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rorichuu · 10 months ago

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☆ MIDAS x TROPHY-WIFE!READER ☆

trophy wife definition — a young, attractive woman who is the wife of a rich and successful older person and acts as a symbol of the person's social position.

┆rori's note: been MEANING to write for midas... this also ties in with jealous!midas as well... i hope i wrote him how you guys expected :) also here is what i think his voice sounds like, either that or matthew mercer (leon kennedy va) 😩

┆disclaimer/tags: ♯ smutty , more modern . . . you two are at an exceptionally boring party and midas takes you away from keeping appearances. ୨୧ˊˊ

Your fingertips held the glass gently in your hand, allowing the sparkle of the champagne to invite your empty gaze. You let out a small sigh, lifting the glass to meet your lips as you took a long sip.

You loved your husband, and these parties and events highlighted his successes and rich opportunities to grander prospects... but the small talk and side-eye gaze from other women was enough to slowly kill you. Your lip pouted as you slumped in your seat, the crackle of the fireplace being the only centering element in the room thus far until a hint of gold captured you, eyes flickering over to your husband with a knowing smile.

Midas had worn a suit, much more formal than he would have preferred... but he knew what these events took. You noticed he had given his final remarks before parting, approaching you. Midas took place behind you, each hand resting on either side of your chair as he leaned above you. "Hello, my love," he murmured in a low rumble, his voice hinting at exhaustion from the socialization... but he always made time to speak with you. "Quite exciting over here, isn't it?" He spoke sarcastically, making you roll your eyes and gently slap his arm.

"Just riveting," you spoke back, the both of you shooting back snarky remarks. Midas lifted his hands from the chair, walking to the side of you before gently caressing the nape of your neck. You shivered. "I'm tired of sitting pretty." You spoke as politely as you could, knowing your status was purely to make Midas look good... though, he denied it through his sincere devotion to you.

"Can't be too tiring if you're lovely all the time." he gave a soft smile before breaking his gaze from you, eyes scanning the party. Everyone seemed well-occupied, chatting over fine platters and tipsy cocktails. A sigh left him, chest rising and falling noticeably.

You kept your gaze on him, pouting before leaning more into his touch. "Do we have to stay?" You asked, voice hushed but loud enough for only Midas to hear. A smirk flickered over his lips as he looked down at you, his expression almost condescending.

"Why? Can't take another hour?" Midas knew his effect of teasing you, hand still caressing the nape of your neck as you nodded. He hummed in response, parting his gaze from you once more to look over the party. "A moment, my love." His hand parted from you before it slid down your arm, lifting your hand to gently kiss your knuckles... and before you knew it, your husband was gone.

You groaned, frustrated at his empty words as you leaned against the palm of your hand... not too long after, you rose from your seat and approached a table. If you were going to stay for a little while longer, you figured you could make the most of it.

Giving a small smile, a taller—quite attractive—man shared a table with you. He raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n, I presume?" He spoke, voice full of uncertainty... you nodded. "Was wondering what an angel like you was doing at a party like this." A chuckle escaped him as you laughed back, cocking your hip out as you leaned against the table now. Advantage taken.

"Angel? You flatter," Tongue laced with false flirtation and interest, you continued the conversation... hoping you could speak loud enough for your husband to hear. "You must be? Ren, right?" You asked in question, observing his egotistical written name in his coat.

"Correct," he spoke, crossing his arms with a smirk. You felt a certain disgust rise up in your throat, but you choked it down... whatever you could do to get back at your husband and leave.

"I've heard of you," you spoke, a smile approaching your lips to appear as innocent as you could. You leaned up, pointing at him with your glass. "You worked for my husband a while back!" You beamed.

Before you could notice, Midas' ears pricked up, scanning the room for your face once more. His gaze darkened once he found you talking to another man; flirting with another man. He noticed it in the way you leaned in, your hand grazing the lining of his coat, the cock of your hip... his heart raced with an all-familiar fury. Midas was quick to excuse himself from his current conversation, his exit replaced with a hushed inquiry from his guests.

The sound of your husband's footsteps was enough to send shivers down your spine, your eyes widened a bit as his hand immediately found the small of your back. "Evening," he spoke, poisonous. You looked up at him, he wore a fake smile with an even faker tone. Bingo.

Ren froze up, a smile forced on his lips as he nodded his head in response. "Midas," his voice dropped to something more formal, stiffening his posture before placing his half-finished drink down and stole a glance at his watch. "Quite the party... but I’m afraid I must leave." He gave a quick smile before brushing down his coat.

"Yes, you must." His command ruled over Ren's decision, Midas' gaze boring into his before rushing out the door... what reputations do to a man.

Before you could react, Midas' hand fell from your back to your hips, tightening his grip before you could slip away. "Not so fast," he whispered, causing you to sigh and straighten your posture, avoiding his gaze. Midas continued to guide you with his arm wrapped around your waist, disappearing beyond a wall and away from the others. "What was that?" He looked down at you, watching as you fumbled and played with your fingers.

"We were just talking," you whispered, feigning innocence with that pretty little voice of yours. “I can sit pretty but can’t have a conversation?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, raising a brow. Midas knew how you were acting, and he knew precisely how to straighten that out.

“Having a conversation is different than leaning over a table and running your hands over his chest,” His voice was low, eyes lidded over with something darker… you bit your lip as you leaned against the wall, pouting… but just when you began raising your hand towards his chest, he grabbed your wrist. “Don’t.” He warned. You tilted your head.

“Why not?” You shot back, furrowing your brows as Midas grabbed you by both if your wrists and pinned them above your head… his leg slotting perfectly between your thighs.

“Want to find out? You brought me this far, why not finish what you started?” Midas knew just how to bring you towards that tempting edge—you judged it by the thrum of your heart, the heat beating against your body as you shared hot breath. You let out a small whimper, biting your lip. Midas smirked, brushing nose-to-nose as his lips barely grazed yours. “Sounds like it.” Before you could properly think, your lips clashed with his, your husband letting out a small groan… you had him wrapped around your pretty finger.

The two of you were barely hidden behind a wall on the way to the upstairs story… thankfully, no one was impolite enough to snoop beyond the corridor. Midas was fit perfectly between you, one leg rubbed against your inner thigh as you rubbed down against him… he noticed this, parting from your glossed lips as you let out a small gasp for air. Midas was just as drunk off of you as you were on him.

“Quiet,” He demanded, locking eyes with you as his fingertips grazed your hip and further down your black dress. Your husband’s hand was held dangerously close to your panties, the pool of arousal coating his fingers with one swift movement. You hiccup, a low chuckle leaving his throat. “Angel. Quiet.” You bit your lip, nodding obediently as he nodded with you… that small gesture of praise enough to send you over.

Midas’ hands continued to explore the thin fabric beneath your dress, rubbing your clothed pussy with his thumb as he towered over you. His touch was intoxicating, the hush of the party just a wall yonder exciting you as you arched your back slightly. Your husband smiled, pleased with your expression alone. “Oh, you like that don’t you?” Upon hearing his praise, you whimpered in response, bliss washing over you as his hand move up to slip two fingers in your panty line. As his linked fingers held the fabric, he slowly motioned downward, on his knees as he kept eye contact with you. You were now completely exposed to him.

You squirmed, hips swaying before his hands gripped your hips. “Shh.” You knew your husband too well to not notice the risks he takes… this being one of them.

Letting the fabric fall down to your feet, his hands ran up your sides to grip your hips, breaking eye contact as his tongue slithered between your folds. Threatening to make noise, you held a hand at your lips, eyes shut closed as you pushed your hips closer to his mouth. Midas took that as invitation as his tongue ran circles around your clit, causing you to let out a small gasp. Midas’ hand massaged just above your hip, his silent moans muffled by your cunt… the coldness of the gold that painted his hands caused you to shiver.

You soon felt his right hand slowly fall from your hip, the other one stabilizing you while the other found your entrance… furthermore, he began to tease you as his middle finger slowly pushed in and out, causing you to whine. “F…fuck, Midas, just…” you begged, voice hardly audible and cracked. Midas hummed in response, knowing just what his wife wanted.

Your chest hiccuped once his two fingers began to work you open, his tongue busy lapping at your clit while you depended on him to keep your balance. His pace began to quicken, the heat blooming at your stomach began to knot up… your hips bucked against him, causing Midas to smile while he worked up the pace. Your head dropped, your hair falling in front of your face as tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes.

Your hand was laced in his hair, gripping it with a fistful as he moaned against you… the feeling of your pleasure against his tongue and the pain of your touch enough to drive him dizzy.

Your dress was rolled up against the top of your thighs, Midas’ own doing from his wandering hands… he needed to feel you, all of you… and the way he sucked and kissed your puffy cunt you was enough evidence to show.

Your chest rose and fell, your breath quickening while your husband’s hands slowed and accelerated at your misery… your hand began to fall from your lips, a moan slipping, causing Midas to groan in response… your back arched as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, releasing as he drank every last drop of your arousal.

Drunk off of your pleasure, you let out a small whimper, head dropping to look your darling husband in the eye. His mouth parted from between your legs, saliva and your release coating his nose and mouth making you flush. Midas let out a low chuckle, a smug smile painted across his face as he licked his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he grumbled, lifting from his knees before his hand hooked beneath your chin, kissing you to get a taste of your own. It was slow and passionate, and your taste alone was enough to feel the returning pulse between your legs. Your husband broke away from the kiss, his tongue sliding over your lip. “Do you forgive me?” He asked, a hint of sincerity laced with his words despite his sarcastic manner. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Gonna take more than that.” You spoke, Midas taking the dark look in your eyes as a challenge… you let out a small gasp as your husband hooked his arms beneath your knees, lifting you bridal style as he began to walk upstairs. “What are you doing?” Disbelief changing your once blissed expression, yet Midas shrugged, despite the booming party below them.

“You said you wanted more, doll…”

rorichuu!

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rorichuu · 6 months ago

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☆ MIDAS x TROPHY-WIFE!READER ☆

photo made my @cossmoluck! go check out and support their page! :)

trophy wife definition — a young, attractive woman who is the wife of a rich and successful older person and acts as a symbol of the person's social position.

┆rori's note: here is the long and awaited part 2 of my first midas fic !!! ( found here <3 ) . . . i appreciate everyone who reblogged, liked, and commented! i loved making that fic, and i apologize for not posting sooner. it's been a verrry hectic year and I'm trying to ease back into writing again. thank you so much for your patience! i hope you like this short smut fic i provide for yall :)

┆disclaimer/tags: ♯ smutty , more modern . . . part two of midas putting you back in your place as his wife. ୨୧ˊˊ

Midas’ hip was locked with yours, his unforgiving pace of skin against skin was enough to make you cry… tears falling down your blushed cheeks as your hands desperately tried to hide your own face.

Midas no longer cared for the visitors just a floor below them, the idea that they could hear your screams of pleasure was intoxicating to him… risk, something he could take with little penalty. The ego that inflated his mind was simply a pawn to his advantage, and you—his dearest—being one of them.

Your husband shook his head, a smirk playing at his face as his hand wrapped around your paired wrists, pinning them above you so he could see you writhe beneath him. As your thigh rested above his shoulder, he was dangerously close to you, testing your flexibility with each thrust. “Wanna see you,” he groaned beneath his breath, his cheeks dusted pink by the heat inescapable between you two. You shook your head, sobs leaving your throat as your pussy throbbed… the feeling of pain and erotic sensations stimulating you to exhaustion.

Feigned, Midas pouted and nodded, a chuckle leaving his throat as he slowed… sadistic and cruel, the love for the excruciation he put on his lover. The way tears prickled the corners of your eyes, the way you arched and tried, ever so desperately, to get away. Yet, his hold on your hips was stubborn, the plush of your skin against his calloused fingertips.

As he picked up his pace once more, he brought each of your legs to rest on either side of his shoulders. As he did so, he pushed farther on you. A cry left your throat as your hand flew up to his forearm, the muscle flexing as he gripped you. Midas shook his head. “You got it princess,” he whispered, kissing the side of your knee. Mesmerized, he locked eyes with you, gold and the ghostly white. “Takin’ me so well, you got a bit more in you, don’t ya’, doll?” With his praise contradicting his actions, you were always left guessing… from the way he bruised your cunt, to the soft kisses and whispers of praise… too pretty not to ruin.

Your husband’s pace began to quicken once he heard footsteps and chatter outside the door, assuredly, nearing the stairs. Fear clouded over you, your grip on his forearm now tightening as you silently begged him to stop… but to no avail, he kept his pace. “Wanted me to fuck you in front of ‘m, right?” He spoke, his hand slipping from your leg to hold your hand with his. “Couldn’t wait a fucking hour, so you’d rather them hear you?” Desperately trying to quit his movements, the mere idea of them eavesdropping was something to drive you mad, but your husband feasted off your fear; of their whispered controversy; of losing it all just so he could pound that attitude out of you. How you loved to add fuel to the fire, especially when Midas got primal like this.

Midas lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrists as he noticed the way you clenched around him, your walls suffocating his cock as he nearly begged to come inside. His eyes flickered to yours. “Can I fill my pretty wife up? Would she like that?” he asked, voice slicked in a pretty sweetness as you merely moaned in response. Unsatisfied, his hand dropped yours and cradled your face, hands forcing your cheeks to a pout. “Use your words.” he demanded, his tone making you nod crazily. You two have talked about kids before—the idea of your swollen stomach carrying his children, perked up tits… watching you care for your own—it drove him mad.

“Please, M…Midas,” you stumbled on your own words, cock-drunk and hazy with bliss… Midas groaned, lewd and satisfied with your response as he quickened his pace. His hands were quick to find your hips, one hand straying to hold the side of your thigh atop his shoulder. “Outside!” You whispered, voice filled with worry and a hurried breath… the man shook his head.

“Need them… to hear you,” he mumbled, brows furrowed with focus as his breath shook… the feeling of you around him, the plush warmth… it made him dizzy. His best fucking heaven, you. And with your known frightened state, his pace became brutal. Skin slapping against skin as he leaned his head against your thigh, pounding into your ruthlessly as you cried out. Your voice was broken and sobbing, your husband’s cock hitting that same spot every time… the throbbing of your cunt, your abused bud, it made you squirm and claw at his forearms.

Midas smiled at the way your nails made marks into his skin, the trail of red following from the way your body responded to his unrelenting pace. Your back arched and writhed, adoring the way you tried to free yourself from his hold despite your thighs holding his face.

Your husband cursed under his breath, nails digging into your thighs as he pounded his release into your sweet cunt… sliding and painting your heat as he rode you into your orgasm. You screamed, hands flying to your face to mute your noises, but Midas wouldn’t have it. His hand flung to your wrists and captured them, bringing them to his chest as you sobbed. His gaze darkened; eyebrows furrowed as he focused on you. He watched your every movement, focused on how your nose scrunched, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes with desperation as he began to slow.

Drunk of lust in your shared limbo, your body began to relax under his… thighs slack on his shoulders as Midas eased himself to cradle your body with his. Your husband gently kissed your chest and up to your collarbone, focusing completely on you alone. “I love you so much, angel,” he whispered, low and hardly above a whisper. Your hand limply combed through his black hair, giving it a small tug as you felt him smile against your glistening skin. “Mhm, so perfect.” Midas would drown you in praise… you were his trophy, his love, his everything. If anyone deserved it most, it was you.

rorichuu!

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