouth falls open as you try to organize the words in your head, the feeling of his fingers has you going crazy. “More” is all you manage to choke out, he slips a fingers between your lips and nudges at your opening. Your pussy pulsating around air until he finally slips a finger inside, your arms shake but the hand around your throat stops you from falling onto him. “How many fingers can you take?”

“I- I don’t know.. maybe two?”

He slips three in instead, you cry out in pleasure. You can feel him all over you, he begins to finger fuck you hard. The wetness of your pussy has his fingers gliding in and out without resistance, his mouth kisses at your chest. With the ounce of strength you have left you pull down the fabric of your top to expose your breasts, his eyes fall to them before looking back up at you for a brief moment. He envelopes your perky nipples into his mouth and sucks your tits like it’s his last meal. “Fuck me Rafe”

Your breast falls from his mouth with a pop and he slips his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them to his lips to suck your juices from them. “Now”

He chuckles but obeys, standing up to slip his shirt over his head while you unbutton his pants. Tugging them until they meet the ground and come face to face with his pretty cock, you pull him back onto the bed and climb over him. You’ve stripped your own clothes off and straddle him completely naked, pressing your wet pussy against his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your warm pussy “I don’t have a condom,” he says, leaning up on his forearms as you roll your hips against him. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill” you mumble, too in your head right now to comprehend what he’s saying, focused on rolling your hips against his cock. “Hey, y/n focus please”.

His hands halt your movement, your eyes fall open at the loss of friction. “It’s fine, if you're okay with no condom so am I” you rush, he studies your face for a moment and nods his head, dropping back down against the bed. You reach between the two of you, giving him a few soft tugs before running the top of his cock between your folds. “Jesus” he moans, his cock slowly disappearing within you. He can feel you pulsing around him, he could blow right this second from the warmth of your cunt. “Oh sweet Jesus” you cried as you began to ride his cock. The tip of his head hitting your spongy walls with each thrust, you could already feel your orgasm brewing again. The tips of your toes tingle and your belly swarmed with butterflies, circling your hips against his.

His hands teased your nipples, reaching his head up to capture your lips with his. He let you choose the speed for a bit longer before his hands gripped your hips again and he bucked his hips up, causing you to cry out with each thrust. No longer able to hold onto your orgasm, your walls clenched around him, digging your nails into his chest as he pushed you over the edge until all you could see were white spots. “Fuck fuck fuck… I’m coming!” His fingers slip between the two of you to massage your clit, bringing you over the edge. “Fucking hell… I’m close” he warned, though you were blissed out you met his pace and continued to roll your hips, another orgasm already brimming as you got him closer to his own orgasm. “Rafe yes yes o-h”

Lacing his fingers around your throat as you both came, his own orgasm felt like it wasn’t going to stop as your walls sucked him in deeper as your orgasm riddled your body with pleasure. Your chest meets his, resting your head as the two of you regained composure. Silence fills the room but his fingers dance across your back in an almost sweet gesture, when you finally regain your vision and breath you pull away from him. Reaching to grab your clothes in sudden embarrassment, your cheeks tinted a shake of pink as he watches you get dressed. “Who said we were done?” He questions, grasping the panties from your hand and throwing them across the room. He grips the back of your thighs and pulls you back down onto him. “Shouldn’t we maybe talk?”

“We can talk all you want babe”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red at his nickname, the kindness being foreign towards you. “But I want to kiss you a bit more before we get down to the hard stuff”

“Okay”

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