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reignpage · 1 month ago

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Perverted things JJK men do (pre-relationship)

Gojo

He stares up at your skirt when you ascend the stairs. It’s too fun to guess what colour your panties are today. Sometimes they’re lace and sometimes they’re comfortable cotton. All of your panties are equal in his eyes — they’re all just so adorable. Some are polka-dots, some are floral, some are solid colours or have fun little puns on them, and if that’s the case then he likes to work those puns into his conversations with you.

Keeping track of your favourites is a past-time of his.

Occasionally, you come into school with panties full of holes. It seems to be a comfort thing for you. Gojo’s not very impressed. He really wants to buy you new ones; he thinks he’s got your taste down pat. How could he though?

To do that he’d have to confess he uses his enhanced vision for inappropriate things. Maybe he’ll just have to get a package of the finest panties the world has to offer ‘mistakenly’ delivered to your place without a return address.

For now, he’ll just have to settle for peering under his blindfold at the frills of your underwear and hope he’ll get to have the pleasure of seeing the cute little bow at the front one day.

Geto

This is something he’ll never admit because he hates himself for it but…

Once in a while, usually when he’s feeling especially pent up and particularly masochistic, he lets you get banged up by a curse either by dodging just in time for you to get the brunt of a hit or by ‘accidentally’ pushing you in the way. Of course he never lets it get too far; he’d exorcise the curse before it could properly harm you.

And you might be wondering why it’s masochism rather than sadism but that’s because he loves and hates patching your beat-up body after. Sure, he could take you to Shoko but he does love wiping the blood off your soft skin. He can peel some layers away, look down at your shirt, and see the curves and slopes of your chest. Or he can push your skirt up just a little to inspect the scratches on your thighs.

What he hates is not being able to use said beat-up body to relieve the tent in his pants. He’s had to learn to be content with watching you limp away, adjusting his cock in the shadows and breathing in the sharp smell of iron on the washcloth in his fist.

Choso

Like a little vampire, he breaks into your home in the dead of night and creeps into your bathroom. But only once a month. Because there’s a special time he anticipates like a child waits for Christmas. Choso loves the smell of your used pads and he suckles the — I’m kidding.

Choso’s actual perverted hobby is pretending to feel ill. Why?

Because you’re so super duper kind that you always let him rest on your lap. The plush of your thighs is wonderful!

Truly one of those humanly pleasures he never knew he’d crave but he does. He also loves when you play with his hair and he whimpers when you tug. It makes him imagine how you’ll grip his pigtails when he’s in between your legs rather on top of them.

He especially loves doing this fraudulent routine after sparring; you’re all sweaty and panting and the sweet but musky scent that’s been brewing at the apex of your thighs is at its strongest. As quietly as possible, he takes long and deep inhales and release murmurs of satisfaction.

You’ve yet to notice and until you do, he’ll never stop his sham.

Toji

Being an assassin has its perks: the pay is great and the learned skills is even greater.

He’s been hooked up with fantastic inconspicuous cameras. To test out his hiding skills, he’s obscured a couple in your home. Okay, more than a couple. There’s at least ten in your bedroom.

Now, don’t judge him too much; he doesn’t spend all day watching you. That’d be crazy. What he does instead is watch you only when he’s bored. That’s reasonable, no?

Whipping his phone out, he watches live footage on his phone. Usually you’re just watching TV, doing chores or napping — you do a lot of that, Christ. But sometimes you do something very, very interesting.

Toji loves when your hand begins wandering. You could be sitting on the sofa gasping at some shitty soap opera and suddenly that hand is groping your tit, flicking a nipple, before it creeps into your panties. Timing his hand with yours, he jerks off at the same pace as you.

He even has ongoing competitions where he arbitrarily decides to cum before or after you. And of course, he has a folder for the best cumshots he opens when you’re sleeping and he really needs to cum.

Nanami

He doesn’t do anything perverted, he’s literally perfect what.

That’s what he wants you to think but no, this man has a repressed side from being a long-time virgin, which you can thank his dumbass emo cut in high school for.

What Nanami likes to do is spill coffee on your clothes. Well, it doesn’t have to be coffee. It could be anything and it has been many things: ink, soup, tea, paint. You name it, he’s spilt it.

He always offers to take your clothes for dry cleaning. You used to argue with him about how nice he is but he insists. It’s the least he could do. Now, you know the drill. So you hand over all your layers, which, much to his dismay, excludes your panties and he rushes away and makes a left instead of a right to his home.

Still, he gets to have enough fun with everything else. He does eventually take your clothes to be cleaned but not before, he brings up an item of clothing, whatever his cock craves that day, to his nose and he drowns his senses with the smell of you.

At his worst, he wraps your pencil skirt around his throbbing cock and jerks it up and down at a loving pace he thinks you’d really enjoy. And when he rips up a shirt or two, he blames it on the careless cleaners who just don’t know how to appreciate fashion.

Sukuna

Hires incompetent people.

It combines two things he likes.

Killing

Being a hero…just for you

They trip and spill tea on your clothes?

Dead.

They bump into you?

Dead.

They don’t know their place and sasses you?

Super dead.

Sometimes they’re more competent than they initially appeared and he has to wait for far too long for them to make a mistake. So… he expedites the process, shall we say.

He’ll push them into you, he whispers foul gossip about your terrible character in their ear, and sometimes, in his thirst for a wrong to be righted, he conjures up an ill-act against you in his delusions— they looked at you in a disrespectful way, they said something about your dress or your hair, and they most certainly were the ones who took your precious hairpin, not him.

The shed blood is for you, like a mural an artist dedicates to their muse. He watches the bodies pile up and one of his four arms finds its way through the complex layers of his clothes, tugging at his heavy balls and imagining its you sucking them into your mouth in gratitude.

If only you knew how kind the King of Curses truly is.

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nighttimealone · 7 months ago

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Cw: Nsfw (Simon notices the outline of your thong that’s hidden under your yoga pants)

Simon isn’t even sure whether you’re doing this intentionally, trying to tease him, or you truly doesn’t realize how you’re testing his restraint, how he’s trying so hard not to just push you against the nearest wall in the gym and go down on you right now.

Your back is facing him, just standing few feet away in front of him, wearing that tight yoga pants emphasizing your supple thighs and ass in the most delectable way, squatting and let out tiny grunts here and there. The worst part is, he can see the thong you’re hiding behind the yoga pants, the outline of it so clearly for him, good that it’s just you two in the gym now, or he might just drag you back home and hide you from others’ ogling.

“Hey, what-“ His hands grab onto your arm the second you set down the dumbbell, your yelps and confusion doesn’t recognize by him as he shoves open an empty shower room and pin you against the wall, his bulge pressing snuggly on your pussy.

He’s mad hard, already leaving a dark spot on his sweatpants as he rubs it against your core shamelessly.

“You doing this on purpose, princess?” Pulling down your yoga pants, hooking a finger over the thin strip of your thong, he tugs it with a slight grin, letting it slap back against your hips. And that’s when you realize that the outline of your thongs’ actually visible even with the pants on.

“I didn’t mean it, Simon.” The noise of the running shower can’t cover your moans and attempted explaining, because he frees his thick, leaking cock from his boxers, chest securing you to the tiles, so he’s able to drag that aching shaft along your pussy, fucking your pussy lips and prodding at the clit till you’re a blabbering mess.

“Didn’t mean it? but you still made it hard for me, love.” The bulb tip slide into your soaking cunt easily. He calms himself and pants beside your ears, trying not to come immediately from how tight and warm your heavenly pussy feels. “You know how sexy you were when doing those squats, shoving your arse towards me, and kept reminding me you had a bloody thong that couldn’t even cover your pussy properly under the yoga pants?”

He rocks his hips fiercely, letting out all the pent-up horniness with each deep thrust, directly abusing the sweet spots and coaxing moans after moans from you.

The usually quiet man groans loudly every time he wrenches an orgasm out of you, the shower wash off your juices dripping down your thighs, before your eyes roll back and cry out, messing them with both his and your cum.

“Gonna come…ngh, fuck…” Seeing stars can’t describe how cock drunk you are now when you squeeze your cunt around his cock and tumble over the edge, the white hot pleasure corrupting your mind, overstimulated to your limits when he hisses—almost comes too early from your spasming walls and pinch your clit as retaliation.

“Fuck, going to paint your pretty little pussy with my cum again…gotta-oh fuck” Simon’s voice trembles when slamming into you one last time, filling you up nice and tight with his release. He leans his forehead against your shoulder, recovering from the aftershocks of orgasms together with you.

“-Gotta claim this fucking pussy again, 's all mine, yeah?” Murmuring and pressing a tender kiss to your nape, he grabs the soap and start cleaning you up, more from the aftermath of the sloppy make-out than your previous workout.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #female reader #nighttimealone

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rosiereveries · 3 months ago

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professor!John who teaches history at university. You finally have classes with him and since the beginning of the year, all the girls in your year talk about how hot he is. He is something over 40 and he won the secret dilf competition that you made with your friends.

You take extra good time preparing for his classes, not just you learn the materials for the lesson, you also make sure that your outfit looks nice, that your hair is perfectly styled, and your makeup looks flawless. You always wear short skirts and cute tops to his classes, and you are 100% sure that when you wear knee high socks, he looks at you more that on the other girls.

John noticed you the very first time you came to his class. You sat in the first row like the good girl you are, and you raised your hand every time he asked questions. There were so many girls in his classes who tried to seduce him, but none of them were as smart as you were. You always had perfect score on your test, and he knew that you wanted to make him proud. It was just a bonus that when you crossed your legs on the chair you were sitting, he could sometimes see your panties.

He tried to wait until the end of the year, to approach you, so he wouldn’t be your professor anymore when he would fuck you. But you gave him no choice with your flirty remarks and your outfits.

That’s why he called you into his office after your lesson ended. He wanted to speak with you about the paper you were working on, and he wanted you to tell him how it was going.

When you get into his office you start to talk about your paper. You hoped that he called you there for other reasons, but he is patiently listening while you ramble about the sources and literature you found. After a while he asks you if you would mind if he smoke, he tells you that he needs a little bit of relaxation before his next class.

You watched him as he lights up a cigarette and offers you one. You decline and watch him blow out the smoke. “You sure you don’t want one?” he asks and when you tell him that you never really smoked, he pats his thigh and tells you to come closer.

“You know, this time of the year everything is so hectic” he says, “maybe you could help me with some pent-up stress, you know. What you think?”

That’s how you end up on the floor on your knees under his desk. You kneel between his thighs unzipping his trousers and taking out his thick cock. He is bigger that you imagined, and you know that there’s no way you can take him whole into your mouth. He gathers your hair in his hand, and he makes you look up at him. “You always look so pretty for me, but I think you will look even better with these lips around my dick” he says, and he gently guides your head to his crotch.

You choke on him quite a lot. You can take half of his length without a problem but after that, your gag reflex makes you stop. You hear him mumble something about training your mouth. When John finishes his cigarette, he makes you stand up, your lipstick ruined, most of it is on his cock like a pretty mark you left.

He bends you over his desk, pulling your skirt up. You can feel his cock teasing you through your underwear. When he pulls your panties down and starts to push inside you can feel him stretching you. “Just like that, you’re taking me so well, you’re so wet for me” he says. John pushes one hand under your t-shirt, pulling it up so he can see your tits. He tells you to take it off, so you just stand there in your skirt and knee-high socks.

He fucks you rough, quick thrust that makes your eyes roll. He plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling them until your breast are sensitive. You know that you don’t have a lot of time, anytime now his colleague could come back from their lunch break and find you like this.

When John starts to rub circles on your clit you can feel your orgasm approaching. With one hand he rubs your most sensitive part, and the other one is around your throat. “I need you to cum on my cock, I need you to milk me dry with your sweet wet pussy” he tells you and you can feel that he is also close. You cum like the good girl you are right as he tells you. A few moments later he is cuming inside you, his hot seed spilling in your pussy.

He helps you to put your clothes on. He pulls up your panties, and when he sees that his cum is spilling from your pussy, he quickly pushes two fingers inside you, saying that it needs to stay where it belongs. You’re still there, in his office with your thighs still trembling when his colleague comes back. John walks you out on the hallway, saying that you should come to see him again tomorrow at noon, that you still have a lot of work to do. You just hope that his colleague can’t hear when he whispers that you should come without panties this time.

Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

#call of duty #cod #john price #rosiereveries #task force 141 #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod x reader

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eclipsturns · 2 months ago

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⎯⎯⎯⎯ NOW YOU'RE WATCHING ... uber driver!matt fucks you after a shitty date.

your date was a bust; some guy named andrew who spent two hours at a shitty diner droning about his gym routine, barely looking up from his phone, leaving you bored and dry as hell. you’re more than done with this, heels clicking on the curb as you book an uber, the night air cool against your skin, your little black dress hugging your curves, wasted on a dud.

a black, beat-up sedan with cracked windows rolls up and matt (or at least that's the name on your phone) slides into view, leaning an elbow out, smirking like he’s already got you figured out. he’s all messy brown hair, sharp jaw, plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white tee, eyes raking you up and down with zero shame.

“rough night, huh? y’look like you just escaped a fuckin’ coma,” he says, voice low and lazy, dripping with a cocky grin as you climb in the back, slamming the door harder than you mean to. “address’s set—where we goin’, princess?”

“home,” you mutter, crossing your arms, staring out the window, but he’s not letting it drop, glancing at you in the rearview, one brow cocked.

“home? nah, you’re dressed like that for some loser who couldn’t even make you sweat? tell me ‘bout this clown, c’mon, spill it.”

you roll your eyes, but he’s got this pushy, crude way, like he’s daring you to bite back. “andrew. gym rat. talked about protein shakes so much i wanted to claw my ears off. didn’t even kiss me—just a handshake. a fuckin’ handshake.”

matt laughs—loud, sharp, head tipping back. “a handshake? shit, what a pussy. you wasted that dress on a dude who can’t even get you wet, that’s tragic, babe, y’could’a stayed home and fucked yourself better.” his eyes flick to you again, dark and glinting, tongue swiping his lip like he’s tasting the idea. “bet he wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway—look at ya, all pent up, sittin’ there like y’need a real man to fix that.”

heat creeps up your neck, a mix of annoyance and something else. his words are crass, intrusive, but they hit, stirring the frustration andrew left simmering. “and what, you think you’re that guy?” you snap, leaning forward, elbows on the seatback, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “big talk for some uber driver.”

he smirks wider, cynical and hot, shifting gears with a lazy flick of his wrist. “oh, i’m more than that, sweetheart. i’d have you screamin’ in ten minutes—hands are quick, tongue’s quicker. y’wanna test me? or y’too scared to find out andrew’s not the only one who can’t deliver?”

it’s a taunt, bold and filthy, and he chuckles when you don’t flinch, just stare back, pulse kicking up.

“prove it, then,” you say, voice steady, daring him now, the car humming under you as the tension snaps. “pull over—somewhere dark. let’s see if your hands match that mouth, or if you’re just another bullshit artist.”

matt’s grin turns feral, eyes flashing as he mutters, “fuckin’ bet,” and swerves the wheel, tires crunching gravel as he peels off the main road, weaving into a shadowed alley, streetlights fading to black. he kills the engine, twists around, one arm slung over the seat, staring at you like you’re prey. “backseat now. let’s see how bad you need this.”

you climb over, dress hiking up your thighs, and he’s on you fast, the door slamming shut as he shoves you down across the seat, one hand yanking your straps down, baring your tits to the cool air. “shit, look at these, he didn’t deserve ‘em,” he growls, mouth crashing onto one, teeth grazing your nipple, making you gasp, arching up against him.

his other hand’s already between your legs, shoving your panties aside, fingers plunging in—two, rough, curling deep, pumping fast until you’re soaked, the wet squelch loud in the tight space.

“fuck, you’re so wet already,” he laughs, voice dark and mocking, “this what you wanted all night, huh? not some dickhead too busy flexin’ to fuck you right?”

you moan, loud and needy, grabbing his hair, pulling him up, his lips hovering over yours, breath hot and ragged. “shut up and use that tongue,” your panting making him grin as he dove down, flattening it against your cunt—broad, sloppy licks, sucking your clit hard, your thighs shaking, trapping his head.

“ohhh shit!” you cry, hips bucking, and he groans, “fuck yeah, scream f’me, let me gove you what that loser couldn’t,” voice muffled as he eats you out, relentless, tongue flicking fast, then slow, dragging you to the edge, your nails clawing at the seat desperately.

he pulls back, smirking, wiping his chin, “told ya—hands next,” and flips you over, face down, ass up, yanking your hips back, spreading your legs wider.

he’s behind you now—jeans shoved down, cock out, thick and dripping—rubbing it against your slit, teasing, making you whine, “c’mon, fuck me already.”

“needy little thing,” he mutters, all smug and hot, then thrusts in—hard, deep, bottoming out until you yelp, walls clenching tight. “fuck, y’feel so good,” he groans, setting a brutal pace that felt fast, sloppy, the car rocking with every slam, windows fogging as you moan, loud and wrecked.

his hands grip your ass, spreading you, one thumb circling your rim, teasing, not pushing, “y’like that? dirty girl, bet andrew never even tried,” and you laugh, breathless, “he wouldn’t dare... keep goin’.”

he does—fucking you savage, one hand sliding up, pinching your nipple ‘til you hiss, the other rubbing your clit, sloppy and fast, ‘til you’re screaming, “matt, fuck, m’gonna cum!” and you do, soaking his hand, his cock, the seat, looking like a shaking, sobbing mess.

he’s not far, groaning against your ear “you’re so tight, babe. m’cummin’,” and pulls out, jerking fast, painting your ass with hot, thick spurts, panting,

“you’re better than any date.” you slump, breathless, dress torn, thighs slick, and he lets a low, cynical laugh.

“told ya my hands don’t lie. your tinder guys got nothin’ on this.”

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otkuhotgirl · 7 months ago

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─── 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 .

# with roronoa zoro.

zoro feared the prospect of sex, for his cock was much too large for comfort. you made sure to reassure him on the contrary.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day two. smut (mdni). cock worship. deepthroat. oral (male receiving). afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

zoro was a sizable man. he was neither towering nor lean, more often than not short in comparison to the opponents he faced in the new world. his height remained above average for a common man, yet it was not length that made him; it was width. one had no need for a ten foot stature if the forethought disadvantage happened to be compensated with strength — and that was the one thing zoro did not lack in. muscles the size of a head and a body made for largeness, it was of no surprise that the same statement applied to his cock.

zoro was not prone to over-compensating competition with other men when it came to size, however, whenever the shitty cook was concerned, he was not beyond it either. sharing baths was a common activity, and he’d be caught dead before admitting to checking curly’s length — but he did. sanji was longer; whereas zoro was larger. he figured the other man’s cock would slide easier, cause less struggle, and when such thought traveled to you, zoro’s mood was quick to sour.

his yearning was nowhere near hidden. eyes trailed to your figure; a never-ending hunger; the redoubled effort to protect you alone. wasted months as a pirate-hunter, previous to the acceptance of an offer that would grant him the iridescent value of life, were but a blur of steel and blood; the meaningless pursuit of foreordained woe. a famished beast wielding sharp canines was unfit to claim the passionate touch of another, for it was meant to maim rather than to sooth. yet, under the golden grace of his captain’s command, zoro had become neither a hound nor a fiend. he was the fierce protector; the shield and the sword that soared above those deserving of his strength.

the acceptance of such character had cost him months of lonesome pondering. yearning for one he could not have; finding himself an ogre daring to dream about a deity’s kiss. being separated from the crew had countless disadvantages, but perhaps distance could present a cure for the enchantment you had placed on him.

he was — as expected — wrong.

the castle zoro had been sent to was one of many hallways and rooms, ensuring considerable privacy if one was to disconsider the ghost woman’s antics. whenever he was spent from training, a phantom at night secured under covers, his hand would trail itself to his aching cock, testing the waters; finding what pleased him the most.

you’d then invade his thoughts as though a promise of heavenly bliss. his hands were rougher; calluses born from a life of sword-wielding. his grip was brutal; his pace relentless. the length not fitting quite well around his palm, inches left uncovered. zoro would lose himself in the image of your struggle — tear-stained face and wide-opened mouth, the recurrent effort of swallowing him whole. he’d picture his hands on your head; your nose against his pubic hair. zoro would then rut his hips, pleasure born from the sound of your gagging, muffled by his cock. you’d whine and scratch at the flesh of his thighs; a trail of thin, pale, rose marking the muscles as yours to ruin. glossy eyes aimed at him, spit dripping down your chin. his bliss thereafter would be thundering, and though his load would cascade from his restless palm to his abdomen, zoro dreamt that it was meeting your tongue and face instead; coating your figure with spurs of white.

the act was recurrent. two years coated in training and masturbating. re-encountering you — the muse whose sacredness he dreamt of ruining —, zoro failed to return to the previous camaraderie. he withstood but six agonizing days before claiming your lips on the crow’s nest, the pent-up desire clouding logic. yet, the you from his subconscious — fucked-up, writhing, struggling — proved to be easier to ruin. zoro struggled to convey the idea of doing it so to the real you, meaning that, while your relationship was anything but cold, it wasn’t as passionate as you’d figured would be.

zoro feared his length to be an unwanted monstrosity; an overbearing amount of flesh. you were eager to prove him wrong.

his usual nightwatch approached, accompanied by guaranteed six hours of alone-time with your swordsman. when zoro reached the crow’s nest, a bottle of cheap sake in hand, and found you sitting the couch with a sly glint to your eyes, he seemed conflicted — both fearful and excited. you tapped on the cushion, and he grinned in faux confidence upon his approach.

zoro’s teeth dug on the cork and he spat it out, drowning his nervousness with awful-tasting alcohol. a solitaire string slipped past his parted lips to drip down his chain, a droplet of it resting on his clothed thigh. your fingers gripped the fabric of your shorts, not quite enough to contain the desire.

“how was your day?” he inquired, amused by your reaction.

“solid, nothing worth-sharing,” you rasped, glancing at his lips. “what about yours?”

“it’s better now,” he answered, intonation carrying a smoothness enough to leave you flustered.

zoro grabbed a fistful of your thigh before guiding your legs to his lap, making himself a tool for your rest. another swig; a renewed cascate of alcohol sailing through the rough seas of tanned skin.

“came to sleep with me?” zoro teased, tapping his fingers on your leg without proper rhythm. it was a double-edged sword hidden amidst inoffensive silk; ambiguous inquiry meant to embarrass, for he had never dared to surrender to lust. yet.

“trying to, but you’re a hard shell to crack,” you blurted, fearing the possible loss of bravery.

the bottle hovered mid-path; damp glass meeting chapped lips. zoro held himself with certain astonishment, unplaced doubt whose roots you could not find. he cleared his throat, perhaps pondering on a suitable approach for subject shift. you were swifter, readjusting the angle of your legs in order to sit on his lap.

zoro’s heartbeat was a wild flutter of butterfly wings under the touch. he shuddered when your lips were dragged through the flesh, tender kisses with warm tongue following-in-suit. you resisted the urge to recoil at the bitter taste of sake, smearing your palate as you wiped his chin clean. you blew a gust of air over his earrings, teeth around cheap gold.

his free, calloused palm gripped the covered flesh of your ass, the back of his head resting on the wall as zoro guided your movements; a grunt at the leisure roll of your hips.

your fingers toyed with the hems of his kimono, parting it open. the sleeves hang on his forearms before zoro freed his upper figure from the fabric altogether, allowing it to pool on his hips. your lips left a trail of kisses in its wake, hickeys drawn from his collarbone to the thin, large, scarred tissue on his chest. zoro groaned, muffling a pathetic moan with the swallowing of sake.

your figure retreated, coating his flesh with saliva, adoring the sword-wound who had once been fresh and bloodied, skin relinquishing to another’s blade. the scar was a symbol of his survival; the token of his dream. zoro had not once seen it past the image of strength, unable to convey it as an object worth-loving. yet, your lips held nothing but fondness, and that had been his uttermost undoing.

zoro’s cock hardened, a constant poking under the weight of your ass. his hips rutted after a particular swirl of tongue around his nipple, and he grew desperate; a tender attempt to nudge you away.

your fists clenched around his muscles, face pressed against his chest. you looked up at him, a voice coated in confusion. “what is the matter?”

zoro’s lips parted, yet his voice was lost when a particular roll of your hips dragged your cunt above his aching cock. his eyes trailed down to the covered bulge, breathless at the idealization of what was to come.

“zoro,” you hummed, brushing your cheek against his muscular frame.

“it’s too large,” he grunted, gripping the bottle. “you will hurt.”

you were confused, biting it down. the frustrating hesitation from his part; the absence of lustful touches. for the briefest instances, you were drawn to believe that he deemed you unattractive. yet, all could be resumed by his fear of bringing you pain. it was adorable, although not what you had the need for whatsoever. for there was a looming beast, starved and yearning for a decent prey.

“of course it will,” you grinned, aiming to provoke the creature under the man. “you would be a disappointment otherwise.”

his demeanor shifted, tenderness vanishing amidst a gust of wind. zoro leaned back, drowning down a considerable amount of sake. he raised an eyebrow; challenging, demanding.

“what are you waiting for?” he grunted, gripping the back of your head; tearing your face off his warmth. “get on your knees and work.”

your legs clenched at the command, and your figure slipped to the ground; knees pressed against the harsh wood. your figure arched, so as to offer him the clear sight of your ass. zoro grunted, pressing your face against his covered member.

“don’t make me spell it out for you,” he rasped, curling his fingers in a bruising grip. “strip me.”

zoro made no efforts to aid you in such a task. you undid the knot of his kimono; tugged on his haramaki; removed his pants and underwear all but enough to witness the sight of his leaking shaft slapping against his abdomen.

he was not one to trim. the extension was curved; prominent veins twitching the second you had licked your lips. the tip was of violent swolleness, urging to be touched. the source of previous apprehension shone clearer, for zoro — although not quite as long —, was far larger; enough to stuff your mouth full.

“done watchin’?” he mocked, wiping a drop of sake from the corner of his lips. “all bark and no bite?”

he was offered a glint of faux innocence, your lips parting to produce yet another provocation. zoro had clutched the opportunity then, shoving his member inside, groaning at the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him.

a snap of his hips had pushed his length further, his tip brushing the back of your throat. you gagged, overcome with shock. tears rolled down your cheeks, and you struggled against his grip, a failed attempt at retreat. zoro pushed you back, suffocating your nose with his pubic hair; halting the flux of air with his cock. you moaned around him, squirming under his strength.

“look at you,” he cooed, caressing your chin with his thumb. “wasn’t i the one at risk to disappoint? can’t handle it, can you?”

obscured spots overcame the crystalline tears, clouded vision and an aching head as you were drawn closer to unconsciousness. zoro laughed, pulling you back. your burning chest filled itself with oxygen, desperate gasps and coughs all but amusing him further.

“open up,” he snapped, inserting a thumb inside your mouth and parting your jaw. zoro angled the bottle and poured sake on your tongue, liquid-fire igniting your throat. once he had enough, he pushed your chin up, forcing your lips sealed. “swallow.”

you obeyed, a slap of his cock meeting the side of your face. he teased his tip on the entrance of your mouth, gripping your nape. you gave him the desired access, and without an inch of hesitation, zoro filled you with his cock. no longer unused to his largeness, you began with swirling movements of your tongue, wetting the twitching veins; hollowing your cheeks to increase the pressure.

zoro groaned with unthought loudness, raising his hips to force himself deeper. one hand massaged his ball; nails dug on his thigh, scratching the surface, fresh blood pouring from the muscular flesh. his tip teased your uvula, returning to the tip of your tongue before reaching the end yet again. the up-and-down bobbing of your head was a constant; repetitive sounds of your gagging.

spit dripped down your chin, the salt of his essence nudging your palate. zoro chugged down the remaining sake, moaning as he glanced at your tear-stricken face; sweat and spit and pre-cum maiming the sculpture of your being.

“ngh— ‘m close,” he warned, snapping his hips and forcing himself further, uncaring as to whether or not you had relaxed your throat to receive his largeness.

you hummed around him, shutting your eyes in order to appreciate the entirety of his bliss. zoro snarled, snapping. “don’t you dare close your eyes. i want you to see me.”

your lungs burned, pooled tears. zoro was but a hazed image, though you could see the pleased glint in his eyes, the face contorting with the thrill of desire.

“you will swallow,” he stated, his head falling into the wall. zoro clenched the muscles of his abdomen, offering you a clear sight of his bobbing throat. “you’re close to passing out, aren’t you? i will fuck you unconscious if you do.”

you whimpered, failing to nod as zoro’s load drowned your throat and tongue. swallowing it all was but impossible, multiple strings of white dripping past your lips; traveling down your chin and throat. the removal of his cock left your mouth oddly empty, and zoro dragged your body to his lap, pressing you against his figure. he placed a hand above your chest, guaranteeing that your heart and breathing were steadying.

zoro’s thumb pushed his essence yet again into your mouth, humming when you offered him the sight of your tongue, stained with his cum.

“not a disappointment at all,” he mused, kissing your temple. “i wonder, does your cunt stretch as much as your mouth?”

— 🐈‍⬛ : zoro fuck my mouth challenge. happy second day of kinktober!

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #op #op x reader #op x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #op smut #zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro x reader #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x you #zoro imagine #zoro

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gangplanksorenji · 2 months ago

Text

TRIUMPH.

Pairing: IVE’s Wonyoung x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,891

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This was just a quick fic I worked around just because of this Wonyoung look that got me on my knees. Hope you enjoy reading this one and one thing, lips.

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Let’s be clear and concise, once and for all, she’s a slut.

She knows she is one, and you do, too. The world isn’t ready for who she really is, and she knows it—again, you know it too.

All is mutual with the Jang Wonyoung, because behind that chic and angelic beauty of hers that breaks standards and defies expectations, is a mask worth commending.

A mask that’s something worth concealing, only for your eyes to see.

“Please.” Wonyoung pleads, a mere attempt for you to attend to such necessities of a princess like her. Even if she’s truly one, she needs to practice something worth mentioning—patience.

Even if it’s not in her vocabulary, you’ll mark it in her own dictionary, even if it takes you thousands and thousands of tries just to make a dent, to imprint it in her brain once and for all. “You have to wait, dear.”

“No.”

“No?” Confused and dazed, a sudden reply to such an immediate remark is the balance.

You hate the temptation within you, not falling for the very thing you are destined to destroy. The false confidence in you would say your words can change her, Wonyoung acquiesced within your lips’ breath but you’re dreaming too much.

Herself fails you, but not to the point where you’re bound to really fail because soon enough, she’ll regret this.

Wonyoung grabs your wrist, an action worth perplexing yet disregarding it is the last straw as always. “Have some composure—aren’t you supposed to be with your friends? Yujin? Rei?”

“Am I?” This pretentious brat is really getting on your nerves. Ignorance is bliss at her end but you know it isn’t, her obliviousness and mere encouragement of being true. “Feels like I shouldn’t be.”

God, what made her to possibly be like this?

If the both of you are just alone together, you could have easily stripped that clothing away from her and fucked her tight cunt through and thorough, making her learn her lesson for hours but no, she’s testing you.

As much as you want your tone to be as cordial and soft as possible, it just provokes Wonyoung’s hubris towards the roof, knowing deep inside you’ll break like a dam.

“Don’t you really care, hm, Wonyoung?”

“Your cock or them?”

It’s funny how she’s still standing composed with her two feet, all thanks to you and your discipline.

You know Wonyoung couldn’t help herself at this moment, lost in the trance whenever your presence permeates with hers. Even with all of her suggestive invitations, comes a quick smirk from you or total neglect, and she hates it and you love seeing it. Knowing her attempts are futile, her last resort is going to be something unhinged that really unleashes the perfected craft of brattiness, and you’re ready for it—you just know she’s going to do it, knowing her too well.

Her question falls audible in your ears, knowing damn well it levels up the pent up exasperation towards her, and now, you’re being vocal about it. “If you think I’m going to fuck you here, think again.”

“So you’re going to fuck me?” It's the umpteenth time of her obliviousness, and you can’t just bear to play with her anymore, not when you’re going to just hear the inviting pleas that will make your ear bleed with lust.

She may think you’re a hypocrite with a feeble mind that’s unable to commit what your heart is telling you, a man not worthy for her and that possibly breaks you apart when she’s talking about your ego. You have your own tricks up your sleeves to play against, knowing how she can’t possibly live a week without your length rearranging her guts or a taste of such excellent succulence—each party has their own kryptonite, a condition that shuts both your mouths up.

If this is the case, then you’re winning by a large margin, and you’re going to be confident with that.

“Yes, you fucking slut—but not here.”

You’re getting fed up, and that curls a smile up her lips as she stops you, arms enveloping yours as she looks at you with those orbs glistening with lust and that look that brings you down to your knees—a look pleading to fulfill her needs, and you’re on your wit’s fucking end to give in.

“Please, come on, I need it—need you, daddy.” Of course, she grooms you with a name that defines your discipline, a temptation worth giving in and the commitment that’s worth the try—it’s a simple word yet it enables something within you, and Wonyoung knows how close you are to breaking.

You sigh, a nuanced breath that allows Wonyoung’s thoughts to run deep, thinking of ways that could bring herself the victory she deserves (that’s for her). “Don’t call me that.”

“What do you mean, daddy?” Another one, another fucking one and the thread that’s preventing you from falling apart from composure is getting weaker, and clearly, you’re not going to last long with her enabling words that fucks you up.

In all gravitas, you’re going to make her regret what damage she’s doing, and you’ll mark your damn words.

“You call—Wonyoung, just stop, it’s not going to work.”

“What’s not going to work, daddy?” The foreplay of words is astonishing, to say the least, her choice of words clearly a mirror of who she really is, herself and the other side of her craft. Wonyoung grabs you again by the wrist, her eyes glimmering with her only motive towards you, and at this point, it’s effortless to ignore her and her sexual pleas.

She yelps when you turn the tables around, pinning her onto the wall with her wrists gripped, making her paint that anxious face that curled up that cockiness in you. “I’m going to tell you this now, Wonyoung—you don’t really know how to wait, huh?”

Wonyoung’s lips quivers, tensed with the beast inside you unshackled and ready to pounce onto its prey ruthless, not without playing with it and that’s exactly your motive right now–-you will let her know why you own her and why such virtue should be applied on her, and you’ll make sure she’s going to learn her lesson from now on.

“Are you really this much of a slut? Can’t wait before we go home to fuck your brains out?”

Wonyoung shuts herself, her eyes in contact with yours as you hiss. “Fucking answer me!”

“Ow—it hurts, daddy!” The attempt was deemed futile, as she smiles towards you knowing she's going to be treated like how a princess deserves, equivocally, of course.

“Answer my damn question, Wonyoung.” Your tone is stern, demanding for an answer from a girl that’s bound to be compliant soon.

“Sorry, d-daddy—can’t help it when I’m around you.” You know she can’t and you know for yourself that you can’t either, not when she looks like the most ruinable girl on the planet, and no one is even close.

The twintails and that smokey makeup that perfectly accentuates her beauty is just phenomenally worth an eye-candy, not to mention her outfit that really exudes the right amount of sexiness, enough to rile you up even more, skyrocketing up to the roof.

At this point, you need her as much as she needs you, and you’re going to make sure you’ll let her know that through the acts you’re going to commit, all under your own authority.

She gasps with a harsh slap on her thighs as it is the start of the given commitment, the flesh echoing around the empty corridors was enough to let her know how you lack frivolity in these situations. “You know you messed up, right?”

“Daddy—can you just—ow, fuck…” Another slap was brought, the skin now painting a reddish hue due to how those slaps really define the sadistic fetish in you. It was another warning from her, as compliance is the best key to really satisfy you as again, she’s in no authority to retaliate, expecting to oblige every command you let out and every question your lips muster.

“From now on, fucking answer my questions or I’m going to make you drip in your panties and leave it like that—- you don’t want that, don’t you?” Your touch really sends her towards the everlasting plane of sensitivity, making her moan as you get nearer your prize yet you won’t need to do that, not when she answers with sincerity.

“N-no, daddy…”

“Are you going to follow everything I say from now on?”

“Daddy—ow!” Truly (also, frustrating), your words really don't penetrate down Wonyoung’s thick skull, her stubbornness in an all time high as another smack resonates, bringing the pain that’s possibly enough to elicit an answer from her.

“Answer me, Wonyoung.” Your eyes ignites with frustration, permeated with determination as Wonyoung fucked you up, and this is exactly her plan as soon as she’s with you and away from her friends.

“Y-yes…”

“Yes what?”

Wonyoung looks away from you, pouting as she knows her words are strong evidences inside your little game, and she can’t bear to just give in to your full control, knowing damn well that you’re going to torture her and delay her needs for god knows how long it will take you.

You know this is thing you want to be broken inside of her, and you do anything in your full power to make her be your obedient fucktoy, as that’s the best way to describe it.

“Wonyoung, you don’t want to play with me.” She can’t fight you, knowing well you’ll outpower her and knowing how much of a tough brat she is to tame, then you’ll consider measures weighing more than what she can take.

You know well that her ego is as strong and robust as her body—she won’t break apart as she’s the reason why you’re getting rougher these days.

“Answer me.”

Another attempt and she locks eyes with you, knowing there’s nothing she can do but give in.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good.” That genuinely painted a composed yet jovial expression from you, a countenance so sincere that it is contagious, making Wonyoung smile back towards you. “Let’s find an empty room and I’m going to fuck you until you see stars.”

Wonyoung broke you in a span of minutes, and that’s a victory worth a trophy—you played under her game, but you won’t let it slide, making a name for yourself for what’s about to happen to the both of you.

---

It was an easy task and Wonyoung is just ready at this point that you can’t care to check for possible things that can expose you and Wonyoung for the sinful things the both of you will indulge in.

Wonyoung’s phone buzzes, and you view the notification before she does, and she just pouts knowing she can’t do anything.

“Wow, even Yujin’s more mature than you now, huh, Wony? What’s this—it was a fun one out there, I’ll meet you later with Gaeul-unnie and Rei again—oh look, yeah, I’m not supposed to be fucking you.” You didn’t make that up, it was a genuine text from Yujin even though it’s something you would do just to tease her and make her annoyed.

“Daddy—you need to fuck me now! Yujin can wait—oh, fuck!” Your fingers tease her cunt, already dripping with her nectar. She spreads her legs apart as she raises her head high, moans reverberating around the puny room that can’t possibly shake the lewd sounds she makes.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be fucking you yet here we are.” Your words made Wonyoung look into your eyes again, pouting as it invites you to really fulfill her needs. You inch closer towards her, and knowing how there’s still something human inside you, you want to feel and taste her, lips colliding as you lift her chin up and god, her lips are scrumptious.

You exchange torrid kisses with Wonyoung, a profound fervor laced in each second as it got sloppier to the point that you need to pull out, knowing that’s not the reason why this mess unfolds in the first place.

“Get on your knees, Wonyoung.” It’s a sudden command with an expected immediate compliance and to your surprise, she does what she is told to do, knowing that her stubbornness won’t reach any places.

That look she gives you when the cold floor meets her knees with a thud—oh god, it’s alluring and inviting as fuck, a countenance ready to be ruined.

“Good girl.” Oh, of course, the numerous praises should be a priority, knowing how it really riles her up and elevates her skills by a meter.

“Can’t wait to suck this delicious cock, daddy—fuck, it’s so hard already!” Wonyoung is just enthralled for what reward she would receive, and your hardness just strokes herself to think that it’s always her that makes you feel like this—that’s not entirely true yet Wonyoung is the ultimate reason, the epitome of invitation and indulging into the temptation.

It’s like you have her on autopilot, already ahead and perceiving the series events that will unfold—she has her dainty, modelesque fingers up on your belt, unbuckling it swiftly as her eyes on the prize shackled behind the frustrating fabric.

“Your cock must be aching down here, daddy, no?” It’s rhetorical at this point, and you can’t care enough to articulate an answer, knowing how frustrating her leisure pace is making you.

“Just undress me and suck me off, brat.” Wonyoung laughs at your despair as she quickly does what she’s told to, your pants down to your ankles and without any hesitation, your boxers in the same boat as you pants. Wonyoung fucking drools all over your length as it sprung free from its clothed restraints, an immediate envelop of her finger around the base elicits the finest nigh-inaudible moan from your lips.

Wonyoung doesn’t waste her precious seconds, she never do as it’s evident, her lips wrapped around the red-purplish crown and suckled onto it like it’s candy—she always sucks you off like somebody’s going to steal your cock away from her. Wonyoung doing everything in her power to pleasure you, even in different techniques is an unmatched experience of euphoria, and that alone is commendable and is one of the reasons on why you adore her.

“Keep doing that—god, your lips are really made for my cock.”

“Of course, daddy—don’t forget my throat too—actually, my holes are made for you.” Wonyoung doesn’t shut up about that, knowing how well-deserved she is every time you use her and she’ll brag about how she is worthy for you.

“Just shut up and do what you’re best at, princess.”

Wonyoung is eager and the trifecta of bliss really lives up into her masterclass: she leaves no inch unsheathed with her saliva, her tongue rapidly working and the warmth permeated around your shaft thanks to her mouth—god, she’s perfectly slutty and talented, and it’s just her lips to start off the show.

Both you hands gain the leverage to fight your battles—yours gripping those twintails as an outlet to the finest gratification coursing within you, and Wonyoung grabbing your hips to pull you closer, and herself delving deeper in the process. The amalgam of tears and her makeup starts, rivulets running down her cheek perfectly captures the “lustful pulchritude” as you call it—in the shorter terms, it’s where her face just gets fucked up due to herself testing her own limits.

You admire it, honestly, but eventually, she inevitably gags and she fights it.

She despises the fact that she isn’t able to take anything that can ruin her worthiness, wrestling to fight the reflex of pulling out. Seconds pass by and she looks strong but then, gives in to her defeat.

“Don’t take things you can’t, Wonyoung—take it easy.”

“Daddy, I can—watch me, please.” You’re all eyes with moderate expectations for what she’s about to do, and god, what a sight it is.

Wonyoung is taking you all in, mouth kissing your base as she stays there for seconds before bobbing into your succulent shaft rapidly, earning herself the rewards of her oral expertise—your moans, shuddering and a reply to the pleasure she brings.

Well, it seems like she was playing with you earlier, her tongue swirling around your length effortlesslt and taking all of you in every bob she does—you’ll dismiss the fact that she’s still gagging around your length, her attemps of hiding the supression of the inevitable, knowing how you’re pretending to be oblivious about it will make her feel hubristic and complacent.

You won’t lie knowing your mouth can only spew the truth, barrage of compliments that follows every other bob, whether verbal or just indistinguishable sounds—with an angelic mouth like hers, a lie is a mere attempt of dismissal of such a gift.

“Your mouth, Wonyoung—holy shit, keep doing that.” She does what she’s told to, bottoming you out even if it’s just one of those mindless cries of pleasure that’s masked as a command. You tug her hair harder and reply with a pace unmatchable, a mess all over her chin and the continuous seeping of her drool on her crevices that signifies insatiability. She slobbers all over the hard muscle, ebullient and voracious, all in the name of pleasuring you and satisfying her needs.

“God, I love your cock so much, daddy—thank you so—fucking—much!” Her lips pucker onto the leaking tip, every word emphasizes a kiss onto the head that just uttered the best moans she could possibly hear. Her constant kisses resonate around your ears, a pandemonium of lustful actions that defines hunger as she resumes her bobbing that’s just an immaculate experience.

Kiss, bob, swirl, slurp, look, repeat, ditto—it’s a pattern that hypnotizes you, the brunette, twintail slut blurs your vision down to the heightened focus of her head and her head only.

Her shine is approaching is dullness, her authority to slobber all around your length being hindered knowing you have other plans on ruining herx starting on her throat.

“Stop, Wonyoung.” She continues a little more, greed being her worst enemy as seconds later, there’s no other option but to obey you.

“What's wrong, daddy? Did I do a bad job?” She must be crazy to think that, that Wonyoung-ego-favored-opinion aside.

She’s nowhere near atrocious, you just need something to occupy yourself and work your muscles up.

“Princess, you did not.” You cup her cheek, then advance your thumb towards those lips of hers, playing with the saliva that ruined such beauty and reassured her. “In fact, you’re amazing—I just need to use your damn throat.”

Of course you do, because since the start of this session, you’re dying to fill up the missing piece that makes her complete, everything satisfied and dismissing the deficiency.

The sudden upheaval didn’t faze nor bother Wonyoung, aware to the fact that you are in full control, not her—you don’t care if you’ll satisfy Wonyoung’s needs more than what she can take or the inadequate fulfillment, because you seek to discover more of what can gratify you.

“Oh, daddy—but will you fuck me after?” That is something that you should assess, ignoring her question with a distraction in mind and an action she can’t retaliate to follow up the question—lodge her throat with your cock, where it truly belongs.

“Shut up and take this cock, Wonyoung.” You reclaim full control, a tug on her twintails is where you lost it, enough to state the obvious—this is what you need to do, fulfill your destiny and claim your prize.

She’s a ruined mess, and you’ll add more to what she made you to be.

You elicit a grunt as you bury your cock deep in the slutty throat of hers, letting her choke on it as it’s evident between each reflex, fighting its way to let you know she can take it all, no matter what hindrance may cost. It didn’t take long before you resumed your profound thrusts, making her bawl and ruin that makeup that perfectly accentuated her intimidating yet glamorous look—it feels like she did that just for you to ruin and cherish, and that’s exactly what’s happening.

You let go, an ounce of mercy shown within seconds as she gasps for air and smiles with your roughness. “Daddy—ugh, p-please—I can t-take more, I can take mor—”

There’s no outlet for her to recover, playing with the risk of asphyxiation that Wonyoung wouldn’t mind, knowing how much she favors herself choking all over your length slamming down her throat. Your pace stays the same as before, moderate yet striking in every oscillation of your hips, making her close her eyes every time your tip hits the back of her throat. Her hands grab your butt, pulling you closer as her nails dig deeper due to the harshness you ensue, and if you didn’t care as you’re selfish to fulfill your own pleasure. You maneuver your hands to grip onto those perfectly-tied twintails harder, mustering the harshest of thrusts possible, the crevices of her mouth an evident mess with the saliva that seeps out of it and eventually, you pull out to admire the sullied work you’ve done.

“Hah—hah, daddy, god—I want more of this, please—more!” She never shut up as soon as she gets to talk, ultimately begging for you and nothing else. Those pleads of hers are always getting answered knowing that’s bound to happen due to the nature of the room, an atmospheric lustful session between the both of you.

You’re always in awe with how soft her lips can be and how her throat feels the best, maybe even rivaling the tightness her cunt brings. Those luscious, plump lips really know its purpose, and she always display her true intentions, a gift no one one can rival and a talent worth mentioning, albeit great but needs more polishing—you’ll dismiss the bias and the gratification that fucks up the way you’re composing a verdict, she can improve her techniques but damn, she really is a talented person after all.

She bobs in tandem with your thrusts, not giving a care if it messes her outfit that’s tantamount with her face, an aftermath for the sinful things the both of you have done with Wonyoung’s mouth as the primary medium of the scene. Eventually, her gag reflex gets tamed, allowing to be rougher than before and so you did, mustering a velocity from your hips that defies her expectations.

At this point, she’ll crumble but she remains robust, determined to take whatever you want her to take, even if it’s over her limits—it’s all about trust and discovery between the both of you, experimenting onto something that piques your curiosity or fulfilling what the other one needs. Her muffled gurgles and inaudible murmurs throughout every thrust you do are protests against her incapabilities to take everything and the satisfaction you bring towards her. With your roughness and the mess you’re indulging her into, you can’t help but think if you’re going off the line, a rivaled thought that lingers within you as you’re treating her way too belligerent.

She doesn’t object to your actions, even encouraging you to do so and at the end of the day, she’ll be ruined no matter what, and this is just the start of a supposedly spectacular show of lust.

“God, Wony—you know how great your throat fucking feels? Oh fuck—it’s s-so good—I can really fuck your face all day, baby.” It’s unhinged, raw and honest, and that permeates that genuine scintillation of her eyes, full of satisfaction and the anticipation of what you can say, hopes to stroke herself and that ego.

She smiles even with your unstoppable thrusts, and eventually, got to see it whole with a sudden action, giving her a breather and to give yourself some space to prolong the pleasure and delay the impending end of such an introduction.

Then, an idea clicks within those muscles of your brain, something that isn’t new to Wonyoung but unfamiliar as an experience.

Your belt and her wrists, the connections stated the obvious, hinting a way to dance with creative art of lust.

“Hands behind your back, baby.” She complies immediately, turning her around to envelop her wrists with your leather belt, securing it right in place as her movements being hindered races a thought within you, and it’s a brilliant sight—the thought of Wonyoung being unable to use her hands to possibly retaliate, a vulnerable figure all for the taking, god, that’s just the chef’s kiss.

You bring her down to knees again and resume with one goal in your mind: to finish what she started.

Her throat fits like a sleeve in each thrust, bottoming out your entire length with gags alongside it too. Her being helpless sets up an ante with the challenge, forcing more effort onto fucking that mouth of hers that’s just begging you blow it all inside it, paint it all white.

Wonyoung begs for it too, eyes yearning towards her favor to taste it all and you can see it in those eyes of hers, even if she doesn’t need to utter a word on where she wants you to finish.

Your relentless pace resumes, handling and using her throat like it’s one of her tightest holes imaginable, a pleasurable outlet to release everything. You pinch her nose alongside every thrust or four, making her choke all over your length, where her cheeks flush redder than before, desperately gasping for air but is unable to due to you. The obscenity looks like an endless scene, feeling like everything is slowing down as the only things that clouds your mind is warmth of her mouth and the urge to ruin her throat.

She takes it all, the aftermath evident as her face is apparently ruined, chin dripping with her drool and onto the woolly top that perfectly compliments her styling, now being drenched and deemed to be useless yet again. You constantly pull out to let her catch her breath, give her seconds to recover and plunge it all in her throat while maintaining the vice grip on her, a cycle on-repeat. At this given moment, she’s a vulnerable cocksleeve for you to be satisfied, and she’s no less a slut that can’t do anything but comply to you—you’ve broken each other, and it just took a bratty tease from her and a merciless facefucking from you.

“Daddy—gah, a-are you gonna cum? Please, daddy, spill it down—hah, down in my throat—down in my throa—glfh!”

“Shut up and take me in like you always do.” Wonyoung looks up at you as you plunge your cock down those familiar walls, her eyes full of glint, begging due to the numerous chokes she’d done and her makeup now a mere mark for what is once was, a pulchritudinous sight that’s meant to be sullied. “You don’t tell me where I want to cum—I decide where it should be and you don’t deserve a load down your throat.”

You lean, hindering your thrusts as you keep your length where it belongs, her mouth agape and eyes fixated towards you. “Brats and greedy sluts like you don’t deserve to swallow.”

Oh. It’s funny to think that she could be rewarded in her favor, despite her utter compliance. You’d love to make her choke onto your dick while you deposit every spurt of cum down her throat but no, there’s no room for that and she should know her lesson well after this.

With a statement worth digesting, it’s clear at that point that any plea she wishes to do will bound to fail, and so she just lived with the punishment, but still a reward considering she loves what’s coming next.

Your thrusts are ephemeral, short-lived knowing that you should conclude this act in a great fashion. You pull out, letting her catch more oxygen which she is depraved of as she shifts onto that familiar face that signifies that she’s ready for what’s about to come—tongue out, eyes closed, and lips quivering, it’s just the perfect recipe for something worth a try.

“Then paint my face, daddy—please, please! All on my face—you hot cum all over me—” Her words just draw you closer, as you stroke yourself to the lewd sight of her face and knowing the reservoir is breaking loose sooner, it’s time for her to take it all.

You tug her hair to point your tip onto such a beautiful mess and there you do, shooting ropes and ropes of cum onto that deserving visage, covering the pivotal parts that’s needed to be coated of—her nose, forehead, cheeks, and most importantly, the culprit of all these sinful matters, her lips. She moans through warm spurts she becomes blessed with, a with more lewd sounds elevates your experience, grunting with the orgasmic trance you’re now indulging into that’s lasting longer than what you expected, possibly Wonyoung playing a big part on that and you thank her about it.

“Daddy, it’s so warm—oh, so much for me. Thank you so much, daddy.” Wonyoung coos, admiring the reward, a deserving fruit of her labor as her eyes tells stories worth mentioning, all to mention how much she’s thankful for giving her what she truly needs, even if it’s not in the way she wanted it to be.

Looks like she hasn’t learnt her lesson, taking the opportunity whenever the time comes as she takes advantage of it.

“Wonyoung, no—not yet, I’m pretty sensitive.”

“But don’t you want me to clean you up? Clean me up too and let me taste your delicious cum?” Her choices of words truly tests your temptation, and you can’t ignore that, letting her have the liberty to do her own post-show endeavors.

You hand your throbbing, still rock-hard length and scooped dollops of semen that’s all over her cheeks and forehead, letting her suck the tip and savoring the taste of such delicacy, as she calls it. She hums in satisfaction through each bob, and that almost makes your legs fail, the dynamic of the sensitivity of your head and the pleasure her mouth brings being a wonderful treasure you’ll be selfish about. She licks all over your length, tasting each inch of succulence and satisfaction alongside with swirls that’s just the cherry on top. You hold her chin and tug on her hair lighter now, an outlet to fight with the dynamic of gratification and the reassurance on how much you’re loving the way she blows you. She’s in a hurry, mostly, a little off sometimes yet you thank her absolutely for letting her mouth be used for your pleasure.

The satisfaction paints her face and that makes you smile, letting her do where she’s best at for more seconds until you stop, senses coming back heightened as you realize the both of you are in no place to sin.

“You’re not going to fuck me anymore, daddy?”

“Wonyoung.” You help her stand up, wiping her face with the tissue on her bag as you pretend to be in disbelief (half of you says you are, and the half of you says you’re just cautious) which earns from hers. “We’re still in public—we’ll do it once we get into your place.”

Again and thankfully, Wonyougn didn’t utter a word nor became stubborn and complied with you, having a semblance of hope that you’re taming her.

Maybe you aren’t and she’s still riding with the flow, but who knows? The final test will be held later and with that, you’ll assess and observe if you really made a blow and a change on Wonyoung.

---

Of course, Yujin knows what the both of you have done when the both of you are together, knowing how much Wonyoung shares towards her and that alone, piques Yujin’s curiosity.

“You’re a madman, you know that? What if someone caught the both of you, no?” Yujin’s thoughtful remarks are heard through the phone, and you can only imagine how she’s taking this half-serious.

“I mean, she started teasing me and shit and how am I supposed to ignore that for minutes?”

“Still, I’m just scared for the both of you—like how the fuck you guys do your thing. I don’t really know with Wonyoung, most of the time—that girl just seems to be hornier nowadays.”

You laugh, agreeing with Yujin about the latter part. “Yeah, it’s crazy with that girl—by the way, did Wonyoung meet you yesterday?”

“Yeah, and she walked slower than usual, all thanks to you—haha!” The predicament starts, shaking your head with embarrassment and knowing how understanding Yujin can be, you’re reassured that she’s not taking things too much of a deal.

“I mean, she started it—”

“I know, I know—I know how much she can be like this—anyways, thanks for the treat yesterday! We really enjoyed it.”

That earns a smile on your face, Yujin’s genuine tone on the phone being the fuel that satisfies your happiness in a different way.

The both of you say your goodbyes and hang up, not before a dumb smile through the phone until it fades, a faint voice calling your name as it increases in volume as soon as the figure comes nearer.

“Yeah?”

“Who called you, Daddy?” Wonyoung rests her head onto your shoulder as you look at the metropolitan view, then catches your gaze towards her, feeling the contentment and joy through the days you’ve been with her.

“It’s just Yujin, baby—are we still going to watch the movie you want us to watch?”

She didn’t even doubt, nodding as her eyes sparkled with love and the excitement to bond with you these days. “Of course, daddy—maybe we could do something after it, too, if you want?”

You laugh with her invitation, and this time, it’s more soft and pouty, unlike yesterday. It’s genuinely hard to resist her with the look she’s giving and the fact that she’s Wonyoung, so without even thinking twice, you utter what will make her happy.

“If that’s what you want, baby.”

Wonyoung’s grin is such a sight to see, a genuine emotion that can cure any sadness. Knowing you’re still admiring the metropolitan nature around, she leaves you be, not without a hug and a kiss to show you how much the feelings are mutual.

You reminisce and laugh with how freaky and wholesome the days went, a dynamic that’s now a part of your life. You sigh as a ding in your phone distracts you, and being curious, you check on it only to be perplexed with what it is about and the most surprising part of it is how it’s out of the blue.

Unknown number at 18:55 - “Good evening. I hope this message gets to you. Apparently, there’s a suspicion between the possible happenings of the people in the school council. I wish you to be at this meeting that will take place in the university’s audio visual room, alongside the other members and the suspected culprits, this Saturday noon, just before the sunset.”

You’re just hoping it’s not the people you have in mind, and most certainly, not you and Wonyoung because your reputation will be besmirched in no time, and you can’t afford to let that happen.

Guess the both of you won, yet what can be the cost?

#ive smut #ive x male reader #wonyoung x male reader #wonyoung smut

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teastyun · 11 months ago

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° .• Abby and her strap headcanons pt. 2

i finally bought banging lubricant so here we are with a few headcanons i came up with while testing it 😻

masterlist ; pt. 1

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ tlou setting

-> when you guys find an old bookstore on your way home from your assignment, Abby stashes a book of an introduction to lesbian sex, where she finds out about straps for the first time in her life. and trust, she was ambitious enough to find one, only to bend you over as she slowly watches it going in and out of your cunt in fascination and arousal

-> you both weren’t sure at first, but while riding her you discovered how to bump the back on her clit, making her cry out in pleasure each time you grind on it

-> when one of y’all’s roommates isn’t home, you love to ride Abby until your thighs shake so violently you have to stop mid-track

-> Abby, on the other hand, is quick to manhandle you and fuck that sweet spot inside of you as she comes with you, her strap hitting her clit with each stuttering thrust

-> when you two grew comfortable with the strap, she would secretly wear it beneath her everyday wear when going to a function to surprise you

-> she especially loves to wear it to game nights with your group, knowing you’d sit in her lap and notice her crotch for the first time, leaving you hot for the rest of the night (you miserably fail at any game), "look at you," she whispers, "you have no fucking shame, do you? thinking about it as we're having a night out with our friends?"

-> once you’re home, she wouldn’t immediately strap you down, but eat you out as she feels your core clench around nothing, until you push her to sit on no matter what surface to ride her like crazy, releasing all your pent up frustration, "want me to stop teasing? yeah? fuck, look at you fucking yourself on my dick."

-> teasing you quickly becomes her new favourite activity <3

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ modern setting

-> ironically enough, Abby would strap you down on the first date. first kiss on the first date? nah, Abby is already deep in your cunt with a silicon dick kissing your sweet spot in the back of her truck after a cute date at your favourite place

-> despite that, she’s such a gentlewomen! she would take such great care of you throughout the whole date and appreciate any small gesture of yours

-> she finds out over time how she loves to see your pretty reactions on your face, but she loves fucking you slow from behind, leaving you writhe beneath her in pleasure, begging for her to move faster as she softly bites your shoulder as she pushes her strap deep into you, "you look so fucking sexy getting fucked from behind, princess. fuck, you're so eager."

-> sometimes she wouldn’t pull out after two were exhausted, letting you cockwarm her (she secretly doesn’t want the night to end, although she could have you at anytime)

-> but would she let you fuck her with a strap? normally, she prefers you to be on the receiving end but after a long night out involving lots of drinking she finally lets you test out her strap!! you're obviously treating her like a princess since this is her first time taking dick <3

-> and trust, Abby loves the feeling of being at your mercy. she never thought to admit, but seeing you whimper as the back of it hits your clit unexpectedly would make her immediately come hard without you ever touching her clit with your hands

° .•

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stellamarielu · 1 month ago

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late night visits

michael robinavitch x female reader

summary: somehow your neighbor is always finding himself at your front door hoping to find relief through casual hookups, but you both can’t deny your feelings any longer

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, mutual pining, oral f!receiving, mention of an age gap because i can’t help myself, just dr robby having a realization of feelings while going down on you

author’s note: told y’all i was gonna write some dr robby smut!! like usual, it didn’t feel right to jump right in with nasty jaw dropping smut so here’s a little fluffy— but still saucy, hookup drabble with the hunkiest emergency doctor i know

Michael Robinavitch was your neighbor.

Your apartment doors faced each other which lead to many casual exchanges and brief interactions.

They started off innocent; shy waves and polite smiles.

Then, they turned into conversations about what each of you did for a living and how long you’d lived in the city— just a culmination of small talk and harmless banter that took place in the little hallway of your apartment building.

But then, after weeks of coy chitchatting outside of your front doors, your exchanges escalated.

Your conversations with Robby had turned into hushed moans and deep throaty groans as his hands gripped furiously at your hips while he thrusted into you after an exhausting day at work.

The first time you tested the waters of shared desire was a little over a month ago. You spontaneously invited him over to join you for dinner as he was getting home from work. Neither of you thought much about it. It felt like a simple invitation to get to know a new-ish neighbor. Just a friendly meeting over a quick meal, but it turned out to be something entirely different.

That evening ended with his calloused hands greedily sliding up your body with your back pressed against a wall.

Both of you were stewing with pent-up frustration and using the other for an easy thoughtless release.

The next time you found yourself underneath his body was just as unexpected but far more impassioned.

He had knocked on your door, his expression unsure yet somehow laced with anticipation when you answered.

He started trying to make up some excuse as to why he was interrupting your nighttime routine until you pulled him into your apartment, meeting his lips with your own in a hurried and desperate kiss.

It continued like that for weeks, late night visits full of eager touches and sinful craving.

The exact nature of your relationship was unclear. You just found one another for physical connection, never getting in too deep or finding meaning in your dubiously satisfying meetings.

But, of course you had feelings for the guy, he had his dick buried in you on a nightly basis. You just weren’t sure if he felt the same way.

You couldn’t help but assume he saw you as a quick fuck— an easy way to detach from his day in a bout of vulgar connection.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sure, the first time had been because Robby needed a distraction. You were just stood there, cooking a meal for him and listening intently as he told you about his profession. You were completely enthralled with him, your lips turning up into a cute little smile, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that; let alone a beautiful woman nearly half his age. It was almost criminal how fast he gave into temptation, letting himself get a taste of you through hungry kisses and tainted intentions.

After that he became addicted to you.

He even found himself thinking about you at work— a place that didn’t allow more than a sliver of space in his mind to think about anything other than the task at hand, yet you occupied nearly every corner of it.

So he kept showing up— kept seeking you out in hopes that he could stay high on your presence long enough to stay satisfied before getting the next inevitable taste.

You seemed to enjoy the unspoken arrangement. He didn’t want to ruin anything with the complication feelings and exclusivity. Plus, he was a busy man, relationships never seemed to work well for him, so maybe this situation was for the best.

But now, his face was buried between your legs, and he peered up to find your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen something so picturesque. So undeniably perfect.

“God, You’re beautiful.” His voice was a hum against your skin as he stopped to place a sloppy kiss on the inside of your thigh along with his words.

Your fingers tightened into his hair as his mouth hungrily worked at your core.

You opened your eyes to glance down at him, unsure of how to take his compliment while he was busy doing such lewd things to you.

He caught the silly grin on your lips at his words— so pure and gentle. The innocent curve of your mouth only made him want more. He gently grabbed at your thighs, spreading them even further.

The soft moan of approval slipping from your tongue had an involuntary groan breaking from his chest.

With every sweet sound off your lips he dived deeper into you. His mouth was expertly working you toward your release, and just as you felt the pressure getting ready to snap, he pulled away.

He rested between your legs, his torso propped up just enough to get a good look at you.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat after this.” His statement came out in a breathless whisper. It seemed more like a question with the way his eyes were looking up, watching intently.

You tried to hide the giggle that at your lips as a small smile took over your expression.

What on earth prompted him to bring this up while he had you on the verge of coming undone on his tongue?

But also, why was it so sweet? The way his words held such sincerity felt extremely intimate.

“Just- I want to take you out somewhere.” His grin was wide as he watched you react to his ill-timed inquiry.

He knew it was late and maybe you wouldn’t be interested, but he couldn’t help but ask.

Watching your back arch under his touch and hearing your sweet whimpers fill his ears had him losing his patience.

He needed more of you.

Needed it so badly that he was stopping himself from tasting your sweet release just to ask for more of your time. The two of you were only ever together in a dimly lit apartments under bed sheets, he wanted to go out with you; somewhere different, somewhere new. He wanted to take you to grab a coffee down the street at that place that stays open until 2am. He wanted to ask you questions about yourself and watch you smile while you talked— to see the sweet curve of your lips that he'd grown so attached to.

Maybe he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he couldn’t deny the feelings he harbored for you.

“Like a date?” You were leaning back on your elbows with your eyebrows raised subtly at his suggestion.

“Yeah, a date.”

“Ok Robby. I’ll go on a date with you.” Your smirk met his idiotic grin as he dove back down, satisfied by your answer.

He resumed his previous actions with a fervor of victory.

“Perfect.” The word was messy as it left his lips and landed directly on your core.

It wasn’t long before your body was tensing, and mumbled profanities filled the room at your release. Even though you had just finished on his tongue, you weren’t done. You wanted to let him fuck you into the sheets, to repay him for getting you off, but he refused. No— he was determined to follow through on his promise.

The two of you walked side by side to grab a coffee at nearly midnight; you laughing and him watching, as he got to know you outside of the walls of your apartment.

#i feel like this is something he would do idk #a date (and a fuck) with dr robby would cure me #man of my dreams fr #michael robinavitch #the pitt #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch smut #dr robby smut #the pitt fanfiction

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monstersflashlight · 1 month ago

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Commission for Vamp

A/N: You can read the rest of Ambrose story here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

Craving you

Minotaur [Ambrose] x fem!reader || predator/prey (light), dirty talk, edging (kinda), choking, anal fingering, degradation (light)

You’ve been craving your boyfriend’s attention.

You two have been so busy the past few days that you barely touched. Don’t get it wrong, you loved to cuddle with him, you loved how his body curled around you when at the end of the day and you spooned in bed. You loved all the affection… but you also wanted all the sex.

And you have been so fucking tired you have barely touched each other. And you were just human, okay? You didn’t ask for much, just a few (dozen) orgasms and to be fucked until your brain melted completely and you could lay there just… being.

But today is your free day, and Ambrose isn’t home. You are missing him dearly, and what does a brat when they want attention? They test it. In the form of a bunch of sexy pics in a few different lingerie sets, taking especial attention to display your… assets in every pic.

You start casually, sending him a pic of you smiling over a cup of coffee at breakfast. Then a mirror selfie without your pajama bottoms… And before you realize it’s barely noon and you are sending him topless pics with a dildo between your boobs.

He sees all your messages, but at some point he starts leaving you on read. Which can only mean two things: either he’s REALLY busy, or you are teasing his patience so much he can’t even talk to you.

And you hope it’s both.

You hope he’s aching and hard, thinking about you at home playing with yourself and how he can’t do anything about it. You want him as desperate for you as you are for him. You want him panting in need by the time he gets home. And as the hour approaches, you get bolder and bolder, sending a pic of a dildo pressing against your panties, a pic of the dildo fully inside of you, a tiny clip of you turning on the vibration and moaning… Maybe you are being a bit brattier than usual, sending the images and clips and adding messages gloating about it, like “warming your dinner” or “your dick feels a lot better than this plastic”.

But, truth be told, you are teasing yourself as much as you are teasing him, and you are eager for him to get home.

By the time he answers with a short “I’m on my way,” your insides are twisting and you can feel a spark of anxiety inside of you, but it’s rapidly overthrown by pent up excitement and anticipation. And then you have an idea. A great idea. A wonderful idea.

You take all the dirty clothes from the basket and start hiding some of them around the house, and then you find a spot where he couldn’t find you, and sit there, your body tense and your heartbeat bunny-fast. You listen carefully, your hand over your mouth, as Ambrose opens the front door and walks around the house looking for you.

You can’t see him, but you can almost taste his frustration in the air. “Sunshine… where are you?” You bite your lip not to giggle. You hear him walking around for a bit, your heart going faster and faster. “This is not funny, come out or you’ll regret it.” Yeah, right.

With each passing second you can feel the built up inside your body, and you can hear him getting more and more frustrated. It’s delicious. He grunts, surely finding another piece of dirty clothes, but not you. You can hear him getting closer, and your heartbeat is going haywire inside your chest. You feel like a prey, and you can just guess how mad he would be when he finds you.

You are so focused on being quiet that you don’t realize he’s close, and when the door of the cabinet opens you let out a high pitched screech. “You’ve been playing with fire, sunshine,” he says as he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, your stomach pressing against his shoulder as all the air leaves your body.

He walks to the bedroom as you try to kick his chest, but he’s holding you too tight, and your face is focused on the way his ass-cheeks move. Dang, that’s a fine ass. You slap it as hard as you can, and he roars. Literally roars. You have to swallow fast before you let out a huge moan. He walks faster, your body flying through the air before you land on the bed.

He’s on top of you instantly, breathing hard. His body is almost trembling, and you can feel the energy sparkling between you two. His hand finds your neck, and he presses you down softly, careful not to make it painful, but making sure you know who’s in charge.

“You know how much I’ve been craving you? You know how hard has it been to spend all day working knowing you were home? And on top of that, you have to be a brat and send me all those pictures without a fucking care in the world. You are such a tease,” he almost spits the words out. “You don’t know what’s good. You don’t know what that does to me.”

You whimper, opening your mouth to speak, but his hand doesn’t leave your neck, not pressing, not moving, just a weight against it that makes you want to rub your thighs together.

“No, you don’t get to talk, yet. You don’t know how hard I’ve been all fucking day?” He presses his clothed dick against your panties and you whimper. “I’ve been so angry and on edge because of you that they send me home early.” He licks a stripe down your neck, next to his fingers, and your eyes roll back into your head. “And now I finally can have you,” it sounds like a threat and a promise.

He manhandles you until your knees are next to your ears and you are exposed and vulnerable, his hand never leaving your neck. “Look at that, you’ve been teasing so much all day… but you have been good, haven’t you? You didn’t come because you know it’s better when I do it, right puppy?” You whimper, nodding rapidly. “Good girl,” he praises. His finger rubs up and down your pussy, gathering some of your juices and bringing his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.” You can’t obey fast enough. “Better get them nice and sloppy, sunshine. I’m going to use them to fuck your pretty asshole until you are begging me to fuck your needy pussy.” You whimper around the fingers, pressing your tongue around them until they are wet with saliva.

He does as he promised, traveling down your body and pressing two huge fingers against your tight hole. It takes a bit for him to be able to fit inside, but when he finally pushes in… You let out a long scream that pretends to sound like his name, but is barely an incoherent moan.

“Just like that, sunshine. You take me so well, I love that you are always this desperate for me, so needy and pretty with tears running down your face. Are you going to come for me like this? Are you close?” You nod again, your eyes closing as he fucks your asshole faster. And when you are about to lose it… He stops. “Not so fast, sunshine. You’ve been teasing me all day, now it’s my turn.”

You let out a cry when he pulls his fingers out. He gets on his knees between your legs and rubs the tip of his leaking cock against your clenching center.

“Look at that, your pussy is asking for me, isn’t it? Awww, how cute!” He flicks your clit and you let out a scream of his name. He releases the hold on your neck, his hands holding your legs far apart.

“Ambrose, please…” You try to beg, your eyes teary.

He chuckles without humor. “Now you beg? After spending a whole day teasing me you want me to give in so easily? Aww, sunshine… I thought you knew better.”

He pushes his dick inside of you in one fast thrust, and if you weren’t so desperate and ready before him, it would have been painful. But it’s not, it’s just perfect, and full, and incredible. And you can’t hold yourself back from coming as soon as he starts thrusting.

But he’s beyond punishments, he’s beyond anything he said before that moment, because the second his hips start moving, he’s just a monster fucking his girlfriend. His eyes are unfocused, and you can almost taste the desperation on his lips as you devour his mouth. Is messy and fast, and completely incredible.

He fucks you like a machine, spilling his load into you after a couple thrust, but not stopping. He fucks you so full and so fast you can barely see him moving, but good damn it if you can’t feel him with every fiber of your being. He’s possessing you, he’s fucking you like his soul is being ripped away, and you can’t get enough.

Your nails digging in his back as he pushes further, deeper… He’s holding the headboard with a hand so you don’t move with his thrust, and you can’t fucking stop moaning. He’s an unrelenting beast, and you love it.

Orgasm after orgasm rip through your body, your pussy getting messier and messier with each one of your combined releases, but you don’t care. You need more. You crave more.

By the time he’s done with you, your pussy is leaking so much of his come you can feel a puddle forming under you and both of you are breathing hard. “Worth it,” you let out in a breath against his chest, where your head is resting after bouncing on his dick for what felt like an eternity in the last round.

“What would I do with you?” He chuckles, caressing your hair.

“Love me,” you whisper before your eyes close and you fall into deep slumber.

You don’t hear him whisper your name like a plea, or the way he looks down at you with adoration.

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kabr0ztrousers · 2 months ago

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Similar to the portal one. But reader is a chubby witch in a house full of diffret species (not picky on the type). Anything with a big size differance is chefs kiss though. She has a crush on one of them. So she puts a portal spell on a toy and leaves it out for him to find. And he does but what she didn't realize was how many of her roommates share there toys. And now she has live with the consequences or for some the reward

You can even do a continuation were they figure out what she did and they give up on the toy and just start to use her instead

Kabr0z Writes episode 68: Toying Around

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: infidelity via deception; dubcon via deception; public sex; free use; autocunnilingus

A/N: Ah, my two great loves, portals and free use... Whatever would I do without them.

########################################

You finally figured it out. You'd had the hots for Andy for months, ever since he moved in with you. You were already living with Debbie, and the pansexual lupines Paul and Brian couldn't object to the new housemate; they were fucking practically every night, and weren't quiet about it. The only problem is, Andy only had eyes for Debbie, and you weren't about to fuck up the flat dynamic by stealing her man.

But what a man he was, the very ideal of a minotaur. Eight feet tall and as wide as a doorframe, 150 kilos of pure muscle and sinew, with biceps thicker than your plush thighs. The time you walked in on him in the shower (totally by accident, you understand) sealed it. He was equally huge down below, a cock as long and thick as your forearm. You got wet just thinking about burying that flared monster in your cunt. You just had to get around his obnoxious fidelity first.

That's where a little bit of magic comes in.

Magical study can be understood as ten domains, or spheres, interacting with one another. Forces is the flashy one for tossing fireballs, entropy is the scary one for making things degrade, life is the one for healing wounds or changing your shape, if you can think of it, there's a sphere that does it. Your speciality was a little more esoteric: correspondence. Correspondence is the magic of spatial relationship, specifically the realisation that distances are an illusion and can be subverted with a little know-how and just enough gumption. Theoretically, correspondence lets you teleport too, through a process of literally not being here and being somewhere else, but when that goes wrong it's not uncommon to accidentally become part of a building or worse, so prudent mages only pull that trick in times of direst need.

This trick was almost too easy. You'd get his usual cocksleeve, take out the insert, and link the end of it with the gusset of a pair of knickers. Barely a party trick, it's the same mechanism for pulling a rabbit out of a hat, though with any luck there wouldn't be any pulling out happening. A few magic words, and one exsanguinated mouse later, a hazy film lay on the top of the toy you'd pilfered. You pushed a finger into it, and watched it come out of the inside of the underwear you'd used for the other side. Pulling on the panties you tested again.

Yep, you could feel your finger stroking your pussy lips, a hint of wetness coming away on your hand as you did. You'd always been curious of this. You brought the tube to your face, smelling the warmth of your cunt through the portal as you licked yourself through it. Damn, you taste good. Too good, and god does it feel right. Your tongue explored your nethers, running up and down your slit, lapping up your wetness and circling your clit. Either you're a natural at this, or you're getting far too turned on by the idea of being able to really fuck yourself.

It wasn't easy to stop, but you knew if you let yourself cum like that you'd be there all day, and you wanted to be out of the house before Andy came home from work. He was always pent up when he came back, and modifying his normal cocksleeve into your enchanted pocket pussy was a simple job. He probably wouldn't notice, at least not until he was already balls deep into you. By that point, he might not care.

Replacing the toy, you slipped on a sundress and made your way to the park. You weren't going to risk being caught in the flat while he wanked off with you. There's a quiet spot under a weeping willow, right near the river, about a mile into the park where nobody goes, not even the dog walkers.

That's where you sat, channeling the power of the river and the forest, recharging as you waited. Getting fucked here would probably help, if anything, sex carries powerful magic. It's just a pity he wouldn't be here in person.

Something touched you. A gentle fingertip slid some lube over your pussy, coating your lips in a cold, slick film. The finger pushed in, rubbing the lubricant around the inside of you, feeling the texture of your inner walls. It pulled out. Moments passed. Seconds felt like hours as your mind raced. Of course he'd figure it out, he'd have to lube his toy before fucking it otherwise that huge bitch-breaker would rip it in half!

Or not. The flare pressed against your hole briefly, before forcing its way in. You groped a tit as it pushed in, filling you slowly before he started fucking himself properly. He was going fast, faster than anyone could fuck. Every push made you yelp, your eyes rolling back as it hammered into you, getting deeper and deeper with every push. Your yelps and whines reached a crescendo, the hammering cock driving you to orgasm hard against it.

You felt yourself tensing, gripping the flared beast inside you as your toes curled and your body shook. The force of the orgasm almost made you fall backwards, your arms catching you as your back arched, your hips pushing up against a man who wasn't there as you groaned.

He wasn't far behind. The flare flattened against the entrance of your womb as he pulsed into you, delivering his cum right where you wanted it. The thick liquid steamed through your cervix in a river, filling you in an instant before threatening to spray out around the sides. He held the toy down, keeping you hilted as he pumped you to bursting.

At last, the flare started to recede, he pulled out. You felt the still too wide tip pulling on your entrance before popping out in a fountain of thick cum. You lay, panting on the sparse grass, shielded from passers-by by the fronds of the willows above. It's another simple spell to prevent pregnancy, a handful of river water mixed with a little ash and daubed over your belly neutralises the semen filling your womb. Life magic wasn't your speciality, but a witch knows the rudiments.

You picked yourself up and started to walk back to the main park. It's about a 20-minute walk at a decent clip, but you were taking your time.

Something touched your pussy again. Not a finger, not Andy's flared member, something else. Thinner, shorter, already leaking fluid into you. Have you been borrowed?

The new cock was slower, fucking you like it was savoring the experience. The minotaur cum lubricating him as he slid in and out.

You looked for somewhere to duck out of the way, slipping into a bush as the cock slowly fucked you. It wasn't as big as the minotaur, but the languid pace made you squirm.

It sped up for a few pumps, making you arch yourself again, before slowing down. The cock twitching and throbbing in your cunt, it hadn't knotted you yet, the slippery precum adding to the mix of fluids dripping out of you.

Over and over, the slow stroking punctuated by fast thrusts, each time drawing moans and gasps from you as the canid cock edged inside you; each time brought you to the very edge, before slowing back down and leaving you panting.

The fast fucking started again, this time you clenched yourself against it, feeling the thickness of the cock pressing back at you. You created your peak, tears welling in your eyes as you half-moaned, half-sobbed your release. The knot filled you up, and another man's cum started to fill you.

Walking is hard when you have a tennis ball sized knot plugging you up, harder still when that knot is moving and thrusting with a mind of its own.

You staggered home, the knot staying hard, holding the rest of his cock in you as it twitched and pumped more and more into you. Lupine cum isn't as thick as a minotaur's, but there's just so much of it; you could feel it dripping down your legs, the unmistakable smell of fresh cum filling your nostrils. You were just glad you didn't need to take the bus.

You finally got home, the knot still in you, and slid into your room, waiting for it to pull out.

A knock on the door

"Hey" It's Andy "I know what you did. I gave you to Paul, he's loaded Brian up with boner pills, so don't expect to be getting out any time soon. Next time you want to hook up, just ask, OK?"

Well, looks like you're in for the long haul.

Worth it.

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Not sure how I did on that. The minotaur fucking was fun, but was the lupine as good, or did it overstay its welcome? Maybe I'm being over critical because it's my work.

Either way, if you have a request for any scenarios you want to see or kinks you want me to explore, please do drop an ask! If you're not sure if it oversteps any boundaries, send it and I'll make a decision. The worst I'll say is no

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