#and i want to move before i really get into it

[tojisteddy]

Ruthless

or: Country!Simon catches you attempting to tag his property, of course he has to teach you a lesson.

cw: 3.6k words, 18+ mdni, Country!Simon, alt universe, no use of y/n, some plot with smut, dub-con, spanking, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, age gap (Simon 29, reader 23), primal play & reencounter (if you tilt your head), pet names (little girl, city broad, lucky), fingering, lite pussy pronouns, degradation.

a/n: a scrapped Drabble turned into a full story cause I love plot

You were running like your life depended on it.

It was dumb for you to even attempt to tag the Riley barn to begin with.

You knew that, your friends knew that, anyone in town would’ve warned you otherwise.

It all started with a little end of college fun, wreck havoc like the good ole days. Nothing out the ordinary. Something that supposed to be a silly little prank, saying goodbye to college and hello to adulthood by spray paint and a little egging.

Was it a little too much for your liking? Yes.

Just plain rude and disgusting because at the end of the day, what exactly did Ghost do to deserve any of this? But peer pressure is a nasty, annoying, bitch. Regardless of age.

The Riley Ranch had been rumored as evil and haunted, the only people who really interacted with the land being other farmers. Even when Simon Riley, the last standing of the family, came to church (on the rarest occasions), people kept their distance. Afraid his families “bad” energy would spread over to them.

They called him Ghost.

There was a fire at the families home, started by Ghosts father who was always in a rage. Your father made sure your family stayed clear of him when you visited, he wasn’t too kind to quote, ‘big headed, posey, no good, city slickers.’ No one thought his rage would grow so large into trying to kill his whole family.

No one one besides Ghost made it out that night, there was rumored to be a large burn mark on his back to prove it.

You’d gotten found too fucking quick, “What the hell do you think you’re doin?” His voice booming on the highway road.

Simon Riley was blessed to have ears like an owl. Heard the car pull up and stop on his property, the rumbling of the engine— a beat passes— the car doors slamming shut and the far off hushed giggles. Nothing new, people had passed his property to spook whoever the hell they were with. Try to show how “evil spirits” ran rampant on his land, even if they were, he hadn’t ask for them to be there. But they’d never stop. They’d do it before.

They’d do it again.

But he heard that can of spray paint shake and his boots hit the floor before he even realized it.

Not the brown farmhouse gate he’d spent so long sanding down as a child with the help of his grandfather. Not the white ranch fence he’d spend so long getting together as soon as the land was properly handed to him and in his name, that’d he hand painted himself and fixed up the grass so people knew better than to drop any litter there.

No fucking way.

Your friends were already in the mustang you’d arrived in, those bastards, revving the engine and zooming off. You dropped the can, more spray getting on the grass fuck, fuck, fuck— your brown eyes slowly looked up, meeting a more than livid pair blue eyes.

You wanted to squeak out, ‘im sorry’ but where would there be room for that? Not in between the ranch fence that already had a squiggly line and crooked smiley face with black spray paint on it created by yours truly. There would absolutely be no room for an apology when his face was already screwed up, jaw clenching from underneath the bandana that hid his face, eyes narrowing into slits.

Well duh, babe. Move those feet!

And you did, turning at a 90 degree angle and sprinting like it was the end of the world. Ghost mumbled a ‘god damn it’, and ran right after you, his boot quickly meeting a carton of unopened eggs.

Oh you were definitely in for it now.

You ran through the Egyptian wheat, tall as the eye can see, green leaves scratching your arms and legs. You prayed to God there wasn’t any crazy animals hiding in there. You were panting, taking a quick glance behind you and you could only hear rustling of the large plants that surrounded you, feet hitting the floor.

Then you heard a distant yell in the field, “[+], you get back here!”

Well it wasn’t exactly the hardest to spot you out, you looked like your mother— who looked like her mother. You came from a family known for actually being good people, never hesitating to help or providing when need be. You’d met Mr. Riley a couple times in your 23 years of life. Quick instances that you vaguely remember. But you knew his face, and he knew yours.

Your mom had been one of the few good people making sure he was well taken care of when he was younger, she couldn’t raise him like she had wanted to with having to travel back and forth from the city for work as a children’s author. But she’d made sure he was taken care of in whatever home he was placed in, encouraged him to join the Boys and Girls club, something to ground him.

“Just needs someone to look after ‘em is all,” she’d ensisted while braiding your hair one night before heading to meet him at his group home, fingers weaving through your curls with purpose, you were around eight. “Some kids need a lil extra love, show ‘em someone’s there for ‘em. Simon’s one of those kids, so is your older brother, even though he’s a pain in my side at times. They’re all good in their core— their heart. It’s important to have someone nurture it. Gods called me to do that.”

Though, the relationship strained when the foster system let him go. “He’s just having boy troubles. Boys go through those weird hormones when they hit a certain age. Wants to prove ‘imself as a man. They get real hard headed [+]. He’ll get over it ‘nd pull through. He always does,” she’d say. So certain. Undoubting. Like a sixth sense.

And Simon did manage well enough, clearly, for him to have a proper farm for himself, one that was properly taken care of and thriving. You’d visited with your mom two years back. It was so clear to you now. Your mother practically smothering him in a hug when she got close enough. Simon was awkward at first, but accepted it. His eyes and whole body softing by her touch. She’d been family when no one else would be.

He looked towards you, you met a gorgeous shade of blue, long blonde lashes to match his short blonde hair, face with a few noticeable scars and half his face hidden under a black bandana. You were standing a ways off so you couldn’t hear what he or your mother was saying, but you saw him nod toward you. Your mother saying something and him nodding in response. She waved you over,

“[+] you know Simon— I mean, Mr. Riley since you’re a grown man now, ain’t that right.” She laughed.

“Whatever you want ma’am.” He looks down at you and extends his hand. You take it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and give it a firm shake.

“Good seein you.” It wasn’t just words, he was sincere, caring. Like seeing an old friend.

You nodded, “ ‘S good seeing you too.”

He showed you the farm after that in his truck. The big house that was farther toward the woods, properly fixed after the fire a decade ago, the Egyptian wheat field, the horses and chickens and the new blue barn he was building to accommodate them, the horse training area used to break in horses no one else would. It was a lot of land, a lot of work, but you could tell by the sound of his husk voice, he was proud of himself and the work he’d been able to accomplish. Even more happy when your mom praised him.

It finally clicked: that barn— and right on time, you’d caught sight of it. Not the one Mr. Riley had been fixing when you visited, the old one. Large and in charge that had old wood, and was definitely falling apart. But you made a bee line for it anyway.

What other option did you have?

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, nerves on a high because you didn’t even notice how close Ghost was to you before you ducked so he couldn’t grab you. Kicking his shin and dashing towards the barn that was bones.

“You damn brat! fuck me!” He cursed, hopping to ease the new pain on his leg before running right after you.

You undid the large wooden latch, sliding the doors open and immediately trying to slide them close. But his hand shot through the opening, a shiver runs down your spin.

Up the steps you went, the only place you could go, and Ghost was right on your heels, quick, almost silent— didn’t call him Ghost for no reason. You tripped and fell on a pile of hay and wild chickens went fluttering and clucking down to the barn floor, clouding your vision. Next thing you knew, Ghost finally caught you. His hands grabbed hold of both of your arms as you rolled around and thrashed underneath him.

“You fuckin asshole! Let me go!” You grunted, trying to kick your legs where the sun didn’t shine but completely missing when the older man closed your legs, gripping them together under your knees in his hands. He had you like a pig about to be roasted.

“You ruin my property but I’m the asshole?” The fucking audacity of you. “Gonna teach you a fuckin lesson cause clearly they don’t teach you city folk manners.”

With ease, Ghost sat himself down on one of the old hay bails, bringing you over his lap. He grunts, keeping you as still as you can, and then like thunder— his large calloused hand comes down to your plump ass, echoing in the empty barn.

“Mr. Riley!” You gasp, your head shoots up, eyes widening— there’s no way- was he giving you a spanking? The next one yanks you out of your thoughts, brutal, harsh, that makes you scream his name again, “Mr. Riley, that’s enough!” But he’s completely ignoring you.

“Spray painting my fences,” SMACK!

“Tryin to egg my house,” SMACK!

“‘Nd Ruinin my fuckin crops?!” SMACK!

“You’ve lost,” SMACK! “you’re damn,” SMACK! “mind! little girl!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

You’re crying and whimpering, as his hand continues forming ripples in your ass. You’d gotten one singular whopping your whole life, from your grandma for breaking her good vase when she told you no ball throwing in the house. Life altering from one incident that made you into the goodest girl there ever was.

And then there’s this predicament, one that ripped your soul in two. One half fueled with hatred for doing something so crude— so audacious. And then the other that’s struggling to keep itself contained. one more hit that meets your tender bottom, one that hits you in a place you didn’t realize was boiling over— a smack to the ass that forces an egregious moan out of your trembling plump lips.

Simon stills, his eyes flicking over the state of you. You’re shaking, head down and legs finally not kicking. But he sees the way you try to hide yourself further into his lap, because you and he both know you just moaned because of a little whooping.

Oh— you're crazy.

You’d unknowingly created a fire and Simon would add lighter fluid to it.

He lifts the bottom of your short flower patterned dress, just to peak, you jump but still, your heart pounding even louder than it had before. And it’s a sight for the man to behold— your underwear soaked like the damn ocean. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to bring the hands down to hide the slick that was ever growing.

“D-don’t look.” You sniffle. Too damn cute.

But there’s a snicker, something that makes you look back at him and his eyes are shining with mischief, “My god, you’re a filthy lil thang, aren’t’chu?” It’s almost rhetorical, he’s not asking you, he’s asking your cunt. “Didn’t know you city broads were like that, learn somethin new every day, don’t you?”

You yelp when he yanks your underwear down to your knees, thrashing around once again, but Simon keeps you still. Your pretty pussys glistening as bright as sun on water, slick all over your fat second pair of lips. He brushes his fingers against them, sending shivers up your spine, you cant help but arch further into his touch.

You whine, “Mr. Riley-“

“—Shhhhh, gotta hear her,” he murmured, slowly slipping a finger in your drenched hole. Your pussys practically sputtering out with every thrust of his finger, slipping another one and coating it perfectly. He takes them out, sucking up the juices on his tongue that you’ve left on them, spitting down on your hole before stuffing his fingers back into you. He hums in satisfaction as you lose your mind, “such a fuckin slut, you just get this wet for anyone, don’t you?”

Your eyes reach the back of your head, breath hitching, “Nooo, I don’t- I wouldn’t!— ooh- agh- Mr. Riley!” your interrupting yourself with your own moans. Whatever anger you had before, folding into nothing.

He finally let’s go of your hands and you grip on to his leg, nails clawing at his jean cover thighs. Your stomach tightens running away as your orgasm builds but Simon follows, thrusting his fingers into your gummy walls even more, curving them to find your sweet spot with determination.

“Eaaasy now, don’t want to hurt you. Be good ‘nd cum. Know you want to, make a mess all over me darlin’.”

And that’s all it takes, with a twitch and a squeal, your cumming all over his hand. Simon thrusts his fingers a couple times, watching the wave of euphoria wash over you before sucking one of fingers clean, then bringing the other to your mouth.

“Come on, don’t be fuckin uppity, taste it lil girl” he tsked, you take the middle finger in your mouth, tasting your own arousol, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly pulling your head back with a ‘pop.’ It all goes straight to the blondes aching dick.

You hear it, the unbuckling of his belt, your stomach touching the tint that had built because of you. your mind finally snaps out of the trance he’s got you in. You barley manage to get out of his lap, scrambling through the hay, tripping over your underwear, on your as knees. Giving Simon the perfect view of your tender ass and the slick that’s dripping down to your thigh before you turn when you meet a wall. Pushing yourself into it.

“We- shit- someone- someone’ll come!” You ramble out, panting, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm. Your eyes avert to anything in this barn besides the man infront of you. But he made his way over to you, slow, stalking. And once he’s on his knees and hovering above you, he springs his cock from from his boxers. The blonde is hung, large and girthy, his tip strawberry red and leaking pre cum.

He bends down, sliding his fat cock between your wet folds, and then smacking his tip on your clit creating a plap, plap, plap. You can’t help but whimper at the sensation.

“You want it don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, taunting you, goosebumps wave over your skin. “Don’t want me all the way,” he traces over your belly, and then pokes right where your uterus is, “up here, hm?”

“Don’t want me to make you feel good pretty girl? Don’t wanna feel it once?”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline that’s pulsing through you, the way he’s looking down on you like you’re pathetic, dick crazed maniac. And maybe that’s exactly what you are, just once— you just want feel him stir your guts just. this. once.

“I do.”

And your soft voice is just enough for the brute to yank your legs open, Simon throwing your legs over his forearms and spreading your pretty hole open with just the tip. The man starts bullying himself inside the tightness of your pink walls.

He’s big. He’s too big. You hiccup, shoving at his shoulder while he’s splitting you in half, “Mr.Riley, ‘s so much! hicc- can’t. I can’t.”

He croons, slowly thrust more and more of his veiny length into you. “Come oooon city broad, thought you could take it? Don’t go runnin. Been runnin from me alllll this time little girl.”

“Bet you won’t do no shit like that again, ruining my damn property,” Simon hissed, smacking down your clit a few times. “Gonna fuck that nonsense outta that lil brain ‘f yours.”

“I won’t! I promise! Mmmph- I’ll be good! S-so good just for you. Always for you.” You mewled, one hands clawing at the wall behind you and other hand at his shoulder. He finally feels it, his cock reaching the very hilt of you, balls smacking your ass crack. The damn obscene sounds your syrupy pussy is making to keep him inside you, and his tip giving your cervix the messiest and he’s sure, the first kiss it’s ever received.

A baby.

You’d look so fucking sexy, being all plump with his fucking baby. He pushes your thighs back to you head further, jackhammering into your heat rough and mean.

“Five,” he mumbles, groping at one of your tits in his hand. Squeezing and kneading it like a vice.

“Wha-“

“You’ll give me five ‘f ‘em, won’t’cha? Make me a daddy.”

He’s talking nonsense, partially. Simon wasn’t dead set on five, he’d wanted a baseball team but he’d settle for whatever you wanted. One would do if it caused you too much strain. He’d take care of you and the baby, buy you whatever you asked for, have you sat on that back porch, in a rocking chair. Your hand on your full belly, watching him as he worked all lovingly.

Simon breath hitches, rolling his hips into yours with a grunt, fucking drunk at the thought of it. The thought of you, all while your pussy was squeezing on him like you were reading his fucking mind.

“C-christ almighty, I got lucky with you huh? A snug lil cunt like this deserves to be up filled up with my cum.”

You still couldn’t believe it, thee Simon Ghost Riley, was with you in this old barn fucking your brains out like you were fucking Eve in that damn garden, on top of a pile of hay. Both of you letting out moans and groans like animals that you’re sure anyone who stepped foot on property would be able to hear. It’s hot, and sweat is forming on both of your foreheads, your skin is sticky. Simon’s big balls hitting your ass every punch of his tip into you G Spot. both of your eyes hazy, stupid off the other getting off.

“Feel so gooood M-Mr. Riley! So much!” You keen, reach for the bandana hiding his face. He always pushes your hand away but then he remembers what you’re about to be— his lover, his wife— the mother of hic children.

“Mamma’s gotta know the face of ‘er children’s daddy right? pull it off.” And you do, tugging it. And god, maybe this whole ordeal got you lucky.

So damn pretty. A scar on his nose, another one at the end of his pink lips, blonde strands swaying everytime he ruts into you, “Mr. Riley’s sooo pretty,” you slur, talking to him like it’s some secret. You’re lucid in his cock, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure while you stomach coils up.

“Uh-uh, eyes on me city broad, look at me!” He squeezes your cheeks together, planting a fat kiss on your smooshed lips. He snaps his hips forward, and your head would’ve hit the wall from how good you feel. But Simons still got your pretty face in his hands.

“Gonna have ya allll bare foot ‘nd pregnant, waddlin yer cute ass ‘round here with a ring on that finger.” He’s telling you, as if this is already happened and he’s seein it with his own eyes. All you can do is moan at his words. You can’t even form a sentence at this point. Just nodding your ditzy little head while he gives you his dick.

“Gonna be a pretty fuckin mamma too, fu- shit baby, your pretty tits all full with milk for our kin— damn, you love the sound ‘f that dontcha? You can deny it all ya wont, but she’s achin for it.”

God, you are. She is too. You didn’t even know how greedy your pussy was being as he pistoned in and out of you, “Gonna— gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna-“

“-Yeah, thaaat’s it lucky, come all over your husbands cock.”

All you can utter is a ‘s-shit’ when your orgasm smacks you, your toes curling in your converses, thighs shaking in Simons hold.

The blonde gets you in a headlock, smooshing you down into the floor further, brushing your curls with hay out of your gorgeous face. rutting into you as your walls clamp onto him, begging for his all milk he’s able to give you.

Simon growls, and the strings of cum fill your womb. Your clammy bodies are still stuck together as he rocks the last bit of cum into. Mumbling while kissing your neck, “take it lucky it’s all yours. Gotta keep you nice ‘nd full if you’re gonna get pregnant.”

It’s quiet finally. The barn itself is old and creaks but you can hear the chickens right down the steps clucking, the cicadas chirping, the breeze passing through the trees. The only think you hear are his and your pants,

Simon scoops you up in his arms, adjusting your dress to cover the mess he’s created thats dripping down on that barn floor with every steps he takes.

“Mr. Riley, where are we- where are we going?” You hiccup, gripping onto his shirt. All you can look at is him, a little in shock, a little blissed out. The only thing your able to focus on is the handsome man holding you against his chest. The way his heart pounds louder as he looks down at you.

“To the house. It just won’t take after one go.”

a/n: a draft that’s sitting since last month. Luv you bubs. Can’t wait to write more country!simon

most recent masterlist

[rafesangelita]

♡ who needs a boyfriend when you have a best friend like rafe who lets you use him to get yourself off?

warnings: mentions of fwb, lots of dirty talk, light praise, unprotected sex, rafe being a giver before a receiver..

“are you asleep?” you whispered, snaking your hand over rafe’s shirtless form. trying to get any kind of sleep when you were next to him was deemed impossible, especially when he knew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath that pink nightdress of yours. “no, not really.” he hummed groggily, turning his body to face you. you two have had such a weird ‘best friends with benefits’ dynamic going on for so long now, there was nothing that fazed you two when it came to sleeping together in the same bed.. let alone being naked and in close proximity.

“what’s wrong?” he pulled you on top of him, your heat sitting right where you needed him the most. biting your lip, you waited for rafe to meet your gaze before it clicked for him. hiking up the sheer material of your nightdress, your best friend snaked a hand between your legs, a curse leaving his lips as he ran his fingers up and down your soaked folds. “oh, you just want your pretty hole filled, huh?” you nodded, taking him out of the confines of his underwear. “yes—” you whined, “can i please use your cock, ray?” rafe grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a kiss before doing away with your top.

“that’s what friends are for.” he whispered, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he slid into you. rafe took a handful of your ass, a pained mewl sounding from your mouth as he groped the flesh roughly. “get yourself off, ‘pretty, fuck yourself back to sleep.” he encouraged you, his breath tickling the side of your face as you moved on top of him. you could just cry, the mere girth of rafe’s cock stretching you open so deliciously. all he had to do was lay there and listen to your little whimpers and whines as you hiccuped your praises for him. “you f-fill me up so good!” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin.

“yeah?” he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh, eliciting a squeal from your lips, “is anyone else letting you use their cock like this?” you shook your head, leaving sloppy kisses along his jawline. “no, just you!” rafe knew that already, considering he had devoted most of his time to chasing off every guy who thought they could have a chance with you, he just loved hearing you confirm it for him. surprisingly enough, rafe didn’t care if you made him cum or not, he reached his climax just knowing that you counted on him to make you feel good.

“oh, fuck,” you took in a sharp breath, circling your hips so your clit met his pubic bone, “rafe!” with your ministrations faltering, you struggled to keep up with your movements, a frustrated cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom. resting his hands in the small of your back, rafe pinned you against his chest as you came undone around his cock, your tears of pure unadulterated pleasure running down his shoulder as you trembled with the force of your orgasm. rafe felt the tension in his stomach starting to coil tight as he was close to finishing himself, his jaw clenching as you shook in his arms.

thumbing away the stray tears that managed to stay on the surface of your skin, rafe brought you down from your high with a soft ‘shhhh..’ rasping through the small space. his hands cupped your face, both of you exchanging a look before you slid off of him with a hiss. fully expecting to just hold you close and call it a night, rafe looked down at you with confusion as you laid down on your tummy between his thighs. “w-what are you doing?” he asked, swallowing thickly once you batted your lashes up at him. “what kind of friend would i be without returning the favor?”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[fallenbratfiction]

Gym Crush ~ older joel miller x f!reader

A/N: there’s a guy in my gym that looks alike joel in season 2 and he’s scrumptious delicious but I can’t make any moves because I’m an awkward fuck and I'm afraid I'll be a homewrecker howeverrrr today he helped me with the hip thrust machine and that's as close as I'll ever get to him.

warnings: large age gap (reader is in her twenties and joel is around his fifties), sexual tension (no explicit smut yet, but heavy physical tension, intimate kissing...), mild language "bitch", sexual verbal harassment (not from joel!!), protective behavior, threat (joel threatening someone else)

✧ minors dni with me or my blog. i'm not responsible for your consumption.

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work  

⟡━━━━━━━━━━⟡

Joel watched you from a short distance as you picked up a weight almost three times your size and carried it—with all your strength—to the middle of the weight area.

He watched as you got into a squat position—a wrong one—and started moving in a squat motion. He shook his head slightly.

Either you were new or overestimated yourself trying to pull a squat with a 30kg kettlebell. He thought about minding his own business and continuing his own set—but he couldn’t just let you hurt yourself.

He tapped your shoulder gently, and you dropped the weight. Startled, you pulled out one of your headphones and looked up at him.

“Don’t mean to disturb you,” he said, calm and low, “but I couldn’t just stand by and let you get hurt. You should try with a different weight—lower, maybe.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying that cause I’m a woman?”

“No, I’m saying it ’cause I’ve seen it before—and I’ve felt it. You don’t want to throw out your back or wreck your knee. Trust me—once you hit my age, you’ll regret it.”

You chuckled and crouched to pick the kettlebell back up. Strange—five minutes ago, it hadn’t felt this heavy.

Joel watched your struggle and stepped in again, lifting it easily with one hand.

“Allow me, doll.”

You watched him carry it back to the rack and pick up a different kettlebell. He wasn’t trying to diminish you really, he brought a 25kg weight in one hand and a 20kg in the other.

“Since you seem mighty powerful,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye, “you could probably handle either of these.”

He set them at your feet.

“Try.”

You reached for the 25kg and tried a set. It was okay—but heavier than you wanted to admit. Still, no way you were about to embarrass yourself in front of the gorgeous, gruff man standing over you.

Joel seemed to sense it. He set a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle pat.

“That’s alright, shake it off. Try the other one"

You nodded, biting your lip, and picked up the 20kg. Better. Still heavy—but manageable.

“There you go, doll,” he said, smiling like he was proud. “Don’t worry—you’ll get stronger and lift heavier. The key is not to mess up your back.”

With that, he walked off. Back to his own set—but now with one eye still on you. Just in case. If you grabbed another too-heavy weight, he’d be there.

By the end of your workout, you crossed paths again—this time at the walking pads.

“Hey, savior,” you smiled, setting your water bottle in one holder and your phone in the other.

He chuckled at the nickname.

“You save lives often around here?”

“I don’t mean to, I just observe a lot and happen to intervene”

“You new here?”

“I try not to,” he said with a shrug. “I just watch a lot. Sometimes I step in.”

You nodded, heart still a little elevated.

“You new here?” he asked, glancing sideways at you as you started the pad.

“Yeah,” you nodded. I moved to the city about a month ago. Still getting used to it. New job, new apartment, new gym…” You smiled. “Figured I’d build a routine before the chaos set in.”

“Smart,” he said, nodding. “You’ll get the hang of it.” Then, a small smirk. “Already off to a strong start.”

You laughed at that—something about his voice made compliments sound earned, not empty.

The treadmill kept humming under your feet. Comfortable silence. Just the two of you walking, letting the post-workout adrenaline settle.

“You come here every morning?” you asked after a beat.

“Most days,” he replied. “Early’s quieter. Fewer idiots, usually.”

“Except for me and my tragic squat form.”

He chuckled low in his throat.

“You’re not an idiot. Just new. Big difference.”

You smiled to yourself and let that be the end of it.

After that day, you continued showing up. And so does he.

It becomes a routine without either of you naming it. He spots you during your sets sometimes. You bring him a spare protein bar once. He teases your playlists. You tease his ancient headphones.

You think about him more than you’d admit. But you never cross the line. Not even when he lets his hand linger on your back a little too long. Not even when he brushes your fingers as he passes you a weight.

You don’t make a move.

Because—what if?

What if he thinks you're just a silly girl with a crush on the hot older guy?

What if it makes things awkward? Or worse—makes him leave?

What you don’t know is he’s thinking the same damn thing.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye every time you laugh at one of your own jokes. Every time you push through a hard set. Every time you flash that proud little smile when you hit a PR.

He tells himself he’s just being friendly.

He tells himself he’s too old to be looking at you like that.

But it’s getting harder every day.

Then, the tension happens.

You both stayed a little longer than usual, finishing up extra sets. The gym is quiet—just a few stragglers and the soft echo of music bouncing off the walls.

You’re at the stretching area, tying your hair up again, when Joel walks over, towel slung around his neck, shirt damp with sweat.

“Still at it?” His voice is low, that rough rasp even more gravelly this late.

“You know me,” you say, sitting back into a stretch. “Trying to prove I can handle more than a 20kg bell.”

He huffs a laugh and crouches beside you, adjusting the towel on his shoulder.

“Told you—you’ll get there. Already stronger than most.”

“You always say that, but I'm still stuck with 20."

“Easy tiger, you're getting there"

There’s a beat of silence. You glance over. He’s already looking at you—his gaze soft but unreadable.

And that’s when it happens.

A flicker. Something unspoken is rising between you.

“You ever train with someone?” you ask, a little quieter now. “Like… actually work out with a partner?”

He tilts his head and thinks.

“Not in a long time. Why?”

You shrug, trying to play it off.

“Just thought—maybe you and I could try it sometime. I mean, you already spot me half the time.”

His eyes linger on you a little longer than usual. Like he’s deciding if it's the right thing to do.

“Yeah,” he says finally, voice lower. “I’d like that.”

There’s something there in his tone. Something new.

You nod slowly, holding his gaze. He nods back.

The air gets a little too still. You’re too aware of how close his knee is to yours. How good he smells—sweat, cedar, something warm and masculine.

And then, almost, he reaches out—just brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

But then someone drops a weight behind you.

The spell breaks.

You both flinch and turn.

He stands up quickly, clearing his throat.

“I should… probably head out.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You walk out together, but a little quieter than usual. Something's shifted. Something happened.

Not everything, but just enough.

The next morning feels...different.

Not in a bad way—just off. A little too aware of each other. You say “morning” like always. He tosses you a spare sweat towel like he usually does. But your fingers brush a little too long. His gaze lingers a little too low before darting away.

Still, you both pretend nothing happened.

You warm up on your own, trying to shake the strange buzz in your chest. You chalk it up to sleep deprivation. Or the pre-workout drink. Or him.

You're mid-set—deep in a tough rep—when some asshole guy you don’t know struts over. Smirking.

He’s the type who lifts just to be loud. One of those guys. Probably couldn’t spell “glute” if you spotted him the G and the L.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins, stepping too close. “You always squat that low, or is this just for me?”

You pause mid-motion. Eyebrow twitching. Trying to ignore him.

“Busy,” you say, short and clipped.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You in those little shorts—can’t expect a guy to keep his eyes to himself.”

He’s way too close now, crowding your space.

That’s when Joel appears.

You don’t even see him come over. You just feel the shift in the air.

He steps between you and the guy. Slow. Calm. But his shoulders are tense. Jaw set.

“You heard her,” he says, voice low. “She’s busy.”

The guy scoffs.

“Who the fuck are you? Her dad?” He laughs. “Why do you care, grandpa?”

Joel doesn't blink. Doesn’t flinch.

He steps forward—just barely. But it’s enough. The tension radiates off him like heat.

“I think you better walk away,” Joel says, voice like gravel, “before you regret it.”

The guy’s smile falters.

He opens his mouth—then closes it. Realizes what he's dealing with.

“Whatever,” he mutters, backing off. “Bitch isn’t even worth it.”

You flinch at the word. Joel’s hand flexes like he’s holding back from knocking teeth in. But he lets the guy walk.

He turns to you.

“You okay?”

You nod, cheeks burning. Embarrassed. Angry.

“Yeah, I just—” You shake your head, suddenly too aware of your own body. “I probably had it coming. Dressed like this in these shorts.”

Joel’s expression changes. All that quiet fury shifts—not at you, never at you—but at the fact you’d even think that.

“Don’t say that.”

You glance up, surprised at how serious he sounds.

“There’s not a damn thing wrong with you or what you’re wearin’. That guy was a prick. That’s on him. Not you.”

You open your mouth to argue—but nothing comes out.

He softens. His hand grazes your arm gently.

“You hear me?”

You nod, throat tight.

“Yeah. I hear you.”

Truth was, Joel had been staring at you, too.

It was impossible not to.

He told himself it was pride—he’d helped you with form, corrected your weight, spotted your squats more times than he could count. He should be proud your glutes had grown the way they had.

But lately?

Pride was harder to separate from something else.

He kept it subtle. Discreet. Respectful. Not like that asshole. Joel knew how to look without making you feel small. Without making it about him.

Still, when you bent over to re-rack your weights, or dropped low into a perfect squat… Yeah. His gaze lingered a little longer than it should.

And he hated himself for it.

But God—you were a sight.

After that scene, Joel insists on walking you out.

“Just to your car,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like his hands hadn’t just curled into fists over you.

You don’t argue. He walks a half-step behind you, gaze still sharp like he’s expecting another problem to round the corner. Silent the whole way.

When you reach your car, you turn to face him, hand on the handle and smile up at him.

“Thanks,” you say, voice quieter now. “For stepping in. And for walking me.”

He gives a small nod, hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t sit right. That guy was outta line.”

“Still…” you hesitate. “I’m sorry he said what he said...about you.”

His jaw tenses, but he shrugs.

"He's just an asshole. Words don’t mean much comin’ from someone who can’t even rack his own weights.”

You laugh softly, then pause—because you can feel it. The shift. That weight between you.

Joel glances at your car, then back at the gym, hands still in his pockets.

“You good to continue alone tomorrow?” he asks, voice rough. Then, more carefully— “Or… you wanna train together?”

The question lands softly—but it lingers. Like he’s testing the waters. Like he’s not just asking about sets and reps. Like maybe he wants to be there for more than just that.

You look at him in the light—really look. Hair damp at the edges from sweat. That gray t-shirt hugging his chest. Hands flexing like he’s trying not to reach for something.

You nod, heartbeat picking up.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

He starts to turn, giving you one last nod, and turns around to step away—

That’s when you do it.

Quick, instinctive—you reach for his wrist. He stops. Looks down. Then up at you.

You step in closer.

The sunlight makes everything sharp. No shadows. No excuses. Just you and him standing there in plain sight.

Joel’s eyes search yours—quick, wild, unsure—pupils blown wide even in the harsh daylight. His chest rises like he’s holding his breath.

You kiss him.

No warning. No words. Just your mouth on his, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring you.

He freezes—for the briefest moment.

Then he kisses you back.

Harder.

One hand grips your waist, the other slides up your back, pulling you flush against him. His mouth moves with heat, control slipping by the second. It’s not gentle. It’s not frantic either.

It’s pent-up.

Like every lingering look, every soft-spoken “good job, sweetheart,” every moment spent standing a little too close in the weight area—was leading here.

And in the full light of day, right there in the gym parking lot, he kisses you like he’s starving.

When it ends—when breath becomes necessary—he pulls back just an inch, eyes still closed, like the sunlight might take it all away if he opens them.

You break apart just enough to breathe.

Just enough for him to whisper against your lips:

“Wasn’t expectin’ that.”

You manage a shaky smile, heart pounding.

“Would’ve done it sooner if I thought you wanted me to.”

He lets out a breath—half-laugh, half-growl—low and wrecked.

His forehead rests against yours. He shakes his head once.

“Shit, darlin’…” His hand grazes your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “You have no idea.”

There’s a pause. Long enough for the silence to throb between you.

Then he leans in again, lips hovering beside your ear—

“Hope you’re ready for what comes next.”

You step back, just enough to breathe again. Smile—nervous, dizzy.

“See you tomorrow?”

Joel smirks, slow and sure, like a man already plotting something dangerous.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You get in your car, still shaking slightly, and look at him one last time through the window.

He’s standing there—hands in his pockets, chest rising slow.

His jaw is clenched.

But his lips?

Curved into the faintest smirk.

Not cocky. Not smug.

Just… wrecked. Quietly wrecked.

Like a man trying hard to look composed— but already ruined by the taste of something he knows he’s not going to stop wanting.

You drive away.

And he watches you until you’re gone.

⟡━━━━━━━━━━⟡

Part Two coming soon...

✧ reblogs, likes & comments are deeply appreciated ♡  

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work  

[ssorenz]

WHY SHOULD I BE SAD? (WHEN I COULD JUST FUCK HIS DAD!) ★

ꨄ syn. after your ex-boyfriend cheats on you, you show up at his house only to find out his bum ass isn't there. buuut his dad is, and you see the perfect opportunity to get back— its time for you to move along, goodbye!

ꨄ feat. dilf! kento nanami + fem! reader, pwp, piv, unprotected sēx, improper use of a tie, oral f! receiving), age gap, pússy whipped nanami, choking, hairpulling, voyeurism. mdni.

wc. 3.5k

you knock. three sharp, deliberate raps against the door, knuckles grazing the oak.

the porch light flickers overhead, buzzing lowly as it throws shadows across your bare legs. the hem of your pink velour shorts rides high on your thighs, paired with the matching jacket, zipped halfway down to show a sliver of the white tank top underneath.

you shift your weight to one hip, arms folded tight across your chest, blowing a lazy puff of stray hair that stuck to your glossed lips.

pathetic. you think, glancing around the quiet streets. your (ex!!) boyfriend— still living with his parents like the immature man child he is.

some things just never fucking change.

you shift, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the welcome mat. welcome, it says in clean, cursive letters. bold of it to assume.

you’re ready to just turn your ass around, already thinking how you were too pretty to be standing on the porch like this for a man who can’t even keep his dick to himself— before the door opens with a soft, weighted click.

and instead of the boy you were verbally (and probably physically) going to skin alive, you got his father.

nanami kento.

he stands framed in the doorway, still in half his work attire. the sleeves of his white dress shirt are pulled up to his elbows, the worn fabric stretching a little too tight over the muscle of his forearms. a navy tie hangs loosely around his neck, brushing ever so slightly against the center of his barely exposed chest.

his honey blonde hair is combed back, a stray hair brushing over the rim of his glasses. he blinks at you once, slow, and you can’t help but blink right back.

he’s hot— hot in that “pays his bills on time” kind of way. in that “he’s obviously bee-keeping age” kind of way. you can clearly see where all the good genes went— definitely didn’t stick with his son.

figures.

“can i help you?” he asked, voice worn around the edges, dragging low across the quiet between you— like he’s been talking all day but you’re the first thing he’s actually looked at.

“i was, uh, looking for your son,” you shrug, voice bittersweet. “but i guess he’s out. . spreading whatever new std he picked up this week.”

nanami’s mouth twitches, not enough to be a smile—not enough to be anything actually, but you still catch it.

“he’s not home, i’m sorry.” he finally says, exhaling through his nose, the sigh barely stirring the thick air between you.

“yeah, me too.” you scoff softly, letting a dry little laugh slip free past your lips before you can stop it.

nanami sighs, glancing out at the empty, paved street, then back at you— standing there in your tiny pink jacket, breath fogging in soft little puffs in the cold, evening air.

and he knows he should shut the door.

tell you to go home, and stop bothering him with his son’s antics.

but instead, nanami looks at you one more time, and the words are already out before he can take them back.

“come inside,” he murmurs, and you blink up at him, surprised. your lashes catch in the dimmed lighting, lips parted because, not gonna lie, you really expected him to scold you for showing up on his doorstep at this hour, not invite you in.

he creaks the door wider with one hand, not moving otherwise.

an invitation, plain and simple— yours if you want it.

and you do.

because why the fuck not.

you step past the blonde man, slow enough to feel the heat of his chest. his cologne hits you next, clean with a weight of something smooth, oaky, the kind that just smells expensive.

the door clicks shut behind you, a low, weighted sound as the house hums low around you — dim lamplight blooming gold against taupe walls, books stacked in corners, the edge of a dark whiskey bottle catching the faint gleam from the kitchen counter.

“can i get you something to drink? wine?” nanami’s voice cuts into the quiet, and you flick your eyes toward him.

his hand curls casual around the fridge door, rolex crowned wrist flexing as he reaches for a bottle without even needing to look.

“what, no vodka shots?”

“i have better taste than that.”

he pours slow — the maroon liquid threading ribbons into thin crystal glasses that catches lamplight like it’s flirting. the air shifts when he crosses back to you, glass dangling easy between his fingers, the stem catching a smear of light as he offers it out.

you take a small sip, the wine breathing sweet against your tongue. it's much heavier than what you're used to, warm enough that it drips slow down the back of your throat and settles thick in your stomach.

you hum low without meaning to, the sound slipping out sticky and soft. nanami sinks next you on chocolatey leather sectional, the seat creaking quietly under the shift of his weight.

“i'm sorry, again.” he says softly, his thumb drags absent over the rim once before he speaks once more. “that boy. . . he hasn't been the same since his mother’s been gone.”

“oh.” you lower your glass, words feeling awkward and clumsy on your tongue. “i’m sorry for your, um, loss.”

and nanami chuckles— the kind you’d expect to hear floating down the halls of some members-only country club.

“she’s not dead— she left. divorced me after she decided marriage vows were more of a suggestion.” he leans back, raising the crystal up his lips.

you laugh before you can stop yourself — the wine buzzing a little low in your veins now, loosening your mouth, making you just stupid enough to flirt with the edge of it.

“ohh,” you purr sweetly, a little slur of silk in your voice. “so you haven’t gotten laid in a while, huh?”

nanami chokes.

no, like actually chokes.

“w-what?” he croaks, brows pulling inward sharply as his glasses shift down the bridge of his nose.

“gootteeenn laaiidd,” you repeat, dragging the words slower this time.

“like, you know, having intercourse.” you have one hand vaguely in the air, wrist limp. “fucking, if you will.”

nanami exhales sharply through his nose - you’re really starting to give him a run for his money right now. “i know what getting laid means,” he mutters, tone clipped. “m’not that old.”

a brief silence drapes itself between you— not cold, yet slightly singed around its edges, tensed. after what seemed to be the longest three seconds of his life, nanami finally speaks.

“no. i, uh. haven’t been active— sexually.”

you burst out laughing, wine nearly sloshing over the rim of your glass. “oh my god,” you wheeze, setting down your drink before it spills over. “this isn’t a doctor’s office. we’re both adults here.”

“are we really?” nanami mumbles, umber eyes skimming over your doubled-over state.

“uh, i’m twenty, mind you.”

“that’s comforting.”

you shrug, one leg curling up beneath you as you swirl whats left in your glass, the liquid painting lazy rings up the sides. your head is lighter now, the warmth of it blooming low in your stomach, buzzing under your skin.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” you murmur, head tilting slightly as your gaze drags across his frame. “it’s juust. . . been a while, right? doesn’t have to stay that way.”

you don’t look at him after that. not right away. just take another sip— letting the remainder of the wine coat your tongue and melt there while your words hang.

nanami doesn’t speak at first. doesn’t blink. hell, doesn’t even breathe.

but you feel it. the way the air shifts. the way his eyes remain hot on you. like he’s trying not to picture anything he shouldn’t— and failing miserably.

you’re half his age— he could be your father, for crying out loud!

“you’re drunk.”

“a little,” you admit breathily, voice slurred around the corners like the alcohol is speaking for you. “not enough to lie though.”

his jaw flexes.

visibly.

nanami’s voice drops lower, steadier.

“you’re my son’s girlfriend.”

“ex-girlfriend,” you correct him. “very important prefix.”

“semantics,” he mutters.

“legalities,” you shoot back. “pretty sure that contract expired the second he chose to be community dick.”

and nanami just huffs, closing his eyes, as if you’ll vanish if once he reopens them.

you don’t.

his jaw ticks again— slow.

“you— you shouldn’t be talking like this,” his voice rasps, eyes darkening— not dramatically, like in the movies, but in that slow, irrevocable way. “flirting. with me.”

you blink up at him, doey eyes feigning innocence with such a foxed grace. “awe, why shouldn’t i, mister nanami?”

and uh,

being slumped over his couch not even five minutes later with your legs hanging daintily over his broad ass shoulders definitely wasn’t on your list of possible outcomes.

“k-kennnn,” you whimper, hips rolling up into his face without thinking. your body moving on instinct now. “oh my god—”

his name rolls of your tongue like pure honey. your hips buck into his face, reflexive and greedy, spine arching off the couch like your entire body was trying to climb into his mouth.

“you taste,” he breathes, voice ruined, mouth glistening with the evidence, “so divine.” his lips kiss the words right into your sobbing cunt, a sticky whisper smudged against your folds.

he’s drenched in your dulcetly sweet juices — mouth and chin glazed in spit and slick. there’s drool trailing from the corner of his mouth, pooling where his lips suck around your clit. it’s loud — shamelessly wet — the kind of messiness that echoes off the walls, mingling with your gasped mewls and broken pleas for more.

you're throbbing so much it aches. your legs can’t even stay open on their own— and they don’t have to, not with the way nanami’s palms are splayed into your inner thighs, keeping them spread wiiiidee like it’s his job.

like this is what he clocked out for.

you fist a hand in his hair, yanking him closer and he moans. actually moans into your cunt.

low and guttural, breath catching sharp in his throat as he sinks deeper into you. his tongue licks a wide, deliberate stripe up your cunt, lathering his entire mouth in the wet sheen of your sweetness.

and god, he’s drunk on it.

like he’s starved, but determined to savor every lick, every suck, every trembling twitch of your hips beneath his tongue. nanami wraps one arm around your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, and stays there — nose pressed deep in your crevices, tongue flicking in tight circles, sloppy little suctions in between.

the last time he's eaten pussy like this, was what? back in college? almost two decades ago. yet it's like fucking muscle memory for him, like he's got PTSD.

“that’s it,” he rasps, voice muffled and wrecked, “don’t run. let me taste you, baby.”

your jaw drops. nothing comes out.

because how exactly are you supposed to say even a word with his tongue dragging figure eights over your clit? with his lips sucking bruises into your inner thighs between every flick? with his hands branding their grip into you every time you squirm?

his lips latch around your clit, sucking slow, heavy pulses while the flat of his tongue rolls wide circles around the swollen bud. his head shakes side to side, desperate now, messy, loud slurps filling the room.

you gasp sharply, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his head. “kento—i’m getting clooseee.”

the heel of your foot presses down against the middle of his back, urging him closer, guiding his mouth deeper into you. he groans again, a low, hoarse sound that makes your stomach tighten.

“hah—not yet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your pussy, words muffled by the wetness slicking his lips. “wanna enjoy you a little longer.”

he coaxes softly, voice low. “h-hold out for me. can you do that, pretty girl?” and you nod frantically, even as your body is begging for release.

“atta girl.”

nanami smiles against your cunt and you can feel it—the gentle curve of his lips pressing against your slick, tickling where he’s sucking and licking you raw. his hands stroke soothing down the backs of your thighs, holding you still, thumbs drawing slow circles into your skin.

his tongue flattens again, and you could've sworn you felt him drawing a slow, dragged K against your clit.

he’s just lost in it. in you.

completely, hopelessly enthralled.

you whimper, breath catching in your throat, fat, wet, tears finally pooling at your waterline before streaking down the flushed heat of your cheeks.

“k-kentoo,” you mewl softly, voice sticky with need, breath coming out in short little pants.

“go on,” he cooed softly. “cum for me, sweetheart. wanna feel it on my tongue.”

coiled tight, ready to snap. but his hands stayed firm on your thighs, his tongue pressing a slow, deliberate stroke over your wetness.

your release hits you violently, crashing over you like a rogue wave and you nearly sob. your toes curl into the soles of your shoes, thighs clamping around his head as your hips bucked against his mouth.

your body spasms in a wild, uncontrollable rhythm, slick soaking nanami's chin, his lips, his tongue—and he just took it. drinking you down with soft, broken groans, never once letting up as he licked you through every little tremble.

“that’s it,” his breath is warm as it's breathed against your core. “good girl.”

your body was still trembling, slack with aftershock when nanami finally lifted himself from between your soaked thighs. he wiped his mouth once but it did nothing— his chin was still slick, lips swollen and glistening, the faintest tint of pink glossed from where he’d devoured you.

his hands swept possessively down your sides. palms wide, calloused fingertips dragging over the curve of your waist as he guided you forward.

you gasp softly as he flips you onto your belly, nudging your hips up. your limbs felt weightless, pliant with a deep fatigue.

your knees slide against the leather, the couch creaking beneath you as he arranged you just right—in your hands and knees, back arched, ass lifted.

the cushions dipped behind you, a subtle shifting of weight as nanami knelt up. you hear the slow, metallic “zrrpp” of his zipper lowering, noticing his belt didn’t jingle. 

he’d probably already undone it while his mouth was still between your thighs.

a soft breath hisses through nanami's nose as he fists himself behind you—stroking, just once, the wet sound slick before he presses forward.

“breathe in for me,” nanami enticed, voice steady, one palm braced warm at the small of your back.

his other hand guided himself to your entrance, the tip nudging sweetly between your sobbing folds. “just a little more, sweetheart.”

he eased forward, thick inches dragging into you, stretching you inch by staggering inch.

and it ached, yet in the sweetest way—your hot, slicked walls hugging him so tight, making him curse low under his breath.

“there you go,” he murmured. “such a big girl.”

he wasn’t too long, but god, did his girth make up for it.

a thick, weighted base broad enough to stretch you wide already, the head flaring just slightly as it breached you.

by the time he bottomed out, you were trembling beneath him, hips flush, his pelvis pressing soft against the curve of your ass. stretched full. he paused, both hands gliding down to grip the lush swell of your hips.

his hips drew back, the broad head of his cock dragging slow and heavy along your sensitive walls, before rolling forward again with a deep, deliberate stroke.

“s-sooo, hngh— big,” your voice broke into a sob as your fingers curled into the cushions beneath you. your ass bounced back against his waist, cunt snug around his cock as your moans pitched higher.

the silk of his tie—still looped loose around his own throat, slid free with a soft whisper of fabric. nanami tugged it off carefully, slipping it around your throat instead. the silk hugged the delicate line of your neck as he tied it loosely, gathering the longer end in one hand.

“just so i can hold you steady, heh,” he whispered, almost like he was reassuring himself more than you.

“look at you,” nanami panted softly. “so pretty on my dick— just, hah, imagine what my son would think.”

his breathing was ragged now, heavier with each roll of his hips into yours. the tie pulled snug against your throat every time you rocked back. the next thrust was deeper this time, angling up just right as it punched a sob out of your throat.

“he didn’t know what he had,” he gritted out between strokes, the words dragging rough from somewhere deep in his chest. “i-idiot—threw away something this perfect.”

and if you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like nanami was angry— jealous even. like the thought of you being mistreated was something he just couldn’t fathom.

his free hand dropped to your waist, steadying you as his rhythm began syncopating. the fog on his glasses was nearly opaque now, slipping low on the bridge of his nose.

and then—

your phone buzzes, followed by your tinny little singsong ringtone, the screen lighting up bright in the dim lighting of the room.

[incoming facetime: 🗑️]

you dazedly blink, barely able to register it through the heat and the fog filling your head.

“p-pick it up,” nanami murmured behind you, voice low, steady, almost too composed. you barely had the coordination, fingers fumbling for the phone. your thumb dragged across the screen, and his face filled the camera.

red. wild-eyed. breathing heavy.

“where the fuck are you? you think this is funny? i’ve been texting and calling all night—”

your face was all he could see at first. hair sticking to your damp temples. your breath shaky. eyelids heavy, barely open.

“answer me,” he barked. “are you with someone? don’t fucking lie—”

you smiled. slow. coy. “oh, i’m with. . . someone.”

“who?” he demanded, voice cracking. “tell me who it is right now, or i swear i'll be both of your asses!”

you tilt the phone. just enough.

the camera catches nanami in his perfect, damning glory— broad chest flushed with exertion, work shirt still open, tie wrapped snug around your throat. his hands heavy on your hips, muscles flexing beneath skin as he fucked into you.

your ex’s jaw dropped. “wait. is that—” his voice pitched. “is that my dad?”

you smiled wider. teeth flashing.

“what the fuck—are you out of your mind?! psycho bitch, you’re fucking insane—”

click.

call ended.

“he’s gonna lose his fucking mind,” you whispered, giggling into your own shoulder.

nanami chuckles deep and out of breath. “let him.”

you feel the way his strokes start to grow heavier, a tremble blooming deep in his thighs, hips snapping forward with less precision now.

nanami’s breath stuttered, grip flexing hard around the tie as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded to your pussy.

“i’m—ah, i’m not gonna last.” he husked, his hips jackhammering into you languidly, making you feel the full thickness of him with every stroke. your slick gushed every time he bottomed out, wet sounds shameless in the otherwise quiet room.

he was so painfully close, yet he wanted to savor this moment. wanted to have this memory seared behind his eyelids long after the night was gone.

your cries were turning breathless, slurred, the pleasure cresting sharp, almost unbearable as you felt that tightness coiling in your stomach once again. “k-kento, please—can’t—”

“don't hold back,” he husked, his breath catching in his throat. “you earned it, sweetheart. let go.”

you nodded frantically, unable to form anything coherent as your release slammed into you hard. violent. white flashes of pleasure detonating in your stomach and ripping through your body.

“fuckfuckfuckfuuck— ” your lashes batted, tiny choked whines spilling from your mouth as his cock twitched deep inside you, swelling thicker, the heavy weight of it pressing into every sensitive nerve as your walls milked him greedily.

nanami's hips faltered, pace stuttering into a sloppy rhythm as he scrambled, releasing the tie from around your throat with a quick, careful tug as he pulled out.

before you could even whine, you feel the heavy weight of his cock dragging up—resting thick and flushed against the dip of your spine.

his breath is broken into low moans, and you barely had a second before the hot, sticky ropes of his release spilled across your back, striping messy against your skin.

just in time.

nanami’s head bowed, blonde strands falling loose from where they’d slipped behind his glasses. you could feel the tremble in his thighs, rolling through his entire body as his climax overcame him.

and for a moment, all you could hear was both of your breaths—deep, messy, syncing. the air smelled like sex. musk. your juices still wet between your legs.

he lingered there for a second longer, hips pressed forward, until he finally exhaled slow.

“shit,” nanami muttered breathlessly. “did i— was that too much?”

his voice cracked gentle now, worried.

your laugh came out light, breathless, sweet—finding his worriedness nothing short of sweet. “no. not at all. felt so good.”

he hummed, quiet relief softening the crease of his brow as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your neck.

“but i guess uh, father’s day is ruined. oops.”

@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.

[damsalindistress]

dilf!nanami x virgin!f!reader (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

nanami shoving his big cock in your tight little pussy :( you two met at a bar the other day, you’re barely twenty one and he’s already in his early forties.

imagine his shock when he finds out you’re still a virgin at twenty one?! he stifled in a laugh at that, he didn’t want you to think he was making fun of you. you guys ended up hitting it off that night and started to meet each other more, from coffee dates to small pecks on the lips.. and the age gap didn’t seem to bother either of you, if anything you were into it way more than he was.

then you finally give him the words he’s been waiting to hear, that you want him to take your virginity.

and as he expected, you were as tight as a vice. he said he’d be gentle with you, (unfortunately he promised you) but he wanted to fuck you hard already. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he coos, his voice is so perfect. deep, soft. just like how he was entering you.

“s-slow, please,” you mumble, your hand coming up to grab his, interlocking fingers tightly. his eyes almost melted at the sight of your beautiful expression, the way your breath hitched and the way your hand was sweaty. “i’ll be slow, promised you, remember?” he watches his thick cock go inside you inch by inch, you could feel yourself getting stretched out. it was oddly pleasurable yet a bit painful as he pushed deeper.

he watches you nod your head and bite your lip, before speaking up again. “let me hear your voice pretty girl, that was our deal right? i want to hear all your sounds.” his free hand that was guiding his cock in your walls came to rub your inner thigh softly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your plushness.

“feels good yeah? say it feels good for me honey,” he talks again, you nod your head, “feels good, you.. you feel really good,” that makes him smile.

you can feel his shaft deep inside you now, but not fully bottomed out yet, and you wondered how big he truly was.

a few moments later of slowly pushing alllll the way in, he bottomed out, and he let out a deep groan at the way you felt. “you’re perfect, y’know that?” he whispers.

he disconnects his hand from your own, earning a soft whine from you that made him chuckle. he grabs your calf’s softly with both his huge hands and scoots you closer, lifting your body up so he can have better access as he puts your ankles on his shoulders. “this is much better..” he hums.

“you can move now,” you finally say after a minute of adjusting to his size. and what went from moving slowly became him thrusting into you a bit more roughly, if it was up to him he’d have you on your knees, spanking your gorgeous ass as he praises you, but this was nice too- especially because he loved the way those moans escaped your pretty lips and he knew this what he wanted, what he needed.

i got too lazy to finish it but dilf nanami supremacy

[orphicsun]

𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 (𝐄.𝐖)

pairing: office siren ellie + mean boss reader

word count: 4k

warnings & content: androgynous office siren ellie, mean fem reader, assistant & boss (power dynamic), southern-to-city trope, degradation kink, praising and degrading names (whore, good girl), masturbation w/ fantasies, semi-public sex, spanking, hair-pulling, bondage (handcuffs), fingering (e! receiving), overstimulation, plot twist at the end.

"From the lenses of aesthetics, we see a persona in the populus. We see what we want to see of visuals displayed before us in a self-preserving act of courtship. We want others to understand us, even if just by a hair. These labels are not us. You must peel back the layers of the office siren and unravel her, and then she will feel seen."

She wears her face with a stoicism rather than the grimace hiding underneath the vessel, but it'll never do. It's a poker face, it's just what the people want to see.

It's the appearance that so unfairly contributes to the entirety of her presence. It isn't what she feels or the sensations in her body, but the way her strands of hair cling in union. It’s about blurring out the flaws like a filter, but it extends to her dialect, mannerisms, and individuality. So, she doesn't raise complaints when her polished, black Zappos leave blisters on the back of her feet. Her heels are always veiled by the study material; nobody will perceive the struggle; still, the struggle is great.

The world Ellie was thrown into was simply harsh, to put it in professional terms. When you grow up in a small town in which your bills aren't always paid and breakfast is pop tarts (off brand, may I add) over the five-course meal your peers perceive as simple, you don't understand much. Really, Ellie was used to her childhood of popsicles out of flimsy plastic packaging because she was so rural the ice-cream truck didn't stop by, a childhood consisting of the creek with the occasional snake rather than an inground pool and mud pies with ground-up locust shells as frosting on top.

The move from Mississippi to New York was originally to study astronomy at Wagner, a university with a modernized planetarium. Ellie took out loans with stars in her eyes and a dream to study beyond planet Earth, but things don't always work out. Apartments in New York are expensive, and bills pile up. So do papers and due dates.

Indeed.com proved useless, but a flyer with "hiring!" printed across it, a couple blocks from her unfurnished apartment, landed her a desk, a name-tag with "Ellie Williams" engraved onto it, and a bitchy boss whom she was the assistant to.

(-)

It's not like the nights she spent writing and studying useless information when all she wanted to be doing was getting hands-on with her major transferred into something valuable. Instead, she is simply a part of a system, and she is a meaningless employee in a five-floor building.

It raises the question of why she stays. Joel calls her often, and she picks up every time to hear it: "why don't you come back home?"

It's because Ellie is craving to be seen.

She doesn't quite know who she is. She knows attributes of herself that piece together a person to few and another person to many. Each part of her, from her hobbies to the color socks she wears, differentiates between who she is talking to.

Joel knows about the socks with the ugly green and tan print, her favorite pair that she used to lose almost every day. It's the pair that resides in her scratchy wooden drawer back in a nameless town she still holds in her heart, though she veils her southern accent in favor of what is nearly a monotone when clocked in.

To any coworker who is brave enough to ask, though none never will, her socks are plain white and at an appropriate length. Always the same, every single day.

That bitchy boss is the reason she stays and deals with it, though.

It's not exactly the tights that cling to your thighs in a picture screaming proactive, but you get away with it because you've got privileges in that five-floor building. It isn't the curve of your ass or the thought of your cleavage spilling out of your blazer that keeps her awake at night. She really wishes it was how you like to bend over on a random Tuesday and flash your black, lacy panties. They do hug your pussy lips nicely, though.

It's how insufferable you are.

Ellie should hate it, but it turns her on. Ironically, you put her in focus. Any time you near her desk, she adjusts her horrible posture and her foggy glasses, and she gets to typing out that summary you asked for an hour ago.

She is truly terrified of you. It would be prompt to say she fantasizes about you in the comfort of her own bedroom, but she is a leaking faucet in intimate white cotton fabric throughout the day, mind steamy at the most inconvenient times. It’s tortuous, but the filthiest parts of Ellie’s soul crave it, needs it. It seeps into her dreams and runs her ragged. 

That same bitchiness that can ruin her day is what provokes the feeling within Ellie, though; you’re unlike any of those other corporate assholes. You don’t care about things that cease to exist to Ellie once she enters her apartment. You don’t care about anything that has to do with Ellie in any sense, shape, or form. Even if your eyes were physically forced in her direction, you’d still refuse to acknowledge her existence. 

It drove her crazy at first. Ellie grew up with her elbows on the table and paper plates, not without proper decorum. Even your boss would be expected to treat you like a person, but you don’t. The only time you notice your assistant is when she fucks up, like the instance in which Ellie printed out the wrong stack of 20 papers. You truly did notice her presence that day.

You go against what New York has taught her–to be perceived, even if within a persona. A polite, grayscale persona within the likes of the people who call salt a seasoning.

It’s not to say all corporate jobs are so boring, but this office with these people? It’s maddening to want to be liked and understood all the same. It’s impossible.

Ellie hated you a year ago. The first week of her new job was hell because of you, loading her up on tasks she wasn’t acclimated to. She was sore from a desk job; it was pathetic.

You grew on her, though. The type of conditioning you pressed into her was entirely unintentional, but any natural human would fall for it. You ignored her for 99% of the time. It drove her insane. So, she began fucking up entirely on purpose. 

And she had some shame to begin with, that little amount in her gut that made her want to hurl after opening the wrong excel sheet and printing it off. It went against what she had been forcefully trained for. Still, it became addicting. The days in which you had lectured Ellie for her behavior, she’d gone home and fucked herself silly to sleep. It was an adrenaline boost in her boring life. 

It’s not all shameful, though. You remind her of home, the paint chipped off of the wooden house she was practically born and raised in. Ellie would go crazy surrounded by the same grey-hued people, but she has you. A sun, scorching her skin if she gets too close. Everyone else may as well be flecks of dust floating through space. 

It’s a guilty pleasure of hers she shouldn’t indulge in, but she does it anyway.

(-) 

“Boss?” Ellie tentatively calls from the doorway. 

The sight alone is almost enough to make her drop to her knees with a foam cup still in her hands–lip liner overlines every corner she wants to kiss, and it makes her jealous to think that a simple cosmetic product gets to have you so intimately. The line of your cleavage from the way you lean forward slightly gives Ellie a small flashback to inside her apartment, her face buried in her pillows and ass up as she rubbed her clit for hours at the thought of your tits jammed in her face. 

“Leave it on my desk.” You don’t look up to even acknowledge her. You always confuse Ellie’s head, heart, and cunt. It’s not the imaginable type of affection she craves, but she wants you to look up from your desk and at her. Today, she messed with her bangs for nearly 30 minutes and wore a new suit she had forgotten about in the back of her tiny little closet. She wants you to notice her. Fantasizes about what you’d say if you did look up. 

“Get the fuck out of my office, you whore.” You’d scoff, “and don’t wear that again.” Ellie knows she’s in over her head; way too much of a masochist, but she can’t help it. You bring it out in her in the way you already talk to her. It wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration, would it? 

Ellie carefully places the cup on your desk and awkwardly turns around, slightly stalling as she walks out. Her cunt catches a heart beat when she hears your voice. Just the tone, too. 

“I asked for a caramel latte, Ellie. Hot. This is freezing cold..is this a tea?” You sigh, extremely exasperated. 

“Sorry, ma’am. I must’ve forgotten.” 

“Of course. You did this last week, too. I’m telling you, I really am about to write you up.” You still don’t glance up from your laptop. It’s impressive, really. 

“No!–I mean, that won’t be necessary, ma’am. I apologize for the mix-up.” 

When you finally look up, your eyes meet hers. Your eyes are sharp enough to slice into the part of Ellie that is already soft and weak for you. Her hands shake no matter how tightly she grasps the bottom of her vest. 

“Sorry isn’t enough. Lock the door and strip.” You glance right back down at your bright screen and begin typing again. 

“Wha–Excuse me?!” Ellie sputters, jaw on the floor. That is the last thing Ellie expected to come out of your mouth.

“Now. Unless you want that write-up? I’m sure you can’t afford it.” You smile, and it’s not toothy or cute. You’re a cold, heinous bitch. Your gaze is flat and uncaring, assuring Ellie that you don’t have an ounce of shame in you.

Ellie strips before you, though. She pulls off each layer of clothing until she is exposed, the light from the windows behind you leaving a vulnerable pit in her stomach. 

You take her in from the front–chocolate-kissed hair brushing against her collarable as she frees it from its usual low bun; soft, delicate skin dotted and kissed with visible flecks of melanin; soothing, green eyes that intimidate most. You see right through them, though. There in her eyes lay pupils, enlarged and absorbent for you and only you. There she is, like your own lap dog. You’d be dumb to shoo her off. 

“Good. Now, I want you on the ground. Be a good girl and bow down, I know you want to.”

She drops to the floor, her legs folded underneath her thighs. She descends until she meets the carpet, until it’ll form a strawberry splotch on the focal point of her forehead. Her body is folded up like origami, the curve of her butt resting against the back of her feet. She feels as though she is the process of an artist’s work. This is your design–she is simply the work in progress that you’ll turn inside out, brand her neatly as your masterpiece. 

When her glasses fall from her face, she shivers. She does not move, though. Something within her needs to trust you.

(-)

Ellie doesn’t know how long it has been since you gave your first instruction. It could be minutes, could be an hour or two. All she knows is that she knows she is being watched by you, and it’s one of the most inexplicable feelings Ellie has stumbled upon. 

The persona of a girl with auburn hair neatly slicked back save for the swoop of her bangs, freckles dotted across her cheeks but unmentioned in their character, a girl who carries herself high rather than as slumped as she feels and opts for sleek eye-wear instead of the bulky square lense, is slowly being unraveled. 

The sudden heel in her back is a stab she recognizes, as she stares at the shiny red louboutins throughout the day when possible. Still, it’s an entirely different sensation to experience the very imprint upon her skin. 

“You’re too stiff.” You press further despite your comment. 

She doesn’t mean to be stiff; in fact, Ellie has dreamt of this moment, fantasized it in her mind for years. She should embrace it, but your words ring true. Her hands are balled up into tense fists, and she trembles. 

The pressure on her spine leaves, but she still remains tense. Then, a soft palm climbs up her back from behind. Her heart-beat races close to her chest, wanting to keep to itself. 

“Why?” The softness in the word is so intimate, Ellie would guess that such an utterance would be whispered into her ear. It was still loud and public, though. 

“I..” She swallows, shivering slightly from both the temperature of your office; it’s as cold as you. “I’m not used to being naked in front of anyone like this.” 

You spread your fingers upon her upper back until the webbed feature of your hand threatens to strain. “Are you a virgin?” 

That raises a small scoff from Ellie, but you don’t use the response against her. It’s a moment of vulnerability and trust as opposed to pure sexual lust and the promise of consequence that awaits. “No.” She adds in the form of a mumble, “it just feels weird. I’m used to being.. err, professional.” 

“You don’t need to be, not in here.” Your hand leaves her back, but she is pried from her lowered position when you cup her face, pulling it up until her eyes meet yours. “I want to see you for what you really are.” You patiently swipe your thumb across her bottom lip. “Take you apart and see what you are beyond this little act I know rely on.” 

Ellie easily relaxes with you now. Her eyes don’t simply look into yours, rather absorbing the stare you offer to her from above. 

“I know you think about me. Tell me what you fantasize about.” 

She holds a moan in her throat, just barely keeping it beyond her tongue. When she hesitates with her answer, you squeeze her cheeks together. “I’m not touching you properly until you do.”

When you step back, Ellie scrambles with her feelings. All of those fantasies she so passionately lived in now feel pathetic, yet it’s a guilty thrill.

“I have dreams about you. Well, about you and I.” She admits, eyes moving from a diversity of objects and decoration in your office before meeting yours. “I have dreams about you–”

“Bending you over my desk?” You interrupt, a casual lilt in your tone that makes her jaw lower. 

“How do you know about that?!” She gawks at you, cheeks as red as a field of strawberries. 

“It doesn’t matter. But it’s true, isn’t it?” She nods, and you grin. “Yeah. Say it for me, then.”

“I..I dream about you bending me over your desk and fucking me.” She mutters underneath her breath, “hard.”

“Go on, then.” You step to the side, leaving her a clear, short path to your desk. The mahogany shines nicely. She can already imagine it–your fist full with her messy hair spilling between your fingers, and the other hand occupied with the dripping mess that is Ellie’s cunt. 

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, clumsily trying to figure out if you mean it. You don’t falter in your gaze. 

She unskillfully rises to her feet and approaches your desk. When the wood is just below her gaze, her head turns back to look at you. “You want me to just.. bend over?” She asks, slightly uncertain. 

You only nod. 

As if being naked isn’t exposing enough, she can feel your gaze on her. It’s not hard to imagine where you’re staring, either. Her fingers find the opposite side of the desk and fold to hold onto it tightly, a small distraction.

“There’s a pair of handcuffs in the drawer just below you. Take them out for me.” 

That causes the girl to shiver slightly, but she obliges, loosening her vice-grip on your desk and retrieving a pair of fuzzy hand-cuffs from your drawer. She wants to ask why they’re in your office, but refrains. 

Ellie quickly conjoins her wrists behind her back and feels the cold metal clink against them, a clicking noise when they’re firmly binding her wrists. She is now helpless to you. 

And the sight she is–soles of her feet on the carpet, the harsh, bright light directly above casting over her ass to display every blemish and freckle. Exaggerated arousal seeps from between her folds, majora slightly hidden with dark, thick hair. The joining of her wrists causes her face to press further into the desk. She still trembles, though you can look right into her pussy and see her true feelings on the entire predicament. She craves your approval, but more, much more than that, she wants to be like the extra copy on your desk: to be shredded up and completely destroyed by you. 

“Say what you want.” You trail your hand up her ass, wine-red manicured nails sinking lightly into the skin. 

It’s all she can ask for, so she lets herself fall apart for you. Her hips shift, wiggling upwards. “Fingers.” Ellie mumbles, though a slight whine is clear in her voice. 

But instead, all she gets is a light slap on her right ass cheek. She gasps and slightly lifts her head to look back at you. “What was that for?!”

“I know you’re not that stupid, you slut. I want a full sentence from you.” 

A whimper leaves her lips when you spread the globes of her butt, leaving her feeling somehow more exposed than before. She knows you’ve completely unraveled her when she can hear every noise coming from outside the room, but doesn’t care. There should be something inside her twitching to do her job, to be a responsible assistant who doesn’t get fucked on her desk by her boss, but whatever it is left her the moment you told her to get naked. 

“Hah–” your hands find purchase on both hips, pulling her ass back against you. The silky fabric of your skirt grazes her clit, making her involuntarily shiver. “I want your fingers. I want your fingers inside me.” 

“Ask again.” 

She huffs in indignation. “I did what you said!” 

When you wrench back her head with a fistful of her auburn hair, the attitude in her disappears. “W-Wait, okay. I want your fingers inside me, please. I want to cum.”

You release her head and card your fingers through her hair. “Yeah?”

She bobs her head reverently. “Yeah. Please.”

(-) 

Ellie knows that some things are to be regretted in life. There are choices made that she just has to learn to live with. Regret can be temporary: that break-up from high school, procrastinating a research paper for the 12th time a semester, moving far from Mississippi. A better term for those temporary regrets is doubt. 

The uniform life she lives doesn’t have room for doubts, though they fill her mind. She has great doubt in whether some of her coworkers actually like her, or if it’s simply courtesy. There are plenty of doubts about her skills in her position; she never had to sit and answer emails, organize, and run errands all day in the South. Her job from the age of 16 was at a rest stop, the only rest stop in the dinky town. She was used to being on her feet and having short conversations with tired travellers in the dead of the night. The office is like a maze to navigate, and she is a mouse blindlessly chasing cheese. It raises doubts. 

Being bent over your desk and finger-fucked leaves her head empty for once. If her skull wasn’t currently emptied out onto your nice desk, she would want to feel regret upon begging so fervently for this. You’ve made her cum three times already, and she isn’t sure how much more her quaking body can handle. She can’t think about anything but the pleasure stinging deep inside of her body, though. 

Three fingers plunge in and out of her pussy, the office once as uneasily silent and cold as ever now humid and echoing with the noise of her dripping hole being stuffed full to the brim with your digits, her moans still loud even with her face pressed against the desk. 

“You’ve got one more in you, baby. I can feel it.” Only a whorishly loud whine in response. “This greedy pussy swallows my fingers up whole, doesn’t it?” You coo, but the tone is less maternal and completely condescending. 

“Fuck,” Ellie cried, more strained as she raised her hips to take you deeper. The past ten minutes of being brought to her fourth orgasm has been an alternation of squirming away from your overwhelming touch and backing herself further into it for more. 

“Is that all you have to say?” You tease, twisting your fingers up into her until you feel the ribbed section of her walls, the most sensitive spot. She just melts into the desk and takes it, moaning little incoherent phrases. Drool trickles down the corner of her lips and onto the wood, but you don’t worry much of it. It’s cute.

“More. Fuck me harder, please. Wanna cum, need to cum around your fingers–” she rants on aimlessly, wrists shifting against the cuffs. 

“Yeah? Go on, then. I’m not stopping you, baby. Cum for me one last time.” 

Just as suddenly as it happens, it ends. Ellie jolts forward, no longer in your standard office, but in her bed. Her wrists are not tied, but simply on either side of her.

“Jesus christ,” she rubs at her eyes before glancing over to her bed-side alarm clock. There, it reads 1 a.m in bright red. “When the hell did I fall asleep?” 

She rolls back into her sheets on her stomach and closes her eyes, sleep surrounding her from each side; but as the invisible clock ticks, she feels wetness pool in larger amounts in her boxers. She groans, reaching for the half-dead vibrator on her nightstand, already knowing from experience that she will be up for the next hour. 

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[pearlywritings]

Who said the night was over?

pairing: Alhaitham, Childe, Gallagher, Ifa, Jing Yuan, Kamisato Ayato, Phainon (seperately) x fem!reader

prompt: morning after 😏

word count: 4.2k+ words in total

tw: NSFW, nudity, hints of sex in the shower, hints of public intimacy, oral (female recieving), consensual (!) somnophilia, implied breeding, cockwarming

~ The Music of the Night event ~

gathered all the requests down here! also, yes to the anon who requested Ayato, i'd be glad to put you down as either of these two emojis! (why not both though?)

Alhaitham

With Alhaitham’s dislike for early mornings, it’s an often occurrence for you to wake up while he is still in bed with you. Today, however, blindly feeling the spot next to you with a patting hand makes your sleep-heavy mind aware that your husband is gone. But the sheets and the pillow are still carrying the warmth of his body, so he couldn’t have been absent for long. 

Satisfied with the thought that he might’ve gone to the toilet and that your alarm clock hasn’t rung yet, you steal your lover’s pillow to hug it close to your chest and settle back into the mattress to catch some more minutes of sleep, especially after the busy night you two had. And also before you have to face the reality in which you have a teaching job.

When the alarm goes off, however, and you shut it down with a dissatisfied yawn, the other side of the bed appears to be empty, with the only difference being its coldness.

Huh, how strange.

But you don’t have time to question the lack of the man in your shared bed. Just as you are sitting up and tugging your askew-sitting sleepwear in all the right places, the door to the room opens, and your half-dressed lover steps in with a tray balanced on his open palm. Delicious smell of food and coffee fills the air and your nose, making you sniff the taunting aroma with a blissful smile.

“Coffee and breakfast in bed? My, aren’t you romantic this morning,” you tease, but when you finally meet his eyes, the discontent etched into his handsome features cuts your already-prepared teasing short. There is a furrow between his brows and a scowl tugging on his lips, when he closes the door and walks further into your shared space. “Habibi? What’s up?”

“Our dear roommate is ‘up’,” he huffs, putting the tray on the space between his and your halves of the bed and carefully climbs onto it. Your eyes widen.

“Kaveh? But wasn’t he staying over at Cyno’s tonight?” Suddenly your whole body is crawling with dread. If the architect was here the whole night when he definitely heard you two-

“He was,” Alhaitham says sharply, grabbing his mug of coffee and taking a gulp to calm his already spiked nerves. “But apparently he forgot to grab some things to bring to the meeting with the client this morning, and came back earlier to finish it, waking me up in the process. I’m actually surprised how you didn’t jolt awake when he dropped the pile of scrolls he was carrying from his room to the living room.”

“I had no idea…” you murmur, still a bit shaken from your initial thoughts, but willing yourself to focus on something else - for example those delicious-looking pita pockets. “But that’s a total bummer then.”

“Oh for sure,” the Scribe rolls his eyes, picking one of the filled breads too. “Though it’s surprising to hear this from you - you like Kaveh.”

“Yes, I like Kaveh,” you sigh, scooting closer to your husband, leaning your shoulder to his. “But I don’t like him very much right now.”

Alhaitham actually stops chewing and stares at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Had hopes for the morning sex before I have to get up and ready to deal with the students,” you grumble, grabbing your drink and taking a sip, “but it’s fine, I’ll manage.”

“...I can kick him out if you want to–”

“No!” you grab his wrist, even though he hasn’t moved yet. “No need, it’s fine, really. Tonight was more than enough.”

“Clearly not, if you are still feeling needy, habibti,” Alhaitham’s arm slithers behind your back and settles on the hip. He leans his cheek onto the top of your head. “I have an idea. Let’s finish our food and then we can fuck in the bathroom. The running water should mask the sounds– if you are quiet enough,” he wears a smirk, though hides it in your hair with a kiss. “Even if you are not - it’s our house, we can do whatever we want.”

...Well, not looking Kaveh in the eyes for a week it is then.

Childe

Do not look the Fatui Agents in the eyes, do not look the Fatui Agents in the eyes, hold your head high and proud as you walk down the hall of the Eleventh Harbinger’s capital residence, and try not to think about the burning marks hidden under the layers of warm clothes and how evident the limp in your steps would’ve been, had Tartaglia not offered you his elbow to latch onto.

The mask, gifted by the Lord Pulcinella, is covering the upper half of your face - just for good measure, even though the soldiers are trained to not ask questions or gossip. The black furred coat you arrived in is replaced by a pretty azure one, perfectly matching the lapis pools of the man by your side. You look like a refined noble from a long-running bloodline, so it’s hard to imagine you are to be interrogated for the business you could possibly have with one of the Harbingers.

Finally, the exit from the manor. The morning chill is biting at your cheeks and chin, and with it, your worries are swept away. The purely white snow is crunching under your boots as you are descending down the wide-stepped staircase. Then, led by your partner all the way through the alley caged between well-taken-care-of pines from both sides, you walk right to the carriage, waiting in front of the gates.

You are truly exhaling in relief only once you two are settled inside, and the coachman whistled, flicked his whip and the horses started off.

“Phew, now I understand your struggle at keeping your identity a secret,” you say in a low tone. You don’t doubt the people who work for Tartaglia, but being too careful never hurts.

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” his big hand slides out of the mitten and covers your gloved ones, resting in your lap in a tight lock. “I am so proud of you, my sneaky little mouse.”

You can’t help but giggle, gazing at him from behind your mask, eyes sparkling with joy.

“Thank you! Oh, I am so excited to see the capital! I am so happy you got half a day off to spend time with me.”

“You better believe this feeling is mutual,” the gingerhead smiles widely, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. You practically melt, reciprocating the affection, and wiggle your hands from under his palm to cup both his cheeks. It was probably a mistake to leave his own limbs unguarded - because the moment your attention got occupied, his fingers went wandering.

It’s warm inside the carriage, and it soon becomes a little bit suffocating - the fervor with which Ajax is devouring your mouth, stealing one kiss after another, is enough to rival the furnace’s flames. You notice too late when all the clasps of your fur coat come undone, and your lover pushes it down your shoulders. It’s only once he breaks one of the scorching kisses, staring at you with hooded eyes, burning cheeks and swollen lips, the understanding dawns on you.

“Ajax, wait–!” You whisper-scream at him, trying to dodge a new wave of kisses. “We are not doing this in the carriage!”

The young man promptly stops, closing his mouth and staring into your eyes. He has the audacity to be pouting! After igniting a wild fire in your chest!

“But why not?” He murmurs dejectedly, settling both his palms on your waist. “It is a lengthy ride and I hoped to make up for the rushed awakening. Feels like after the night of passion I owe you an equally affectionate morning.”

That’s true, in order to enjoy the little ‘journey’ to its fullest with your lover, you two woke up at an ungodly hour and made quite a haste to get ready. Which significantly shortened your usual morning routine. Ah, you can admit now that it was a bit disappointing.

“Fine…” You sigh, sliding your arms back around his neck, much to the ginger’s delight. “But nothing that can alarm the people outside.”

He is nodding like crazy, before diving back in, and you just hope that you hold enough power over your partner to stop him when he goes too far.

Gallagher 

Standing before the mirror in nothing but panties, you cannot mask your horror. Bright, almost angry-looking hickies and bite marks are littering the expanse of your neck, shoulders, chest and– oh shit, thighs!?

Your lover, with only his sweatpants thrown on, returns from the balcony after finishing the first cigarette of the day, scratching his stomach and yawning when you jump on him with a punch to his shoulder. The yawn is cut mid-action and with a strange noise of a strangled cat the man looks at you. His thick brows fly up in confusion.

“Watcha doing, pretty thing? Is it one of your playful fights to get us both tangled in the sheets?”

“‘Tangled in the sheets’ my ass!” You throw your arms in the air. “Look at me, Gallagher!”

Vermillion eyes observe your face for a few seconds longer before casting their gaze down. Understanding immediately appears on his face along with a smirk. A quiet appreciative whistle makes your cheeks heat up and arms cross over your breasts right after.

“‘Tangled in sheets’ is what left me in such a state! Damn, Gal, I know I joke a lot about it, but maybe you’re really a dog? I’m all bitten like a pack attacked me!”

“And yet all of these belong to just one mutt,” he releases a low chuckle, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, pressing your almost naked body flash to his barely covered one. You have half a mind to punch him again, but when he starts kissing your cheek and temple, you squint with a pout and plant your hands onto his pecs, trying to shove him off.

“Go shave!”

“Don’t remember you complaining when this face was between your prettily marked thig-” you butt his chest with your head, wrapping your own arms around his wide frame. Gallagher hisses when you dig your nails into his back. “Careful, kitty, you are not the only one covered in the reminders of last night.”

“Like I care,” you mutter, but nevertheless put your palms flatly. The kiss is pressed to your shoulder right after, yet this time you do not complain about his stubble.

“You are cooking breakfast by the way.”

“Oh? And what will my beautiful girlfriend do?”

“Spend who knows how much time in the bathroom trying to cover with a concealer the damage you caused. Thighs are alright, chest is too, but my NECK!”

“Never looked better,” Gallagher says seriously and before you could retort, crouches and grabs you under the knees. With a horrified shriek you are thrown over his strong shoulder, and are patted on the ass three times.

“Atta girl. Now let’s go and take a shower. We can talk there about how pretty your neck is and have you give me some more hickies as well. And then we’ll discuss the breakfast part.”

You are fucked.

Ifa

The mouth-watering smell is what makes you leave the warm bed, throw on the first thing you grabbed from the chair and leave the bedroom. Led by the delicious aroma you tiptoe to the kitchen of Ifa’s house, and find the man himself standing in front of the phlogiston-fueled stove. You should’ve guessed that the vet, dressed in nothing but pants, apron over his bare chest and with his signature hat gone (probably still lying somewhere in the bedroom…) is the reason for your awakening. 

You can’t help but lean on the doorframe and stare: at his back, at the way his shoulders roll when strong arms move, at the way that pretty tattoo circles his neck in a zig-zag pattern, at those soft, white with a tint of light mint hair, which are still the definition of a “bed head”... Oh, and not to forget that fine ass of his that looks so good in those pan–

“Good morning, sunshine,” a mirth-filled greeting shakes you out of the dreamy stupor, and you have to shake your head to chase it away.

When you look at your lover again, Ifa is bringing two plates to the table and gives you a cheeky smile. You mirror it with one of your own, stepping into the kitchen and skipping right into his arms.

The man doesn’t waste a second, leaning down the moment your arms wrap around his neck and capturing your lips in a morning kiss. You giggle softly at his eagerness, relishing in the moment.

“Good morning to you too, love,” you murmur between kisses and immediately squeal when he turns your body around, cups his palms under your ass and lifts you onto the counter. “Ifa!”

“Damn, babe, you look good in my shirt.”

Ah, so it was his. To your defense, you were so focused on the smell of the breakfast that you really didn’t care what you wore in your boyfriend’s house.

“And it looks like it stayed unbuttoned just to the point of you losing your patience last night and dragging it over my head.”

You notice how his gaze slips down your body, and have to also look. Oh... The shirt is open and barely covering your breasts, giving your lover a perfect view of all the marks he’s decorated your skin with. As the blush is rapidly creeping up your cheeks, you grab the hems, closing them. 

Ifa laughs, flexing his grip on your hips and dragging you closer to the edge of the table. As he presses his pelvis into you and puts his mouth on your neck, you can feel the outline of his semi-hard cock through the pants. 

You need some form of distraction. Urgently.

“And where is–mmm–where is my feathered baby?

“Cacucu?” The way his breath fans over your cheek makes you shiver and try to close your thighs. To no avail, of course. “Probably went outside for the night. Have you forgotten the last time we had sex? You moaned so loudly, the poor guy burst into the bedroom thinking you were being hurt.”

“Ifaaaa!”

So much for the distraction.

Jing Yuan

Even through the veil of sleep, you feel your body ache in a pleasant languor. You also feel a gentle, almost intangible caress on your cheek, which travels down, slowly, following the length of your neck and then the line of your arm. Goosebumps appear in its wake and you can’t help but shiver, jerking your shoulder.

There is a quiet, affectionate chuckle next to you, and the touch returns to your cheek, brought by a thumb that starts rubbing circles on your skin.

Something in the back of your mind tells you to summon the willpower to fight the clinging sleep and join the world of the awake. It’s so hard though - the lovely scent of the fresh bedding and the softness of the mattress and the pillow seem to make your eyelids heavier and body - more indolent.

But then the thumb gently swipes across your lips, dipping between. Instinctively you bite, and a hitch in breath in front of you is finally enough to tear you away from the sleep’s clutches.

It's hazy and you have to blink a couple of times. The display must be amusing to the disrupter of your dream, since he is chuckling again, and the sound is rich and warm and totally belongs to your husband.

“Good moooorning,” you drawl around his thumb, eventually releasing it and giving the pad a sweet kiss. Jing Yuan hums, reaching both hands to your waist to tug your bare body close to his, and kisses your forehead.

“Good morning to you as well, my love,” you smile blissfully at his response, throwing your arms around his neck and one leg over his hip. Your husband gets the hint and rolls onto his back, effectively moving you on top of him.

As you use his shoulders to lift your upper body, his wide palms slide down to your ass, kneading the supple flesh. You giggle, looking down at him with a half-lidded gaze, and the general has the images of last night flashing before his eyes. More specifically the ones where you pushed him onto the bed and straddled his thighs like a queen claimed the throne.

He can feel his cock stir. You can feel it too, right under you.

“Oh?” There is a smirk on your pretty lips. “Does my lion have something to tell me?”

“Hmm… I suppose he has,” Jing Yuan smiles, letting go off one of your cheeks and softly grabbing at your tit instead, working a quiet mewl from the back of your throat. “I propose you a few courses of action, my dear, and you can pick, agreed?”

“Sounds intriguing,” you can feel your own arousal gathering in the form of slick. “What options do I have?”

“First: we get up, dress up and go have breakfast,” by the way you grimace at that, Jing Yuan laughs. “Second: we stay in bed for a little bit longer and let the night’s love-making proceed.”

“And what if I chose the second option?” You shift so his cock is right between your labia petals and roll your hips to smear the juices all over his length. The man groans, palming at your breast.

“Then you can choose either the oral way of doing things or penetration.”

Something - maybe it's the way he hungrily looks at you - tells you that the answer is ‘both’. And you are all too happy to respond in kind.

Kamisato Ayato

Mornings at the Kamisato Estate were always quiet. Despite numerous retainers that took care of the mansion’s inside and outside, the early hours of the day were filled with serenity and a warm breeze entering the room through the window, slightly cracked open.

You are shielded from the little ray of sunshine that's peeked into the bedroom and began its travel across your lover’s body, yet are still coaxed from the dreamland by the soft calls of your name.

“My darling wife, be so kind and grace me with your lovely gaze,” one of the murmurs is against your hair, ghosting across your temple. “I know you hate it when I leave the bed without you, but the duty always calls,” you huff through your slowly dissipating sleep, inching even closer to the warm body behind you, tucking your head under Ayato’s chin, much to his amusement. “Come now, my beloved. If you keep squirming and pressing yourself to me like this, I won’t have any choice but to pick up from where we stopped last night.”

Last night… Ah, right, last night. The first time in two weeks when Ayato managed to clear his schedule for the evening completely. The marvelous moment spent together, which he started with gifting  you a new skilfully sewn attire, proceeded at the restaurant and a night stroll and ended with your bodies tangled in the sheets.

The last night, when your husband got determined to cum inside as many times as his body allowed it, all because you teased and were handsy with him when no one saw. Because you put your hand onto his chest and whispered into his ear, like it was some well-guarded secret, that you were ovulating and would love to try for a child again.

The head of the Kamisato clan cannot deny his wife many things. Well, not for long at least, if his own teasing and edging is anything to come by. But he knows that everything is worth it, when with an exhausted but absolutely satisfied exhale she settles with her back against his chest, his cock plunged into her pussy and an arm wrapped around her middle, as the two of you drift off to sleep.

And wake up the next morning, positioned in the same embrace.

Ayato’s breath hitches when you clench around him unconsciously.

“My precious jewel,” he tries again, not losing hope to perform the morning routine together, “we should really get up, before one of our retainers comes storming through the doors, worried that we are still absent.”

“Not my problem you usually get your ass up at the crack of the dawn,” you finally groan, voice thick with sleep, and surely hoarse from all that moaning he railed out of you. “I’m exhausted, Ayato, let me sleep.”

“Exhausted? My, you say it like you weren’t the one jumping my bones the moment the bedroom door closed yesterday,” your husband hums, using his free hand to move your hair to the side. When he presses a lingering kiss to the back of your neck and rolls his hips, you arch slightly, letting out a quiet moan.

“Well, I was horny and I am not sorry for it,” huffing you try to settle on the bed with the full intention of falling back asleep. But the hand that slips between your thighs and presses on your pelvis to move you flash against him, suddenly makes you hyper aware of his hardening cock still resting between your walls.

“W-wait, Ayato,” you gulp, snapping your eyes open and trying to turn your head to look back at him. You do not like the way his eyes squint and lips pull into a knowing smile. “Didn’t you say that ‘duty always calls’?”

“Oh, so you were listening,” his smile gets wider and fox-like eyes even more cunning, as the pads of his index and middle finger press into your clit. It makes you throw your head back on the pillow with a mewl. “But we’ll discuss your lack of response later. Now my duty is my wife and it calls for giving her a few more ‘tries’.”

Phainon

Your morning begins with a wanton moan and an arched back. Your thoughts are a bunch of incoherent sparks of conscience, running through your head and incapable of forming a thing, but your body knows to try and close your legs and hands gripping the pillow and sheets.

Something stops you from slamming your thighs close, there is a strong grip on them, forcing them open and holding in place. And there is blinding pleasure, coursing through your body, tightening the knot in your stomach and hardening your nipples, that got exposed to the morning breeze with the blanket’s and shirt’s absence.

You have to blink and forcefully rub at your eyes with a trembling hand to finally chase away the sleep and see the ceiling of your bedroom. Your and Phainon’s bedroom.

A new surge of pleasure makes you moan louder, and your hand shoots down, grabbing the messy locks of your lover and pressing his head harder into your pussy. This time the moan is not yours, vibrating against your clit and driving you insane. There is slurping and needy whines, as well as a hot heavy tongue sliding between your labia and pressing against the tight numb.

Just one suck and you are gone, letting the knot in your abdomen snap and body go lax with a breathless plea of his name.

“Phainon…”

Your lover perks up, unlatching his mouth from your poor loins, and, feeling your grip on his white locks lessen, lifts himself on his elbows.

“Good morning, princess,” he says cheerfully, and when you find strength to glance down at him, it gets hard to believe that this man was just eating your pussy out seconds ago.

“M-morning…” you rasp out, still shaken by the orgasm. “What w-was that?”

The way he cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy makes a warm feeling bloom in your chest. How can a man be both this cute and indescribably lewd? It’s like the two images can’t exist together.

“Oh, you mean this?” He points at his mouth first and then between your legs and suddenly you want to kick him in the ribs. “You see… After we had sex yesterday, - which was the first time after so long, - the yearning seemed to become…more prominent, and I–” you notice the red tinting his cheeks and his gaze avoiding yours, “I had a wet dream.”

Your eyes widen at the admission, mouth going slack.

“You had a wet dream? About us?”

He nods, almost shyly. The mattress sinks when he pushes himself up, and a moment later he is resting on his side next to you, supporting his head with one hand and putting the other on your stomach.

“I woke up hot and needy,” he murmurs, lovingly rubbing your belly. “And I remembered how you told me you’d like one day an experience of being woken up by oral. So…”

So instead of being mean and shaking you out of sleep just to fuck, he decided to bring you pleasure by fulfilling your little fantasy, not even hoping you’d reciprocate upon arising. 

Which leaves him hard and leaking still. Which, in turn, makes you smile and reach out for his face to drag your beloved in the morning kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and turning your still aroused body to his, being trapped into the embrace of two strong arms.

How can you not reciprocate?

author's note: fun fact, but Childe's part was actually written with my A birthday surprise fic in thought hehe~

[bishovapls]

I think you both need Daddy, hm?

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: When Carol asks you out in front of Wanda, she snaps. She takes you home, desperate to claim you, to mark you, to own you. But it’s not just her bed you belong in, and when Natasha comes home to find you both absolutely lost in the scene, she makes one thing very clear: if you’re going to be ruined, it’ll be by both of them. Together.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age difference, Older WandaNat/Younger Reader, BDSM, Dom/Sub, Strap-on, fingering, Cunnilingus, Punishment (kind of), Safe word/gesture check-ins. Aftercare, but also idk if it counts because it happens, and then they start up again like the feral animals they are.

A/N: There was never meant to be a part two to this, but after a request from @tomy5girls, who am I to say no? I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I may have taken a few liberties and run with it a bit, but I hope you still enjoy it!

I think there’s enough context to catch you up on what’s going on, so you don't need to read part one. But if you want to, the first part is here.

As I mentioned last time, smut isn’t something I’ve written too much of before, but the reaction on here to the first part was crazy. Thank you, everyone, for being patient and supportive as I step a bit out of my comfort zone!

Word Count: 10,143

Anywaaays, sorry for the yapping. NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

The café was warm and quiet, with sunlight streaming through the windows and spilling across the wood-panelled floor. The clink of mugs and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine created a soft, rhythmic background hum, while indie music played quietly from the speakers overhead. You were tucked into your usual corner seat, your laptop open in front of you, a half-empty latte sitting forgotten beside it. Across from you, Carol was scrolling through the shared project document, her brow furrowed in concentration as she absorbed the final bits of the work.

It was your last study session with her. After two months of grafting, revisions, and back-and-forths, this was it. The project was finished. And you were proud of what you’d done together. The project was solid, clean, well-written, even a little brilliant. Maybe even an A.

Carol had been more than tolerable during the process. She was smart, dry in her humour, and easy to get along with. You’d laughed, found a rhythm, and she never made you feel stupid for missing something or needing more time. But that wasn��t what had your skin buzzing, you weren’t thinking about the project. Not really.

What had your attention was Wanda.

She moved around the café with quiet grace, her apron snug around her waist, hair clipped back but a few strands escaping to frame her face. She hadn’t looked directly at you for a while, but you could feel her eyes on you, her presence heavy in the air.

Every time Carol leaned in a little too close, every time she gestured to the screen or shifted in her seat, you felt Wanda’s gaze flicker over to the two of you. You could sense the tension in the room, even without looking up from your work.

Your girlfriends hadn’t approved of the arrangement from the very beginning. You’d tried to be reasonable, explaining how it was strictly academic, that Carol was nothing more than a project partner. You reassured them, over and over, but it never truly landed, not with either of them.

Wanda’s eyes would darken every time Carol’s name passed your lips, her jaw set just a little tighter. Her touch would change, no longer casual or gentle, but possessive. A hand curling firmly around your waist, or fingers digging into the softness of your thigh like a silent warning. 

And Natasha? Natasha didn’t say much. She didn’t have to. The shift in her body was enough, the rigid line of her spine, the way her mouth pressed into a tight, unreadable line. You’d catch the flick of her gaze, sharp and calculating, as though she were already cataloguing the best way to make Carol disappear.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it looked like when they were on edge. And with Carol, they weren’t just on edge, they were poised, barely leashed. Jealousy burned hot in both of them, but it manifested differently. Wanda clung to you like you might slip through her fingers. Natasha watched like a predator, calm and still, but lethal just beneath the surface.

They didn’t trust Carol, not because she had done anything wrong yet, but because they knew how easy you were to be taken. They knew how easy you were to corrupt. After all… they’d done it first. They knew the way you softened under attention, how you craved approval. They knew exactly what it looked like.

And they weren’t about to let anyone else try.

—--

The first night you’d gone to Carol’s to work on the project, they’d summoned you to their place the moment it ended; it didn't matter that it was late, or that you had an early class the next morning. There hadn’t been a choice, and you obeyed, of course, you always did. Because when they gave you an order, it wasn’t a suggestion. 

You’d barely stepped through the door before Natasha had you pinned against it, the sharp click of the lock still echoing when her hand curled around your throat.

“Get undressed,” she had commanded, her voice low and steady, like it was taking everything in her not to snarl. “Mommy and Daddy need to see if anything’s been taken from us.”

And they’d checked everything. Every inch of your skin, your scent, your breath, your neck, your breasts…your thighs. Wanda had traced the inside of your legs with her fingers, like she could feel if anyone had dared to touch you. Natasha had knelt before you, her gaze laser-focused on your pussy. She stared as if trying to figure out whether you were still truly hers, before leaning in to taste, just to be certain.

Some might have called it toxic. Obsessive. Overbearing. But you’d discussed the boundaries long ago. This was part of it. You weren’t afraid of their jealousy.

You needed it.

Before them, you had been quiet. Ordinary. Invisible, almost. But now, with them, you were something worth claiming. Protected by two beautiful women who saw the world as full of thieves trying to steal what was theirs. And what was theirs was you.

Three sessions at Carol’s were all it took before they’d reached their limit. Every time you were at her apartment, they were climbing the walls back home, restless, pacing, barely keeping it together until you walked through the door and they could get their hands on you. 

You remember that conversation clearly. You were lying in bed, your skin still flushed, marked, every inch of you thoroughly inspected, claimed all over again. Wanda had been the one to speak, her tone deceptively gentle as she tucked herself beside you, fingers dragging slowly over your hip.

You had two options: Natasha could pull strings, lean on her department contacts, and get you reassigned to a new group entirely. Or you could keep working with Carol. But only under Wanda’s roof, in her café, where her eyes could stay on you the entire time.

You’d chosen the café. And now, when you came home, there was no need for the checks. No demand to strip or let them inspect you. Wanda could see everything. Every shift of your body, every glance. She knew, without asking. She always knew.

—--

Your thighs pressed together under the table as you thought about them. About the possessiveness, the way they made you feel like you were something to be desired, something that belonged to them. 

Carol was still talking, but you were still only half-listening, lost in the anticipation. Eventually, Carol’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone softer than before. “Hey, I was wondering… if you wanted to keep seeing each other, even though the project is done?”

You stiffened, but you tried to remain casual. There was no way your girlfriends would allow this. You gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Carol, I don’t think I can. But I’ll see you in Professor Romanoff’s lectures.”

Carol’s expression faltered, the corners of her mouth dipping into a subtle frown before she masked it with a casual, almost cocky smirk. “Why not?” she said, her voice dipping slightly, trying to sound playful. “We have chemistry, don’t we? We click, we laugh… Let me take you out. Just once.”

“I’m taken, you know that, Carol,” you said, keeping your voice steady, even as that familiar flicker of nervous energy crawled up your spine. And she did know, because Natasha and Wanda had made damn sure you’d told her. Had made it clear that you weren’t available. That you weren’t free to be taken.

Carol chuckled, but there was something more confident about her now, a playful lilt in her voice. “Oh, come on, baby. I bet I could treat you better. You haven’t even told me your girlfriend’s name. Can’t be that serious, can it?”

You wished you could’ve told her the truth, that the woman behind the counter was your girlfriend. That Wanda, along with Natasha, loved you in ways you’d never even known to dream about. 

That they touched you, ruined you, worshipped you, and made you feel things you didn’t think were possible. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell Carol that you belonged to Wanda, because everyone knew Wanda was Natasha’s wife. And if you were with Wanda… then you were with Natasha too. And that was a line you could not admit to crossing. Not without consequences.

The only time you were allowed to blur those lines was when the three of you escaped the city, trips to quiet towns or distant coasts where no one knew your names, where eyes didn’t linger and gossip didn’t follow. 

Or on rare nights when they brought you into their private circle, introduced you to the few friends who didn’t flinch at blurred boundaries. Friends who didn’t care that you were sleeping with your professor, only that Natasha’s smile came easier with you beside her, and Wanda’s eyes softened whenever you curled up in her lap like you belonged there. 

You’d gone quiet for too long, lost in the swirl of your thoughts, still reeling from Carol’s boldness and the weight of Wanda’s gaze. The sharp crack of glass hitting tile jolted you back to the present. Wanda had dropped the coffee pot, the sound slicing through the café like a warning bell. 

You looked up, and the moment your eyes met hers, you knew it hadn’t been an accident. The tightness in her jaw, the deliberate stillness of her posture, this was a message. A command. You scrambled to your feet without thinking, moving to her side as quickly as you could, heart thudding, because you understood exactly what she wanted: your attention, your obedience.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll text you, Carol,” you said quickly, kneeling to help Wanda clean up, the tension in your chest growing tighter.

Carol, unsurprised by your quick retreat, nodded as she picked up her bag. “Think about my offer, darling,” she said, flashing you a small, almost knowing smile before she left.

—--

Wanda was eerily silent as the two of you cleaned up the broken coffee pot, but the sharpness of her breath was impossible to ignore. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, and it was clear she was fighting something. Some dark desire that had taken root inside her, a simmering need she was trying to control.

You glanced quickly around, relief washing over you when you saw the place was clear. No one to witness whatever was about to unfold. You moved to the door, flipping the sign to closed as if marking the boundary between the world outside and whatever was waiting for you inside.

When you returned to kneel beside Wanda, paper towels in hand, the glass was in the bin, but her eyes were still fixed on the spill of coffee. Every inch of her body was taut, coiled, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.

You wiped up the mess, taking extra care to get every last drop, even though you knew she wasn’t paying attention to that. She was watching you, studying every movement, every shift in your posture. You hesitated for just a moment, then whispered, "Mommy?"

Your voice came out softer than you intended, trembling slightly, betraying the nervous excitement that rushed through your veins. 

You knew exactly what kind of mood she was in. This wasn’t the woman who caressed you to sleep or soothed you with gentle words. This was the side of her that demanded everything and took what was hers with a force you could never deny.

She didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, but you could see it, the tightening of her fist, the tension in her jaw. Wanda was struggling to hold herself together, not to give in to whatever force was swirling inside her. It was both terrifying and… thrilling.

"Mommy… I’m yours. All yours," you said, a little breathless, your words coming out almost like a plea. You needed her to hear you. To feel your devotion, your submission.

She finally looked up at you, and your breath caught in your throat. Her eyes were cold, unrecognisable. There was something in them that made your pulse spike, a jolt of fear curling low in your stomach. For the first time, you felt a rush of real fear, the kind that made your knees weak, and your breath shallow.

"Mommy, please… please," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a tremor in your words as your body reacted to the mix of fear and something else, the something inside you that wanted this, craved this. Loved this. 

Wanda’s voice broke the silence, low, smooth, and terrifyingly calm. "Get your things, little girl. We’re going home."

—--

The drive back was consumed by an uncomfortable silence. You didn’t try to make conversation. Wanda’s presence in the driver’s seat seemed almost too quiet, but the energy she radiated spoke volumes.

Her hand said everything. It was firmly planted on your thigh, fingers gripping tight, the pressure almost unbearable. You swore you could feel her nails through the fabric of your jeans, a constant reminder of the simmering tension. 

The moment the car stopped and you stepped inside the house, the door barely clicking shut behind you, she was on you. Her body pressed into yours with a heat that knocked the breath from your lungs, pinning you against the door so firmly it rattled in its frame. 

Her lips found your neck immediately, and there was nothing soft about it. The first press of her mouth was hungry, almost desperate. She didn’t leave room for you to react, her lips closing around the sensitive skin of your throat, sucking hard, leaving a bruise in its wake. 

The sensation shot through your entire body, a mixture of heat and pleasure laced with a sharp twinge of pain that made you tremble.

Her hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, pulling you even closer. She was marking you, claiming you with each kiss, each bite. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, just raw possessiveness. 

She moved to the other side of your neck, the pace never slowing, her teeth grazing your skin, her lips locking onto every inch, every vulnerable spot she could find. You couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t even try.

She was determined to cover you in her marks. And she was succeeding.

Her hands slid up, cupping your face as she angled you just the way she wanted. You felt the sharp pull of her mouth once more, and this time it was even harder. She sucked at your neck until you moaned, the sound strangled as she left another mark, darker than the last. 

You couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked your body, couldn’t stop the way your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. 

She pulled away for a breath, her eyes narrowing as she studied you, searching for something that only she could see. “You didn’t defend me,” she whispered, her voice low, almost a growl. The words felt like a physical blow, and they twisted your stomach into knots. “She said she could treat you better… and you didn’t tell her otherwise.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words sink in. Before you could respond, Wanda’s hands were on your shirt, ripping it from your body with a kind of frantic desperation. You gasped, her actions both shocking and thrilling in their intensity, leaving you breathless in more ways than one. Her lips found your collarbone in an instant, her bites sharp and insistent.

Your heart raced, your thoughts scattered in a whirlwind. “I… I got lost in my thoughts,” you finally managed to stutter, your voice trembling.

She paused, just for a moment, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, and the tension between you crackled in the space that remained. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?” she asked, her voice rough and demanding, as though she needed you to confess something.

You swallowed, the fear and excitement mixing into something potent. “You, Mommy,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I was thinking about you.”

“Not her?” she growled, her lips brushing over your skin like she was tasting your response. “Your needy little pussy didn’t get wet at the thought of her taking you? Using you like the little whore you are?”

“No, Mommy,” you breathed, your voice shaky. “I was thinking about you and Daddy, how well you treat me, how good you make me feel.” You could feel the heat of her breath against your chest, her teeth scraping against your skin, each bite pulling you deeper into the tension that threatened to consume you both.

Her lips curled into a dark smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in again, her mouth brushing against the raw, bruised skin. 

"You’re mine," she murmured, the words sending a thrill through you. "And I’ll remind you of that every chance I get."

You nodded quickly, your throat dry, the weight of Wanda’s gaze still heavy on you. She stepped back just enough to give you space to pass her, but the moment you moved, she was on you again. 

Her hand slid to the back of your neck, firm and unyielding, guiding you forward and up the stairs with a force that left no room for hesitation. 

When you finally reached the bedroom, she released her hold on your neck. You felt the absence immediately, the air growing colder without the heat of her touch. 

But before you could gather your thoughts, she spoke, her voice low, controlled, but still carrying that dark, possessive edge. “Strip."

The command was simple, but it sent a rush through you, a tight knot forming in your chest as you quickly obeyed.

You could feel her eyes on you, watching every movement as you undressed. And the second you were done, she spoke. "Get on the bed. Arms up, legs spread," she commanded, her voice dark and unwavering as she undressed too.

Once again, you complied, your body responding to her authority as if it had no choice.

She approached with measured steps, a quiet authority in every movement. Her hands were steady as they guided you into position on the bed. She took her time securing your limbs, each secured with practiced precision. 

Her fingers brushed over your skin afterward, double-checking each restraint, making sure you were held but never harmed. The care in her touch was unmistakable, control, yes, but wrapped in a kind of reverence.

Even in the grip of her possessive rage, Wanda was measured, deliberate. She ensured your safety with every touch, her care never faltering. 

Her eyes, which had burned with jealousy moments before, were now steady, focused, scanning you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Colour?” she asked, her voice quieter now, gentler but still laced with the simmering remnants of her earlier fury.

The weight of the scene clung to you, every nerve alight, every sense overwhelmed. But beneath it all was something deeper, trust, safety, the grounding memory of how careful she’d been. How her anger never once translated into recklessness. You loved this. All of it. Especially the way she’d handled you like something precious, even as she claimed you.

“Green, Mommy,” you said, clear and steady, no hesitation in your tone, only devotion.

Her lips curled into a small smile, dark and approving. “Good girl,” she whispered, the praise both soothing and possessive, before her eyes darkened again, the storm of her desires never far from the surface.

When she finally climbed over you, it wasn’t lust that drove her, it was obsession, a force bigger than her body, bigger than her fury, something relentless and consuming that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with possession. 

Her fingers skimmed your sides, reverent but firm, her touch dragging goosebumps in its wake, and her eyes locked on yours, dark and unblinking, daring you to look away. 

Something about the way she held herself above you, barely restrained, seething with intent, made it impossible to breathe, and yet you didn’t want to move. You wanted this. You needed this.

And then she began again, just like downstairs, her mouth returning to your skin with a single-minded purpose. Her lips pressed against your collarbone, soft at first, almost deceiving, and then her teeth followed. 

You gasped, your back arching slightly off the bed, your fingers twitching uselessly against the restraints. Her touch ignited something low in your belly and high in your chest all at once. 

Another mark, lower now, then another just beneath it. Wanda was painting a story across your skin, one bruise at a time, and every single one echoed with the same word: Mine . 

The heat of her mouth was matched only by the fire burning inside you. When her teeth grazed just beneath your ribs, sharper this time, a heavy moan escaped you before you could stop it.

It trembled out of your throat, like your body was pleading for more even as it trembled under the weight of what it had already been given. 

Between every bite that still throbbed and the sting of the one currently being delivered, you could feel yourself cunt begin to ache. Soft whimpers slipped from your lips, your body aching to move, to beg, to chase more. But you didn’t. 

This wasn’t about your pleasure, not right now. Wanda needed this. She needed to mark you, to own you, to feel you give yourself over without asking for anything in return. So you offered her your stillness, your obedience, your surrender.

You caught her gaze again, her pupils blown wide, her breathing uneven, and for a flickering second, something shifted in her. Not softness. Not even calm. But relief. A raw, aching flash of gratitude that you were still here, still hers, still letting her claim you like this.

She leaned in again, slower this time, her lips dragging beneath your navel, warm breath ghosting across your skin, shaky, uneven, trembling with the weight of what she was holding back. “Mine,” she whispered, hoarse and low, like the word itself was a vow and a warning wrapped in longing. “Only mine.”

It wasn’t just a claim, it was Wanda pleading with the universe, needing to believe it. Needing to feel that she hadn’t lost you, that even in the wild, blurred aftermath of everything, you were still hers. Her hands gripped tighter, possessive, grounding herself in the feel of your body beneath her.

But beneath the burn of her touch, the worship in her voice, a flicker of something deeper pulled at you. Natasha. You knew you belonged to her, too. And yet Wanda didn’t speak her name. She didn’t leave space for her. Her world had narrowed until you were the only thing in it, and Natasha had been pushed outside it entirely.

You wanted to say it. You wanted to remind her. But the weight of Wanda’s devotion crushed your resistance, the sheer need in her pulling the words out of you before you could stop them.

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, voice shaky but sure. “Only yours.” Even as guilt curled warm and quiet in your stomach.

When she finally pulled back just enough to take you in, her eyes swept over her work like a woman on the edge of something unspoken. There was nothing untouched now, your neck, your chest, your hips, your stomach, your thighs, even your arms. Every inch bore her claim. Every inch screamed hers .

“So fucking pretty like this, printsessa (princess), ” she said, her breath hot against your thigh, her lips barely brushing the freshest mark, her voice ragged, torn from somewhere deep inside her chest. “Mine. All mine.”

You nodded instantly, your eyes wide and glassy. You could feel the ache she’d left behind, all over you, and you needed her to know you welcomed it. “I’m yours.”

Her smile returned, that slow, dangerous curl of her mouth that promised she was far from finished. “Say it again,” she murmured, her voice low and breathless, barely even a command this time, it was breathless and hungry, like she needed it to live.

“I’m yours,” you repeated, stronger now, even as your breath hitched, even as you squirmed beneath her.

She tilted her head, assessing, and you knew it wasn’t enough. Not yet. “Louder,” she commanded. 

You swallowed, your throat dry and tight, but you forced your voice through the tremble in your chest. “I’m yours, Mommy,” you said, louder now, loud enough to fill the room, to echo off the walls, to blot out everything else. “Only yours. Always.”

She must’ve been at least partially satisfied, because after one final glance at the marks she’d scattered across your body, she shifted, rising off you, and the loss of her weight made you whine, high and broken, a sound pulled from somewhere deep. 

Your skin felt too bare without her, your chest too open. Everything in you was aching now, not just with need but with dependency, your senses lit up and stretched tight, every inch of you focused on her. 

She had pulled you so far down into a space where nothing existed but her voice, her hands, her mouth, and now, without them, you felt unmoored, trembling. You needed her. You needed her. 

Her eyes caught yours, and for a moment, just a flicker, her gaze softened, something quieter slipping through the crack in her control. “Just going to the closet, Little one,” she murmured, her voice dipping into that gentler tone she only used when you were already falling apart. And even though the warmth in her voice was slightly forced, it was enough. 

She disappeared into the closet without another word, leaving you alone in the thick, buzzing quiet, your breath shaky, your body still thrumming with heat. When she returned, it was with her strap, a deep scarlet colour, the sight of it enough to make your breath hitch, and your mouth water, the anticipation knotting low and tight in your stomach. 

Your thighs shifted instinctively, trying to press together, to find even the smallest flicker of relief, but the restraints didn’t allow it, and your frustration only made the ache worse. Wanda noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyes dropped to the movement, her gaze catching the way you writhed and failed to hide it. 

The smirk that curled across her lips was sharp and knowing, and in an instant, the softness was gone again. The Wanda who looked at you now was all shadow and fire again, dark and certain. The Wanda who would ruin you, just to put you back together again, mark by mark, breath by breath.

She crawled back onto the bed, her eyes locked on yours, hungry and unyielding. She moved between your legs and settled into place without hesitation. “Just stay still and let me use you,” she murmured, her voice low and controlled, but with that same simmering edge that had been there all night, that quiet storm of rage and want and need barely restrained. 

And then she buried her strap inside you, hard. No warning, no warm-up with her fingers, not even any gentle licks against your folds to get you ready. Nothing, as if she couldn’t bear to wait another second. As if being inside you is what gave her air to breathe. 

The sound that ripped from your throat was sharp, raw, somewhere between a cry and a scream. The stretch hit you like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, pain blooming fast and bright. 

For a heartbeat, it was too much. Your breath caught, your muscles tensed. But then, just as quickly as it came, the sharpness blurred, twisted into something hotter, something unbearable in an entirely different way. 

Wanda’s thrusts started slow, deliberate, and deep, her movements laced with restraint, but it was a fragile kind. 

But you could feel the tension winding tighter in her limbs, in the way her breath hitched, the way her jaw clenched. She was holding back, barely. She was trying to stay composed, to be gentle, or at least gentle enough, but it was written in every shaky inhale, every flicker of heat in her eyes that she was close to losing it, again. 

With every thrust, her desperation climbed higher, simmering just beneath her skin until it bled into everything she did. There were no soft praises, playful degradations, or the coaxing, honey-sweet lilt you’d come to expect; just raw, consuming need. 

Your body arched beneath her, straining hard against the restraints, every muscle taut, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping up. You were gasping now, breath hitching in sharp, uneven bursts that never seemed enough, stolen too quickly as she thrusted again, deeper, rougher, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Such a pretty little fuck toy for me. Mine, my pretty whore, Mine,” she whispered the words into the crook of your neck as she sank into you again, barely audible over the thundering of your heartbeat and the rush of sensation unravelling you from the inside out. It didn’t even feel like she was speaking to you, more like a reminder to herself.

You whimpered, your hips twitching helplessly, straining for more. You had heard the word ‘mine’ more today than ever, and it hit something raw inside you, something so deep it felt like your soul reached out for her in response. Yes. You were hers. You wanted to be hers.

And then suddenly her rhythm shifted, less controlled, more frantic, every thrust and motion sharpened by her unraveling restraint. Her mouth was everywhere again, biting, branding, her lips dragging across your neck, your chest, down your stomach, as if she couldn’t decide where to leave the next mark.

Her hands tightened at your hips, fingers digging in with a bruising kind of need, anchoring herself to you like she might fall apart without the contact. She was slipping, further, faster, into that frenzy of need, of fury, of desperate, aching possessiveness that she'd tried so hard to cage since attaching the stap to her hips. 

But now with her cock slamming in and out of you, your moans and whines gracing her ears, it surged forward, unfiltered, dragging her under. You could feel it in the way she clung to you, in the way her breath hitched and her nails pressed harder. She wasn’t trying to hold back anymore.

And then she was chanting. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Over and over again, like it was the only word she remembered, the only thing that mattered. She was barely even present now, barely aware of the room, of anything but you. 

Your entire body shook beneath her, your lungs struggling to keep up with the broken sobs and gasps that kept clawing their way out of your throat. Her voice was low, hoarse, and relentless as it poured over you like a spell, dragging you deeper under with every breathless repetition.

And you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. You just let go, let yourself be hers. Be claimed. Be ruined.

—-

You had no idea how long it had been, but you were both so far gone you didn’t hear the door open, didn’t register the familiar creak of the floorboards or the call of “I’m home” echoing down the hall. Nothing existed beyond the frantic rhythm of Wanda’s body against yours, the relentless chant spilling from her mouth, her teeth grazing your skin, her hands branding you with every touch.

It wasn’t until you heard a sharp, animalistic growl, low and guttural, torn from Wanda’s throat, that your hazy focus shifted. Your eyes blinked sluggishly through the haze, breath catching, and when you managed to look past her, you saw Natasha standing in the doorway.

Her arms hung at her sides, her expression unreadable. But her eyes dragged over you like a blade. Every bruise, every mark Wanda had left behind, every shiver and tremble of your overstimulated body catalogued in a single glance. Her jaw clenched, the muscle ticking once, like she was biting back something sharp.

Wanda didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. She kept chanting under her breath, a broken, breathless litany of “mine, mine, mine” spilling from her lips like it was the only word left. She was lost in it, lost in you. Her hips were steady, relentless, as though Natasha’s presence didn’t even register.

But you felt it. The air went taut, almost brittle. Natasha’s silence carried weight, thick with jealousy, with hunger, with a cold, simmering possessiveness that was entirely her own. She stepped forward, slow and measured, her gaze locked on yours, and something inside you fluttered and clenched all at once. You didn’t know what she was going to do. Punish? Claim? Interrupt? Join?

And yet, even with her rage coiled under her skin, even with her dominance thrumming off her in waves, her first move was exactly what you needed.

She shifted to your side with quiet purpose, her presence grounding as she reached for one of the wrists Wanda had bound. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the restraint with precision, double-checking its snugness. 

The tenderness of it made something flutter deep in your chest, a soft ache blooming in contrast to the intensity you’d been caught in. And then, without a word, she laced her fingers through yours, anchoring you with that simple, intimate gesture: A single squeeze.

Because no matter how tightly jealousy coiled in her gut, no matter how fiercely the hunger flickered in her eyes, Natasha’s instinct was always the same. 

Just like Wanda earlier, she put everything else aside, possession, dominance, the sharp edge of being left out, and she checked on you first. 

That was who they were. That was what it meant to belong to them. Your safety, your wellbeing, your headspace…All of it came before anything they might want for themselves. 

The squeeze said everything she needed to ask: Are you okay? Are you still with us? Do you feel safe?

She didn’t bother to use words. She knew you couldn’t answer like that, not now. Not with your mind fogged and your breath stuttering and your body twitching with every slam of Wanda’s hips. She could read it all, your eyes, your moans, the pitch of your breath. So you squeezed once in return. Green . 

She knew what that squeeze meant: Yes. I want this. I want her. I’m safe. And something else, less clear, buried beneath the rest. I want you too. I miss your hands. Your voice. 

Her body eased, just barely, the tension rolling back a single inch. But the hunger in her never dimmed. It sharpened instead, focused and precise as she looked back down at you, at the mess Wanda had made of you.

After a beat, Natasha’s focus finally shifted, her eyes dragging away from you and locking onto Wanda, taking in the sheer, unhinged desperation driving every thrust of the strap into your battered pussy. She saw it immediately, the way Wanda had spiralled, and Natasha knew it couldn’t go on like this. 

She moved without hesitation, stalking around the bed with quiet authority, climbing on behind Wanda, one hand fisting in her hair and yanking her back just enough to make her spine arch. “Yours, huh?” she bit out, voice low and edged with something dangerous. “Just yours?”

But Wanda didn’t falter. Didn’t even slow. She snarled the word like it was a war cry. “Mine.”

The scene throbbed with tension. Wanda was still pounding into you despite Natasha’s hold, her chant relentless. “What the hell happened?” Natasha asked, voice tight but controlled, like she was clinging to the last shred of calm.

You couldn’t speak, your mouth too slack, your body too gone, and Wanda didn’t answer either, not until Natasha gave another sharp tug, pulling harder, her tone slicing through the fog. “I said,” she growled, “what happened?”

Wanda whimpered, her breath catching like the question had torn through something raw. Her voice came in pieces, ragged and splintered, every word punctuated by a desperate thrust. “Carol. Tried. To. Take. What’s. Mine.”

Natasha’s gaze snapped back to you. It was cold and brimming with something territorial. You braced yourself, expecting her to descend with that same consuming intensity, to tear through Wanda’s marks and press her own into every inch of you until her claim was carved just as deep.

But she didn’t. The sharp edge dulled, tempered by understanding as her eyes swept over you and then her wife. 

Wanda wasn’t just fucking you. She was holding on for dear life. Natasha saw it clearly now, recognised it for what it was. Wanda had lost too many people, too many pieces of herself over the years. The fear of losing you had cracked her wide open.

Natasha could’ve taken what she wanted. Could’ve made her own claim in kind. But for now, instead, she exhaled, letting her dominant instinct soften just enough. You needed grounding, and Wanda needed pulling back. And Natasha would be the one to do it. Even if every part of her still ached to take.

She reached around, her hand locking firm around Wanda’s waist, stilling her movement with ease. “What’s ours,” she said evenly, the correction deliberate as her grip tightened. Wanda whined at the restraint, hips twitching against Natasha’s hold, and you whimpered too, aching at the loss of friction.

Wanda’s control began to splinter the moment Natasha kissed her, slow, grounding kisses against her cheek, tender in a way that cut through the haze like a balm. 

Her head lolled back against Natasha’s shoulder, her body still tense, but wavering now. “Do you need to safeword, Wands?” Natasha murmured against her skin, the calm, coaxing cadence unmistakable. “You seem... out of control, lyubov' (love). ”

Wanda shook her head, a near-frantic movement, “No! Need to cum, wanna cum!” Neither of you had cum yet despite how long it had gone on, despite the desperate grind and the bruising rhythm.

Hearing that desperate plea fall from Wanda’s lips while she held so much power over you felt dissonant, but it lit a fire in you all the same. She usually took what she wanted, came when she wanted, without a second thought, but now it was clear she was floundering. 

The scene had shaken her, and no matter how hard she had been trying, she couldn’t do it alone. That crack in her composure did something to you. It slipped under your skin, tangled in your chest, and before you could stop it, a moan fell from your lips, needy, involuntary, betraying just how much it affected you.

Natasha turned to you at the sound. “If she hasn’t,” she murmured, voice gentle now as her eyes found yours again, “then I’d wager you haven’t either, have you?” You shook your head, breath still coming in shallow bursts.

Something in her expression changed again the moment she realised you’d been holding back this entire time. The flicker of pride came first, swift and searing, lighting her eyes with approval. “Good girl,” she murmured, and the praise landed like a reward you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. 

But then her gaze gentled, the pride ebbing into something softer, sadder, closer to regret than triumph. Like she could see how much you’d given, how much you’d endured, and how long you’d waited. “I think you both need Daddy, hm?”

It wasn’t often that Wanda submitted to Natasha, twice, maybe three times since you’d all been together, and only ever when she wasn’t fully in control of her headspace, when she needed grounding but needed to continue. But Wanda nodded slowly, the fight draining out of her body as she leaned back into Natasha’s hold, surrendering.

Natasha’s hands moved, settling on Wanda’s hips, allowing her to move again but slowing her movements with firm, steady pressure. “That’s it,” she murmured low against Wanda’s ear, her voice soft but commanding. “She’s been so good for you, Detka (babe). Took everything you gave her, didn’t she?”

Wanda shuddered, still panting, still half-lost, but she nodded, her body giving into Natasha’s lead without resistance. 

Natasha kept her tone gentle, coaxing, like she was taming something raw and shaking. “How about you let her finish now, hm? Let her cum for us.”

Wanda didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. She just followed, pliant under Natasha’s hands, her breath catching as she thrust her hips in rhythm with the guidance she was given. And Natasha, her mouth brushing Wanda’s temple, praised her low and warm, “Good girl.”

Wanda whimpered at the praise, her body trembling and her mind still fogged with the frenzy that had consumed her, but Natasha’s presence gave her something to hold on to, something solid to ground herself against. 

You could feel the shift, the difference in how Wanda moved now. Her thrusts lost their wildness and turned into something more intimate, more focused, like she was being taught how to feel again.

And god, you felt it too. Every inch of it. Your breath stuttered, hips jerking involuntarily with each movement, your body already so close to the edge it ached. The pressure coiled tight in your core, a simmering burn that had been denied too long. Natasha’s eyes were on you, catching every flinch, every gasp, every tremble.

“She’s close,” Natasha murmured into Wanda’s hair, her voice rich with heat and reverence. “Can you feel that? I bet her cunt is so tight around your cock.” Wanda let out a broken moan and nodded, her pace faltering for a moment under the weight of Natasha’s words.

Natasha’s hand left Wanda’s and slid up to her throat, not choking, just holding, grounding, a firm reminder of presence, of who was in control.

Her other guided Wanda’s towards your clit, silently reminding her to provide the stimulation you needed, and it shattered you, the added touch stealing your breath as you cried out.

“That’s it,” she purred, low and commanding.. “Let us have it, Little one. Let go.”

And you did. It crashed into you like a wave, hard and fast and all-consuming. Your back arched, the restraints biting into your wrists as your body bowed under the force of your release. 

You screamed and whimpered, and they were both there, holding you through it, Wanda clinging to you like she could anchor herself to your pleasure, Natasha murmuring praise that bled into your skin like balm.

With Natasha’s guidance, Wanda stopped thrusting and began to grind, the base of the strap finally giving her the stimulation she needed. She came not long after you with a desperate sob, body trembling violently. Natasha’s voice, a blend of filthy praise and affection, slid into her ear, coaxing her through it. As Wanda’s body went limp, attempting to collapse against you, Natasha caught her effortlessly, aware of the soreness you’d likely feel.

Wanda whimpered at not being able to snuggle into you, and Natasha pressed a kiss to her temple. “She’s right here,” she murmured softly, before gently laying her down beside you. Wanda instinctively curled into you with a sigh, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

Natasha pressed another gentle kiss to the top of Wanda’s head before shifting her attention to you. Her movements were practiced, instinctive, and soft as she moved to unbuckle the restraint on your wrist.

The second the leather came loose, your arm dropped like dead weight, boneless and sore. Natasha caught it gently, guiding it to rest over Wanda’s back. You curled your fingers into her skin instinctively, craving the contact, the reassurance.

The other restraint came next, then your legs, Natasha working with slow, deliberate tenderness, her hands steady and reverent. Every time you winced, she soothed it with a murmur, a stroke over the inflamed area or a kiss.

Wanda wasn’t moving much now. She was pliant, completely surrendered, clinging to you with the last threads of adrenaline. Natasha knew that look, knew Wanda had dropped deep, and you weren’t far behind.

Her voice softened even further as she pulled the blanket up over both of you, tucking it around your bare limbs like armour. She leaned down, her hand brushing tenderly over your cheek, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “There’s our girl,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with pride. “You did so fucking well. Mommy really used you, huh?”

Your throat was too raw for words, your mind still floating in that hazy space between pleasure and exhaustion, but you nodded. 

Natasha kissed you once more before slipping away from the bed. You assumed she was going to get water, and you were right; she was back within seconds, moving with her usual calm efficiency. 

She guided your head gently, coaxing the glass to your lips until you took a few slow sips, then shifted to pry Wanda up just enough to do the same for her. Neither of you drank much, but it was enough to get you at least a bit hydrated.

Wanda exhaled, her breath hitching before she whispered, “Didn’t mean to lose it like that.” A pause, a stillness between you, broken only by her unsteady breathing. “Carol wanted you... said that... that she could... treat you better.”

Her voice cracked slightly, the words filled with vulnerability, and your chest tightened at the pain in them. 

Then her tone shifted, rising into a whine, hurt lacing her every syllable as she clung to you tighter. “She tried to take her from us, Nat,” Wanda whimpered, her eyes flicking to Natasha even as she clung to you like you were the only thing keeping her anchored.

Natasha’s jaw tensed, her eyes flicking up for a moment, but she said nothing. Instead, she settled in behind Wanda, wrapping herself around her wife like a shield. Usually, you were in the middle, the one cocooned in their arms, but it was clear Wanda needed that security now. 

Natasha began to stroke her hand gently over Wanda’s spine, her touch slow and comforting. She didn’t forget you either, though. Her other hand reached across the space to where your wrist was still faintly marked, fingers brushing the bruised skin in slow, soothing circles.

Time passed in a slow, syrupy kind of stillness, thick with warmth and the quiet hum of three heartbeats finding their way back into sync. Wanda lay curled against your side, her face pressed into your collarbone like she could disappear into you, her breath evening out in slow pulls that softened with each minute. 

You felt the shift in her, how the tension bled out of her muscles with every exhale, how her fingers that had clutched you with bruising desperation earlier now merely rested, featherlight and unmoving.

Natasha’s hand never stopped. She trailed her fingers lazily up and down your arm, over Wanda’s spine, keeping you both tethered to the present. 

Eventually, Wanda stirred. Not much, just a shift in how her legs tangled with yours, a blink that stretched long enough to signal she’d returned to herself. She looked up at you, her cheeks still pink, her hair tousled from earlier. But her eyes, they were clearer. Worry creeping back in.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice hushed. Her gaze scanned your face like she expected to find something broken.

You gave her a tired, lopsided smile. “Course I am. I don’t break that easily,” you said with a wink, even if your voice was still a bit scratchy from earlier. 

She looked relieved. Kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, a soft, fluttering press that made you giggle as her breath brushed against your skin. “Good,” she whispered against your mouth, and you could feel the last of her tension ebb as she rested her head against your shoulder again.

“Alright,” Natasha said eventually, propping herself up on one elbow and glancing down at you both, her voice light but edged with unmistakable command. “Time to soothe those marks, you must be sore, hm?”

You groaned immediately, flopping back onto the pillow. “Do we have to?” you whined, dragging out the syllables like a sulking child. “Can’t we just stay here? Forever?”

Wanda let out a sympathetic sound and buried her face back in your chest for a second. “She has a point…”

Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You two are impossible. Yes, we have to. Wands, you went feral. She's covered in bruises and bites.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you rolled your eyes. “You make it sound like she mauled me.”

Natasha sat up straighter, grabbing the lotion bottle off the nightstand. “She did maul you. Look at this—” She tugged the sheet down just enough to expose your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs. The marks were everywhere, hickeys darkening by the minute, deep, vivid bursts of colour in the shape of Wanda’s mouth. “You’re a goddamn work of art. Or a crime scene.”

Wanda peeked down at your skin and let out a low, sheepish laugh. “Oops.”

“‘Oops,’” Natasha repeated dryly, her tone somewhere between fond and chastising. She gave Wanda a light nudge with her shoulder. “You’re lucky she likes being ruined.”

“I love being ruined,” you chimed in helpfully, grinning as both their eyes snapped to you with matching looks of exasperated affection.

Wanda leaned down and nuzzled your jaw, her voice a little lower now, velvet-soft and sincere. “I do still feel bad. I got… swept up. Possessive. Jealous. Like I had to prove something. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said gently. “And you didn’t. I promise.”

Still, she dipped her fingers into the lotion and rubbed them together slowly to warm it, her movements suddenly careful. She started at your wrists, your poor, bruised wrists where the restraints had bitten deep, and touched you like she was handling something sacred. Her fingers glided over your skin in slow circles, whispering apologies into every motion. 

Natasha joined in a moment later, taking your other side. She pushed the sheets down further, exposing more of your bruised body to the soft lighting, and began to work the balm into your sore muscles. Their hands moved over you in tandem, smoothing across the worst of the bruises, ghosting over the places that still burned faintly from overstimulation.

And for a while, no one spoke. The only sounds were your soft sighs, the quiet slick of lotion on skin, the muted creak of the bed as they shifted around you.

Once they were done, Natasha glanced down at your neck and snorted. “There is no way you’re going to college looking like this,” she said with a laugh, dragging a fingertip lightly over a particularly brutal hickey under your jaw. “You look like you tried to join a vampire cult.”

You snorted softly, still squirming beneath their slow, soothing touches. “If Wanda were a vampire, I’d definitely let her bite me.”

You thought it was harmless. Wanda certainly looked pleased. Her eyes glinted, teeth flashing as she leaned close again, brushing her lips along your throat. "Careful," she breathed, her voice low and smooth, “I might take you up on that.”

A shiver ran through you at the sound, your breath hitching as her words sank in, stirring something deep inside. Your body responded without hesitation, already aching, already yearning for more despite the evening you’d already had. 

And just like that, Natasha froze, her eyes locking onto Wanda, as she once again threatened to claim. But now, as she saw the way you were reacting, the way you were craving more, Natasha’s restraint faltered. It was different from before. You were ready, and that knowledge twisted something deep inside her, making it harder to hold herself back.

“I better be allowed to bite too,” Natasha murmured, her voice low and simmering with tension. It wasn’t loud, but it had a sharp edge to it, a warning wrapped in something darker. “You’re lucky I’m not already. Wanda stole you, made you hers, and hers alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, but she was already moving. Her fingers left your skin only long enough to catch Wanda’s chin in a firm grip, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet her eyes.

“You ever forget that she is ours again,” Natasha said, quiet and razor-sharp, “you will regret it.”

Wanda swallowed hard, the flush on her cheeks deepening, her pupils dilating wide as she whimpered under Natasha’s hold. Her legs squeezed together as if that could do anything to stop the ache building between them. Her body instinctively allowed Natasha to take the lead again, as if it knew that was what Natasha needed. She nodded once, quickly. “Yes, Nat.” 

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, brushing her thumb across Wanda’s cheek with maddening softness. But she didn’t let go. “You don’t get to take her like that without me, ever.”

She finally released her chin and turned back to you, eyes darker now, warmer, but hungrier.

“And you,” she murmured, smoothing both palms down your sides, fingers slipping over your hips and between your legs, “you were very good letting Wanda use you, weren’t you? Letting her get drunk on jealousy and ruin your pretty little pussy without even thinking to let me join.”

You gasped as her fingers brushed over your slick again, slow and unhurried. You were soaked already. Every part of you felt raw and needy, but Natasha was in no rush.

“But you are ours,” she said, sliding two fingers through your folds, not yet pressing in, just letting you feel the threat of it, “ Ours .”

Wanda let out a soft, broken noise, eyes fixed on where Natasha’s hand was between your legs. Her hand moved as she was about to reach for you, but Natasha caught the movement without even looking.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she said, like it wasn’t up for debate. “You don’t get to help until I say so. You had your fun.”

Wanda whimpered, chest rising and falling fast, her cheeks glowing with shame and lust.

Natasha finally slipped a finger inside you, slow and shallow, barely enough to satisfy, but your back still arched up from the mattress. Her other hand splayed across your hip, holding you still.

“You’re so fucking wet,” she murmured with a smirk, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. “You like this, don’t you? Being good for us. Letting her make a mess of you, and then letting me put you back together.”

Wanda’s breath caught as she watched, her hands fisting in the sheets beside her thighs. “Natasha—”

“Shh,” Natasha interrupted. “You don’t get to speak unless I tell you to either.”

You whimpered at the sound of Wanda’s submission, it added fuel to the fire burning through you. Natasha added a second finger, pressing deep this time, and you cried out, your whole body tensing around her.

“That’s it,” she cooed. “Such a good girl. Ours. Not hers. Never just hers.”

You nodded frantically, brain already fogging under the slow, relentless pace. “Yours, yours, yours. Daddy, please!”

Natasha smiled, pleased, eyes gleaming as she leaned in to kiss your jaw, your ear, her tongue darting out to taste the sweat there. 

Wanda’s hands were trembling as she watched, the heat between her thighs unbearable. She couldn’t stand the fact that she had to watch.

Each sob, wail, moan, and sigh that left your lips only deepened the ache in her chest, reminding her of what she had done, of how she had left Natasha out when she should have known better. 

It was the perfect punishment, but Wanda couldn’t help but try her luck again. “Please, Nat,” Wanda whispered, her voice thick with need and desperation. “Please let me—”

Natasha turned her head, eyes flashing. “No,” she said simply. “Not yet. You want her? You earn it. You wait.” 

And then she curled her fingers just right, again and again, dragging you higher with each pass, her thumb barely brushing your clit until you were trembling, too far gone to do anything but moan.

The room pulsed with the sound of your breathing, with your soft cries and the wet sound of her hand moving in and out of your cunt. Every stroke, every whispered word sent a rush of heat through you, the world narrowing to nothing but the feeling of her fingers inside you. 

Even as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, Natasha never let up. Her movements were unrelenting, rhythmic, a steady push and pull that kept you coming without giving you so much as a chance to truly catch your breath. 

You didn’t know how many times you’d screamed in release, each one blurred into the next, an unending rhythm that left you gasping, skin slick with sweat, your body trembling under her control.

Eventually her pace slowed, and your eyes fluttered open, the world around you a haze of soft light and warmth. You turned your head slightly, and your gaze found Wanda. Her eyes were wide, her breath equally as erratic. She was flushed and panting like she’d been the one writhing beneath Natasha’s hand.

“God, look at you,” Natasha murmured, eyes still on you, even as she addressed Wanda. “So fucking needy, you only had her an hour ago. Pathetic.”

Wanda whimpered as her hands twitched again, and this time, she couldn’t resist; she reached out, just enough to brush her fingertips against Natasha’s arm. “Please,” she begged again, her voice barely a whisper, but it was a plea nonetheless. 

“Fine, but only because I’m generous,” Natasha murmured as she kissed your temple, and then your cheek, her fingers never stopping. “I’m not cruel. I share. ”

She tilted her head, her gaze soft yet commanding as she finally looked over at Wanda. “You want to taste her?” Natasha’s voice was low, deliberate, as if she already knew the answer.

Wanda's breath hitched at the words, her entire body tense with yearning. Her eyes flicked to Natasha, wide and pleading, before they dropped to you. 

Your skin was glistening with sweat, your chest rising and falling in the haze of pleasure still swirling through you. She nodded, the movement almost frantic, her voice trembling with need. “Yes, yes, please, Nat! I want to please!”

Natasha’s lips quirked into a small, wicked smile, a brief flicker of satisfaction passing across her face before she leaned down, her kiss slow and deep. It was a kiss that said she was still in control, even if she was letting Wanda in. She pulled away just enough to speak, “Then come here.”

Unlike her usual poised self, Wanda wasn’t graceful as she moved, urgency in her every motion. The moment she reached your legs, her gaze lifted, her eyes locking with Natasha's. 

Natasha moved her hand, slowly, so slowly from between your folds, her fingers glistening with your cum. “Open your mouth.”

Wanda obeyed. Natasha pressed two fingers past her lips, watching her take them in eagerly, greedily. 

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, eyes softening just a little. “Now you can touch her. You can thank her. And you can show her just how sorry you are.”

She shifted to one side, but not far, not giving up control, just… allowing space. Letting Wanda kneel between your legs, hands shaking as she lowered her head.

Wanda’s tongue slid over your folds and your clit gently before diving in fully, like a woman starved. It was as if the act of watching had only intensified her need, making it raw and undeniable despite the fact that she had already claimed you so thoroughly. 

“That’s it,” Natasha murmured, stroking your stomach, watching Wanda devour you. “She’s ours. Not yours. Not mine. Ours.”

Her hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple, squeezing and teasing in perfect time with Wanda’s mouth. 

Every touch sent waves through you, every whisper tangled around your spine. Natasha’s voice wrapped around you, her praise both tender and unrelenting, while Wanda’s lips and hands moved like a vow, her remorse bleeding into every lick and every suck as she drank you dry, bringing you closer and closer.

You couldn’t hold yourself together. The intimacy, the intensity, it was too much. You splintered under it, unravelled into the space between their bodies, between their worship and their claim. And this time, when you broke, it wasn’t just your body giving in. It was your heart, your trust, your submission. 

And through it all, Natasha's voice, low and reverent at your ear, became the centre of everything, grounding you even as you soared.

“That’s it, Little one,” she murmured, almost like a prayer. “That’s what you needed. That’s what we give you, together.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

willow - May 1 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 323

Regulus had gone there to get away. Sometimes, the library was too stuffy, and the grounds too bare. So he went to a willow tree at the edge of the forest, one with a big, low-hanging limb that he could hoist himself up into and sit in, disappearing amongst the other branches.

He was sitting there, reading and trying not to think about the one subject that left him feeling vulnerable and confused and nervous, when he heard the noises.

Cracks of sticks and the rustling of leaves signaled that he wasn’t alone, but Regulus wasn’t particularly fussed. Not wanting to move, he decided to just let whoever it was pass. Turning his eyes back to the words in his novel, he read a few more words before he heard a very familiar voice:

“....think that really, we should make this a thing,” the voice said nervously, before both the voice and the movement stopped for half a second. Then, “No, no, that’s so fucking stupid…”

Regulus’s eyes widened. It was Potter. James Potter was walking along the edge of the forest. Already surprised by this turn of events, he almost fell out of the tree when he heard his name.

“....Regulus. I just really like you, and I thought maybe you liked me back?” A breath. “No, that’s so stupid!”

Regaining his balance, Regulus listened intently. Was Potter…practicing asking him out?

“Listen, Reg,” Potter said, now standing almost directly next to the willow. “I just want you all to myself, okay? I don’t want anyone to…to be what I am to you. Is that so weird?”

No. No, it wasn’t weird. It was…it made Regulus’s chest contract and warm. But before he did something idiotic like jump from the tree and say so, he heard James speak again.

“Merlin, that’s stupid. Okay, maybe if I say…”

And slowly, he walked off, leaving Regulus alone with his thoughts. Now what should he do?

[blythedolly]

you have me, yeah?

—♡ leon has successfully been able to restrain his desires for you until you bent over in front of him, revealing a part of you that he deeply craved.

—♡ warnings: pervy best friend leon, reader is kinda bimbo coded, feminine reader, dom!leon, manhandling, teasing, oral sex (reader recieving), mentions of rough sex.

“why don’t you like my teddy bears?” you asked, arms crossed with a pout as you stare at your best friend. he stares back at you, his muscled body resting against your white bed frame.

“i don’t hate them i just don’t see why you care about them so much. they’re not rea-”

“leon!” you cut him off, a look of genuine terror on your face. which makes him chuckle.

you were too cute for words. your sweet personality making his heart gush. as it always does. 

you captured his heart so effortlessly. you were pure, so delicate. in every possible way. he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the dark side. he felt so disgusting and tried so hard to keep them in check. but oh god, it was so fucking hard. especially when you were prancing around your bedroom in tiny sleep shorts, smooth thigh highs that hugged your soft legs in the most intoxicating way, white tank tops which were borderline see-through. showing the outline of your perky breasts and nipples. and here you were now, you kneeled next to him on the bed. dressed in exactly that. he felt like a fucking animal, wanting to destroy every ounce of purity that radiated from you. 

he wasn’t stupid, he knew you liked him more than just a friend. always finding himself enamored by the way your cheeks tinted pink every time he touched you, or called you pretty, or rested his large hand on your soft squishy thighs. just above where your cute little thigh highs sit. he couldn’t possibly help but think how pretty your pussy would be.

fuck leon, quit it. take your time with her. he’d think to himself.

he can’t quite recall when his forbidden feelings had exceeded a platonic level, all he knew is that he wanted you. needed you. the days would go by where he didn’t make a move and felt himself growing more and more sadistic towards you.

“well, you don't need to cuddle this little thing tonight. you've got me, yeah?” he says, carelessly throwing your cute little plushie on the floor. an overly dramatic gasp escaping your mouth.

“leon, that's not funny. you're so mean. you have to be gentle with them,” you say softly as you move down the mattress to retrieve the beloved little bunny, bending your body off the edge of the bed. as the front half of your body disappeared, leon looked. wanting to get a glimpse of as much as he could without you noticing his devious gaze. but what he wasn’t expecting to see was your bare cunt on full display before his eyes. his breath hitched as his thoughts ran wild.

do you always forget to wear underwear when he's around? why hasn't he noticed this before? is this an invitation?

he couldn’t help but stare. you looked so so soft. eyes locked onto your entrance. swearing he could see it glisten. he gulps, saliva filling his hungry mouth at the thought of fucking you open with his tongue. 

“fuck…” he mutters a little too loudly, causing you to turn around. still bent over to retrieve your plushie.

“what’s wrong, lee?” you ask, your pretty doe eyes looking into his with wonder. “are you feeling ok?”

god, you really and no fucking idea what you were doing. 

“you… you’re a little fuckin’ tease aren’t you?” he hisses, grabbing your hips as if you were a rag doll and forcing you to lay down on your bed. hair splaying across your silky pillows. he was hovering over you now, you felt like you were drowning under his large frame.

“w-what are you talkin about, leon? i-” you attempt.

“‘i-… i-… what are you talking about, leon?’” he mocks, a sadistic smirk on his face. “you’re not fooling me, doll,” he moves his large hand down to your cunt, resting it over your thin sleep shorts. gasping as the warmth of his skin laid against your most precious area. “did you forget to wear your panties today like a silly little dits?”

“n-no, just wanted to be comfy. didn’t do it on purpose,” you look into his eyes as you plead, precious little pout on your lips.

oh god, he was going to fucking ruin you. 

“is that right?” he asks, biting his lip. you nod your head. he doesn’t say anything as he moves down your body, forcing your thighs open as he settles between them. his toned stomach resting against your frilly duvet. he then pulls your bottoms to the side, revealing your glistening pussy to his properly. “then why is your needy little cunt dripping for me?”

“i.. leon i just-” you spoke, being cut off by your own gasp as he pulls down your shorts and throws them carelessly to the side. you blush, nobody had ever seen you like this before. your legs instinctively begin to close, but he effortlessly pulls them open again.

“wanted to see this precious little pussy of yours for years, don’t even think about hiding it from me now,” you whimper at his words. recalling the countless nights you spent alone, whining his name into your pillows to the thought of his rough fingers touching you there. and now, it was finally happening.

your head was spinning.

you weren’t naive, you knew about sex. what your sexual preferences were and what you desired, but you’d never actually done anything before. he knew that, he’s your best friend.

of course he knew.

he leans in, pressing his nose to your clit and inhaling your essence deeply. taking in your scent. it was feral, but your pussy clenched around nothing at his action. he hums, saliva filling his mouth as he prepares to taste you for the first time.

he could no longer resist and licked a rough stripe from your hole to your needy clit, the unfamiliar feeling causing a small gasp to escape your lungs. but oh god, did it feel good.

“leon…” you whine as he kisses your clit softly, and then again, and then again. legs trembling pathetically with each kiss. the sound of you whimpering his name sent him into a feral state, his tongue messily tracing along each crevice of your cunt. his pretty nose poking your clit in the most heavenly way.

“oh… oh, leon,” you whimper out, your trembling back arching off the bed. he finally locks his slick soaked lips around your needy bud, aggressively sucking on the delicate bundle of nerves. he rests one of his large hands on your tummy, semi exposed as your little top rode up when he threw you down on the bed.

“taste so pretty and sweet, knew you would,” he speaks against you, thighs trembling softly around his face and head. he contemplated using his fingers, but concluded quickly that it was unexplored territory for you. he didn’t want to overwhelm you too much, so he decided that simply eating your pussy would suffice. for now.

his attention stayed on your puffy clit, sucking and nipping the bundle. anything to hear those desperate whines and pleas of yours. he could tell you were already about to cum based on the way your body shook in his grasp, the way your hips attempted to buck towards his mouth. not to mention all of the pathetic whimpers that fell from your sweet lips.

all it took was for his eyes to meet yours for the band inside of your stomach to snap. your head flew back as the intense pleasure flooded your jolting frame. limbs wildly trembling and sweet cries that only drove him to buck his hips against the mattress himself. leon collected every drop of cum that fell from your slit, groaning at the sweet salty taste that he knew he’d now be addicted to for the rest of his life.

he continued to lick your cunt until he decided it was enough, kissing up your tummy and torso until his face was hovering over yours. you looked so pretty and fucked out, all he could think about was how you’d look after he finally gets to split you open with his cock. like he’s been waiting for, for so damn long.

he couldn’t wait for that day, but he knew that’d be too much. he knew what was best for you.

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you whined when he abruptly moved back. not satisfied with the shortness of the kiss. you watched him as he moved off the bed, bending down to pick up your long lost stuffed animal before returning to his previous position.

“here you go, baby doll. think you’re gonna need his after that,” he says, handing you the plushie that he had carelessly tossed onto the floor earlier. that’s when you noticed the way his chin was glistening with your essence. the warm lamps light reflecting on it causing it to sparkle. you blush and clutch your plushie to your chest. you look up at his lips as you bit yours, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss you once again. and he did.

because he knew you so well.

[smutoperator]

My Naughty Niece

Lee Hyunseo (Leeseo) x Male Reader

Part 4 of 4 of All In Family

Tags: accidental cumshot, bleeding, condom, couch sex, creampie, cum eating, defloration, domination, facefucking, first anal, inexperienced girl, mating press, nieceseo, painal, pervy uncle, standing sex, teen, thighjob, titfucking

Word count: 5454

Between touring, comebacks, and fanmeetings , it had been a long time since you last saw your niece Hyunseo. In fact, this was the first time you would see her as an adult. And just as you were preparing to see her, the doorbell rang.

"Hello, uncle," Leeseo said as you opened the door. You could barely recognize her. Her development over the past few months was remarkable. "Who is that girl? She is so hot. Is this really my niece?" you thought to yourself as you gave Leeseo a few greeting kisses.

Leeseo walked across your house, going to your spacious living room. You were still baffled by how hot she looked, trying not to have feelings for your niece. But her pretty face, her honey thighs, her sexy butt, and her increasingly growing boobs made that quite hard.

Leeseo smiled at you as she kept moving. "Make yourself at home," you told her, noticing as she took her jacket off that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples poking out of her shirt and leading to more dirty thoughts about her. Leeseo looked at her beautiful self in the mirror, wearing just that shirt and a very small skirt that exposed her cheeks. She kept playing with you. "Uncle, it feels like you never saw me before," she said to you.

"I'm sorry, you look so... different," you told Leeseo. "Yes, we all grow up; I'm not that cute baby I used to be," she answered you. "Yes, but you have really grown up a lot," you told her. "Or maybe you haven't seen me in quite a while," she replied.

You followed Leeseo as she kept walking. God damn it, you could see her cheeks popping out, finally taking the initiative to touch them. "You seem very interested in my body, uncle," she said. "Oh, it's nothing; I was just giving you a little cute patting," you told her. "Oh uncle, I wasn't born yesterday," she answered you. "Well, 18 might as well be yesterday," you push back.

"You've been looking so hot now, Hyunseo. Who taught you to look this sexy?" you told her. "Yujin unnie," Leeseo promptly answered. "Looks like she's been a good leader then," you answered. "Definitely, she's made sure to let all of us grow up well; she's been almost like a second mother to me," Leeseo continued. "That's good to hear," you told Leeseo. "Thanks, uncle," she answered you. "But I want to make a request to you," she says. "What kind of request?" you ask her.

"Uncle, can I suck your cock?"

"Hyunseo, I don't know about that; you're my niece," you tell her. "Please, uncle, I'm so hungry. Yujin unnie told me if I wanted to become a proper adult, I needed to suck a cock, but I was so scared to do that to one of my co-hosts at Inkigayo, so I decided I wanted your cock to be my first," she told you.

"Fine, you say to Leeseo, unzipping your pants and pushing your already throbbing cock out of it. "It's so hard already, uncle. Did I do that to you?" she asks. "Yes, you did, you naughty little tiger," you answer her as Leeseo puts her hands on your shaft for the first time.

Leeseo strokes your cock a few times, still shocked with the size of it. "Yujin unnie said they can get really big, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes," she said, smiling at you. She started quite slow, just closing her eyes and licking your tip, not going much further than that, you enjoying watching her take it in her mouth and sweep it in her tongue.

"Hmmm," you groaned as Leeseo didn't go much further beyond the tip, still testing waters as she had never sucked a cock before. "You know you can take it deeper," you said to her. "I don't know if I can; it's so wide it barely fits in my mouth," she answered to you.

"Look at me, I know you can take it," you told Leeseo, pushing your hips a bit. She finally gained the encouragement she needed, but first, she licked the side of your shaft to get it wet before letting you push deeper in her mouth, but not much, as you only got a third of your 9-inch length inside it. She kept stroking it, trying to gain more confidence, but ultimately resorting to the safety of just sucking your tip.

Leeseo takes her shirt off, showing you her juicy tits. "I saw you were staring at them, uncle," she tells you. "I can't blame you; they have been growing a lot lately," she says. You reach to grope her tits, Leeseo tying her hair up and sucking your cock a little bit more, once again focusing her attention on the tip.

You sit on your living room's couch and let Leeseo keep sucking your cock. She finally takes it a little deeper in her mouth, trying to test herself, but still finds it too big. She picks up some speed, you enjoying her cute yet inexperienced blowjob. "Look at me," you tell her, loving watching her pretty face get impaled on your massive cock.

Leeseo climbs on the couch, trying to push your cock deeper in her throat. You can tell she's still struggling with it but decides to help, grabbing her head and pushing it a bit down your shaft, not taking more than half your length in her throat but still keeping a steady pace to help Leeseo get accustomed to your cock.

Your thrusts up Leeseo's face are so soft they barely count as facefucking. Leeseo tries to finally get more of your cock in her mouth. "Fuck," you say, kissing her and reaching under her skirt to finger her pussy. "You seem really interested in my pussy, uncle. Can I rub your cock in it?" she asks.

"Sure," you answer Leeseo, who lifts her skirt and pulls her panties to the side, grinding her virgin folds against your already throbbing shaft. She takes it slow, moving it up and down her entrance, moaning softly as she does it. "Oh shit, that's such a good sensation," you tell Leeseo as she pushes the tip of your cock closer to her clit, keeping the rubdown going.

"Fuck, that's so good," you tell Leeseo, her increasing the pace of the rubdown, grinding your cock very fast against her cunt. "Fuck, right there," you tell her. "Are you enjoying it, uncle? Yujin unnie says guys really like it when you do it to them," Leeseo says.

Leeseo grinds really fast on your cock, putting it at her mercy. "Ahh," you moan, her enjoying the friction between your shaft and her pussy lips, even slapping your tip a little bit against her clit. She teases you for a bit until finally putting just a little of your shaft inside her.

Your niece's virgin pussy is so tight and warm even your very experienced cock struggles inside it, her walls squeezing you hard from the get-go. "Ah, ah, ah, ah," Leeseo softly moans, you pumping her pussy as she pulls her panties to the side. "Oh, oh, oh, oh," she continues to moan.

"Fuck," Leeseo exclaims as your cock gets deeper in her pussy. The more you fuck her, the more you feel like you're not gonna last long. She tries to bounce on your cock, her cute tits jiggling as your thrusts get harder, you having to stop after a bit just to survive.

"Fuck, I'm gonna," you can't even finish the sentence, pulling your cock out of Leeseo's tight pussy and unloading your cum all over her midriff. She promptly picks it up to taste. "It's so salty, Uncle," she says, taking it in her mouth and cleaning herself up.

"Hyunseo, your pussy is just too tight; I think I'll need some extra help," you tell her. "Stay here, I'm going upstairs and will be back soon," you say. You go to the bathroom, taking some stuff that will help you against the incredibly tight pussy of your niece, before going back downstairs and meeting Leeseo in the same place you left her off.

"I have to get my cock hard first; can you help me, Hyunseo?" you ask her. "Sure," she answers. Leeseo covers the bottom part of your body with a blanket, sucking your cock under it and trying to take it deeper this time. "Hmmm," you groan. "Are you enjoying my hidden blowjob, uncle?" she asks.

Leeseo removes the blanket, your already throbbing cock all over her mouth. "God damn it," you groan, Leeseo twisting your cock and spitting on it, not getting afraid anymore to use the lessons she learned from Yujin. "You didn't come to play this time, Hyunseo, did you?" you ask, spanking Leeseo's beautiful young ass as she bends over your boy.

"Oh my God," you groan as Leeseo bobs her head hard on your cock. You kiss her cock-filled mouth as she keeps stroking you, spanking her ass a few times. "You really seem to like my ass, uncle," she says.

You pull Leeseo's panties down, massaging her pussy as she strokes your cock, reaching to also grope her perfect tits. "Ahhhhh," she moans, your hands all over her young pussy, you pushing her in your direction to kiss her while she tries to keep her efforts on your cock.

Leeseo's pussy gets fingered hard. "Fuck," she moans, you muffling it with kisses. "Uncle, you're going too fast," she says. "Am I?" you ask her, giving her pink pussy a few more taps.

You suck Leeseo's perky tits as your hand runs circles on her clit. "Fuck," she continues to moan, getting used to your strong stimulation as you worship her beautiful teen body. You take your shirt off, pushing her towards your cock and enjoying her moving her head all over it. "Yes, baby, perfect," you say to her, running your hands on her ass while she spits on your cock. She dives towards your balls, showing much less restraint this time and jerking your cock off strongly.

You dive your face between Leeseo's boobs, sucking them like a baby. "God, they are so big, and you're only 18," you tell her. "Glad you like them, uncle," she says, moaning as you grab them with both hands and bring them closer to your mouth, before letting her move back to deep-throat your cock. "Oh my God, yes," you say, praising her efforts.

"Touch your pussy while you suck my cock," you tell Leeseo, who obliges. "Keep going, don't stop, do it, do it," you say as she deepthroats your cock again. You push her pussy against your head, eating it out while giving some slaps to her big tits. "Holy shit, uncle, that's so hot," she says, reaching to stroke your cock while you keep eating her pussy.

"SHIT," Leeseo screams as you tongue all over her young clit. She pants, spasms running over her midriff. "That's so good, that's so good," she says, you getting her body on top of yours and enjoying every second of that young pussy in your mouth.

"Please fuck me, uncle," Leeseo begs. "Then bring the condom to me," you order her. Leeeseo obliges, breaking the condom envelope with her mouth and slowly wrapping it around your cock and then gently stroking it with her beautiful feet afterwards.

Leeseo bends over as you slowly insert your cock in her tight pussy again. She moves her hips, pushing your cock deeper in her pussy. "Did Yujin teach you that?" you ask her. "Yes," she answers, softly moaning as she takes more and more inside. Soon, you take control, grabbing her waist and giving her slightly faster thrusts that make her tits jiggle.

"OHHHHH," Leeseo screams as you grab her bouncy boobs. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh," she moans, you enjoying it. "Wanna sit on it?" you ask her. "Sure, uncle," she answers, you sitting on the couch and getting ready for Leeseo to bounce on your cock, firmly grabbing her beautiful tits. "The more I look at them, the bigger they get," you tell her. "Oh, thanks, uncle," she says as she prepares to ride you.

"Let me try a different hole now," you say to Leeseo. "You want my ass, uncle? I'm so scared," she answers you. "Don't be; take it slow if you want to," you promise her. "Yujin unnie said you get accustomed after a while, but I never had a cock in my ass," she continues.

Leeseo moves up and down your cock, you grabbing her ass as she moans, increasing her speed at each move. "Don't stop, don't stop, ahhhh," she continues to moan, looking very sexy while getting herself impaled on your cock.

Her virgin asshole is so insanely tight it makes her pussy look like an easy job.

"Oh yeah," Leeseo moans, her tits all over your face, you sucking them as your cock gets deeper and deeper in her ass. "AHHHH FUCK," she screams, bouncing faster than ever and driving you to the edge. "Keep going, baby," you tell her, Leeseo's hair getting messy as she rides your cock.

Leeseo gets herself in one of the couch's arms, you now getting full control to fuck her ass. "HMMMMM," she moans, clearly starting to feel some pain as your cock gets deep in her butt. "HMMM, HMMM, HMMM, HMMMM," she tries to hide it, you moving her to a spooning position now and groping her tits.

Leeseo fingers her pussy, trying to deal with the heat as your cock makes her asshole very sore. "AHHHHHH," she screams, your balls clapping against her cheeks. "Come on," you tell her, fucking her ass faster than ever, Leeseo closing her eyes and feeling a lot of pain, putting all her fingers in her pussy to cope with it as you don't care about her asshole being a virgin one; in fact, that makes you fuck her even harder.

"FUCKKKKK, AHHHHHH!" Leeseo screams, fingering her pussy like a maniac now as she can barely take it. You keep relentlessly fucking her ass, eventually getting close as the tightness of her hole is too much for you to handle. "Come here, stroke that cock, and make me cum," you tell her, Leeseo promptly obliging and jerking it off despite her very sore butt, giving your very fast strokes and smiling at you as you start groaning as you bust your cum all over that condom.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of cum, uncle; glad you liked my ass," Leeseo says. "Well, it's all yours now," you say, kissing her and removing your condom for Leeseo to taste your cum. "It's so delicious," she says. "I knew you would like it," you tell her as you head upstairs.

A few hours pass by as you finally leave your bedroom to take a shower. As you shower, all you can think of is your naughty niece Leeseo, her beautiful young body, stroking your cock in the shower until you paint the box walls with a nice thick white load. Leeseo now occupies your whole mind, and you feel like you need to fuck your niece again as soon as possible.

Luckily, you wouldn't have to wait long. As soon as you open the door of your bedroom, you find Leeseo lying on your bed, wearing nothing on top, her pale skin and perky tits in full display, and just a sleeping pantyhose at the bottom. "Uncle, I'm so horny I can't sleep," she says.

You give Leeseo some kisses on both her mouth and boobs, making her smile at you. "I think I've got the perfect sleeping pill for you, Hyunseo," you tell her. "You do, uncle?" she asks. "Yes, right between my legs," you say, tossing your towel out.

"Get on your knees," you tell Leeseo as she follows and starts massaging your cock. "You look so beautiful, Hyunseo," you tell her. "Thanks, uncle," she answers, grabbing your cock and licking the tip of it. "Such a good girl," you tell her, Leeseo taking your cock very slowly and teasing you.

You grab Leeseo's hair and start fucking her face, making her gag. "Look at me while you take this cock," you tell her. Leeseo tries to bob her head on it as you push it deeper in her mouth. "Such a sexy girl," you say, trying to push your cock even deeper. "Open your eyes and follow me," you say as Leeseo keeps gagging on your cock.

"I love seeing it bulging under your throat," you say to Leeseo, pulling out and rubbing your cock against her neck. She takes it back in her mouth, you fucking her pretty face harder than ever and pushing it against her crotch.

"I'm not gonna put on a condom this time; I'm gonna take it raw and deep in your pussy and cum all over it. Do you understand?" you ask Leeseo. "Yes," she answers as you continue to fuck her face. "God damn it, why are you so pretty with this cock all over your mouth, such a hot girl?" you say.

Leeseo gets your cock very wet. "I love seeing those tits bounce as I fuck your face," you tell her as a string of saliva comes out of your cock into her chest. You let Leeseo worship your cock before shoving it balls deep in her mouth one more time and making her spit all over it.

"Get up," you tell Leeseo, pulling her pantyhose down. "I'm gonna destroy that 18-year-old pussy," you promise her. Leeseo smiles, you sliding your cock right between her honey thighs, her moaning as she squeezes your shaft. "Beautiful girl," you say, kissing her and massaging her tits as your cock slides in and out of her thighs, making a lot of friction against the folds of her pussy.

"Damn, your legs are so nice, Hyunseo," you tell her as she moans and smiles. "Now is the time to turn around," you command, pushing Leeseo's hot body against your bed and sticking your cock in her tight pussy in one go. She closes her eyes, you thrusting hard inside her and grabbing her hair, determined not to go easy this time and extract the maximum pleasure you can from your niece.

"AHHHHHH," Leeseo screams, you tying her arms behind her back and getting her up, fucking her in a standing position and showing her she was going to be nothing but your fucktoy this night. "I love the way those titties bounce when I fuck you," you tell her as Leeseo keeps moaning.

Leeseo gets a good treatment, you pounding her hard from behind and choking her. You pin her against the wall, giving her pale butt a little spank as Leeseo tries to cope with your hard thrusts, her ass showing some great recoil, her smiling as your hands are all over her tits.

"God damn, you're so tight," you say to Leeseo. "Move on this dick," you say to her, letting Leeseo move her hips on your cock a bit before pushing her against your bed and mounting on top of her. "AHHHHHH," she screams, you completely dominating her. "Come here," you say, sitting on your bed and letting her bob your head on your cock to taste herself.

"Gag on it, spit all over my dick, massage my balls," you command to Leeseo, loving her smile as she sucks your cock and rubs your balls. "Fuck, you're doing some good work on it; bet Yujin taught you well," you tell her, thrusting your cock up her face to test her as you play with her hair. Leeseo gags. "Perfect, choke all over it," you say, grabbing her head and pushing it down while you push your cock up at the same time.

"Rub my ass while you suck my cock," you tell Leeseo, her massaging the entrance of your asshole while you stuff your cock deep in her mouth. "Fuck, that's incredible," you tell her, Leeseo smiling as you praise her.

"Come here," you say to Leeseo, grabbing her body in your direction. "Look at you," you tell her, spanking her ass and pushing your cock back in her pussy, her body tilting down as you let her slowly bounce on your cock, you two sharing hot kisses as you soon start pumping her teen pussy. "HMMMM, AHHHH," she moans, your cock pushing deeper as you spank her pale butt. "Bounce on that dick," you tell her, Leeseo moving up and down it and meeting your thrusts while you run your hands over her body.

You pump Leeseo from down low, grabbing her bouncy boobs as she gets pounded. You love to feel every inch of her young body, soon flipping her around into a sexy eye-to-eye missionary position, pumping her deep while you kiss her and she fingers her pussy, getting it wet for your cock to get deeper inside.

"You're such a tight girl, Hyunseo," you say to her, choking Leeseo's neck and making the bed make loud noises with your thrusts up her pussy. You quickly dominate her, getting fully on top of her, Leeseo's body as her tits jiggle more than ever. "AHHHHHH," she lets out a loud moan as you choke her, the bed getting louder than ever as you relentlessly attack her pussy.

You slow down a bit but keep your cock inside Leeseo's pussy, making sure to make eye contact as you fuck her. "Fuck, you're such a sexy demon, squeezing my cock so tight," you tell her, rewarding Leeseo with some kisses on her tits before switching into a spooning position, pounding her harder than ever and pinning her against the bed, taking the last remnants of her clothes and getting her beautiful body in full display. "Let me see it," you tell her, enjoying Leeseo's bare body now in full view.

You rub your hands all over Leeseo's body, from her tits to her pussy, but paying special attention to the former, groping them and massaging them as your cock bulges under her belly. "You really seem to like my tits, uncle," she notices. "Oh yes, and I know they are gonna grow even bigger over the next years," you say, continuing to grab them.

"Look at you, such a good young slut taking your uncle's big dick," you say to Leeseo. "Such a pretty little pussy," you say, slowing down a bit to give it soft but deep thrusts, Leeseo closing her eyes as she gets closer to her orgasm. "It's getting so wet and tight down there," you tell her, picking up the pace as you keep massaging Leeseo's boobs.

"You've got such a perfect little pink pussy," you tell Leeseo, sticking your cock deeper and deeper inside it. All she can do now is moan at each thrust. "I can't wait to cum deep in it," you say, spreading her lips and popping your cock in and out of her tight teen hole. "Tell me where your uncle is gonna cum?" you ask her. "In my pussy," she answers.

But first, you need to explore some different holes. "Look at this cute pink asshole," you say, noticing it's essentially intact despite you fucking some hours ago. You put a pair of fingers in her butthole, teasing her as you try to get it ready for your cock, Leeseo moaning and letting some juices out of her pussy. Soon, you replace your fingers with your cock, being very careful and inserting it all the way deep.

Leeseo's tight asshole queefs as you push your cock deep inside it. You push your fingers deep in her pussy, stimulating her on both holes as you fuck Leeseo with both your cock and fingers, choking her too and making her insanely tight. She grunts, starting to feel some pain as you keep pushing your cock in her ass. "Look at you, taking uncle's big cock in your ass," you say.

"DAMN," Leeseo screams, feeling the pain as you try to ease her up with some kisses. The heat of your cock buried deep in her asshole feels too much for her. "Suck that dick, get it wet before you sit on it," you command, Leeseo obliging before she starts bouncing her ass on your cock. At first, you let her take free reign of it, grabbing her tits as she rides you, but quickly, that comes to an end.

"Take that dick, baby," you tell Leeseo, spanking her ass and pushing her in your direction as you start pumping up her butthole. "AHHHHHHHHH!" Leeseo screams loudly, making the bed creak as her asshole is used hard like a fleshlight. "Fuck, it's still tight," you say, slowing down a bit.

"Get on your feet and bounce on that dick," you say to Leeseo, grabbing her ass. She tries to bounce, but her fun quickly ends, your addiction to her tight asshole taking over as you make her cheeks clap. Leeseo tries to fight back. "Come on," you tell her, but her fun doesn't last long, and soon she gets put back in her place.

You turn Leeseo around, completely dominating her as you give her a special full nelson anal treatment, your arms completely locking her legs while you pump her asshole with hard and deep thrusts that make her struggle. You then push her body against yours, switching into a pearly gates position that allows you to grope her bouncy tits while you destroy her ass. "FUCKKKK," she continues to scream, closing her eyes as your thrusts hit her hard.

"AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Leeseo screams as your cock is a pain in her ass. But you just can't stop thrusting. She tries to bounce on it, but you just don't let her, attacking your ass harder than ever and almost making her burst into tears. "HMMMMMM," she groans, trying to hide her pain as you start fucking her ass in the craziest positions imaginable. Soon, you get on top of her, fucking it like a bull. "Be a good girl, take it all," you tell her, Leeseo groaning as your cock hits her asshole balls deep. "HMMMMM," more groaning sounds come out of her mouth, Leeseo losing her balance as you completely top her, kissing her as you spank her butt and destroy her ass in a rough prone bone position, before switching to a fast sideways fuck. Leeseo is now completely unable to react, her ass completely sore and her cheeks completely red after a hard anal session she's not going to forget anytime soon.

You finally give Leeseo a relief, letting her get your cock back in her pussy. "You're such a naughty girl; now I want to cum in your pussy even more," you tell her, spanking her pale tits as she bounces on your cock and moans. The relief doesn't last long, though, as you grab Leeseo in your direction before topping her one more time, kissing her while you take your cock deep in her pussy. "Look at me, slut, I'm gonna hit it deep in your cervix," you tell her. "FUCK," Leeeseo screams as you fulfill your promise, your cock attacking her pussy all the way deep.

Leeseo fingers herself as your hard thrusts make her lose her breath. "I wanna see your pretty face a little more before I put that cum inside your pussy," you tell her, pumping hard against her pussy and making the bed bounce. "Come here, I want you to warm my cock up before I empty my balls inside you," you say to her, getting on your feet as Leeseo gets on her knees to suck your cock and finally get some of the flavors of her ass and pussy all over it.

Leeseo spits all over your dick, finally showing no restraints to suck your cock. She gives you a pair of amazing deepthroats, stuffing it deep in her mouth and earning her praises from you. "Good girl," you say as Leeseo keeps choking on your cock. She licks your tip, teasing you. "Fuck, that's perfect," you say to her.

"I'm so ready to cum in your young pussy," you tell Leeseo. "Please, uncle, give me a huge load," she says. "Bring me your tits first," you command, Leeseo grabbing them together and squeezing your shaft between her perky boobs. "Fuck, that's amazing," you tell her as she titfucks it. "So sexy," you say.

"Yujin unnie told me guys get really horny when a girl puts their tits between their cocks," Leeseo says to you. "Well, let me show it then," you say to her, grabbing her boobs and taking control of it yourself, banging her tits as you push your huge shaft up and down her young milkers, Leeseo giving a good smile as you spank her tits too.

"Alright, I'm ready to breed you," you tell Leeseo. "Yes, uncle, please breed me," she begs. You shove her body against the bed and get on top of it, beginning a hardcore mating press as you insert your dick back in her pussy. Luckily you've got such a resistant bed, because your thrusts are so hard it feels like the bed is about to break at any second, loud noises coming out of it every time you reach the depths of Leeseo's teen pussy.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," it's all Leeseo can scream now, you turning her into a total fucktoy that only exists for you to use her as much as possible. "I'm gonna cum in that pussy," you tell her, Leeseo fingering herself as you now have both feet on top of the bed and attack her pussy relentlessly. Leeseo puts her ass up, you giving her a mating press that could come straight out of a hentai. Your thrusts are so hard blood starts to come out of her hole as your cock tears her hymen apart. "AHHHH," Leeseo moans, your shaft getting bloodier each time you thrust inside her. "Tell me," you say. "I want you to cum inside me," she begs, you using her pussy harder than ever.

"OH BABY, OHHHHHH FUCK," you groan as you start emptying your balls inside Leeseo's pink pussy. "AHHHHHH," she screams, your cock stuffed balls deep in her cunt, blood dripping out of her body and running between her cheeks as you can't stop cumming inside Leeseo's teen hole. "FUCKKKKK," you scream as the loads keep coming out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven big fat loads inside it. "God damn it," you say once you're finally done, your cock completely flaccid as Leeseo drained you to the fullest.

"Look at you, so full of cum," you tell Leeseo, her pinching her pussy and grabbing some of your cum to eat, smiling at you as the session is finally over. "I think it's time for you to go back to your dorms, but tomorrow I want to meet that Yujin girl you talked so much about," you say to her. "Alright, uncle," she answers.

Leeseo goes back to the dorm, telling Yujin about her experience with you. Yujin is baffled, her face shocked as she can't believe Leeseo let her uncle cum inside her. "I'm gonna need some help, unnie; he fucked my ass too, and I was really struggling," she says. "That's fine; the first time is always the hardest," Yujin replies to her.

On the next day, Leeseo returns to your home, bringing Yujin alongside her just like she promised. You greet both girls, getting to know Yujin better as you chat with her. "Hyunseo, can you pick up some cookies for us?" you tell your niece. "Sure," Leeseo answers.

As Leeseo gets back to serving you and Yujin in the room, she starts hearing some loud noises, getting greeted by the scene of you sucking her best friend's boobs while humping your cock against her honey thighs, both of you groaning and too distracted to pay attention to the surroundings. Leeseo keeps looking, unable to catch either of their attention, deciding to make a move as she licks the tip of your cock as it pops out of Yujin's thighs.

"FUCK," you groan as Leeseo's lick makes you explode and cum hard, you still unaware of her being there. You kiss Yujin, wondering how far your load had flown, but you can't seem to find any traces of your cum. Until you turn around and see a beautiful young face painted white.

It's Leeseo's.

"The cookies are ready, uncle."

[nemesyaaa]

god & monsters || dark!ring master!rafe x circus freak!reader

summary : /

warnings : dddne. +18. dark content. circus au (ahs inspired.). smut. oral (m.) freak's abuse. noncon. bruises fetish. blood. carving kink. toxic relationship. pet names. threats. violence. age gap. illegal owning. mentions of drugs. dehumanization. be aware of the warning before reading.

author's note : to @rafesangelita and @littlelamy for being so patients. <33 the dividers are so cute omo

“ The circus arrived in town without a warning. But the freaks….they never leave. ”

Rafe Cameron saw you trapped in that little cage he made for you, the usual one reserved for his dangerous animals that he thought suited more for beautiful creatures like you. After all, you were his little monster, the freak he owned, and paid for a few years ago for nothing more than 50 dollars. You were dressed in your little show-performer costume, the blazing sun walking down your skin, as you were chained against the bars to be sure you will never try to leave or run away. “ Look at you…what a pretty bruised face i've seen here…”

You approached. It wasn't like you could tell no to your owner, he possessed all the rights to you.. His hand brushing your braised hair before trailing down your face, and lips, before caressing your jugular, to reach at the line of your throat with his thumb. He looked at you, the glooming parts over your skin, the little bruises over your body and smiled. “ That's a shame baby, you look prettier with your skin ripped off. But don't you know what they say? ? ”

His fingers traced the bruises, circling every parts of it with a grin on his face. “ They say that you're mine because nobody will want you with those wounds except me…nobody, baby. ”

Rafe Cameron saw you as someone promising his million dollar ticket. You were different from his other prizes, you were young and beautiful, the kind of little girls everyone wanted to see performing. You were so innocent, perfect to manipulate and so easy to use. And that's what he did. You were his young and pretty puppet, whose every string he delighted in pulling and commanding. He spoke and thought for you. He had conditioned you like a perfect obedient doll.

You were so talented. A wealthy businessman like him couldn't afford to waste you. You were the only star in his circus. And while his coffers overflowed with bills and cash, you received nothing, not even a single dollar. You were doomed to watch him grow richer without ever getting your share.

You never asked questions. In any case, he rarely allowed you to speak. He was a cruel man, with terrible blue eyes, a cold piercing gaze. He was tall and evil, like the roofs of those big tops. The circus was a gigantic labyrinth. You could try to run, try to escape, but you would always come back to where you started.

One day, he caught you trying to run away. He didn't yelled, but his gaze was mischievous, and the smile on his face was only a portent of the terrible fate that was about to befall you. You were a few meters away from him, searching for the circus exit with panicked eyes, while he moved slowly forward, as if knowing that no matter how much distance you tried to put between you, he would always be faster.

"Do you really think you can run away?" He mocked. "Baby, that’s my playground, so you'd better get back here before I catch you."

You continued backing away as he got dangerously close, a smile in his face, slightly amused to see you playing with his nerves. "You know, bambi... I love the way you run, but it would be a shame to ruin such beautiful legs, don't you think? What will you do without them ? Think better…"

He was playing with you. He was completely manipulating you with his scary, sadistic expression. But deep down, you knew he wasn't joking. This man could hurt you. He'd already ruined your life, so your legs? They were nothing to him.

He had rearranged the strands of his bangs, revealing a sweat-drenched forehead. He was wet in sweat from the sweltering heat, and you weren't making it easy for him. But he was in a good mood. “Do you think people would pay for a beautiful girl with no legs? I mean... I would. But you know me, I like freaks. But the others, they'd laugh at you. They'd abuse you. Men are cruel, my angel. Haven't I taught you that already? Come on, be grateful to me. ” He continued, “ Good dolls listen to their owner. ”

Your cheeks were wet, your skin dripping with tears from crying. You didn't want him to get into your head, but it was already too late. He aimed a sympathetic hand in your direction, but you knew that behind that kindness lay a sadistic act. He didn't want you to come home, he only wanted you to stay with him forever. “Come on. Think about your pretty legs, it's gonna be hard to stand in front of me again without them…and you know I wouldn't mind having you on your knees for me everyday. ”

Little by little, your steps moved in his direction without your consent. You were forced into it by the manipulative sound of his voice, by the dominance he had always exerted over you. “ You're making the right choice...look at you, little girl coming back home. ”

He was so pleased with the effect he had on you. “ You're good. ”

"I hate you..." You whispered, your voice empty and breathless. "I hate you so much..."

He hugged you, ignoring the lack of recognition in your words. "I'd hate for you to love me. I'd rather know you're afraid of me." He inhaled the scent of your hair, the vanilla scent and the warm touch of the sun, nuzzling his nose into your untidy hairstyle. "But you disobeyed me. I think that deserves a little correction."

"I'm sorry! Please…Please, Rafe ! " You begged, already out of breath.

"Huh, you're sorry now? I'm afraid it's a little too late for apologies, you little hypocrite."

"I'm not lying."

"Get On your knees, little dove.”

“ Now ? In front of everyone?"

"Don't act like you've never had an audience." He mocked you with a hint of sarcasm. "I thought you liked crowds."

"I don't want to do this in public."

"Do you want me to bring the whole city here to motivate you? Get on your knees. If I have to say it again, I promise you, porn is where you'll make a career. And believe me, I'll miss your pretty airborne somersaults."

You landed on your knees, once again controlled by his urges. You glanced around a few times. You were slightly scared and intimidated.

"Don't look at me like that, you know exactly what to do…’not your first time, nor the last. ”

"I'm scared..."

"And you'll be a little more scared with a knife to your throat...right? So if you don't want this little blowjob to taste of blood, I advise you to start right away.”

The threat had worked, as you pulled his pants down to his knees before freeing his cock. It wasn't the first time he'd asked you to satisfy him. You were his little whore, except he didn't pay you. He only abused you. You were his sweetheart, ready to do anything for him. When he ran out of coke, he used your adorable little mouth to unwind.

You were so good at this kind of thing. You slid his cock between your lips, taking his flaccid shaft between your fingers before moving your mouth along his length. He placed his hand on your head without guiding you. He let you do it. Soon, your movements around his cock were audible, accompanied by a sound of sucking and saliva. Your eyes were open, fixed on the inches you were swallowing with your mouth.

"You see, when you want to, you can be a good girl... but you have this need to be threatened don't you ? "

He pushed himself further down your throat, letting you gag around his cock. "Poor little thing. You want that dick, but you can't take it…”

Your doll-like eyes drove him crazy. You looked at him like some abominable creature, and it made him want you even more. You sucked him until your mouth felt accustomed to his presence. He was imposing, the blood in his veins pumping as you took him. Drool pooled around the corners of your mouth, spurting onto the tip of his cock. Your makeup was ruined. Your mascara was running, and your lipstick was completely smeared on the corner of your cheek.

He grabbed your hair with his right hand, before slapping your face with his dick. Hearing the little sound from your mouth had excited him. So he slapped again, hitting your puffy cheeks until the heat was running your skin. The sound was loud and wet, but humiliating. You were trying so many times to hide your face because of the shame but it wasn't right for him. “ Don't cover your face. Let people know what a good slut looks like. ”

When he finished his little show, he let you take him back in the mouth. Your lips were moving faster, switching the pace to quick. As you were on your knees for him, mouth working on his hard cock, he pulled the knife from his pocket. Enough to bring the fear back inside your body.

Fear locked in your eyes, you were terrified of what he could do. “ Shhh..'not your business. Focus on my cock, doll. You don't want a little cut on your face because you're not paying attention ? ”

He didn't wait before pushing himself back into your mouth, fucking your little throat until you overdrool around his length. He could hear the little sound from your lips as he went deep enough to show his cock inside your throat. His grip was tight, “ fuck ! only freaks can do like this, right ? ” he cooed mouth-open, forcing your head to go down on him. “ s’good…i bet mama doesn't know about those skills when she leaves you to me, huh ? ”

You whined at his remark, not feeling good about the way he talked about your mom. But he didn't care about your feelings. He pulled his dick out of your mouth, switching his warm cock with the cold steel of his knife. “ ‘ think it's my turn to give you some pleasure, little freak. open it…” And you did.

His eyes had lit up like the devil's when you opened your mouth wide, letting the sharp surface of the knife slide over your tongue. You knew the slightest false move would be risky, that a single breath was enough to add a taste of blood to your saliva. You were as still as a statue, your throat completely static as he pushed the knife inside your mouth. Every time he felt a twitch from you, he pushed an inch further with sadistic pleasure. “Now, you're acting so perfect... that's boring,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe I should cut that tongue. Think I would mind if you don't speak anymore? I'm joking.” He chuckled. “What would be a good slut without her tongue…”

“ S-not funny…” You softly gurgled around the knife.

“ Sure, dove. ‘nothing funny to have a knife inside your throat. Let me help you. ”

He removed it from your mouth, letting you take your breath again. “ But do you wanna hear something else ? There's nothing funny too about what I'm about to do to you. ”

He pushed your face to the dusty grass, not caring of the hurt it could give you, hand forcing your neck on the ground as he moved away the fabric of your skirt and your panties. “ Scream and you will be nothing but a pretty corpse. ”

He threatened you softly, but he meant it. He forced himself inside your hole without a warning, pushing his dick so hard in your dripping core. He tied your hands on your back with his fist as he thrusted his cock against your walls. He could feel your sweet pussy clenching around him. The feeling was so good that he went deeper and deeper until he just slipped so easily. He was big enough to stretch your pussy open, leaving his length tearing apart your soppy lips. He was going back and forth, your little core pumping him to the base as he reached the spot of your insides. Your body was crushed under the strength of his hand when the idea flashed him.

“ I think i'm too easy on you. Let me fix that right now. Since you think you can leave, let me show you that you can't. ”

He took the knife he was playing with for some minutes and cleaned your naked back from the dirt. When it was clean enough to accomplish his little masterpiece, he started to carve the blade into your skin, letting the blood fulfill your body. He traced every letter without stopping himself from pounding you. The vision of the liquid running your flesh as he was tracing the word over the vicious blood was driving him insane, and he was so turned on over the view.

He fucked you harder as you squirmed from pain and pleasure. “ It only hurts because you're moving, baby...” He lied.

His dick was fast and thick, keep running your insides, and bullying your cervix. The hot sound of skin to skin covered in sweat and blood. He wasn't really focused on you, but on his little art.

MINE.

He picked up the blood smears on his hand before pushing his fingers inside his mouth, licking the sweet metallic taste. “I'm kind...Next time, it will be on your throat. Not sure that a pretty little pet like you will survive this.”

“ E-enough…” You just answered with your tears shaking.

The pain was intense and painful. You could still feel the burning of the knife on your skin, the slow minutes of torture inflicted by the blade cutting through the immaculate patches of your skin, but also the trickling of your own blood to your hips, and the frightening sound of it dripping between your legs. His dick was still buried deep inside your cunt, as he was merciless fucking the blood and wet, watching your pussy disapear into a red glooming tone. “ Please…I need a break ! Just a slow break “

“ Please ? What is it, baby ? Fear, it's nothing that I can give you…” he replied, “ Cum for me, baby. ”

It wasn't like you really wanted it, but you came, shame masking your face. You felt humiliated as always. “ Now, it's time to go back to your little cage. ”

Freaks couldn't leave the circus. Little dolls weren't allowed to leave their masters.

“ ‘ Not like that. Walk is for humans, baby. Sweet creatures like you aren’t allowed to walk, they crawl. ”

“ I-i..what…? ”

“ You heard me. Put those legs to use. ”

He grabbed his ringmaster's whip as you got down on all fours on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Just need to give you a little motivation, you know? I want to make sure you're moving, dove. Now, fucking walk. And be sure to show me your little ass, I want to see those bruises on your cheeks. ”

“ Y-yes…”

“ And that's only the beginning. The worst is yet to come. ”

[izzih22]

I loveeeee the clingy Azzi concept sooo, can you do one where Paige and Azzi get into an argument and Azzi tells Paige to sleep on the couch then a few hours later like really late, Azzi misses her so she tries to get Paige to come back ( while trying to act mad, but she misses her girlfriend) to bed but Paige is all sleepy and stubborn so Azzi just ends up sleeping on the couch with her? (Paige is teasing Azzi about how much she misses her)

I’m Not Mad… I Just Miss You

Note: sorry it’s short

It started with something small like most arguments do. Azzi had asked Paige to make sure she set the alarm for practice in the morning, but Paige had been distracted, caught up in a text message. Azzi, tired and a little grumpy, had snapped. Paige had, in turn, gotten defensive.

The next thing they knew, they were at each other’s throats over something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter. Paige’s voice had risen, then Azzi’s, until finally, the words were out: “Fine! If you’re so mad, just sleep on the couch!”

Paige didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her pillow and blanket, threw one last look at Azzi, and made her way to the living room. Azzi stood frozen, feeling a twinge of regret almost immediately. She hadn’t meant it. It was just a fight. She didn’t want space. She wanted to feel close to Paige again.

But Paige was already settled on the couch, curled up with her back to Azzi, and the silence in the room felt suffocating.

Azzi tossed and turned in bed, trying to convince herself she was fine, but the emptiness beside her was too much. She rolled over, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling the weight of the tension pressing down on her chest. It wasn’t even about the alarm anymore. She just missed Paige.

After what felt like an eternity, Azzi finally gave up. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t do this. She needed Paige.

Quietly, Azzi got out of bed and padded toward the living room. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the space, and she saw Paige, still lying there, eyes closed. The sight of her made Azzi’s chest ache.

“Paige,” Azzi said softly, standing in the doorway.

Paige didn’t stir. Azzi hesitated, then took a step closer. “Paige,” she tried again, her voice a little firmer.

Finally, Paige opened one eye, squinting up at her. “What?”

Azzi stood there, arms crossed, trying to act like she wasn’t about to break. “I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I miss you. Come back to bed.”

Paige yawned, clearly half asleep, and gave her a sleepy smile. “Uh, no. You told me to sleep on the couch, remember? You can’t just change your mind now.”

Azzi crossed her arms, putting on her best ‘I’m still mad’ face. “I’m not changing my mind. I just—” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I just don’t like sleeping without you.”

Paige turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her, pretending to ignore Azzi. “Yeah, well, I’m comfortable here. You should’ve thought about that before you kicked me out.”

Azzi moved closer, sitting down at the edge of the couch. She tried to keep the distance between them, but she couldn’t help herself. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Come on, Paige. It’s cold without you in bed.”

Paige snorted, eyes still closed. “I’m sure it is. You’re probably cold because you miss me, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I don’t miss you,” she said, but the words came out too soft, too unsure.

Paige smiled, her voice teasing but tired. “Uh-huh. Sure, you don’t. That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to cry.”

Azzi crossed her arms again, trying to act like she wasn’t completely melting inside. “Shut up. I’m not crying.”

Paige laughed softly, then shifted a little, clearly giving in despite herself. “Fine. I’ll come back to bed… but only because I’m so comfortable out here.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you’re just so comfortable on the couch.”

Paige opened her eyes, a wicked glint in her tired gaze. “Exactly. I’m practically king-sized on this thing.”

Azzi huffed, throwing herself onto the couch beside Paige. “You’re impossible.”

Paige stretched out, making more room for Azzi to snuggle up. “I know. Now come here, before you get any weirder about it.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile. She scooted closer, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige lazily draped an arm over her, and Azzi felt that familiar warmth she’d been missing all night. The tension from their earlier argument seemed to slip away with every little touch, every breath they shared.

“You’re so stubborn,” Azzi mumbled into her shirt, feeling the soft fabric against her cheek.

Paige chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s hair. “Yeah, well, I learned it from you. Besides, you miss me, admit it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I’m not admitting anything.”

Paige tightened her hold around Azzi, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to admit anything. I already know.”

Azzi sighed contentedly, pressing closer. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn earlier.”

Paige’s fingers traced small circles on Azzi’s back. “It’s okay. I get it. I don’t like fighting with you, either.”

Azzi settled in, letting herself relax against Paige’s warmth. The couch was too small, but it didn’t matter. Paige was there. She wasn’t going anywhere. And even though they’d fought, they were okay now.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered, her voice soft as she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

Paige’s response was a lazy smile, her hand brushing through Azzi’s hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, dork.”

And just like that, the argument was forgotten. Azzi was back in Paige’s arms, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

[oceanicfishies]

Smile wide for the camera!

— featuring: zayne x mc

— premise: what would happen if Zayne's [Spring and Flowers] was not full of fluff? and zayne wanted to explore his cameraman skills?

— tags/cws: +18, handjob, no-use of protection, use of phone to record, very explicit, enthusiastic consent, but overall filthy smut

The day had been pretty moved, first you attempted to attend a ceremony in which you would win a reward of Linkon’s City Hunter of the Year? Month? Week? Who knows. Zayne was pretty hyped even when he did not explicitly state it. Then there was a wanderer attack and of course, you had to go full beat mode to beat the crap out of the monster and then, you had to receive the award via live recording.

Zayne held the phone with a smile as small wrinkles formed in his eyes, that stared at you over the phone. 

“(...) It’s a matter of discipline and compromise, no race, ethnicity, sexuality or biological factor can define if you become an amazing hunter: keep working and it’ll arrive. Thank you for your support, I’ll keep fighting to make our city a better place to live”. I could hear as the crowd went to clap me, and my cheesy speech that I had to give while sweat dripped down my neck, and I tried to pretend I was not tired at all after chasing that monster.

As soon as the video call ended I stared at Zayne, that had his phone still recording my face.

“What is there to record?” I said with a tired smile as he approached me with the camera, capturing every detail of my skin. 

“You, clearly” He said seriously as he smiled over me as I tried to move the camera away from my face until he finally stopped recording and placed his phone on his jacket’s pocket. Then, he opened his arms to embrace me with a smile, “congratulations, love” he murmured as I hid my face on his chest. 

“Thanks Zayne, I’m sorry you could not attend the official ceremony” I said with a giggle. He didn’t let go of me immediately. His hand made slow, deliberate circles on my lower back, and I could feel his breath against the crown of my head, steady and warm.

“Let’s get out of here before someone makes you give another speech,” he whispered, brushing his lips just above my ear.

The ride back was quiet. Not awkward—just the kind of quiet that settles between two people who know each other too well to fill the silence with meaningless talk. Zayne had one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on my thigh. His fingers tapped a lazy rhythm, and I didn’t stop him. Outside, the neon streaks of Linkon’s skyline passed like falling stars, and I let myself relax for the first time all day.

By the time we reached the apartment, I was half-asleep with my head leaning against the window.

He nudged me gently. “ Don’t pass out yet, champion.”

I groaned, dragging myself out of the car like a corpse revived. “I swear if one more person calls me that, I’m changing my name and moving to the mountains.”

Zayne chuckled as he unlocked the door. “Duly noted.”

The moment the door shut behind us, I peeled off the jacket clinging to my shoulders, tossing it somewhere near the coat rack. Zayne didn’t even pretend to act casual, he watched me with that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was already ten steps ahead in whatever fantasy his brain was cooking.

“Something wrong?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he said, stepping closer. “Just thinking... you look really good when you're sweaty and half pissed off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Romantic.”

“I try.” He was grinning now, stepping behind me to help pull the rest of my gear off. His fingers brushed skin, lingering longer than necessary. I let out a soft hum as he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck.

We moved into the living room, and I collapsed onto the couch while he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. He tossed me one before taking a long sip from his.

Then, leaning against the wall with that smug little look that always spelled trouble, he said, “You know… I do still have my phone.”

I blinked at him, wary. “Okay?”

“And I am a pretty decent cameraman. Emmy-nominated, if you count my high school film class.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Zayne…”

“What?” He raised his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying—it’s a shame we never use my skills around here. The lighting’s good, you’re radiant... could be educational content.”

I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it, laughing. “Come on, imagine it: ‘Hunter of the Year—Behind the Scenes.’ We’d break the internet.”

I tried to act unimpressed, but the flush rising in my cheeks betrayed me. “You're insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

His phone was already out of his pocket.

I watched him as he waved the phone a little, eyebrows raised in challenge. His smirk said he was half-joking. His eyes? They were dead serious. Focused. Curious. Wanting.

“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, but didn’t look away.

“Mmhm. And you're blushing,” he said, stepping closer, slow like a hunter who knew the prey wouldn’t run. “So… that’s not a ‘no,’ is it?”

I leaned back against the couch cushions, stretching out my legs, letting my muscles relax in that post-battle haze. The warmth in my body wasn’t just from exhaustion anymore—it was from the way his gaze trailed down my arms, my collarbone, the slow rise and fall of my chest.

“You’re really not joking, are you?” I asked softly.

Zayne crouched in front of me, placing the phone gently on the coffee table, still untouched. “Only if you want me to be. We don’t have to, love. Not unless you're actually into the idea.”

I met his gaze. Open. Honest. Patient.

That was Zayne. Under all the swagger and snark, he always made room for me to say no, to set the rhythm.

“I mean…” I started, suddenly aware of the heat creeping down my neck, “you did miss the ceremony.”

“I did.”

“And you do have, allegedly, stellar cameraman instincts.”

“Legendary,” he confirmed, grinning.

I reached out and brushed a finger under his jaw. “And you’re asking?”

“I’m asking,” he said, voice softer now. “I want to record us. Just us. You and me. Only if you say yes. Only if you feel good about it. You can call the shots, review the footage, erase it any time. Hell, I’ll hand you the phone while we do it if that makes you feel better.”

I studied him for a moment. Not just his eyes—his whole posture. There was no push. No pressure. Just the quiet thrill of a shared idea, waiting to bloom if I let it.

A breath caught in my throat, and I leaned forward until our foreheads touched.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I want to.”

Zayne let out a small breath of relief, a smile breaking wide across his face. He tilted my chin up with two fingers and kissed me, slow and reverent, the kind of kiss that says thank you for trusting me.

Then he murmured against my lips, “I’ll set the angle just right. You deserve cinematic lighting, after all.”

“Oh, you’re so extra,” I laughed breathlessly, pulling him in as the kiss deepened.

Zayne’s hands slid under my thighs as he lifted me effortlessly, his lips still locked on mine, tasting like want and patience finally unspooled. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, giggling against his mouth as he carried me down the hallway.

“Where..”

“Bedroom,” he murmured. “Tripod’s in the closet. I knew one day it’d have its moment.”

I let my head fall back in a groan. “God, you’re such a menace.”

“You love it,” he replied, kicking the door open with his foot.

He set me down on the bed and moved across the room like he had a blueprint in his mind. He pulled open the closet, found the tripod, and then set his phone into the mount with a casual expertise that was borderline ridiculous. He adjusted the angle, then turned back to me with a spark in his eye.

“I’ll only hit record when you say,” he said, pausing with his finger over the screen.

I sat up on the edge of the bed, watching him. My pulse was a steady thrum in my throat now, but I wasn’t nervous. I felt seen. Wanted. Powerful, even, like the adrenaline from the fight earlier had twisted into something heavier, slower, warmer.

I pulled my shirt up over my head in one fluid motion and tossed it to the floor. Zayne’s breath caught.

“I’m saying,” I told him, voice low.

He didn’t move for a second. Just stared at me—my chest rising and falling, the sheen of sweat still clinging to my collarbones, the confidence in my voice that only existed because I knew he’d earned it.

Then he hit record.

The phone’s red light blinked to life.

Zayne came to me slowly, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way. He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself behind me, lips tracing the base of my neck while his hands explored—fingers dragging over scars and muscle like he was mapping a holy text.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, brushing my hair away to kiss behind my ear.

“You have footage to prove it now,” I teased, letting my back arch against him.

“I’m filming you,” he whispered, one hand sliding down my side, “but I’m watching you. Every breath. Every twitch. Every sound.”

I moaned softly as his hands moved with intent, tugging at the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips for him without being asked, and he slid them down, slow and reverent.

I felt as his hand slid over my underwear, in a teasing circle motion as he explored my clit as if he didn’t know it by memory. I could feel his gaze on my face even when I had my eyes closed. 

“Zayne-” I whimpered “this is very cinematic but do not tease me” i said as i tried to grind my hips against his hand.

He looked up at me with that devil-smile, his hand just barely brushing the inside of my thigh as I tried to grind down against him, desperate for more friction, more anything. His other hand steadied me at the hip.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice dripping with mock thoughtfulness. “The lighting’s perfect, the framing’s tight... Seems like I’m building some narrative tension.”

“Zayne,” I warned, breath catching as he pressed one finger just where I needed him, not moving, only resting there like a promise.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing the inside of my knee, trailing kisses up, up, closer. “Say please.”

I narrowed my eyes—but there was heat pooling low in my stomach, tightening with every second he made me wait. I bucked my hips again, and he held me firmer this time, still teasing, still watching me unravel.

The red recording light blinks steadily beside us.

“Please,” I whispered.

That was all he needed.

His fingers moved, slow and deliberate at first: rubbing gentle, lazy circles that made me gasp and arch into his touch. He watched me like he was watching the sky crack open: eyes wide, lips parted, ruined by the way I fell apart under him.

“There she is,” he murmured, pressing harder. “God, you’re so responsive. Look at you—fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

He proceeded to take off my jeans and underwear, still sitting behind me. He began playing with one of my nipples as the other hand he began tenting me with the idea of fingering.

“Would this be fine?” he whispered as he kissed my neck.

“Guess” I said annoyed as I closed my eyes shut and placed my head on his shoulder. He giggled and introduced two fingers with all the gentleness in the world. “Zayne, fuck you” I said annoyed with his unusual sweetness. 

He laughed as if I had said the best joke in the world to then begin thrusting his fingers inside my pussy with no mercy. 

“M-much better,” I moaned, breath hitching as his fingers curled just right inside me.

Zayne’s chest rumbled with another laugh, and he pressed his mouth to the spot just beneath my ear, kissing slow and wet while his fingers picked up a punishing rhythm.

“Thought you liked when I’m sweet,” he teased, voice low and warm, still pumping his fingers in and out of me with obscene slick sounds. “You were getting all cuddly on me two seconds ago.”

“I like when you fuck me properly,” I snapped, grinding down onto his hand, chasing every pulse of pleasure that sparked through my spine.

“God, you’re insatiable,” he groaned, biting down gently on my neck as his palm ground against my clit with every thrust. My head rolled back onto his shoulder again, surrendering completely to the feeling of him playing me like he knew this body.

I barely noticed his free hand reaching toward the phone, adjusting the angle slightly.

“You wanna watch this later?” he whispered, eyes flicking toward the screen. “Wanna see yourself falling apart on my fingers?”

My answer came in the form of a moan.

Zayne's fingers sped up, and I could feel it coming—the tightening, the rush of heat from the base of my spine curling forward like a wave about to crest. He knew it too. He always knew.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, breath hot on my cheek. “C’mon, show the camera how fucking gorgeous you are when you come.”

And I did.

With a gasp, I came hard around his fingers, thighs trembling, back arching against his chest. My body jolted with every aftershock, helpless and wrung out and still hungry.

Zayne kissed my cheek as he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his lips with a pleased hum. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Every damn part of you.”

He then moved to place me laying on the bed, with him sitting by my side with a gentle smile as he stared over me at my naked body. He then leaned down to kiss my neck as he removed his trousers and undergarments.

“My love…” He purred as his two hands grabbed my tits. “Any position you would prefer in moments like this?”

“Y-yeah” I moaned as I turned so my back was facing him and I was on all fours, my face perfect for the camera to record every expression. I lifted my ass off the bed and smiled at him.

Zayne groaned behind me like he was in pain, his restraint fraying fast. I heard the rustle of fabric, the zipper coming down, the soft slap of skin as he palmed himself, watching me from behind with fire in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re killing me.”

“Then come here and die properly,” I purred, tilting my hips back toward him.

He lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing against my entrance, teasing just like before—but this time, it was different. There was no pause, no slow build. Just a growled curse and then,

He slammed into me.

I gasped, fingers digging into the sheets, and feeling as his hand forced my head into the bed, feeling me in one deep, brutal thrust. My body rocked forward, then back again, already clenching around him, desperate for the friction, the stretch, the everything.

Zayne’s chest was pressed over my back, one hand on my head and the other on my hip: the pads of his thumb pressing into the dip of my lower back as he pulled out nearly all the way and then snapped his hips forward again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, breath ragged. “Face in the camera while I fuck you stupid?”

I moaned—loud, needy—and nodded, not trusting my voice. His rhythm picked up, relentless, perfect. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with my cries and his gritted curses.

Every thrust pushed me forward into the mattress, and I could feel the heat from the phone capturing every expression.

“You should see yourself,” he groaned, leaning forward to bite down on my shoulder. “The way your eyes roll back when I hit that spot—fuck, like that—”

He angled his hips just right and I screamed his name, my entire body tightening. His grip on my hips turned bruising, grounding me as he drove into me again and again, chasing that edge with sharp, focused need.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded, voice nearly breaking. “Wanna see you come like this.”

I obeyed instantly, one hand snaking between my thighs, fingers working my clit as the pressure built fast. Zayne’s thrusts grew erratic behind me, and I could feel how close he was, how much he was holding back to let me break first.

And then I did.

I came hard, thighs shaking, back arching as I cried out into the mattress, voice wrecked and high and full of his name.

He moved gently from me, grabbing the phone to stop recording and then came back to the bed. He gently picked my trembling body and laid me against him. I opened my eyes as he cradled me into his chest.

I felt as his thumb caressed my cheek sweetly, a big contrast with the way in which he was fucking me seconds before.

“Hi love” he whispered softly 

“That was amazing-” I gasped as I leaned to kiss him. 

“It was” he said, quickly separating his lips from mine. “If you ever want round 2…”

“Why not now?” I said with a smile.

“Oh you greedy little thing” he said mischievously as he teased me one more time.

taglist: @mitskunicheesecake @puppy-steve @milknbagels @alexialvarez-11 @d4-ducks @xanxann01 @plzdonutpercieveme @namjoons-toenails @raendarkfaerie @shinyfestmilkshake @hisscenery @taronyuhunter @gawa-ng-gabi @cynireththorne @zaynescaleb

[homeofthelonelywriter]

gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader | Previous Part

Once Simon opened the front door, you realized that the bark had not been from a neighbor's dog, but from Simon’s. The german shepherd excitedly tried to jump onto you and sniff you, but one glance from Simon had it standing down and waiting for you to approach it. “Wow, he is well trained.” You crouched down and started to give him some scratches, which got his tail wagging excitedly. Simon just watched you, a smile hiding beneath his mask. Of course, his woman and his dog would get along.

While you continued spoiling the puppy, Simon took your backpack to the bedroom before coming back and asking if you wanted to eat or drink anything. “I’m fine, thanks, though. By the way, what’s his name?” You barely looked up from giving the dog some belly scratches when you asked. Heavy footsteps approached you, and before you knew it, Simon was sitting right behind you and pulled you into his lap. “Riley. ‘was a military dog. Took him in when he was forced to retire.”

You looked back, your faces so close to each other, a smile tugging on Simon’s lips as he watched the all too familiar blush settle on your cheeks. And only then did you notice that he had taken his mask off. Carefully, as not to startle him, you reached up and cupped his cheek, slowly stroking over the skin, smiling as the stubble scratched at your thumb. “Hi, handsome.” As he chuckled, you felt the sound vibrate in his chest, against your back, and a shiver ran through you at the sensation. When he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, you just sighed happily. “Hey, beautiful.”

As if jealous of the affection you displayed with Simon, Riley got his feet and whined quietly, before plopping down right in front of you, with his head on your legs, giving you the best puppy eyes you had ever seen. “Oh, you’re also handsome, Riley. Yes, you are. You are the most handsome.” Simon cleared his throat behind you and gently squeezed your waist. “Now that’s just rude.” But when you giggled and leaned back against him, he couldn’t help but smile down at you. His lips settled against your head, and you felt them move as he spoke. “’m really glad you’re here.” You angle your head back further, until you could look up at him. “Me too, Si.”

After Riley finally had had enough scratches and trotted off to go eat, Simon gave you a quick tour, showing you everything you needed to know. It ended in his bedroom, your backpack was placed on his bed, a large t-shirt, and a pair of joggers beside it. “Smallest pair I could find. Will probably still be big on you.” You smiled at him as you picked them up. “Thanks, Si. If they don’t fit, I’ll just wear the shirt. From the looks of it, I’ll be able to wear it like a dress anyway.” He chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe, just watching you unpack for a few moments. But once you pulled out your toiletries, he remembered that you had just been stuck on a train all day.

“If you want to shower, I can go ahead and whip something up for dinner.” You turned around to look at him, smiling. “Yeah, that would be amazing. Thank you.” But instead of leaving, he approached you until his hands could settle on your hips again. “Of course.” And then…he bent down and placed a quick kiss against your lips, before turning around and leaving. He closed the door behind yourself to give you some privacy, but for the next minute or so, you just stood there, frozen, mentally working through what had just happened. Slowly, as if you’d ruin the moment by moving too fast, you raised your fingers to your lips, tracing over them and remembering what it felt like when he kissed you.

It was soft, quick, and oh so innocent, and you couldn’t help yourself as your lips pulled into a grin. Simon had kissed you. He had kissed you. First time you see him in real life, and he kissed you.

You quickly grabbed everything you needed to shower and headed to the bathroom. As soon as you had turned on the water to let it heat up, a giddy but quiet squeal escaped your lips as you just jumped up and down. After a few moments of celebrating, you calmed yourself down and quickly showered, feeling the need to be next to Simon again.

In his bedroom, you tried on the sweats, but decided to leave them out when they slid down your legs three times. And then you searched for Simon. You found him in the kitchen, completely focused on cooking. While everything in you screamed to just hug him, you also knew that he was a soldier, and you had the slight feeling that surprising a soldier might not end well. “Hi.”

He turned around with a smile and held out his arm, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer the moment he could. Immediately, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his nose burying itself in your hair for a moment. “You smell really good.” You chuckle and tell him about your shower routine. Where previous partners of yours had either just stopped listening, or quickly interrupted you, Simon gave you his almost undivided attention, after all, he was still cooking. But at the same time, he asked questions: What smells you prefered. The brands you use. If you could substitute one product for another. And you answered all of them gleefully, a big smile on your face the whole time.

“Oh, wait.” You looked at Simon before your world suddenly moved. Well…kind of at least. Because, while you were distracted, he had simply picked you up and sat you down on the counter beside him. The confusion only lasted a second until you realized what had happened and couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s what I always used to do when I was at my Grandma’s and she was cooking.” Simon nodded with a smile. “Sounds like good memories.” You nodded as well, glancing down at your fingers as you fidgeted with them. “Yeah…the best.”

Your thoughts started to drift, but Simon quickly pulled you back, as his free hand reached out and landed on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “You okay, love?” You nodded with a smile.

Before you knew it, dinner was served and eaten, all the while, you chatted, made jokes, and laughed with each other. Once the dishes were done, Simon asked if you’d want to go to bed for the day or if you wanted to watch a movie. And as much as you would have loved to spend even more awake time with him, exhaustion was catching up to you. “I think going to bed is a good idea.” He nodded with a smile and led you back to the bedroom with a hand on the small of your back.

You quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and completed your evening routine, but when you returned to the bedroom, half the bed was empty. “Simon?” Just as you moved to the door to go look for him, he appeared right there. “Yeah?” You gestured to the bed. “Where is your stuff?” He looked genuinely surprised. “On the couch, why?”

For a few seconds, you just stared at him before you chuckled. “You don’t…you don’t have to sleep on the couch. I don’t mind sharing the bed.” His lips formed a silent ‘o’, your chuckles turned into giggles. “Are you sure?” Instead of answering immediately, you got onto the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his, letting them linger for just a moment before pulling away again. Or at least as far as his hands, which had immediately wrapped around your waist and hips, let you. “Yes, I’m sure, Si.” He grinned, his lips hovering just over yours. “Good.”

Next Part | Coming Monday the 5th

A/N: Thank you all for all the kind words! It will take me a bit to get used to the meds, so please be patient with me during that time! <3

Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

@dravenskye @herefor-tojis-tits @lucienofthelakes @tessakate @kakashipandadog @diseasedclitoris @terrormonster55 @solemnlyswearss @sleepisfortheweakpooh @little-mini-me-world @sakunawifey @cap-attheedgeoftheabyss @666spaghetti-ohno @jerru-chan @thegaywitchofwhimsy @tooloudarts @kentuckyhobbit @fruitymoonbeams-blog @crunchyholo @robinfeldt98 @aerynwrites @anonymouse1807 @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @akkahelenaa @rottensage @topsheepstudent @kibakitty @leclerc-stan @crypticlxrsh @robinfeldt98 @scaleniusrm @blush-haze @aikeia @echo9821 @weaniebeaniebaby @lostintransist @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @sodavrr @beyond-your-stars @astrxsee @avadakadabra93 @pinkgolbinnuts @lilynotdilly @marigold-morelli @sleep101 @lostfleurs @aldis-nuts @neverending-animelove @the-unkow1ng @pinkembodiment @iis-vessellette

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[bjlipss]

— bug, part i.

contents: college!sukuna x weird!reader. weird as in just odd and confusing behaviour but nonetheless cute, nothing pervy-weird. reader wears glasses because yes. really awkward and silly hehe

part i -> part ii

sukuna sees you for the first time at exactly 2:37 p.m.

he remembers the time because he looked at his phone right before walking into the vending machine room.

he only came in because he needed a quick protein bar before practice. he’s mid-phone call, ignoring the crap his coach is yelling at him through the receiver, when he sees you twitch and suddenly turn to him.

“you better not be late again or—”

he pulls the phone from his face, holds it away like it’s radioactive, and sighs.

he’s halfway through rolling his eyes when he catches sight of you.

you’re standing in front of the vending machine like you’re in mourning.

head tilted. body still. arms tucked into the sleeves of your oversized sweatshirt. the drawstring is chewed to hell. your glasses are too big for your face, and there’s a bandaid stuck to the side of your neck like a badge of honor.

you’re just standing there. staring at the red pack of skittles that’s caught in the machine like it owes you rent.

he almost walks right back out.

then you turn—abruptly, like someone yanked your strings—and look right at him.

you don’t blink.

you just stare. dead-on. wide eyes behind the thick lenses, mouth a little open like you forgot what it was supposed to be doing.

he stops. phone still dangling in one hand. “…what?”

you squint. a slow, exaggerated movement like you’re zooming in. then:

“do you want the skittles?”

he stares. “…no?”

you nod once, solemn. “okay.” beat. “can you get them for me though?”

he blinks at you, and for a second it’s like his brain stalls.

“…get your own fucking skittles.”

you don’t even flinch. you just shift your weight a little, rocking back on your heels. “oh. i would, but… they’re stuck.”

you gesture sadly at the vending machine. the red pack is lodged halfway off the hook, dangling by a corner like it’s about to fall but never quite does. like it’s mocking you. you’ve apparently been here for long enough to mourn it.

you’ve been here for a while, clearly. possibly… too long.

he narrows his eyes, stares at you like you’re a lab experiment.

“then pick another one,” he says. “dumbass.”

you shake your head slowly, deliberately. “it has to be red,” you murmur, as if it’s a law of the universe. “i already committed to red.”

“…jesus christ.”

he drags a hand down his face. mutters something under his breath about freaks and vending machines. then, because he has exactly zero patience and even less tolerance for being stared at, he slams the side of the machine with one sharp whack. the packet drops instantly.

you let out the softest, most genuinely delighted noise he’s ever heard—like a gasp and a squeak had a baby. you scoop the skittles off the floor and cradle them like they’re precious. sacred. magical.

then you look up at him and beam.

wide. crooked. toothy in a lopsided way. it makes your glasses slide down your nose.

“thank you,” you say, like he just saved your life. “i’m following you now.”

he stares. “what?”

“you helped me,” you say simply, like this is all very reasonable. “so now i’m following you.”

he’s still staring. “…the fuck does that mean?”

“i like your aura,” you whisper.

your eyes are too big. your energy is too quiet. too weird. like someone rewired you in a dark basement.

he actually takes a half step back, like proximity might infect him.

he thinks—this is what happens when i skip lunch.

but you don’t move. you just stand there, waiting. not expectant. not nervous. just… waiting.

and somehow, five minutes later, he’s sitting on the quad, chewing through a protein bar while you sit cross-legged beside him on the grass.

you didn’t ask to come. you just followed. like a stray cat.

he told you “don’t fucking follow me” three separate times. you didn’t respond once.

now you’re eating your skittles one at a time—very slowly—and humming under your breath between chews. it’s not a song he recognizes. it barely sounds like music. more like insect noise.

he looks over at you.

you’re just there. quiet. not even looking at him, just studying the back of the skittles pack like it holds the secrets of the universe.

you don’t glance up when he glares.

you don’t flinch when he sighs, annoyed.

you’re just… there.

you haven’t left.

and that’s what pisses him off the most.