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myownwholewildworld · 6 months ago

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DARKEST DESIRES ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: you promised Joel something he's been thirsting after for a while ― your ass. so you decide to make good on said promise. a/n: am i sick? probably. undoubtedly, really. this is a sequel to A Dark Summon, but it can totally be read independently. this was prompted by this kind ask (love you, nonnie). also, do you remember that post about frankie morales saying "big stretch"? WELL, YEAH (sorry, meant to tag it but i lost it!). anyways, please heed the warnings! comments and reblogs appreciated to keep the thots thotting <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. sexual roleplay (cnc). mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). sir/daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader (possibly some ddlg dynamics). slut shaming. unprotected piv. squirting. sleepy blowjob (consensual somno). breath play. sex toys (dildo, butt plug). mention of rimming. joel (the birthday boy) fucks your virginal ass, anal sex (faked painal). reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~5.4k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You were so nervous, your hands were shaking with excitement.

Living in Boston’s QZ was not easy, and trading was even worse. Because you were young―just turned nineteen a couple of months ago―dealers tried to take advantage of you, asking for more than they would to other people. But you were smart and the moment you learnt that dropping Joel’s name in conversation would actually give you a discount, you used that tactic frequently.

Most people in Boston were too preoccupied with life to be gossiping about the age difference between Joel and you, but there were some that would scan you from head to toe several times with disdain. Some with jealousy, others with horror.

“She’s too young, could be his daughter.”

“He’s too old, bet he can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s too young, it’s indecent.”

“He’s too old, I’m sure that little girl can’t satisfy him like I would.”

“She’s too young, no wonder why she’s always cheating on him.”

“He’s too old, I don’t know what he’s seen in her.”

You had heard it all. And you couldn’t care less. Joel, on the other hand, was a bit more sensitive when people criticized you ― like a guard dog protecting its prey. The relationship between the two of you was private, except for the times that you would hook up with a random guy in an alley with Joel attentively spying on you from the shadows.

He liked to watch, and you liked being watched. In your eyes, it was a match made in heaven. It never went further than a hand job, and you never let them touch your pussy ― Joel was extremely possessive of her. He enjoyed the look on their stupid faces whenever you pulled away, leaving them dumbfounded in the brink of an orgasm, and you would run to him, all giddy and ready to finish him off right there and then.

It was lewd, obscene, but you loved it. And so did he. Joel had shown you a whole new world when he took your virginity almost a year ago. Since then, you had been insatiable, too eager to be fucked stupid by your old man. Your daddy.

Every day you would sneak out and come over to his place to be pumped full of his cum, to have him drill you until you forgot your name and your legs wouldn’t keep you upright. And then you would go back home, spent yet satisfied, with your pussy full to the brim and your panties drenched with your mixed arousal.

Today though you were planning on spending the night here. It was Joel’s birthday and you had planned a special surprise for him. One that had cost you, but the price was definitely worth it.

You knew how avid Joel was about fucking your ass ― he almost reminded you daily. He had been preparing you for when the time came, some mild anal play to get you going. Last night, as Joel ate your asshole out, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t postpone it anymore and today would be the day. What better present for Joel than your virginal ass?

So here you were, all naked and squeaky clean for him. You had draped a red ribbon around your waist. A big, scarlet bow laid low on the small of your back, making it obvious what his gift was. You also had a smaller parcel, all wrapped up with some old newspapers.

The moment you heard the front door creak, your heart jolted with anticipation and your stomach flipped. Turning around to face away from him, you dropped to your knees and leaned forward until your forehead rested on the floor and your knees touched your chest ― your ass on full display for him.

“Kiddo?” he called.

Joel’s brows furrowed deeper when he didn’t hear a reply. He knew you were here, your recognisable scent betraying your presence. Confused, he walked the small hallway and entered the living room.

His eyes immediately fell to where you were positioned, and a rush of hot blood coursed through his veins like liquid fire, all the way down to his groin. You had knelt and bent over, your perky ass up in the air for him to admire. A red bow topped your ass cheeks, the meaning of all this becoming instantly clear.

With a sly grin, Joel rubbed his palms together, taking a step forward.

“You’ve not forgotten about my birthday, have you, sugar?” he croaked, raspy and hoarse.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” you murmured, wiggling your ass a bit for him.

Joel groaned, the tension in his pants growing tighter, while he knelt behind you. The offer was irresistible, the way your flesh jiggled commended him to smack both of your buttocks. You whimpered, your back arching some more and your crack pulling further apart.

His fingers twitched with need, grabbing a handful of your meat. Joel was mesmerised by the view ― your puckered entrance so very inviting, and your beautiful seam glistening with slick right below.

Unable to refrain himself, his index dipped in the warmth of your damp pussy, tracing it entirely until the pad caught on your beating clit. You sighed heavily, melting under his digit.

“Why are you all wet already? Have you been playing with yourself?” he questioned, voice laced with lustful anger.

“Yes, sorry, sir. I was thinking about you, about what is gonna happen tonight, and… mhmm…” you hiccupped when he flicked your clit, “I did finger myself, but I didn’t come, I promise.”

Joel’s chest rumbled, frustrated. His orders were clear ― no touching yourself, nothing at all, even if you were horny. He wanted you needy and ready to take his cock when he came home from a rough day of patrol.

“How many fingers?” he barked, pinching your hooded clit between his index and middle fingers. You wailed in mild pain, your hips bucking up and away from his touch, but Joel didn’t release your thudding button.

“Just the one. Just the pinky, I swear. I know you like my pussy tight and unstretched, sir,” your sob transformed into a moan when his thumb found your trapped clit.

“Attagirl,” Joel rasped. “I don’t want your cunt all used and loose, you’re too young to feel like an old hag around my cock.” His thumb pressed tight circles on your pebbled nub before he removed his hand from your pussy. “I will let it slide. This one time.”

The warning in his tone made you nod vehemently, as you looked over your shoulder to him. Your bottom lip was trembling, your doe eyes pleading.

“Do you forgive me, sir?”

Joel gave you a stern look before he slapped your ass cheek, and you winced in response.

“I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he already had, but wouldn’t tell you yet.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind, sir?” a single tear skidded through your cheek, bottom lip still quivering.

Joel loved how easy you would tear up, you were a natural when it came to acting.

“There’s this one thing I have in mind,” Joel muttered, his thumb ghosting your butthole. “So clean, sugar. Can’t fucking wait to dive in.”

“I washed myself really well for you, sir. I used an enema too,” you whispered, averting your eyes shyly.

“So no messy sex?” Joel almost sounded disappointed, but he was just toying with you.

“No, I couldn’t, sir,” you bit down your bottom lip, eyes shut and the apples of your face burning with shame, when the pad of his thumb gently pressed the tight ring in your crack. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? All this time denying me my right to fuck your ass, and now look at ya, begging to have your butthole impaled. Did rimming your tight ass yesterday change your mind?”

You shook your head yes eagerly and pushed your hips backwards until your ass was resting on his lap, thumb still stroking you right where you needed. You rubbed your buttocks against his jeans, your weeping seam sliding on his zipper.

“I-I loved it. I’m s-so ready now, sir,” you stuttered, pouting when he stood up.

“You poor little thing. Let’s break this seal then, shall we? But I need you to work me hard first.”

Joel moved towards the couch, and you followed him, walking on all fours behind him as if you were his little doggy. Next time, he would get you a collar and a leash, he thought as he sat down, and the old cushion gave way under him.

He coaxed his legs apart to make room for you between his thighs. You didn’t need any further instructions: you were already unbuckling his belt, your tiny hand dipping in his underwear to release his flaccid cock. His dick was still soft, just started to harden a few minutes ago.

Leaning forward, you pulled back the skin on his shaft and kissed the reddened tip. Then your tongue twirled around his cockhead, slurping sloppily as you bobbed your head down his length. Joel felt his dick growing harder, bigger in your warm mouth, and he groaned with satisfaction.

You loved how Joel’s soft cock would slowly stiffen between your lips, how his weight would grow heavier on your tongue as you sucked him off. Although you played to be submissive to him, this was a reminder of the actual power you held over him. Not only a reminder to yourself, but also to him. Despite being fifty-six, you were able to work Joel hard in a couple of minutes with the brush of your tongue and the seal of your plump lips. You were proud of it.

“What’s all this?” Joel asked as he leaned over, his chest pushing your throat further down on his now throbbing cock.

Your partner grabbed the box you had wrapped from the coffee table, along with the ashtray and a cigar you almost had to sell your soul for.

“Your other present, sir,” you managed to mumble, mouth full of his hard erection.

Your saliva skidded down his veiny shaft, pooling on the thick, dark curls at the base of his cock.

“I didn’t say stop. Keep sucking, kiddo,” his reproach scolded you, and quickly resumed your job.

You heard him lighting the cigar and then tearing the newspaper apart, while you took in as many inches as you could. Now that you had felt a few cocks on the palm of your hand, Joel’s had no rival. He was so gifted, and you felt lucky you were the one getting it all for yourself.

He’d been training you to swallow him whole, and practice made perfect. So after a couple more dives, your lips reached the base as the underside of his cock dragged easily along your tongue.

Your eyes welled up due to the strain and you suppressed the gag reflex, the fluttering of your throat around his girth making Joel moan. His left hand landed on the back of your head, pushing you down.

“Your mouth was made for me, sugar,” he praised you and you revelled in his compliment, swaying your hips sideways.

He placed the box on your back and opened it. You couldn’t see him but knew his face expression would light up with a sinful smirk.

Joel cackled and smacked one of your round globes, careful of not messing up the cute bow.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

Joel pulled you off his erection by tugging at your hair. By the way his brown eyes took you in, you had to be a pretty picture ― messy hair and makeup, swollen lips, your skin glistening from your nose down to your chin with his precum and your spit.

One of his hands was holding a small butt plug. It was made of black silicone, pointier and ridged. It had four inches of insertable length, and the diameter was one inch thick.

Joel let out a whistle.

“You traded for this?” you nodded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Good fucking girl.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his lips demanding and fierce. Your tangled tongues fought with each other, but Joel always won, subduing you quickly.

Both his hands roamed your bare body, rough calloused palms caressing your cold skin, which bristled under his touch. Joel traced your underboob, then suddenly pinched both of your taut nipples and pulled.

You flinched, a thunder of pain radiating from your tits all the way down to your pussy. Wet, sticky heat pooled between your thighs, clit pulsing and hole clenching around nothing. How could pain turn you on so fucking much?

“Move your pretty ass to the bedroom, kiddo,” Joel commanded.

Springing to your feet, you obeyed, leading the way to his bed. The room was dark and bare, with no personal items anywhere to be seen. Joel kept to himself, sharing little snippets of his life when he felt like it. You never pushed for information, knowing that he would open up at his own pace.

Putting on your best innocent gaze, you turned around to face him once you were at the foot of the bed.

“Can we play rough… daddy, please?” the term slipped from your tongue accidentally.

You covered your mouth at the realisation ― you’d never called him daddy, not out loud. In your mind you had done so several times, but you were not able to gauge how Joel would react if you did.

You were about to find out.

Joel growled at you, one broad hand wrapping around your throat ― his fingers dug on the sides of your neck. Tilting your chin up, you gasped, your hips lurching forward until they pressed against his erect dick.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” Joel groaned, grazing your chin with his teeth.

“Y-you, daddy,” you replied, slowly understanding that despite his aggressive reaction, he actually liked it. “Joel Miller is my daddy.”

“Damn right I am,” he snarled like an animal. He hovered the anal plug over your mouth, “Open.” Joel slotted it between your lips. “Suck on it, daddy’s girl needs her pacifier for what’s to come. Don’t want the neighbours coming over to check if I’ve killed someone.”

When he turned you around and pushed you towards the bed, you knew the game was on. Your shins hit the metal bedframe; with another push from Joel on your shoulders, you fell face first on the unkempt bed.

“No, daddy, please, no,” you began whimpering around the plug, squirming as he sank a knee into the mattress.

Joel grabbed both of your wrists with the span of one broad hand and pressed them onto the small of your back. He tilted forward, his weeping glans gliding on your sticky slit a few times. He tapped your clit four times with his cockhead, the last tap harsher than the others, and then he stabbed your clenching hole.

You writhed under him, audibly crying now, when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. You forced tears to fall down your cheeks and mouthed a scream around the butt plug in your mouth.

“It hurts!” you feigned a painful wail, when in reality your pussy was fluttering around his gifted circumference with delight.

Joel groaned above you, buried down to the hilt, and placed his free hand on the back of your head. Then he pushed your skull down into the mattress, almost smothering you as you tried to gasp for air.

“Shut up, you bitch. Take it,” his hips snapped back, cock almost sliding out of your cunt, and then forced his way into your pussy again.

Your old man picked up a relentless pace, the nasty, sucking sound of your wetness reverberating in the room as Joel fucked you stupid, drilling you into the bed like a man possessed.

Joel freed your wrists for his left thumb to find your empty rimmed hole. He started stroking it slowly again, and you squeezed your sphincter at the touch. Unhurriedly, he worked your butthole until your muscles relaxed, then took the opportunity to ploddingly insert the first phalange in your ass.

Seeing stars behind your eyes, your hips involuntarily jerked up, swallowing the second phalange of his thumb. When Joel began pumping your tight ass with his digit, your pussy palpitated around his cock.

“You like that, don’tcha? Nasty, stupid little girl,” Joel groaned, his thrusts unforgiving whilst his thick finger twirled inside you.

You hummed loudly around the butt plug, feeling lightheaded and dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, but also to the intense pleasure, one you had not felt before.

“Mhm-mm-mhmmm-mhmmmmm,” the crescendo in your mumbling plea peaked, your lungs now burning.

Then Joel released his purchase on your hair, and your neck snapped back as you mouthed for air. Your heartrate spiked, even feeling it in your gums. Joel’s unabating shoves along with his devilish thumb finally sent you over the edge and you jumped off the cliff of your pleasure blindly. Your throbbing pussy clamped around his cock like a vice, the wave of your climax drowning you as Joel fucked you through it.

With toes curling, eyes glassy and drool falling off the corners of your busy mouth, all your muscles went suddenly limp. Your spent cunt still quivered around Joel’s dick, who hadn’t stopped jackhammering into you with renewed vigour.

Hastily, Joel pulled back and out of the heat of your tight pussy, digging up his thumb in the process too. One more second and he would have spilt inside. While he was sure he could have another erection, even at fifty-six, he rather not risk it.

His rough hand wrapped around his cockhead, reining in the need to come.

“Fuck, you almost got me there, sugar,” he cackled, running his hand down his face.

You didn’t reply. You were sprawled across his bedsheets like a fuck toy, your thighs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm. Joel was sure that even without the butt plug in your mouth, you would not have been able to string two coherent words together.

His lustful eyes lingered on the red bow crowning the swell of your buttocks. He was dying to untie it, to unwrap his most precious present and make good use of it. But first he needed you ready.

“Gimme that,” he uncurled his hand in front of your mouth, and you spat out the butt plug.

Standing firm behind you, he teased your pursed hole with the silicone tip. You stirred at the touch but were so out of tune with your own body, you didn’t fight him. He twisted the plug around, circling in your orifice. Slowly it went in, and when it bottomed out, your eyes snapped open, and you grizzled.

“Stay put,” he ordered you, stepping back.

Joel admired how the handle stuck out, peeking between your round globes. With a huff, he stroked his length as he walked towards the nightstand. Opened the drawer and pulled out your favourite pink dildo. It was slim and slightly curved ― you loved how the tip always hit the right spot inside your pussy.

He retraced his steps back to the foot of the bed and slid the toy between your clammy flaps, wetting it with your juices. You squirmed at the cold touch but relaxed when you realised what it was.

“Gonna have both holes full to the fucking brim, babydoll,” he mocked you sneeringly, wedging the dildo in your crying pussy until it snugly sat inside. “She’s so greedy.”

“Daddy, please, I can’t. I’m hurting,” you pleaded, sobbed even.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll fuck your ass through the pain. A gift is a gift, kiddo,” he mumbled darkly.

Joel followed along and would not stop unless you said, “you piece of shit.” That was the agreement, the safe words you would use if you really started feeling insufferable pain. So far, you hadn’t spoken the words, giving him free rein to do with you as he pleased.

Looking at you with your perky ass up with the satin bow on top, a dildo in your weeping cunt and the butt plug poking out of your asshole, he knew himself a lucky bastard. How you fully trusted him, giving in to his darkest desires and coming up with your own. The last year had been a revelation for both of you ― you matched his freak so well.

To hell with what people thought, you were everything he had been looking for.

Fisting the base of his thudding cock, he slowly removed the anal plug, the pop sound enticing. Joel watched your open hole squeezing again until it puckered in your fold. He was mesmerised imagining how your walls would feel around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting down his bottom lip.

Hypnotised, Joel pushed the plug back in your butt, slowly and steadily, watching eagerly how your rimmed entrance swallowed the beads.

“No, daddy, it hurts. Please, take it out,” you begged him with a small, breathless voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned you.

With one hand he pumped the dildo, dragging the pointy tip along your anterior wall to hit the spongy spot of your pleasure, and the other performed similar motions with the butt plug.

You mewled like a kitten, your passion ringing in his ears like he was high on drugs. Seeing you like this, all pliable and surrendered, had him on the brink of coming ― teetering on the edge, precum sliding down his shaft.

When you started humping the bedsheets, causing friction in your unattended clit, Joel knew you were close to another climax. Feeling considerate, he let you chase your own high, both of his hands working the sex toys in your holes.

“I― Good fucking lord, I’m… com… I’m coming, daddy. C-can I…?” you asked for his permission, his chest swelling at your request.

“Yeah, kiddo. Come for daddy,” he rasped, feeling drunk on your ecstasy.

You finally let go again, your whole body quivering like a leaf falling off a tree. He saw your inner labia squeezing the dildo and for a second Joel regretted it wasn’t his cock ― how good it would feel to have your fluttering pussy hug him tight.

But he had to persevere. The gift was worth it.

As your body still adjusted to the aftermath, Joel pulled out the butt plug carefully. The toy slid out easily, and he watched again how your hole stretched back to its normal size.

Throwing the plug to one side on the bed, Joel untied the red, satin bow on your lower back with steady fingers, taking in the moment. He felt like a mayor inaugurating a new building, presenting it to the press. This building was only his to dilapidate. The ribbon fell through his fingers.

Joel slipped one hand between your thighs, caressing around the dildo to gather some of your slick and gently buttering it into your rimmed opening. You said nothing ― eyes shut and mouth agape, it was almost as if you were peacefully sleeping.

He repeated the process a few times, but felt it wasn’t enough. Bending down, he spat in your ass until his mouth was dry. Then positioned his weeping cock right in the fold of your ass and pressed your buttocks together to hump your butt crack. Again, you didn’t react, your drool pooling on the bedsheets.

“What a fucking sight,” he said under his breath, the tip of his girthy dick finally hitching in your asshole.

Slowly he pushed the glans in, then back out, then back in, testing the waters. You squirmed a little, your brows furrowing innocently and your nose scrunching.

“Biiiiig stretch, kiddo,” he managed to groan between gritted teeth, jaw painfully clenched as his cock finally burrowed in your puckered entrance.

That was when your glassy eyes snapped open, and both your hands fisted the bedsheets.

“DADDY!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

It was hot and tight inside, very soft too, sweat gathering on his brow in concentration. Your sphincter crushed his hard cock and Joel felt like losing control over his own actions.

Another piercing shriek from you brought him back, his hips slowly working your hole with his length. He was only halfway in, you still had a few inches to take.

“You pie― Ohhhh, ah, mhmm…” his hand was quick to find the pebbled nub in your slit, petting it gently, pressing tight circles.

The distraction worked, because soon enough his dick was fully sitting in your ass. Joel pulled back, then back in, guiding your movements by pressing his free hand on your belly, holding your waist up and moving you with him. His right ring and middle fingers stroked your pearly clit relentlessly ― you were melting again.

This was heaven. Fucking heaven, he thought. How the muscles in your ass contracted around him, making him feel woozy. How you keened. How he just knew your pussy was fluttering around your pink dildo. How your clit was extremely wet, his fingers almost slipping on your velvety skin, almost unable to catch on your button.

It wasn’t painful, it was extremely overwhelming. Your mind felt like a spongy cloud, completely blissed out. Your soul had literally left your body, that was how empty your brain was. You were so full ― the dildo cozily inside you, Joel’s girthy cock blasting your entrails without a pause. Having him fully seated in your asshole was the most euphoric experience you had ever lived ― your pulse adjusted to his, two hearts beating as one.

It was too much, but it could be even more. Slithering one hand between your body and the bed, you found the dildo. Slowly you rocked it in and out of your damp pussy ― when Joel pulled out, you pushed in.

Elated, little, pathetic sobs escaped your mouth ― real, blissful tears wetting your cheeks, whimpering as your puffy lips wolfed down the pink toy. Your clit felt on fucking fire, Joel’s fingers fondling it to a point where you thought you might actually die.

You were coming again ― Joel could fucking feel it in his bones. Only this time, you squirted all over him, the warm liquid running down his thighs like a cascade whilst your whole body quaked uncontrollably.

“Oh my! Daddy! DADDY!” you wailed as he fucked you through it, hips almost stuttering now. “I can feel you in my guts! OH, FUCKING HELL!”

That was fucking it. With a guttural groan, Joel finally came, thick, sticky ropes spilling in your ass, painting your walls white. For a minute, he kept on filling you with his cum, cock maddingly twitching inside you. He closed his eyes and heavily sighed, as if the biggest weight had been taken off his shoulders.

By the time he was done, Joel was heaving, his chest rising in quick succession. That had been the best sex he’d ever had, and he was no novice like you. God, even his legs were trembling with effort.

Joel smacked both your ass cheeks as you plummeted onto the bed, a stupid grin curling the corners of your sinful mouth. You rolled to your side to look at him ― a fucked-out expression, your eyes hazy, sweaty hair sticking to your face.

The way you lazily smiled at him made his heart skip a beat.

“That was… something else,” you whispered, half asleep, totally spent.

Joel couldn’t help but chortle.

“I told you, kiddo,” he said, manoeuvring you back onto your belly so he could watch his semen gushing out your ass. “Squeeze your butthole for me, babydoll. Get it all out.”

You obeyed, all his cum slowly trickling out until your ass was empty.

“Good girl,” he praised you.

He admired the view for a hot minute ― you were a dewy mess, tangled in his bedsheets, with the pink dildo still poking out your sweet pussy. So tight, he thought, your slick cunt wouldn’t release it even when he gently tugged at it. Joel didn’t have the heart to take such comfort away from you yet, so he left the dildo in.

Joel disappeared into the bathroom after that to shower quickly. Then grabbed some wet towels and went back to the bedroom, naked as you were, to find you soundly asleep in an odd position.

He cleaned you up ― first your sweaty face, then your upper body. Joel coaxed your legs apart and couldn’t resist the urge to bow down and press a sweet kiss to your clit, slowly extracting the dildo from your pussy.

You hummed in your sleep, jaw slack and snoring lightly.

“The best daddy’s girl one could ask for,” he purred before resuming the task of rubbing your cunt and your ass clean. Joel was extremely diligent with your hygiene and care.

There was a big puddle on his bedsheets, right where your pussy had been leaking all along. He’d deal with that in the morning, didn’t want to wake you up now ― you needed the rest.

Joel sauntered towards the living room, seizing the forgotten cigar and the ashtray. Then returned to bed, and dragged your body up the bed until your head was resting on his lap. You unconsciously nuzzled his soft dick, your hot breath fanning the thick curls at the base.

Joel raked his fingers through your hair as he took a puff, the cigar crackling.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, kiddo.”

In your sleep, you stirred ― your plump, cherry lips caressing his base. Joel’s head slacked back against the headboard as he smoked.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself, feeling his dick harden again.

You were giving him no option ― there was nothing worse than going to bed with a hard-on. Joel knew you wouldn’t want that for him.

His fingers left your scalp, took one more puff and placed the cigar down on the ashtray. Joel cupped your chin, tilting your head up and back, while his other hand guided the slick tip of his cock to your lips. The moment your mouth was in contact with his dick, instinctually you suckled on his pearly glans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted, voice gravelly. “That’s it, be a good little girl for daddy.”

Joel gently rocked his hips under you, only the tip disappearing between your sinful lips ― he didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked like an angel right now.

This was a recurrent dream of yours. Most nights, you found yourself drifting away and thinking about your old man’s beautiful dick. It was soothing when you latched onto his glans, just like you were doing right now ― unbeknownst to you.

In your dream, your tongue pressed against the slit on his throbbing cockhead while your lips would seal around it to suck on it. Then his underside would slide along your tongue, kissing your palate gently. Sometimes you would stop, glans sitting warmly in your mouth, and the hand resting on his thigh would find the soft balls underneath to massage them delicately. Then your tongue would resume its petting.

Heat peaked inside your mouth, and that made you scowled slightly. Smacking your lips together, sleepily, you realised that there was something warm and sticky pooling in your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still drowsy, and found Joel’s darkened ones. Your head was resting on his lap, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek while his thumb stroked your chin. Sluggishly, you smiled at him, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand.

“Sorry to wake you,” he apologised before he took a drag of the cigar. “Swallow daddy’s gift, sugar.”

His words made you realise that what you had in your mouth was his cum. Your grin grew wider as the tasty seed of Joel slid down your throat. You liked it when he took what was his without asking.

“Attagirl. Now back to sleep, kiddo. It’s past your bedtime,” he commended you, and you nodded absentmindedly.

Nudging his dick and tucking your hands under his thigh, you pressed a soft kiss on his cockhead, then closed your eyes.

“Thank you,” you sighed contently, to both Joel and his dick.

508 notes · View notes

harryspet · 10 months ago

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well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person.

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top. Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could.

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it.

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought.

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss.

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you.

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air.

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build.

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought. “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?”

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash.

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone.

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever.

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress.

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on.

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated.

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine.

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together.

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered.

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why.

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone.

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them.

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings.

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him.

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced.

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything.

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them.

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction.

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand.

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you.

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?”

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses.

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid.

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you.

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck.

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him.

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting.

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple.

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting.

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you.

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment.

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by.

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights.

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance.

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef.

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid.

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible.

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together.

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine.

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry.

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food.

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked.

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him.

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”.

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away.

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year?

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair.

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through, “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you.

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life?

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail. Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows.

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder.

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed.

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans.

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?”

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress.

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

hope you enjoyed!!

#rafe cameron #well kept #dark fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #rafe obx #topper thornton #dark!rafe cameron

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maxinesgun · 9 months ago

Text

taste of you ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

shane mccutcheon x fem!reader

nsfw, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), edging, overstim, dirty talk, established relationship, cursing, slightly mean!shane, reader is a corporate girl. wc 1.4k ᡣ𐭩

a/n: this took me wayy too long to finish, but i've been in a bit of a slump so ofc i had to write a short n sweet shane smut!! need her to edge me and mock me abt it tbh ugh

“I’m sorry, did you want something?” Shane asked in mock-innocence, her brows drawn together in a question as she gazed down at you.

You were sprawled against the pillows of the couch beneath her, your hands knotted in the front of her shirt, preventing her from getting off of you. A whiny, frustrated sound left you, and you hated how desperate you sounded, how helpless.

Shane, however, was enjoying it. She loved seeing the flush on your cheeks, the way you dissolved into a needy mess for her beneath her touch. She was settled between your spread thighs, her hand buried beneath the hem of your skirt as she traced slow, teasing circles over your aching clit. It was cruel, was what it was—giving you just enough to stir the heat coiling in your stomach, but holding back what you really needed.

“Don’t be like this,” you half-whined, half-panted, looking up at her with a pout. “You’re driving me crazy.” You tried to give her a pleading look through your lashes, but got distracted by the way her lips pulled up in a slow grin, and now you were staring at her mouth, picturing it doing other things.

“Mm. Should’ve thought about that this morning,” she admonished in a low voice, still with that mocking edge. “When you decided to be such a tease.” Her fingers dipped down into your slick heat, teasing your entrance briefly before moving back up to your clit. You were so wet that it was audible.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you? Knew I’d be thinking about this pretty cunt all day.” Her fingers pressed into you a bit harder, her movements speeding up. You arched into it, a soft moan falling from your lips involuntarily as you lapped up the increased stimulation. “And then you had to go and wear this fucking skirt,” she groaned, glancing down at the black pencil skirt that was pushed up around your thighs. “Not cool.”

“I told you,” you breathed, pushing your hips into her hand, “I was going to be late. I had an important… mmph… meeting.” It was getting difficult to focus on words with the way she was working you. Already, that coil of heat was growing stronger, making your breaths falter. With the amount of time Shane had been inching you closer to the brink just to bring you down from it again, it didn’t take much.

She hummed low in her throat, nodding. The expression on her face was one of pure sarcasm. “Well, you know, I think I actually have somewhere to be…”

You let out a breathless laugh mixed with a groan as you panted for breath, your grip on her tshirt tightening just in case. “Not funny,” you moaned shakily.

“I’m not laughing,” she said simply, her fingers working you harder, faster. The wall of heat was building quickly now, its intensity so delicious that you were letting out all of the little sounds that Shane loved, your eyes shut in pleasure. You didn’t have enough of a grip on yourself to hold them back—with each expert stroke she drew out another breathy moan from your lips, no longer hushed but rising in volume.

When your eyes fluttered open for a moment, you saw the amusement on her face, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she watched you unravel. “Aw, does that feel good, baby?” Her voice was soft, coaxing, the sound of it only driving you higher as you let out a whimper. “Are you gonna come for me?”

Your head was tilting back, your hips beginning to jerk erratically as that wave rose higher, higher… “Yes, yes, fuck, yes—” you gasped. So close. So, so close—

—and suddenly her touch was gone.

“Shane,” you practically cried out in frustration, the high slipping out of your reach yet again. Your hips tried to thrust forward, seeking the friction that had been jerked away from you, but her own thighs were pinning yours in place, keeping them from moving.

She leaned in closer until your faces were inches apart. Her eyes drifted down to your mouth, lingering there for a few moments before lifting back up to your eyes. “Anything you want to say?”

“I’m sorry,” you panted, voice tight with need. You were almost tempted to reach a hand down to finish yourself off, but you knew Shane wouldn’t allow it. “It was bad. Mph… very, very bad.”

A slow grin curled over her lips, and she placed a few small kisses along the corner of your jaw, her teeth nipping at your skin. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she mumbled by your ear. As her hands hovered around your waist, taking their time bunching your skirt up higher, she drew back slightly, so close but still just out of reach. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice still a low rumble.

“Your mouth—fuck, please,” you breathed, far too desperate and wound up to play at your usual coyness.

She let out a low snicker, pleased by your eagerness as she began tugging your tights down your thighs. “Oh, yeah? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”

After what felt like an eternity, Shane had pushed your tights down around your calves, just enough to give her full access to you as she kneeled before your open thighs. She kissed a slow trail along the inside of your thigh, making you shudder with anticipation before her lips finally reached your aching heat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there.

You gasped, a bolt of pleasure shooting through your core as her tongue brushed against your sensitive clit. Instinctively, your hands went to bury themselves in her hair, using her for purchase as she began lapping at you expertly, her tongue running along your slit. Shane glanced up at you through her lashes with a wicked smirk, watching you with darkened eyes as she worked you with her mouth. You could only imagine what you looked like right now—face flushed, chest heaving, one leg hooked over the back of the couch, splayed open for her—and found that the mental image was just as much of a turn on for you as it was for her.

Well, maybe not quite as much.

You breathed a curse, your mouth dropped open in ecstasy as she licked and sucked at you eagerly, relentlessly, as if making up for all the torturous teasing she’d put you through. She held your thighs open, keeping your hips from thrusting forward into her face as they trembled in her grasp, the heat within you mounting. The pleasure almost became unbearable when her lips moved directly over your clit, wrenching a louder moan out of you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, like that.” Her lips were closed around your bud, the pressure of her sucking and her tongue stroking it in quick motions almost overstimulating. Your hands moved to grip the couch cushions beneath you as you drew closer.

Shane hummed against you, and the sound vibrated against your core in a way that made your toes curl. Your body was tensing with the rising pleasure tugging at your abdomen, and as if she sensed it, she suddenly slid two fingers inside you, pumping them into you and curling them against your walls rapidly as she continued her relentless ministrations to your clit.

It was all so good, too good, and you weren’t even aware of the words you were crying out moments before you came. The next moment, you were coming undone, your hips jerking and your voice rising to a breathy cry as an almost explosive wave of pleasure crashed over you.

When the height of it had subsided, you slumped back into the pillows, your body going limp with a heavy relaxation. Exhaustion stole over you, and you drew in a deep breath as your breathing began to slow.

Shane was leaning back, watching you as she wiped her glistening mouth with the back of her hand. She looked like the cat who’d got the cream. And you supposed she had… literally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said a bit breathlessly, a grin tugging at your lips despite yourself. Your head dropped back against the pillow, your lids feeling heavy. It would be at least an hour before you moved from this spot.

Shane stood, bracing a knee against the couch as she leaned over you again. She tugged your tights back up your legs and pulled your skirt back down around your thighs haphazardly. The smile she shot you was both amused and fond. “Now we’re even.”

#shane mccutcheon x reader #shane mccutcheon x fem!reader #shane mccutcheon #shane mccutcheon smut #the l word x reader #the l word #wlw fic #shane mccutcheon fic #the l word fic

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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

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hi mae!! can i request tasm!peter ’teaching’ reader how to touch herself maybe? i love how u write him <3

Thanks for requesting! And I got your other ask about them being in an established relationship, so I incorporated that too :)

cw: smut mdni

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Peter.” Despite your best efforts, your voice is teetering on the brink of a whine. “You’re being mean.”

“I am not,” he laughs. You think that definitely seems a little mean, him laughing while you’re wet and squirming in front of him. “We’re doing this for you, remember?”

“You’re not doing much of anything for me,” you mutter. It makes an appalled bark of laughter come out of your boyfriend, his fingertips digging into your thigh as he gives it a teasing squeeze.

Peter’s lying on the bed in front of you. He looks like a pre-teen at a sleepover, chin propped on his hand, legs kicking behind him, the only difference your glistening cunt a foot from his face.

“The point is for you to learn to do it yourself,” he reminds you jovially. “What if I’m not always here to get you off, sweetheart? What if I die a tragic death?”

You frown, fingers stilling on your clit. “Don’t say that, please.”

“Sorry.” He kisses below your kneecap. “What I’m trying to say is, I feel like I should make sure you’re taken care of when I’m not around. Or that you can take care of yourself, so to speak.”

That gets a short laugh out of you. Peter smiles like he’s won the lottery.

“Make sure it’s good and wet, baby. You’re not getting a lot of friction there.”

“It’s not working,” you complain. You bring more slick upwards to your clit, but it hardly helps. Your own fingers seem feeble when you can remember the feel of Peter’s so vividly. “I don’t have to think so hard when you’re doing it for me.”

Peter gives you a knowing look, his lips tipped up on one side. “You don’t have to think now, either. You’ve gotta relax.”

“I’m trying,” you huff. You worry your efforts are building up more frustration in you than anything else.

He sits in front of you for a while longer while you plead with him with your eyes and heavy, despondent sighs. His pupils are dilated as he watches you try to work yourself, your sex so close he could put his lips to it with just the slightest movement forward. You swear your clit is going to go numb when Peter finally lets loose a sigh of his own.

“So stubborn,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He starts to sit up. “Okay. You want help?”

“Yes, please.” It’s an effort to keep your smile at bay. Peter’s expression makes you suspect he can tell, one part exasperation and two parts smugness.

“Lay back for me.”

You do so eagerly, but when your hand moves away from your cunt Peter catches your wrist.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” he asks. You stare back at him bemusedly, and he looks like he could laugh again. He puts your hand back where it was. “We’re not done with this, sweetheart.”

You frown. “I thought you were gonna help?”

“I am gonna help.” He smiles, bestowing a kiss on your lips. “We’ll get you there, don’t worry.”

He positions himself above you, kisses a slow, meandering path down your neck. His lean, muscular arm snakes between your bodies, his hand guiding yours between your legs. Thumb moving your own over your clit.

“Slower, baby, like that.” Peter’s voice is a satisfied hum. “You weren’t really trying before, were you?”

“I was,” you argue, but your voice is already growing weak from the suggestion of his touch and the realer, more tangible thing of his mouth on your throat.

“You can do better than that, I know you can. You’re just not patient with yourself. You’re too in your own head.”

His thumb pushes harder into yours, increasing the pressure on your clit. You choke out a moan.

“See? That’s tons better already. You can do it, sweet girl. You’ve just gotta be nice about it.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I try to be. I want you to be that nice when you’re touching yourself, okay? Or even nicer.”

Peter alternates between chaste, soft kisses and delicate nips to your skin. Your own teeth are digging into your bottom lip, arousal pooling between your legs. Peter’s wearing his pajamas, plaid pants and a t-shirt, but when you try to slip your free hand underneath the hem he moves it to your own thigh. You frown.

“Don’t touch me, touch yourself,” he says. He picks his face up to deliver a kiss to your lips, laughing when he sees your expression. “I mean, thanks, baby, I love it when you touch me, but this is about you, remember? Touch yourself wherever you wanna be touched.”

You follow his instructions, bringing your hand up to your breast. When you squeeze, it makes your cunt throb.

Peter’s eyes darken. “Attagirl.”

You make a soft, stymied sound.

“You ready for more? You can do it, sweetheart, just do what feels good. Wanna put your fingers inside?”

You’d already been contemplating it, but the instruction helps. Your two fingers slip into you with little resistance. It’s not as much as you want, and your hips move seemingly of their own volition, searching for more.

“Be nice,” Peter coaxes. His lips press gently to the soft underside of your jaw. “You’re okay, keep going.”

His thumb nudges yours, and you pick your rhythm back up. The next roll of your hips finds more sensation. You let out a pent-up breath.

You can feel Peter’s smile bloom against your throat. His hand closes over your wrist, urging you deeper until your pointer and pinkie come into contact with sticky skin.

You get to a point where he’s doing most the work, your fingers moving on instinct inside of you while he works your thumb like a joystick over your clit until you’re sopping and no longer have the wherewithal to swallow down the needy sounds that want out of you. Peter likes those, always has, in a way that’s at once gratifying and embarrassing for you. His kisses grow heavier as his lips move close to your ear.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? You’re doing such a good job, so good for me, my pretty girl. Feel how nice and worked up you can get yourself? Hear how pretty you sound? I know you’re close, baby, you deserve this. Cum on your fingers for me.”

You gasp almost wetly as you do, teary and overwrought. Peter kisses you all over your face and holds you through it. You breathe hard, and you must be off the hook, because when you find his hand with yours he coos and intertwines your fingers, squeezing lightly.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “You did it. Didn’t I tell you?”

“I feel like I might’ve hurt my wrist,” you mutter.

Peter laughs, the sound clear and bright. “You’ll get used to it, baby.”

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nottivagos · 3 months ago

Text

notti's thoughts (18+)

an: can't believe i actually had a thot that wasn't at night. wow, what did i deserve to be blessed by that?

“shh. it'll be fun, i promise.” you giggled as you sat straddling charles’s hips. “that's better,” you murmured, taking in his body which was stretched out by the bindings attached to his limbs from the bedframe, making him sprawl out fully on the crisp sheets below him.

charles wanted to contest, but his mouth dried with anticipation as you held up a gag to his face, eyes widening almost instantly. a rush of heat ran up his spine as you attached the gag to his mouth, your touches slow and delicate deliberately on purpose, just so you can hear him whine from the soft caresses.

you smiled ever so smugly down at him, relishing in the sight of charles tied and gagged, all at your mercy. your fingers trace down his skin, gliding over the scorching flesh as they leave goosebumps in their wake and his whole body to shudder from the intimacy. his dick is already painfully hard, now bouncing against his lower stomach.

“such a needy slut, aren't you charles?” you ask as your eyes light up with glee, still holding that devilish darkness to them though, a satisfied smirk plastered over your face.

charles groans as you squeeze his hard shaft teasingly, eyes rolling back at the your harsh grip at the bottom of his length. his breathing is uncontrolled now, coming out in pants out of his nose. his cheeks are flushed, burning with the surging arousal in his veins.

your thumb glides over his cock to his aggressively red tip, starting to glimmer with pathetic pre-cum from a few touches and dirty words. his hips jerk forward as much as they can in the binds, mewling as you swipe the slick around the sensitive head, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

you chuckle lowly as you let go of his shaft, reaching over to the side before rummaging through your bedside table’s drawer. “i'm not going to make you cum today, charles,” you explain ever so smoothly, inspecting the tiny device in your hands. “this is. if i think you deserve to come.”

a sudden buzz is heard when you turn on the device. you place it on his already begging head, causing a muffled groan to escape charles’s lips as he feels the relentless vibrations on his sensitive tip. he writhes, the vibrations causing his blood to pump even more through his body, arousal rushing straight to his head as his vision became blurry from the pleasure.

“good boy, charles,” you purred, tracing a loving hand over his jaw as he whined and whimpered, the noises lost to the gag. “taking my vibrator so well,” you added mumbling, eyes darkening as you watched his cheeks burn a dark crimson red.

“i bet you want to cum so badly right now,” you drawled, face close to his own as you pressed yourself into his bare front. “such a little slut. hard from a few teasing words, and now nearly cumming from a measly vibrator on his dick. pathetic.”

your words made charles moan even more. the sound died on the silicone ball keeping his mouth open, the poison in your words causing his cock to throb even more than it already was with the vibrator pulsing on his angry red tip still. he was imminently close, reaching the peak of the torture he could take before it formed into overwhelming ecstasy.

removing the vibrator from his tip abruptly, charles whined loudly, hips stuttering as he craved stimulation.

“do you really think you deserve to come after nearly losing control from a fucking vibrator?” you asked lowly, hand coming back down to grasp his begging length, on the brink of spilling his seed everywhere.

charles’s green eyes pleaded like a little puppy, whining as he tried to jerk his hips forward, just so he could gain the stimulation to send him over the edge.

tutting unamused by his neediness, you caved, now fisting his aggressively throbbing shaft again. “fine,” you spat dryly, stroking him relentlessly, “cum if you want. but don't think you've deserved it.”

your lazy yet strong rhythms on his cock was enough to send charles over the edge. his pathetic release exploded almost instantly after a few flicks of your wrist, groaning as he did so.

you slowly extracted your grip from his softening length, crawling up his body so you could straddle his stomach. grabbing him by the jaw, you made his hazy eyes meet your piercing ones.

“next time you nearly cum like that,” your hot breath brushed dangerously against his face, “and then have the audacity to try and jerk yourself in my hand,” you added even more darkly, “i'll make sure that when you do come, that you don't get the privilege of cumming for a whole month.” <3

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mommyownsmee · 5 months ago

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Top 3 favourite ways to edge a sub?

What's also your favourite way to deny an orgasm?

Such good questions, well done! x

My top 3 ways to edge:

Tying you down, blindfolded, while I trace a vibrator over your soaked cunt-hovering just enough to make you beg, then pulling it away before you get what you want. Watching you squirm is half the fun.

Slowly fucking you with my fingers, whispering in your ear how good you feel, how close you're getting, only to stop and make you whimper when you think you're about to break.

Forcing you to ride my strap at an excruciatingly slow pace, holding your hips so you can't take more, teasing you until you're pleading for me to let you go faster.

My favourite way to deny an orgasm:

USING A TIMER

There’s something intoxicating about control. About watching you come undone, about knowing that every whimper, every shudder, every desperate plea is because of me. And nothing makes me savor that more than the slow, torturous game of making you wait.

I’d have you exactly where I want you—maybe tied down, your wrists and ankles bound to keep you from squirming. Maybe kneeling, hands on your thighs, forced to keep your eyes on me, to watch everything I do to you. Or maybe on your back, legs spread wide, completely open and vulnerable, knowing you can’t do anything about what’s coming next.

And then, I’d set the timer.

Ten minutes? Fifteen? Long enough that every single second feels like hell—long enough that anticipation turns into desperation, that desperation turns into suffering. Long enough that you start whimpering before I’ve even touched you.

Because that’s the real torture, isn’t it? Not just the waiting, but knowing what’s coming. Knowing that I’m about to tease you, ruin you, push you so close to the edge, but you won’t be allowed to fall.

And while the seconds tick down, I’d toy with you. My fingers, slow and deliberate, spreading you open, sliding through the slick mess you’ve already made for me. My tongue, just barely brushing against your clit, teasing you with the barest flicks, never giving you enough to satisfy. Or maybe I’d use my toy, pressing it right against you, setting it to the lowest, most maddening vibration—just enough to keep you aching, twitching, needing more.

And every time your hips buck, every time you grind down against me, trying to get something, I’d pull away.

"Pathetic," I’d murmur, my fingers trailing down your inner thighs, watching them tremble. "Look at you—so fucking desperate, and you haven’t even earned it yet."

You’d be panting, breath hitching, thighs shaking, body screaming for relief. But you wouldn’t get it.

Not until that timer goes off.

And I’d remind you of that, over and over, whispering in your ear, "Not yet, baby. You don’t get to come until I say so." You’d watch the clock, your eyes glassy with frustration, with need, with pure fucking suffering as every second drags by like it’s mocking you.

And then—just when you think you’ve finally earned it, just when the timer hits zero and you’re right there, right on the fucking brink—

I’d reset it.

Another ten minutes.

Maybe fifteen.

Maybe twenty.

And you’d watch me do it.

You’d see the way I smirk at your helpless little whimper, the way my eyes darken when your hips jerk up in sheer, involuntary desperation. You’d know exactly what I’m doing to you, and you’d still be completely powerless to stop it.

"Oh, baby," I’d purr, dragging my nails down your stomach. "Did you really think I’d let you come that easily?"

You’d sob at that, your body trembling, your hands twitching where they’re tied because you want to touch me, want to pull me closer, want to force me to give you what you need—but you can’t. You can only wait.

And that’s what I love the most—watching you crumble under my control, watching your self-restraint break into nothing but pure, aching, helpless need. Because by the time I finally let you come—when I decide you've suffered enough—you won't just be desperate.

You'll be fucking wrecked for me.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

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Mother, I am hungry☹️ could you please give us a list of Kinks you think Konig would have to satisfy my hunger?🙏🏾

Hooooo boy!

CW: PURE FILTH below the cut, 18+ only. Light dom/sub, disciplinary/power play, exhibitionism, light bondage, domestic servitude, somnophilia, yandere!König killing someone who saw you naked, squirting, porn, M/F/F/F

Nature lover. The blowjob in the forest fantasy wasn't a lie! König thinks it would be romantic to make love to you in the middle of a dreamy glade, rut you against a sturdy tree, or have you take him in your mouth on some picturesque beach empty of other people.

He would also love to "warm himself" during a nice little wintertime walk, perhaps push you on your belly in the snow and tug your pants down just enough for him to slide inside your wet heat. The contrast between the frigid air and your warm, wet pussy drives him over the brink in mere minutes, and it's cute to watch you pout all the way back home – he knows his cum is spilling out of you, staining your underwear. He should give you a wash when you get back to turn that frown upside down ❤️

Powerplay. König loves to be in control. He would like to set a few rules for you and punish you when you "accidentally" break them. Those rules would be nonsensical and superficial – such as that you must greet him in nothing but your underwear when he comes home, ensure he always has clean clothes in the drawer, cook his favorite meal on Sundays, things like that. "You know what this means, Schatz," he mutters on your neck upon noticing you've broken his Sacred Rules, much to his delight – because the disciplinary action is that he's allowed to take you right then and there.

It's even better if you beg him not to punish you, explaining that you're tired or that you forgot. It's too bad, because only a safeword will save you. König is already getting his leaking cock out while you're on your knees, asking him to be merciful, just this once. "You know I have to do this… It's the only way you'll learn," he says before commanding you to either open that pretty mouth or turn around and bend over.

Squirting. He would be overjoyed if he got you to squirt. König has mainly watched amateur porn because regular porn is too emotionless and unnatural in his opinion. His preference is women doing solo – that's when he learned what squirting was and immediately vowed he would make his future wife squirt one day.

Exhibitionistic tendencies. This kind of ties in with the sex in nature fantasies: König would secretly love to get caught while having sex. He would particularly love it if the one catching you was a man, so that a "rivaling male" could see 1. how a woman is supposed to be fucked 2. how much you enjoy being fucked by him 3. what they can never have, i.e. gorgeous, whimpering, devastated you.

Yandere König would also kill the one who witnessed you two (and what's worse: witnessed you in a vulnerable, naked, quivering state), and I mean kill him right away, then come back to continue the session as if nothing happened 💀 In his mind, it's all very simple: he has to get rid of the one who laid eyes on you, then give you and himself an orgasm. In that order.

For him, there's nothing odd or wrong with striking a bloodied knife on your nightstand when he returns from his quest for blood. He'll insert his still hard cock inside you while speaking sweet nonsense in your ear, cooing how tight you are in a shaky, adrenaline-filled voice. You try to ignore the fact that he now has dried blood on his muscles, but it's no use. König reminds you of what he just did when your face distorts with tight pleasure. "No one is going to see you like this and live," his voice is almost a growl when you cum around that torturingly long cock.

Dominance and prisoner play. König would love to tie you up and use you as his personal fucktoy. And not just for one session… But for a solid, good 24 hours.

He wouldn't tie you too tight, just enough to prevent you from escaping the bed while he goes about his day, drinks a beer or two, comes to you every few hours to either make sweet, slow love to you… or fuck you with pent-up lust.

You being tied and helpless like that makes König attentive and tender one minute, and needy and greedy the next. You never know how it's going to be when he walks through that door, all you know is that he's going to pump you full of his cum.

He stays to watch it ooze out of you – it's actually one of the main events of this whole show because it means he'll have to fill you up again soon. He might also give himself a fap if you look too used and miserable or if you beg for mercy and whimper that you're sore. It's no problem: he's more than happy to cover your body with his seed. He's merciful like that.

When the day is done, you're a mess – inside and out – and he's fucked you stupid more times you can count, giving you so many orgasms that you feel soft in the head. What's fun though is that the man himself is in no better shape: you notice his legs are shaking when he finally comes to release you, looking like he has lost more than a few brain cells due to breaking the Guinness record of fucking you and himself senseless.

If you ever want to fulfill this fantasy, you will receive abundant aftercare. And I mean abundant. Bathing, cooing, pampering, treats, praise, and cuddles galore!

Mirrors. Fucking you in front of a mirror is like watching the best porn ever. Anything with a reflection will do, as long as König can watch you come undone, helpless and needy for his cock while he gets to display his strength. This man will probably install a mirror to your bedroom ceiling without asking your permission, but he prefers doing you from standing, prefers to do the lifting and the work.

Ballet dancer from behind and a stand & carry variation of Nelson are his favorite positions when using mirrors. All you have to do is enjoy... and obey when he tells you to watch what he's doing to you. "Look at that... You like being fucked like this?" he pants in your ear with strain and love while you both can see just how much you like it – his cock is practically glistening from how wet you are.

I'm sorry, were you busy? God forbid if you're wearing a dress or a skirt while making an important call. It doesn't matter if you're sitting: König will approach you, gets on his knees and then starts to kiss his way under your skirt.

Good luck trying to concentrate on that call when there's a horny giant forcing his head under your cute little dress. Soon he's sniffing at your cunt and tries to pull your underwear aside with his teeth. Try keeping your voice normal when he actually succeeds and you feel the first lick sweep over your pussy, flat tongued and hot.

You don't dare to fight him or tell him to stop in the middle of your serious, official and important call, which means you can feel the smiles on your poor wet heat. Of course König notices you're starting to sound like you're half crying... It only spurs him on!

You're a bit disoriented and don't register it at first that this hulking man is already climbing on top of you. It's rare for him to beg, but as he continues to dry hump you and then forces his cock between your thighs in search of your wet heat, you can hear him whisper: "Engel? Bitte... I have to put it in. Don't say no…"

Somnophilia kink. Yep, he has it, because the more helpless you are, the more "loving" he gets. König loves to watch you sleep, safe and secure there in his bed and in his arms. He caresses you like you're the Sleeping Beauty and if you happen to sleep naked (like he always does, this guy is a bit of a nudist at home), his fingers soon drift down to tease your clit, his hips start to slowly grind against your leg until you stir.

Gangbang fantasies where he's the one doing all the banging. One of his fantasies is to have multiple women all to himself. König would never seek to fulfill these fantasies in a committed relationship, but when he was lonely and only had his hand to keep him company, König used to dream he could have a row of women waiting for him when he returned from a mission 🙄

Usually three ladies who all want to worship and touch him and tell him how big he is, how heroic he is. He will command them to all fours, and they obey happily, ready and willing to be used. He does these ladies from behind, switching between them until everyone, including him, is on the brink of an orgasm. In these fantasies he always makes those women cum first. No one can say our King lacks manners! (How cute that he's so sure of himself... Would König even have the willpower to switch from one pussy to the next, not to talk of outlasting three women? I highly doubt that.)

Or how about these girls getting on their knees to suck his cock? In König's desperate, lonesome fantasies, these cute ladies love him so much that they start to fight over who gets to take him in their sweet wet mouth. They will eventually solve the fight by forming a queue – every woman gets half a minute with their King before changing. The long seconds when his cock is bouncing there in the cold air, devoid of a warm mouth, are torture. But he would stand strong!

Our brave soldier falls asleep while imagining how these purring, warm babes would cling to him for warmth and cuddles. Everyone is happy and pleased and he has been loved and worshiped thoroughly. In truth he just came in one minute, then tries to curl into a fetal position in a bed far too small for him. Cooling down from the day's highs, this Goliath is all alone, his last thought being that if he could get just one real woman to admire and love him and hug him before they go to sleep together, he would be the happiest man in the world.

#answered #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig smut #some fluff here too #könig imagine #forgive me father for i have sinned #this turned out so filthy #i have to burn this blog change my name and move out of the country

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longing-for-rain · 1 year ago

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hey there!

please don't take this the wrong way, because i'm genuinely just asking. i've seen your criticism of aang and kataang appear on my dash from time to time, and it just got me wondering: how can you enjoy the show?

i understand that you feel passionate about katara, and i suppose about the entire story, but. aang is like on screen 90% of the time, and he gets his happy ending too (as happy as it can be, of course, with having his entire culture and people on the brink of non-existence). how do you reconcile your love for the show with your dislike for its main character and how the narrative rewards him?

and once again, please understand that i'm not attacking. i'm just curious to see at what point does someone stop being a fan and start being simply critical of a certain media, if you know what i mean.

thank you for answering if you do, and cheers!:)

I just don’t pay attention to him very much. Even in the finale, Zuko’s ending and story stands out more to me. Him standing before the crowd in his sparkling crown, announcing that he wants to bring in a new era of love and peace, that’s powerful to me. Watching Zuko go from an abused boy who thinks his only worth comes from accomplishing an impossible task in his desperation to appease his abuser, to a literal king taking back his power and using it for good, is a powerful story.

As for Katara, to me, her true ending is the Agni Kai. I wrote a whole post about it. That is the culmination of her arc, where she is able to display her power and use it to overthrow the regime that she’d grown up being terrorized by. And then after Zuko was nearly killed, Katara was able to save his life just like he saved hers. The way their stories intertwined was beautiful, and it was a beautiful conclusion to Katara’s story, watching her not have to feel helpless for once and bringing the change she’d always dreamed of.

As you can probably tell, these are my favorite characters so I was satisfied by their endings. To be honest on my rewatch, I usually kind of just skim the Aang vs. Ozai fight because it’s just an anime battle. The characters hadn’t even met prior to the fight, so the emotional depth is lacking compared to the Final Agni Kai.

As for the balcony scene? I don’t watch it. And I think it says a lot that by simply not watching it, nothing is lost. It adds nothing to either character and only serves to give Aang a reward. Before that moment, nothing about the finale suggested Katara wanted that at all. Neither character played a significant role in the other’s finale arc. There was absolutely no narrative significance between them.

But there was for Zuko and Katara.

To me, Katara ended the story as a heroine and warrior, not a love interest. With Zuko, that was her ending. So that’s the real ending to me, because that’s what her character means to me.

#that doe eyed babydoll they replaced her with on the balcony was a body double as far as I’m concerned #zutara #zuko #katara #atla #avatar the last airbender #anti kataang #canon critical #ask #anon

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velarisdusk · 9 months ago

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Whispered Echoes

Day 5: Begging | Nesta x Reader word count: 1k author’s note: ok omg there are a couple firsts for me here. have never written a wlw reader insert, or wlw in general, and have never written a dom!reader. i was nervous but i had a lot of fun, and i think i didn’t do half bad tbh ;P ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

Your fingers trace the curve of Nesta’s hips, hovering just above her skin, never quite touching, as you circle her slowly. She watches you, that sharp, calculating stare pinning you in place, but you see the tension coiling in her body. It’s always like this—her trying to cling to control, even when she knows it’s slipping.

“Lie down,” you command softly, and though she follows the order, shifting against the pillows with deliberate, lazy grace, her jaw is set, her defiance clear in the lift of her chin. You bite back a smirk. She thinks she’s still in charge.

You take your time, settling between her thighs, slowly parting them with your hands. She lets you, but her body is stiff, the tension thrumming through her muscles. You lean in, your breath hot against her skin. “Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “So pretty, laid out for me like this. Do you want me to touch you?”

Her lips part, just barely, but she remains silent. Her stubbornness bleeds into every inch of her, even when her body is practically begging for you.

“Nesta.” Your voice is firmer this time, with a quiet edge to it. “I asked you a question.”

She meets your gaze, that unyielding fire blazing in her eyes. “Maybe I don’t need you to,” she says coolly, though her voice wavers, betraying her.

You raise a brow, dragging your fingers higher, letting them brush lightly against her inner thighs, teasing but not satisfying. Her breath hitches, hips tilting ever so slightly toward you.

“Oh?” You murmur, lips curling into a slow smile. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

Her nostrils flare, and she narrows her eyes at you as if daring you to push her further. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh before grazing your teeth lightly against the sensitive skin. She shivers, but her pride keeps her silent.

You glance up at her, voice soft and dripping with authority, “Beg.”

A flicker of something crosses her face — anger, lust, frustration. “I don’t beg,” she spits, her voice sharp, cutting, even as her body betrays her, her chest rising and falling faster now.

You hum, pretending to consider her words, and then shake your head. “You will.”

With that, you dip your head between her legs, your tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing line up her center, savoring the way she gasps, her back arching slightly off the bed. It’s reward enough, but you don’t linger. One teasing lick, and you pull back, leaving her gasping.

Her glare could burn holes into the walls. “Don’t play games,” she growls, her voice rough with need.

You sit back, unbothered by her fury. “Games? You started them, Nesta.” You brush a hand over her knee, up to her thigh, and then — nothing. You leave her hanging there, so close yet still just out of reach. She’s trembling beneath you, tension coiling through her body like a wire about to snap.

“You want me to stop?” you ask, tilting your head, your voice all innocence. “All you have to do is ask.”

“I don’t–” she starts, but the words die on her lips when you lean down again, pressing another fleeting kiss against her heat. This time, a strangled moan slips from her throat, and she slams her hand into the mattress, fisting the sheets in frustration. You press your mouth to her again, this time lavishing her with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue. Each movement is calculated to build the pressure within her, to drive her to the brink without ever quite letting her fall over the edge.

“You want to come, don’t you?” you ask softly, kissing the inside of her thigh again. Her skin is hot, flushed, and she trembles under your mouth. “Say it. Just say ‘please,’ Nesta. It’s simple.”

Her jaw clenches, the cords in her neck standing out as she fights against the surrender building in her body. “You’re insufferable,” she hisses, but her voice is ragged now, her breath coming in shallow pants.

You smile against her skin, fingers trailing dangerously close to where she needs you most, but not quite touching. “Maybe. But I think you like it.”

For a moment, you think she’ll stay silent, clinging to that last thread of defiance, but her hips arch toward your hand, a soft, needy sound escaping her lips. She’s close, so close, and she knows you know it.

“I–” Her voice cracks, her pride warring with the desperate need coursing through her. She bites her lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then, with a sharp exhale, she finally breaks. “Please,” she breathes, so quietly you almost miss it.

You lift your head, raising a brow. “What was that?”

Her eyes flash, but this time it’s not with anger — it’s with pure, desperate need. “I said, please.” The words come out strained, as if they physically pain her. “Touch me. Make me come.”

A thrill of satisfaction hums through you, but you don’t make her wait any longer. You press your mouth to her, fingers sliding inside her with a smooth, practiced ease. She gasps, her head falling back against the pillows as you work her toward that sweet, inevitable release. Her thighs tremble around your head, her breathing growing ragged, uneven.

Nesta’s hands fly to your hair, gripping tight as you take her apart piece by piece. When she finally comes, it’s with a shattered cry, her body bucking beneath you, her muscles clenching around your fingers as wave after wave crashes over her.

You ride her through it, your touch gentle, steady, until she collapses back against the mattress, utterly spent. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if she has to focus on catching her breath.

You shift up beside her, brushing a strand of damp hair from her flushed face. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Begging suits you.”

Nesta turns her head, glaring at you with the last dregs of her strength. “I hate you,” she grumbles, though the small, satisfied smile playing on her lips says otherwise.

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Hate me all you want. You begged for me.”

Her only response is a soft, tired huff as she rolls onto her side, her body pressing instinctively closer to yours.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @90angiex @sizzlingstarlightsky

#kinktober #acotar #acotar smut #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron #nesta archeron smut

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ghostmoon1 · 5 months ago

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Task Force Headcanons

A lil writing of the boys and their anxieties and habits, slightly angsty!

Who's included? [ bc I decided to do more than just the boys ]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, John 'Soap' MacTavish, John Price, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Konig, Kate Laswell, Nikolai

CW: Angst, mentions of death, anxiety, major character death at the end.

Simon has gotten into the habit of sitting away from the rest of his team while they are doing something, whether working out or having a bit of downtime while not on deployment.

He'll just watch, he won't interact. He'll watch with a smile as Johnny lifts his weights, breathing heavily as he throws the barbell back down with a satisfied grin. He just needs to remind himself that they're all still there with him, they're all okay. He hasn't lost any of them, they are alive and happy.

If any of them notice him, he'll simply walk away. He doesn't want to distract them, he just needs to remind himself that they are there. If anyone gets wounded while on deployment he's always mentally beating himself up over it, telling himself he should've done better, he should have protected his team. It's his job to help, to protect those who can't protect themselves.

While, yes his team can protect themselves, he just can't help but feel horrible if he sees them hurt. If they get hurt bad enough, to go to the med bay or even the hospital, he'll sit by their side until they are well enough. Telling them stories to pass the time and ensuring they eat and drink. He just wants them to be okay, they're all he has.

Johnny is constantly trying to do his best, even if that means he's overworking himself. He needs to be good enough for his team, to never let them down. He's seen enough people die in front of him and he doesn't want to be that burden on his teammates.

He works out too hard, spending most of his time running laps and lifting weights. He needs to prove himself time and time again. He worked hard enough to get into the task force, he wants to make sure he deserves that place.

There have been more than enough times when Simon finds him pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, having to stop him and remind him he needs to rest sometimes. He can't always be pushing himself, or he'll push himself to the point of no return. If he's not pushing himself, he's always doing something to distract himself.

Working on his skills in some way, or one of his favourite things, drawing. He needs to be doing something to distract himself from the horrors of his job, otherwise, those thoughts are always plaguing his thoughts and he can't deal with that. A job like this can send even the best insane.

Price is constantly doubting himself. He's the team's captain, he needs to be the best captain for the best team. But it gets hard, it's exhausting. Late nights spent doing paperwork, missing out on much-needed sleep, and one too many close calls during deployment.

His heart races whenever someone in his team gets hurt, and he wants nothing more than to rush up to them and help them. But he can't, he's the captain. He has to stay strong. Sometimes he just doesn't want to.

Sometimes the thought of retirement comes to mind, maybe a nice cottage out in the wilderness, lush gardens and picket fences. Maybe a dog, or a cat to keep him company. He knows he can't, he needs to keep fighting. Their hands remain dirty so the world can remain clean, as he always says.

Every day is a battle for him to stay, telling himself ‘one more day’ every day. In the back of his mind, he knows he won't retire. His way out of this job will be a bullet through the head if he's lucky. He's come to accept that. You can't fight death with a fear of death.

Kyle often doubts if he's worthy of his place on the team. He worked hard, he's one of the best. Price wouldn't choose him to fight by his side if he wasn't good enough. But did he fight so hard to become a part of the team like the others?

That's why he finds himself trying so hard, coming out on top of the pack and still not feeling like it's enough. Is he really worthy? He feels like he's not. Long nights staying up, revising the things he already knows, mentally beating himself up over everything he does. He misses his shot, which could have been an innocent death. He stumbles, that could have been a bullet to the head.

It's Price who notices how much he beats himself up over it all. Although he never admits anything. It often becomes late nights with a cold drink, to burn his throat and not his heart. He silently pays respect to each innocent person he sees fall, wishing he could have been good enough to save them.

Konig is always wishing he could do something else. He wished he would have become that sniper. He tried so hard, that he thought he would be able to get there. He could've if it wasn't for his size. He pushes through to become the best of what he does since he couldn't become the best sniper. But really, he hates how he is. He hates that he's so fucking big, that his dreams were ruined because of himself.

He has no one to blame. He often finds himself going out to the run range alone, grabbing a sniper and practising, even though he knows these skills will never be put to use. He just takes in the sound of the trigger and how perfectly it hits the target in the centre and the splinter of the wood. He lets himself live a few moments of the job he could never have.

He enjoys what he does, but sometimes it feels too gruesome. Something that could be done with a single bullet, and everything goes dark, compared to fighting with everything you have for your own life just feels so dark sometimes. Late nights are always filled with the things he's done, and who he's become.

Kate overthinks so much nothing can drown out her thoughts. She cares for the Task force like they are family to her and it's her job to make sure they get the intel they need to get the job done and survive. But there's always that itch at the back of her mind, what if she got something wrong? One wrong move and their deaths will be on her shoulders.

She trusts them more than anything to be able to withstand whatever is thrown at them, but there's always that fear that lingers. Whenever she hears the comms go quiet for even a moment, she has a small panic attack, waiting for them to update her or their banter to start up again. As much as she tries to act annoyed over their jokes, she loves them. She knows they’re okay when they’re cracking jokes over the comms.

Even when things go bad and it's not her fault, she blames herself. She ran it over and over through her mind, how could she have helped them more, what could she have told them to stop this from happening? If something happens she blames it on herself and no one can stop her from blaming herself. Sarah often worries about her, and what she will end up doing to herself because of all the stress she puts herself under.

Nikolai always worries and wants to do more. Sometimes he wonders if he should have thrown in a few more guns, or maybe an RPG in the weapon stash he gave John. What if they run out of ammunition mid-fire-fight? It’s always in the back of his mind, that when he pulls up with his heli for evac, he’ll see John’s bloody body being hauled into the back.

It scares him, what if he can’t provide the help they need for a mission? He is always worrying, what if he is just the tiniest bit late when providing evac? He wouldn’t ever be able to forgive himself if he was to see one of them drop while running to him, who was supposed to be their helper, their saviour.

He always finds himself checking on John whenever he is wounded, making sure he’s eating and drinking, bandaging his wounds and cleaning them. He knows how they all are, the only one he’d trust the most to keep their wounds clean would be Kyle. He always wants to do more to help, to protect them all.

The thought of not being able to help them always plagues his mind, so whenever he gets the chance to see the team again he spends as much time as he can catching up with them, discreetly looking over them for any injuries he wasn't aware about. He always hugs John for a little longer after each deployment, telling himself he’s still here with him.

After Soap's Death...

After Soap passed, nothing was the same.

When he saw Makarov raise his gun, he knew it was over. It's crazy how slow time goes when you're an inch away from death. His heart broke in those moments, and regret hit him like a landslide. He wanted to do better and live up to his expectations. He felt like he didn’t. He wanted to turn around and tell the team how much they meant to him. He just wished he was all he could be in this life. Maybe another time. Maybe another time he could’ve told Simon how he felt. But death comes quickly. Nothing happened, no pain. Everything just went black.

It hits Simon the hardest, witnessing your best friend's death does shit to you that no one can go back from. With Johnny, he spoke over comms with the team and had a bit of banter. Now, his voice isn’t heard besides one-worded commands and grunts of acknowledgment. He turns into a husk of a man again, something that they all had feared. He still follows Johnny’s routine, finding himself sitting next to his chair in the mess hall, staring off at where he did his usual workouts. He grabbed his journal before his room was cleaned out. He treats it like his most prized possession.

Price blames it on himself all the time. His heart dropped in the moments he heard the gunshot and the splatter of blood against the cold floor. He couldn't protect his own team, he didn't even get time to grieve his fallen teammate, he had to keep being the captain, staying strong for them. If he let himself fall apart, the rest of the team would be with him. He spends his nights staying up late, for a different reason now. Sitting at his desk with a photo of Johnny, having his cigar and placing a glass of bourbon next to his photo. Sharing many drinks that he never got to, he just hopes to be able to share a drink with his friend again. Sometimes retirement feels closer than it should be.

Gaz feels alone. The base feels oddly quiet without the loud scot telling jokes and pulling pranks. It's not the same. He misses his accent flowing through the hall, he misses how annoying he was. He regrets not being able to do more to help save him, but those seconds went by so fast yet so slow. He finds himself zoning off a lot, thinking about him and praying he won't forget his voice. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

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angelbaby-fics · 11 months ago

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Okay so i have tonsillitis rn and cant eat bc it hurts like hell.

Cg stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader has tonsillitis and dont wanna eat so Papa Steve needs to hold her while baba bucky feeds her even though her cries and sobs Broke their heart they need to do it bc she dont even wanna eat soup. Big bro petie wanna comfort her and give her, her favorite blankie and plushie😻

I love your fics!!

A Welcome Distraction

Word Count: 500

A/N: Aaah I'm sorry this took so long! Hopefully your tonsillitis is all better now 😅 I hope you like this 💕

Steve and Bucky were more than worried for you. It was nearly dinnertime and you’d still refused to eat all day. They knew what was wrong, your doctor's appointment was scheduled for the very next day, but there wasn’t much they could do to comfort you in the meantime. You’d even denied your bottle full of warm milk, something you usually couldn’t get enough of. Your daddies’ hearts ached just knowing how uncomfortable you must have been. Even Peter was concerned, hardly able to pay attention to his toys while you were suffering.

The discomfort in your stomach grew worse, but it was still no match for the white hot pain that came every time you tried to swallow. You’d spent all day long either crying or on the brink of tears, handed back and forth between your daddies so you’d never be left alone. The sun was nearly setting when they decided something must be done. Bucky carried you to your highchair, but you only clung to him harder. Your baba immediately understood what you needed, sitting down at one of the dining table chairs with you still in his lap, still gripping tight to his shoulders. Peter watched from his booster seat across the table.

Steve entered the dining room a moment later, a bowl of soup warmed up to just the right temperature in his hand. It was your favorite kind, with not too strong of a flavor or too many spices since he knew you were already overwhelmed. You hid your face in Bucky’s neck as Steve approached you with a spoonful of warm broth.

“I know, angel. Just a couple tiny bites for daddy?”

Bucky lightly massaged your scalp, an excuse to gently maneuver your head to face Steve a little better. You parted your lips just enough for him to slip the spoon in and guide a little bit of soup down your throat. It didn’t feel good, but the taste was satisfying as it washed over your dry tongue, and the warmth spilling into your tummy woke up your appetite. You whined for another bite. Bucky continued to comfort you as Steve kept the spoonfuls coming. Both of them were focused on you, making sure you didn’t start crying again or coughing up the soup. You continued to whine and wiggle for a bit, until you stopped.

Both of your daddies looked down to see Peter seated on the floor next to the table. He’d gotten up from his booster seat all on his own and snuck away to your playroom, retrieving as many dolls and stuffies as he could carry. Now he sat cross-legged before you, acting out funny little scenes with your toys to try and cheer you up while you ate, and it was working. For the first time all day long, you cracked a hint of a smile. Steve and Bucky were so proud of the sweet relationship between their babies. Your big brother Peter had saved the day once again.

(this is how i imagine them watching peter & reader interact so sweetly hehe 💕)

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #marvel agere #peter parker x little!reader #stucky x little!peter #daddy!stucky x little!peter #chloe's fic #agere fic

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saphiccarma · 3 months ago

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Oooooh 10 for Rio x reader please!!!

*holds fic on a platter* for you

"Hey baby?" Rio's voice cuts through the comfortable silence that had settled over the house, her tone sweeter than honey, "Can you come here for a second?"

You follow the sound to the bedroom, feet gliding across the wood floor as you push the door open.

Without thinking much, you step inside, shutting the door behind you, "What's u-" the words catch in your throat, chest tightening.

A heavy blush rises up from your stomach and all the way to your cheeks, painting them a pale red. The sight that greets you is not at all what you expected. Your sex toys, which you had carefully hidden in the very back of the closet, are spread out on your bed.

The best part? The vibrating dildo was soaked, fluids dripping off the silicone toy, identical to the slick coating Rio's thighs. Your girlfriend wears nothing but an oversized tee, the sleeve of it dangling off her shoulder to reveal a perfect bit of skin.

Her lips are curled into a small smirk as she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers.

"Hi sweetheart," she greets, her smile as she catches your flushed cheeks and wide eyes, hands clenched at your sides in a desperate attempt to reign in your emotions.

You hardly notice as she takes a few steps closer to you until her hands land on your shoulders. Dragging her nails down the sides of your bare arms, shivers run down your spine and straight to your heart.

"You-" tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously, you meet her eyes, "You found my toy."

A low laugh vibrates in her chest as she reaches your wrists, slipping her hand into yours and squeezing.

"I did."

Softly, she presses a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. Her eyebrows raise in suggestive mischief and she licks her lips slowly, not breaking eye contact the entire time. Fingers lacing through yours she drags you closer to the bed.

"I want to watch you use it," Rio whispers, the button of your pants coming undone as her fingers tug them down, lips nibbling on your neck, "How often do you ride it? Bounce on it like a desperate slut while you moan by name?"

Pants falling to the floor she slips your panties off next, both pooling at your feet while Rio danced the sharp tip of her nails over your thighs. Slick begins to coat your folds and you shift on your feet, eyes darting towards the dildo on the bed before back to Rio.

She waves her hand towards it, raising an eyebrow in a silent command before leaning back and removing her touch. You swallow hesitantly but climb onto the bed and grab the toy. Shaky fingers fumbling to turn it on, you get on your knees, holding it with one hand below you.

Rio sits on the edge of the bed expectantly. Shakily exhaling you sink down on the vibrating toy without any struggle, the toy still coated in Rio's juices and serving as a lubricant, a soft moan leaving your lips. You bottom out on the toy before lifting your hips again and slamming them back down.

Pupils dilated, Rio watches with bated breath, her eyes tracking every movement you make. Speeding up your pace, you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut. The ridges of the toy slide along your walls, the vibrating sensation adding a whole layer of pleasure.

"R-Rio," you moan, hips stuttering. You hear her intake a breath sharply, the sound of her shirt rustling. You risk a glance to see her teasing her folds, not enough to get off, but enough to satisfy her until you were done.

Riding the silicone, you bounce on the bed, letting the sensations wash over you. It was a tad embarrassing to masturbate in front of your girlfriend, but those thoughts flew out the window as you slide along the shaft.

Thighs trembling a breathy whimper leaves your lips and you use your other hand to play with your clit. Your stomach tightens even more with every moment that passes, bringing you to the brink of pleasure.

Another plea of your lover's name and your hips are settling, the strap fully buried inside you while you coat it in a fresh layer of cum. Rio keeps her eyes locked on you as you ride out your orgasm before leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to your parted lips.

"Now it's time for the real deal."

#rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n

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writingbyshiloh · 2 years ago

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Lazy Day

AN: I got scheduled to work closing shifts and wrote this to wind down for the night! I have a longer, more interesting piece coming soon!!! Ep 3 broke my heart for Jordan I want them to be happy.

CW: fluff, swearing, mention of The Deep, No beta. Could be read for AMAB or AFAB Jordan, I’m still ironing out the kinks of writing for a bigender character with that power

WC: 0.4K

You pull your hand out of Jordan's hair to grab your highlighter for a passage in Deeper. Satisfied with the yellow splotch you made on the page you cap your highlighter and bring your hand back down. The angle is awkward for you though. Your back is resting on Jordan's headboard and your legs are splayed to accommodate Jordan resting against you. Their back is pressed against your stomach, slouching because of the support you provide. Property Brothers play on their laptop for the two of you.

You’re not really watching, just happy to spend time with them and try to get caught up on your class readings.

“Babe, are you even seeing this floorplan?” Jordan asks.

You tear your eyes from your book for a second, just enough to see the camera switch from the spare bedroom to the loft.

“Yeah, it's something.” you say, trying to find your spot on the page instead of caring about the plans for an entertainment station on the upper floor of the house.

“It’s shit. Wait, are you even watching?”

“Mhmm.” you hum in response, removing your hand from their hair again to flip the page.

You barely feel Jordan lean their head fully against your chest. What you do feel is them twisting your wrist holding The Deep’s autobiography. You slide your thumb between the pages to keep your spot so you can give all your attention to Jordan.

“You’re seriously reading that?”

“It’s homework.” you reply.

“For an acting class.” They shoot back.

“It’s actually a class on coming back from a setback in media.” you correct.

“I don’t know why you're even taking it,” they say, pressing the space bar of their laptop to play the show, relaxing against you once again.

“I needed an extra credit. My courses got fucked last year because someone didn't want me in Brink’s class.” You both know you’re talking about Jordan but you don’t have any venom in your words.

There’s also no venom in the middle finger Jordan flips you, their eyes still trained on the laptop. You huff out a laugh and bend forward to kiss their hair.

“You’re so fucking rude.” you laugh.

“You love it."

You do, probably more than they know.

#gen v x reader #jordan li x reader #I promise I have a longer jordan thing but the people are HUNGRY for Jordan I am giving them what they want #also if anyone has a better title let me know I will change it asap I just want to go to bed at this point

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vastill · 2 years ago

Text

Blue petals

Larissa Weems/fem!reader

warnings: 18+, NSFW, oral, fingering, sex pollen, pet names, swear words

words: 2000+

My requests are open!!

English is not my first language!!

A/N: hello darlings💚 im back and im back with a smut! i finally finished it and i think im happy with how it turned out. i hope you guys will enjoy it!!💚 let me know what you think!!

Principal Weems found solace in the quiet company of flowers whenever she felt overwhelmed. The plants in Nevermore’s greenhouse always were well-groomed and in the easiest way possible beautiful. She refrained from disturbing the botany teacher, so she would often venture to the greenhouse after her work hours.

However, a new plant had appeared in the garden. You were unsure how it got there and didn't have time to identify its species. Being a Nevermore teacher consumed most of your time. You decided to examine it over the weekend and, for now, simply transferred it to a pot and hid it at the back of the greenhouse to keep it out of sight.

On a Friday night, you were in your office studying the newfound plant. Searching some information in books and on some discussion forums for botanists. There was very little information about it, but it wasn’t poisonous. That’s comforting. You were scrolling through some articles and found the photo of said plant. It said sex pollen. You didn’t need more information to start sprinting to the greenhouse, hoping that no one got close to the plant.

How wrong you were.

While you were in your office, Principal Weems wandered into the greenhouse. There, she stood admiring the new plant you had acquired. It was remarkably beautiful, captivating her attention with its small size and vibrant, shining blue petals. She had never seen anything like it before. Curiously, she leaned in to sniff the plant, and its strong aroma awakened something within her, although she didn't think much of it. As soon as she heard footsteps approaching the greenhouse, she quickly left and returned to her office.

You rushed to the greenhouse to take care of the plant and started wondering whether you should inform Principal Weems about it. After all, some students might have interacted with the plant while you weren't watching. Yes, you should tell her. And with that, your walk to the principal’s office began.

Larissa didn’t know what happened, she was horny. She felt an intense urge to satisfy herself immediately, fearing that she might explode if she didn't. Her hands instinctively began to explore her body, starting from her neck and moving down to her chest. Her breasts were never this sensitive, and she was touching them through her blouse. She couldn't help but wonder how she would react when her most sensitive area was touched. Unintentionally, a moan escaped her lips. Just as she was on the brink of climax from the mere touch on her chest and neck, her blissful moment was interrupted by loud knocking. She quickly composed herself, making sure she appeared presentable and invited the person at the door to come in.

You walked into the office, Larissa seemed off, something was different in her, and for now, you couldn’t grasp what exactly.

“Principal Weems, hello, I’m sorry for the interruption but I need to inform you about a plant that was in my greenhouse.” You said quickly. You looked at her but she wasn’t saying anything, she was just staring at you. Her dilated pupils scanned over your silhouette. Were you dreaming? But the plant didn’t do anything to you. No, it didn’t, you were sure. So what is going on?

Fuck.

“Principal Weems? Did you go to the greenhouse today?”

“Hmm?” she shook herself from daydreaming.

“Did you go to the greenhouse today?”

“Oh yes, this new flower is exquisite, what kind it is?” Larissa said with a dreamy voice.

“Oh my, did you touch it? Or sniff it?” Please say you didn’t, please, please.

“Yes, I did. Why are you so tense up Y/N? Something happened?”

“Principal Weems, Larissa if I may, this flower produces something like, well it’s called sex pollen.”

“What?” That sobered her up a little. A sex pollen flower, that’s why she was feeling this way. “Oh my god, please tell me you are joking.”

“I am not, I’m sorry that I didn’t take care of it earlier. I just figured out what it is and walked straight to your office.”

“Fucking hell. Can I do something about it?” Larissa asked, her voice holding hope.

“Um..from its name, it only comes out of the body with..um intercourse or masturbation. You need to relieve yourself or someone needs to do this for you.” You told her, embarrassment visible on your face. You didn’t think you would be having this conversation with your boss. “I’m sorry I will leave you to it. If there will be some complications or something like that you know where to find me.” And with that, you left to your quarters.

Larissa was left alone, horny, and frustrated. She tried and tried. But anything brought her relief. She was left with only one choice.

Find you.

After you left, your mind wandered to the tall blonde and wondered how she was doing, specifically what she was doing. The images of Larissa pleasuring herself lingered in your mind. As you were getting ready to go to sleep, a knocking sound interrupted you.

You opened the door to see extremely angry Larissa.

“What happened? A-are there more difficulties? I don’t have an antidote yet.” You asked with worry in your voice, but when she looked at you with her eyes full of lust, you knew that wasn’t the problem.

“Can I come in? I don’t think it’s a matter I want to discuss where anyone can hear me.” She said nervously, fidgeting with her fingers. “I tried Y/N, and tried and nothing helps. I don’t know what to do now. I think I might combust in a moment if this feeling won’t disappear.” She told you, her voice whiny, you never hear her like this.

“I’m terribly sorry Principal Weems-”

“Larissa, please Y/N, we are over it.”

“Okay, so I’m sorry. Larissa, I don’t know how to help you. I wish I could but I don’t have any medicine or solution yet.” You said hanging your head low.

“I think I have an idea,” she said as she came closer to you. “Y/N, I will be honest, and you can do anything with it,” she said, taking a breath. “I find you very attractive, not just in looks, but also in your way of thinking. I would never tell you this, but the situation is extreme. So, darling, would you do me a favor and have sex with me? Please?” She looked gorgeous. How could you deny someone like Larissa? She was perfect in every aspect, especially when she looked at you with those ocean-blue puppy eyes.

You grabbed her chin and kissed her hard. Her lips felt soft and warm against yours. As your lips met, they parted effortlessly, inviting your tongue to explore. Your lips moved in sync, filled with urgency. When you needed to catch your breath, you nibbled on her lower lip before parting. You took her in, her hair messy, pupils dilated and full of desire, and her lips swollen. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, a slight blush crept on her cheeks from your stare.

“Come here.” You led her to your bedroom, keeping your mouths locked together along the way. When you felt resistance behind her you lightly pushed her torso. She landed on the mattress with a soft sound. Wasting no time you straddled her lap and attached your lips to her jaw. Moving lower to her neck, you searched for her sensitive spot. And when you kissed behind her ear, she moaned, so you stayed there, leaving light marks for her to find later.

“Y/N, please. I need you dear.” She moaned, her hips bucking beneath you. You quickly undressed her, starting with her shirt. Taking a moment to admire her, you gawked at her beauty.

“Larissa, you are so beautiful. The most perfect woman I have laid my eyes upon,” you said before attaching your lips to her neck again, but this time going lover. “Lay down for me,” you instructed, standing up and ridding yourself of the T-shirt and pants, leaving only your panties. You could feel her eyes roaming around your body.

Once again, you straddled her, your lips finding their way to her neck while your hands massaged her breasts. She was a moaning mess under you. You kissed around her nipples, never exactly touching them but when you did she let out a scream. And you were thankful for soundproof rooms in Nevermore.

“Oh, please, please Y/N. That feels so good,” she breathlessly pleaded, her hips rutting against the air. “I think I might cum only from this, please don’t stop.” So you continued, taking the other nipple in your mouth, sucking and biting it. The sounds that escaped from her mouth were heavenly. You wanted to hear them for the rest of your life.

“Fuck, fuck, yes! Oh darling, please, I’m so close!” She screamed, and with that she orgasmed. You never brought a woman to her peak solely by devouring her breasts. Her chest heaved as she took deep breaths. You moved away to give her a moment, but she grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Her mouth hungrily met yours, teeth clashing together. The kiss was clumsy yet filled with desire and tongues.

“How are you feeling darling?” you asked with a voice heavy from lack of air.

“Better, but still Y/N I need more from you. Please touch me.”

“But I’m touching you, don’t you see?” you said with a smirk.

“Y/N, I want your fingers inside me. I need your tongue all over me bringing me to orgasm after orgasm. I need that so much. Please give it to me.” Larissa begged you.

“Your wish is my command. But for the record, I never took you for a begging type,” you said, lowering yourself to her stomach, and leaving a few kisses and marks in your wake. Her stomach twitched when you lowered yourself. “Can I take these off?” you asked.

“Yes!” she said quickly.

You nestled between her legs, her glistening folds in front of your face. Her scent overwhelmed your senses. You started by kissing her thighs, getting closer to her center. You gently kissed her clit, causing Larissa to whine as her hips bucked into your face. You began licking and sucking on her clit, listening to the moans that escaped from Larissa's mouth. One of your hands grabbed her hips to prevent her from moving while the other slowly approached her entrance. You slid your fingers inside her, feeling her wetness and heat. Curling your fingers, you continued to move them in and out of her, building a steady rhythm.

“Harder, please!” Larissa let out between her moans.

You added a third finger, pumping them faster and deeper, making her moan and writhe with pleasure. Her hips trying to match the rhythm of your fingers. She was lost in pleasure, her moans freely leaving her mouth.

“Oh fuck-” you could feel her tightening around your fingers. Her fingers tangled in your hair. Larissa's hips moved of their own accord, using your face for her own pleasure. “Please, don’t stop! I’m so close!” You could only emit a low growl.

Her movements grew sloppy, and she was on the edge of orgasm. You worked harder than ever to give her what she desired so desperately. And with another curl of your fingers, her body stiffened, and she let out a scream. Her thighs clamped around your head, and you allowed her to ride out her orgasm. When her movements slowed down, you gently removed your fingers, earning a whimper from Larissa.

Glancing at her blissed-out expression, you admired her beauty. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from kissing and biting, but what fascinated you the most were her eyes, filled with emotions. “Are you okay?”

She looked at you with tired eyes and smiled gently. “Yes, I feel better. And I can assure you that we are going to do it again in the near future.” You chuckled at her response. She grabbed you and pulled you closer.

“Take a lady on a date first!” you giggled as she attacked your neck with kisses. “Maybe I will, but right now, I want to return the favor.” Your eyes widened as she smirked at you.

You didn't need any more encouragement. The two of you spent the rest of the night rather occupied with each other. It was a night neither of you would soon forget, and it was only the beginning of a passionate affair between you and Principal Weems.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfic #wlw fiction #wlw post #vastill

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