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vampjaeyun · 4 months ago

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STRAWBERRY LOLLY

PAIRING shy nerd!sunghoon x confident fem!reader | wc: 1.5k

WARNINGS vague smut, miniskirt agenda (duh), sunghoon is a perv and he got it bad, dom!sunghoon

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much. God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

NOTES hi first post kinda nervy

PARK SUNGHOON has the hots for you.

It has only been a few months since he’s known of you. And it’s not enough time to build the courage to approach you.

What can he say?

You look unfathomable. Something so unreachable. Especially for someone like him.

He sits far across the room as the professor rambles on, stealing glances, wondering if you’ll notice him one day. It was hard to keep his mind at bay, to prevent walking up to you. He knew that he would ramble and mess it all up. Or stutter while attempting to acquaint himself with you.

He realized that admiring from afar was the best solution to the issue at hand. And it proved to be a good one.

That is, until it became unbearable. More specifically, sinful. And today is one where it seems God is testing him.

You return to the classroom and Sunghoon automatically straightens his posture– his doodling on the notebook gone astray.

You’re sporting the same mini skirt he loves so much and those legs are perfectly on display for everyone to see. It’s definitely not because they’re so short your panties practically peek out without having to look under.

He doesn’t know how you do it. How you claim attention to any room you walk in. Heads automatically turn in your direction the second you step foot into it. But you play dumb, acting as if the people in the room don’t automatically moan at the sight of you.

And whether it’s the perfect posture or the pearly smile you showcase, you’re far out of reach for the quiet, stereotypical glasses-wearing nerd, whose favorite class is calculus. And it’s most definitely because you’re in this class too.

However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much.

God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.

The glassy ball between your lips that you occasionally run your tongue along has him losing all composure. You’re innocently conversing with your classmate beside you, innocently grazing the tip of the red lollipop against your bottom lip, and innocently putting it back into your mouth in one motion. Your cheeks hollow, and he salivates at you sucking on the sticky candy. He knows he’s far away, yet believes his eyesight couldn’t be any clearer.

His leg starts to mindlessly shake once scenarios run wild, and one point he makes clear to himself is that the flavor is strawberry. It fits you perfectly, he thinks. The strawberry lollipop tints your lips a fitting scarlet shade, the gloss resembling honey as you continue to edge him beyond belief with the repetition of your ministrations.

But as he continues to gawk from across the room, your orbs shoot directly into his.

It’s so sudden that he moves to deter from your glare at all costs and reverts back to random doodling. Sweat dribbles down alongside his temple because your sharp eyes contain purpose behind them, and he prays that the purpose isn’t him.

You’re definitely going to call him out for being a creep if anything.

But a tap on his shoulder forces him to address the siren in heels behind him, and as he turns, Sunghoon can hardly meet your inviting eyes.

And just like taking a breath, your syrupy voice addresses him for the first time. He wonders if you feel an ounce of what he’s feeling at the moment.

Surely not, because you act as if you’ve known him your whole life.

“Hey Hoonie, can I talk to you for a second?” you infer with your hands pressed against the edge of his desk. And it’s proving impossible to look straight into your eyes, even more at your tits pressed together, spilling out of your top.

“Shoot,” he mentally applauses himself for a collective response.

“I need a tutor,” you frown, and all he thinks about is how your face would look when you cum.

“I’m on the verge of failing, and I know you’re about to check off a hundred percent in the class.”

“Yeah o-of course. I have to make sure my schedule’s open first.”

“Great! My place or your place?” you bat your lashes innocently.

Sunghoon swears if you do one more thing, he’ll cum in his pants right then and there. There’s not much more he can take. “Anywhere is fine. I gotta go though. We can discuss the details in class tomorrow.”

You’re giggling at his shyness, quick to follow his scurrying around the desk. “Or we can keep talking since I like talking to you so much.”

You’ve got him staring like a deer in headlights, “You do?”

“Do you?” you inquire while also wondering when he’ll drop the shy act.

An opportunity like this most likely won’t ever happen again. And the countless times Jake has called him a pussy for not shooting his shot only motivates him that much more. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?”

“Maybe because I enjoy hearing answers I like,” you raise a brow at his sudden confidence, but your interest is showcased through the closing proximity between the two of you with each word that escapes your throat.

Sunghoon notices the glint of surprise in your eyes when you realize he wasn’t going to cower backwards.

His thoughts, on the other hand, were the complete opposite of his cowardly actions. In fact, he wonders how’d you react if he kissed you until your lips were bruised. Or if you liked it if he wrapped his entire hand full of your hair and tugged ‘til his heart’s content.

But in the end, your answer has him speechless, and you fully grin at that. “Let me know the answer to mine when you get the chance.”

You’re turning around to leave the shaky boy alone, but something catches your wrist.

“Tomorrow. Eight p.m., my place,” he’s breathing pattern quickens and he thickly gulps as he awaits your response.

And you giggle at his eagerness. “Can’t wait.”

And that’s how you ended up at his place the following night. Sunghoon had successfully helped complete a total of five questions before your hand slithered up his thigh and the subject of derivatives flew out the window.

To be honest, he doesn’t care he gave in so fast.

He’s so easy. So easy for you.

And you knew that. You took advantage of how he averted your gaze at all costs, yet you could still feel the heat of his stare when you looked away. Usually preferring men who are more dominant and masculine in and out of the bedroom, you took this as a challenge to stray out of your comfort zone.

You couldn’t lie though, Sunghoon’s awkward mannerisms are awfully cute. A bonus was he wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Your friends often scolded you for wanting to pursue him, but you ignored their incessant warnings.

And when you made due of your promise, you were surprised at how he was able to get a few words out.

What was even more surprising was the night that followed.

“Fuck—mnph!” your moans are muffled into the pillow as Sunghoon plows into your sopping cunt from behind. His palm envelops the entirety of your nape, pushing your head harder with each thrust. Your entire spine buzzes with pleasure, and his fingers digging into your neck only heighten the feeling.

“This is for underestimating me,” he seethes. You wish you were facing him to see his darkened persona.

“I w-w,” you barely get out.

“You what?” his hoarse voice mixes with a groan at your velvety walls sucking him like a vice.

“I-I wish I c-could take a pict-ture,” Sunghoon’s fingers press deeper with each word that escapes your throat, and you giggle. You’d never imagine the loser in class could get you pussy drunk.

“Go ahead,” he seethes before pulling out and flipping you over to your back.

“Wha-” you can’t even finish the word before he’s roughly thrusting into your pussy in one motion and continuing with the same pace.

“Hoon! Fuck,” you’re under his spell while the bed frame rhythmically knocks against the wall.

“I should take a picture of you like this,” he turns your slack jaw so you are able to look at him.

He chuckles once his eyes make contact with your hooded ones. “With drool and tears decorating your face while I use you as a cock-sleeve.”

Your fists ball as the drag of his cock overwhelms you. “So full,” you moan, and he rewards your comment with another harsh snap of his hips.

“Remember,” Sunghoon sets your calves against his shoulder and leans down against your ear. It feels unworldly, his cock pushing deeper and rougher into your cervix.

“Remember who makes you feel this way,” he whispers.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon park #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha smut #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #enha sunghoon #enha park sunghoon #enha sunghoon smut

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rafesangelita · 1 month ago

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౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 deciding to host the biggest house party on figure eight, you and rafe cut celebrations short after a heated game of beer pong.

warnings: established relationship, alcohol consumption, irresponsible drinking, rafe takes a body shot off of reader, unprotected sex, rough sex (?), rafe puts you in a chokehold <3, dirty talk, praise, overstimulation

wc: 1.1k

everyone knew your parties were absolute ragers, with strangers filling out every corner of your house, and the cops always shutting the place down at the end of the night, to say your parties were the most anticipated on the island would be an understatement. even now as you and rafe challenged one another in a classic game of beer pong, you were sure there was people passed out drunk somewhere. “loser has to take a body shot.” rafe walked around the table, his hand sneaking under your skirt as he passed by. he loved threatening you with a good time.

you rolled your eyes, your best friends cheering you on as you and rafe went round after round until you both only had one more cup left. rafe had a look in his eye that was all too familiar. you knew he secretly wanted to lose, the terrible throw of his ping pong ball confirming your suspicions of him missing on purpose. “aww, are you letting me win?” your smile was the epitome of perfection, your boyfriend motioning for you to go as he grabbed a bottle of tequila from topper. sure enough, an excited squeal left your lips as the little ball landed straight into rafe’s red solo cup.

rafe pretended to be disappointed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when he downed the last of the burning liquor. truth is; rafe wanted to get his hands, and mouth, on you since the second he saw you walk down the stairs in that pretty little outfit of yours. if losing to you meant he could run his tongue up your soft flesh and cop a feel of what was under your sequined top, then that’s what he was going to do. rafe walked over, grabbing your hand as he guided you on top of the table. the crowd burst into a fit of cheers, your cheeks heating when rafe gave you a little wink.

you laid flat against the hard surface, your fingers pulling at the hem of your skirt. glancing down at your hands, rafe cursed under his breath when his favorite thong peeked through your bottoms. “you’re in trouble.” rafe slipped off his shirt, laying the article of clothing across your lap so no one else can steal a glimpse of what was his. everyone was hollering as all eyes fell on you and rafe, nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy. leaning down, rafe licked a stripe up the column of your throat, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss.

after what felt like an eternity, you sighed blissfully when he pulled away, wasting no time in placing a lime between your lips. “you gonna be a good sport and take this for me?” he unscrewed the bottle of tequila, your stomach flipping in excitement. “sí— yes.” as soon as that word left your mouth, rafe tipped the bottle over, the cold substance sending a shiver down your spine. topper and kelce stepped closer, the flashlights to their phones blinding your vision as rafe’s tongue flattened against your skin, the warm muscle moving all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“no bra?” he teased, licking all the way up to the underside of your jaw. taking the lime from your mouth with his own, everyone erupted in cheers when rafe stood up, topper jumping in the air as he saved the video to his camera roll. you would definitely need to see that later. rafe helped you up from the table, making sure your outfit was in place before throwing his t-shirt over his shoulder. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit weak in the knees after feeling rafe taste your skin. wrapping an arm around your waist, rafe whispered in your ear as he guided you two back inside.

“you wear those panties on purpose?” his breath was hot against your cheek, his arm pulling you close to his chest. “no.. my first option was to wear no panties at all.” rafe nodded, a dry laugh falling from his lips. “oh, that’s cute.” he knew you were serious too, and that’s what drove him crazy. before he could say anything else, you pulled away from him, losing yourself in the sea of people before he saw you making your way upstairs, your mini skirt shining underneath the neon lighting of your house. once your door clicked behind you, it wasn’t long before it busted open again.

all it took was rafe seeing your lacey pink thong to get you in the position you were in right now; getting fucked in a headlock while rafe grunted praises in your ear.

“wrapping around me so fuckin’ tight..”

“fuckkk, you’re taking me like the perfect little slut you are.”

“this is what you wanted right? ‘wanted this pretty pussy to get pounded in?”

all you could do was pathetically repeat his name, tears lining your eyes at just how good he felt. his bicep hugged your neck, your chin wobbling against the huge muscle as sounds of his skin meeting yours bounced off of the walls of your room. with his balls smacking against your clit, you nearly screamed when you felt the band in your stomach snap. “ray!” you gasped, your manicured nails digging into his flesh as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “oh, my god!” you were jelly at this point, your limbs feeling like dead weight as rafe made no effort to slow down.

overstimulated and mumbling nonsense, you shook and trembled underneath rafe as he filled you to the brim with his seed, the second greatest feeling ever. the first being whenever he was inside you. rafe’s head rested on your back, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you were sure to see bruises in the morning. he was panting by the time he finished, his cock still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm. collapsing down next to you, rafe gave you a lazy smile, both of you looking equally fucked-out.

“we should probably shut this down soon, it sounds like it’s getting pretty rowdy out there.” you sighed, snuggling into rafe’s side. “i just want to stay like this.” wrapping his arms around you, rafe inhaled the scent of your perfume. “how have you not gotten a citation yet? the cops have been out here at least six times already.” you groaned, feeling sleep pull at your eyelids. “please don’t jinx it.” as if on cue, there was a flash of red and blue lights, a siren sounding from outside. you and rafe froze. “what did i just say?!” you huffed, already dreading having to get dressed and talking to the police.

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ceilidho · 4 months ago

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hound dog

prompt: You pick up Ghost from a bar for a one night stand. Too bad Ghost isn't interested in a casual hook up. (nsfw, 6.7k) [based on this old post] [on ao3 here]

Rare is the day when a stupid girl doesn’t do stupid things.

This is just one of many such occurrences. Stepping into the dimly lit dive bar—the one miles from your place, reeking of tobacco and leather and motor oil, the noxious perfume of week old sweat and weed stinking up the joint, pardon the pun—with too much eyeliner and mascara on, and a skirt too short for you—and would you just stop fiddling with it? But you can’t because that would mean admitting that it barely fits over your ass, that putting on a skirt so short was a choice, an invite, a teasing little taunt to the men in the bar saying, what are you waiting for? I’m asking for it, aren’t I—

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

It’s why you’re planted at the bat some six weeks after being dumped, two weeks after being ghosted for the third time in a row, a smile on your face despite your crumbling self-esteem. Pride hanging in tatters. Grimacing when you find the bartop sticky with congealed liquor, the residue sticking to your skin when you quickly lift your elbows off. But there’s a time for self-pity and a time for getting it the fuck togther. This just happens to be one of the latter times.

“What’m I gettin’ you?” the bartender in front of you asks, barely impressed with your get-up. Not even attempting to conceal his distaste when he eyes you up and down, lingering on the way your tits are practically spilling out of your top.

“Do you have any cocktails?” you ask. Wrong question. The eye roll isn’t even suppressed for your benefit when he makes it clear to you, in no uncertain terms, that it’s whatever he can pour straight from a bottle or the fancy bar for cityfolk down the road. He says it like that, the word practically sneered out. Cityfolk.

Nerves shaken, you sip at your red wine after he leaves you to your own devices, your glass poured straight from the box. It could function passably as lighter fluid if the circumstances called for it. Still, you swallow it with a positive attitude, emboldened by the knowledge that you’re here for one thing and one thing only:

to get fucked within an inch of your life by one of the greasy-haired, cut-wearing, cigarette-smoking men lining the bar.

Even the thought sends a thrill down your spine.

It’s an age old question, isn’t it? What’s a girl to do (when her love life’s falling apart / when her credit score just bottomed out because her ex-boyfriend ran up her credit cards behind her back / when her job’s steadily becoming unbearable but quitting would mean scrambling to find a job that’ll pay anywhere near to what this one’s paying her) to get a drink around here?

Evidently, the answer isn’t to use a dating app; you can say that confidently after waiting around in fancier bars than this for several no-show dates.

You’re feeling appropriately over the whole thing. Ready to call it quits. Uninstall all of the apps on your phone and hire a matchmaker or ask a friend to set you up with a coworker of theirs. But that’ll be later, down the line when you aren’t dealing with the issue at hand.

The issue being that—

you’re really fucking horny.

Embarrassingly so. Enough that you were willing to travel miles away from home to avoid accidentally hooking up with anyone you might run into later on while out getting groceries or on a morning run.

It’s just better to play things close to your chest. Keep your romantic life and your sexual exploits far apart (not that you’d know much about keeping things separate; you’ve never had much of a sex life to keep hidden) lest you get mired in a stickier situation than you’re comfortable being in.

Despite the rough start, the bar you chose seems promising. There’s a man at the other side of the bar that keeps drawing your eye. It’s the hulking size of him at first, then the grime clinging to the folds of his skin, worn in from years of hard labor. He looks like a man fresh off a fourteen-hour shift or a fortnight spent on an oil rig in the middle of the Baltic sea, freshly washed ashore, kelp and barnacles still fused to his skin, not yet pried off.

Rough is the only word you’d use to describe him. A face covered in nicks and old scars, his upper lip slightly puckered and scarred from cleft lip surgery. When he turns his head to say something to the bartender, you catch a glimpse of a cauliflower ear, the cartilage of his tragus and antihelix swollen and deformed.

He’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. If you’d given it more thought, you think you could’ve conjured up an image of the man across the bar all by yourself. It’s like someone plucked him straight out of your head. Big and brawny, broad shoulders that you can imagine dangling your ankles off, and well-muscled arms that you can imagine digging your nails into. It would take both of your hands and extra to wrap around his bicep. The thought makes you shiver.

You try to catch his attention subtly. Looking over at him from under your lashes, quick, smoldering glances meant to draw his attention to you, so that he approaches you first. You keep waiting for the moment when he’ll notice your stare and hold your gaze, a question being asked and answered between your eyes before reeling him in with a coy little smile.

But when a half hour goes by without a single glance your way, your hope begins to wane.

He doesn’t look up no matter how many times you glance over at him. It’s frustrating; you know he feels the weight of your stare. His disregard is purposeful, deliberate; like he knows your attention is fixed on him but he can’t be bothered to so much as return your stare. You wonder if that means he’s got a lady at home, a little bird cooped up in his house that he’s more eager to get back to after he’s had a drink to take off the edge than flirt with some trussed up floozy at the bar.

That makes you squirm, self-consciousness rearing its ugly head again. Maybe you made a mistake coming here.

It’s not as though you’re being completely ignored, it’s just that the caliber of men that have approached you so far haven’t really inspired much, carnally speaking. You’ve sent the few braver ones away, a half-hearted thanks but no thanks when they offer to buy you a drink. Most leave without a word, though a few mutter obscenities under their breath before shoving their hands in their pockets and stalking away. Bitch. Dumb cunt.

Calling it a night feels like a natural next step. With the attitude you keep getting from the bartender and the way the only man you’re remotely attracted to refuses to so much as glance your way, it doesn’t feel right to stay out any longer. Embarrassment heats you like a low grade fever, warm in your belly. Wine sloshes around in your stomach when you slip off the stool, hunger now another pressing concern.

You’ll ask him on your way back from the bathroom. If he turns you down after that, you’ll slink off into the night with your tail tucked between your legs. There’ll always be next weekend to try again. You promise yourself that because the alternative is acknowledging how defeated this entire experience has left you, no less disappointing than going on the same boring first date with a guy from Tinder.

In the bathroom, you dab your face with water and stare at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years; finger smudges and white strains streaked across the glass. You wonder how many strangers have fucked in this bathroom over the years. The thought makes you grimace even more when you notice that the floor is slightly sticky, the ground sounding tacky beneath your shoes.

When you come out, the man from across the bar is waiting by the door, so close that you flinch, eyes widening. The narrow hallway means that he’s barely three feet from you when you stand in the doorframe.

“We leavin’ or what?” he growls, voice as deep as you thought it might be, gruff and husky.

He’s just as imposing in front of you as he was from across the bar. Maybe more so. You’re forced to crane your neck to look up at him this close, lips parting on an inaudible exhale. There’s something about a brutish man that’s always taken your breath away; everything from the blunt chin to the pronounced brow. His face is flecked with pale, keloidal skin; rubbery nodules from old injuries.

Dumbstruck, you can only nod, following behind him when he turns away from you, headed towards the parking lot out back where his truck is parked.

You’re really doing this. You’re really doing this. That’s the only thought in your head when he unlocks his truck and pops the door open for you, waiting until you’re buckled in before slamming the door shut.

He’s quiet on the car ride back to his place, unconcerned with getting to know you or defusing the tension in the truck. You can’t say you blame him. There’s a reason you chose a bar so far from home as a hunting ground. If you wanted to get to know someone, you would’ve met someone at a coffee shop.

When you ask his name, he grunts it out like it’s an inconvenience. Simon. He doesn’t give you more than that, even when you awkwardly ask him what he does for work. Blatantly ignores your questions. The rebuff smarts for some reason, makes you frown and duck your chin to your chest, shoulders hunched.

His demeanor is so off-putting that halfway through the drive, you wonder if you misunderstood him somehow, if he means to drive you home instead of taking you back to his place (but that can’t be right, otherwise wouldn’t he have asked for your address?). It’s just hard to reconcile his churlish attitude towards you with his ostensible invitation to fuck.

Maybe he doesn’t intend to fuck you at all. Maybe you managed to pick up the one serial killer in a twenty mile radius and stupidly followed him back to his truck without telling anyone who you planned to go home with. Your blood curdles at the thought, hackles raised when you imagine him sizing you up from across the bar, all prettied up and doe-eyed, easy prey.

Your breathing picks up. “I, um…actually, c-could you…could you just drop me off at my place?”

Simon rolls his eyes so hard that it’s almost audible. “Not gonna kill ya, bird.”

That doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you, but you don’t dig your heels in and demand he take you home either.

“Do you live nearby?” you ask, suddenly chatty. Why, oh why.

Simon looks over at you, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. He drives a manual, you notice. A few too many seconds go by in silence. You wish somebody would just staple your mouth shut already.

“Yeah,” he says finally, turning back to watch the road, taking a left turn up ahead without using his signal. So it’s that kind of drive.

You keep your mouth shut for the rest of it lest he decide you’re too much of a hassle and turn back. You’re poised right on the edge of something new and exciting, and the thought of that slipping through your fingers makes you feel a bit crazy. So many men before have shown you that same snap dislike. Like you’re tolerable over text or as a dimensionless photo, but not as a flesh and blood person, the real mechanics of you all wrong. It’s an intolerable thought—that people can only like you when you smile and keep your mouth shut.

Still, you’ll do it now, for a price.

Part of you expects him to pull you into his lap when he pulls into his driveway and puts the truck in park. It’s what you’ve seen in movies. The rest of the night plays out in your head in piecemeal flashes; ravenous passion, hands tearing clothes off each other’s bodies, a shoe left on the porch in your hurry to get inside. Hungry, devouring; slick mouths parting for barely long enough to breathe.

Then Simon cuts the engine and gets out of the truck without so much as a glance your way, like you aren’t even there.

He still comes around to open the door for you. You frown at him through the window, affronted. Baffled at his continued nonchalance. Like even keeping your mouth shut isn’t enough to keep a man’s interest. Where you expected passion and fervor, you’re met with cool indifference.

Simon pops the door open. “Get out.”

The house itself is nothing special. A two-story cookie-cutter house built in the seventies; weathered, beige-coloured vinyl siding and a neatly trimmed lawn, with a few patches of overgrown grass and weeds. There’s a trailer parked in front of the closed garage, a few planks of wood strapped down in the bed. When you follow him up the walkway, you notice how quiet the neighborhood is, and for some reason that makes you even more jittery.

You stop in the doorway, frustration breaking your timidity like snapping an ampoule. “Do you even want to—” fuck me, goes unsaid. Too humiliating to even ask. But you ask anyway, the question itself implicit even in so few words.

Dark eyes stare down at you, impenetrable. You’re struck by the sense of something primordial slithering under his skin. His expression is hard, his face carved from granite; when his expression shifts, it’s like watching tectonic plates create mountains, plates pushed upward by mantle plumes.

He fits a big paw under your chin, fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks hard enough to make your lips purse. Your heart skips a beat when he angles your head from side to side, looking you over like a pet he’s considering bringing home. You almost go cross-eyed when he bends down, his forehead nearly brushing yours, so close that you can smell the scent of cigarettes clinging to his clothes, see the grease smudged on his face and the folds around his eyes.

A grin flickers across his lips, gone as it came. “Yeah. I do.”

And doesn’t that tie your stomach in a knot? Your nerves in a pretty bow?

Inside, his house is just as unremarkable. You’d know in a single glance that a single man lived here; a functional, no-frills living space. Nothing more than a worn couch, a TV, and a few pieces of obvious hand-me-down furniture. It’s hard to glean anything from the minimal decoration around his place, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look around. That’s not the point of why you’re in his house.

“Eat anything yet, bird?” Simon asks from the kitchen, opening the fridge without purpose. It looks like more of a reflex than anything, the first thing he does the second he gets home for the night and the last thing he does before going to bed. From the size of him, it makes sense; his body is muscle on muscle, covered by a healthy layer of fat, just a surface layer over the bulk beneath.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Have a bite, then.”

“I’m not, uh, hungry though,” you deflect rather than saying the obvious, which is, I came to your house to have sex, not make sandwiches at the kitchen counter together.

He shuts the fridge door, pinning you with his stare. “Your call. Could’ve used the energy though.”

You swallow.

The first thing you do after he herds you into the bedroom is try to pull him into a kiss, cupping his cheeks and standing up on your tiptoes. Before your eyelids flutter shut, you catch a glimpse of a cocked brow. Then you press your lips to a slack mouth that doesn’t move no matter how much passion you infuse in your kiss and feel embarrassment flare up in your guts.

Bastard. You should’ve expected that he wouldn’t kiss you back.

“Sorry,” you mutter, breaking the facsimile of a kiss and dropping back down onto your heels.

You flinch when he grabs you by the back of the neck and reels you back in, forcing you back onto your tiptoes, “Don’t be,” grunted against your mouth before fusing your lips together. A pathetic keen climbs up your throat, eyelids slipping shut.

His greed leaks from him like tar, his kiss so messy and violent that you’re almost too jarred to do anything apart from hang on. Teeth clack against yours, a horrid sensation, the lust in your belly abating long enough for the real world to slink back in and you get flashes of it: hands winding around a thick neck, a scratchy cheek against your lip when he twists his head to angle your noses better, a tongue shoving into your mouth unceremoniously, no finesse at all. Straight to the main point.

A shudder wracks you from head to toe when you try to break the kiss only to find the hand on your neck firm, holding you in place. The subtle reminder that he can do whatever he wants with you, that you willingly went home with a man big and strong enough to pin you down and fuck you however rough he wants.

“Simon,” you whine, squirming against him, gasping a breath and his name again when he wrestles you back into the kiss. “No—Simon—”

“Stay fuckin’ still,” he snarls against your lips, and you freeze, knees going weak when his fingers dig into your jaw to hold you in place.

The endorphin rush nearly makes your vision white out. A sudden winter storm, the blood rushing to your cheeks and the tip of your nose, your breath coming out quick and choppy. Lungs barely filling up with each inhale.

“Get this off,” Simon growls, tugging on your skirt when you don’t move fast enough. He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, content to wrench your skirt off himself instead, your panties along with it.

It takes your breath away, how fast you go from clothed to partially nude. Trying to match his fervor is a losing game, so you just try to keep up. Your hands tug at his belt, desperately trying to undo it, and he chuckles when he notices; big hands paw at your ass while you shakily pop the buckle out of the first loop.

He takes over after that, popping the button on his jeans one-handed.

“Wanna handle the rest?” he prompts, an eyebrow jutting up, expectant. Lazy with his arrogance; oozing rugged masculinity. It’d infuriate you if it didn’t get you so hot.

Your fingers are numb by the time you pull his jeans down, kneeling at his feet and gazing up at him with wide eyed devotion as he kicks off his boots and shakes the pants off his legs, nothing under his jeans. His pale white thighs are dusted in fine blond hairs, mottled with burns and scars and old, faded cigarette marks, like someone used his legs as an ashtray. The thought makes your throat close up.

He shucks off his shirt while you stare at the shaft heavy with blood hanging between his legs, drooping with its own weight. Flushed red at the head and streaked with dark veins, leaking a steady drip of precum. The hair at the base of his dick is of a darker shade, gold like straw.

Your stomach swoops at the sight, dropping to the pits of you. You swallow. Maybe you’ve bit off a little more than you can chew. A lot more.

As if sensing your unease, a wide hand is suddenly firm on the back of your head, urging you closer. “Gonna give it a kiss?”

It’s not a question. You know that and you know that you’re way out of your league; that if you panic now you’ll flounder. So instead of fighting it, you lean forward and press a shy kiss to the weeping head of his dick.

You lick your lips instinctively when you draw back, lapping up the precum smeared across them. The taste makes you wrinkle your nose. It’s salty; bitter. Not altogether pleasant.

Simon wraps a hand around his dick and holds it to your lips. “Open your mouth, bird. Get me nice ‘n wet.”

A shudder rolls through you, but there’s little else you can do except part your lips and squeeze your eyes shut. It’s a struggle to fit more than just the head in your mouth, his dick too wide to take more than that. Your eyes water at the stretch, the musky taste of his cum overwhelming.

Any experience you’ve had before this pales in comparison. It’s like the first time all over again. His cock is heavy on your tongue, instantly making your eyes water. The grip he still has on the base of his cock tells you that he doesn’t expect you to swallow the whole length (an impossible task; you go cold with dread at even the thought), but Simon doesn’t hesitate to grip your head firmer when he feels you falter, forcing you to take as much as you can.

When you gag, he shushes you. “Keep at it—you’re fine.”

You wonder if he thinks by saying it, it makes it true. You’re very much not fine, struggling to breathe through your nose and suck him off without scraping his cock with your teeth.

Your exhale when he pulls you off his cock by your hair is full of both relief and trepidation. Your lips feel swollen and tender when you touch them with your fingers.

“Can we please have sex now?” you ask, dazed enough to be bold.

Simon cracks a smile at that, endeared somehow. “Gotta get up for that, bird.”

You have to brace your hands against his chest when you get to your feet, the blood that rushes to your head making you wobbly. Even on your feet, he’s so much taller than you, a behemoth. Men like him have always been your type, but Simon is really in a league of his own.

Glancing up at him from under your lashes, you bite your lip. You’ve seen that in movies before, starlettes bringing men to their knees with just a look. Coquette; demure. It’s harder to replicate than you thought, but you’ve never rehearsed this before. This is a one-time, live performance. The culmination of everything you’ve ever read or watched or studied.

You keep up the ruse of being sexy by crawling onto his bed on your hands and knees, dropping down onto your elbows once situated in the middle of the mattress. The debauchery of wiggling your ass back at the man who took you home from the bar would overwhelm you if you weren’t playing a part right now. Role playing. This isn’t who you usually are, but if it’s only for one night, you can force out the self-scrutiny and timidity.

Silence hangs in the air like a bubble, waiting to be burst. You fight the urge to look over your shoulder at him.

Then Simon exhales, breaking the silence. Goosebumps ripple down your arms.

The mattress dips under his weight when he settles behind you, hands immediately sinking into the flesh of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart. No preamble. You open your mouth to say something, but thick, coarse fingers are already dipping between your thighs and playing with your hole, sinking a finger in up to the first knuckle.

You breathe out shakily, shoulders tensing. The sheets reek of him, musky and ripe; you concentrate on that instead of the fingers penetrating you, getting you ready for his dick. Your walls squeeze tight around his fingers when he forces another one in.

When he finally feeds his cock into you, the stretch is nearly unbearable. The sharp stab of pain that accompanies it almost makes you flinch away, but Simon drags you back by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere, bird,” he rumbles. “Relax. It’s going in.”

What can you say to something like that?

His whole frame presses you into the mattress, the breath forced from your lungs. Bigger now that he’s got you on your belly. Suddenly making two hundred pounds seem less abstract, more real. He bullies as much of his cock into you as he can, paying no mind to the way you squeal and kick your legs.

“Real tight cunt,” Simon grunts, humming with his pleasure when his hips punch forward and your pussy squelches around his length. So lewd.

His knees on either side of you keep you trapped in place, nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. All you can do is lie under him and let him rut between your thighs, gasping for breath with every thrust. The sweat is slick down your back, half yours and half his.

“Ya let other men fuck this cunt, bird?” he asks. It sounds hypothetical, like it’s said half to rile himself up, and though it prickles at your nerves, you don’t complain too much because he fucks you rougher after the words slip out of his mouth.

When you don’t answer him though, concentrating more on filling your lungs and not biting your tongue off, he grabs your face and twists your head until you’re looking over your shoulder at him, neck aching with the strain.

“Answer me,” he demands, sounding almost pissed off.

“N-no—”

“Good,” he grunts. Satisfied.

His words should piss you off. How dare he ask you about fucking other men as if he were your husband or boyfriend. You have half a mind to cuss him out, but then he pumps his hips forward and your face goes numb from pleasure. Electric impulses zip up and down your skin, sizzling your nerves.

Besides, maybe it’s hot that he’s acting like you belong to him. Like you’re his; his girl that he picked up from the bar after a long shift, eager to go home and lay her out on the bed so he could fuck his pretty girl into a tongue-tied stupor. It certainly does it for you, a thin filigree of pleasure winding its way down your spine.

It’s an intoxicating fantasy—being wanted by a man in a real, visceral way. It’s one you’ve never gotten close to before, never even grazed with the tips of your fingers, no matter how far you stretched out your arms. You don’t know what men see when they look at you, but it can’t be anything worth keeping.

He fucks you like he wants to pry you open and leave a piece of him inside. A big hand fits around your neck and tightens; a collar, a manacle.

Hard to feel anything but grateful though. It’s everything you wanted but never thought you’d get out of this experience. You expected to feel like a body on a butcher’s block, hacked limb from limb. Marble ribbing on the inside. Brought to a high only to be left out in the cold after.

You never expected apotheosis. You never expected the filth murmured into your ear, the lurid, coarse diatribe in surround sound, all perfect fuckin’ pussy, can’t wait to shove my tongue inside, gonna make you suck my cock while I eat that perfect cunt out—

All—

Perfect fuckin’ girl; you don’t give this to anyone else, do ya? Knew you were gaggin’ for it back in the bar, but wanted to wait ‘n see; turned the rest of ‘em down, didn’t ya? Not a fuckin’ slut. Jus’ for me—only hungry for my cock—

It’s too rough, too much. Overpowering. Musk and body heat and raw strength, his forearms planted on the mattress on either side of your head. The scent of him suffocating, smothering. Heady. In your pores, on the back of your tongue, in your belly. He’s everywhere.

If only you could put it into words. The fire in your belly growing so wild, so out of control, that it threatens to incinerate you. Thinking dangerous thoughts—that you could be his, that he wants you so bad he can’t stand the idea of anyone having you before him, that he’ll kill anyone that touched you before, rip them apart with his bare hands, cut out their hearts and slice it ‘em up real thin so he could feed you the strips with his hands—

“Fuck—” Simon pants in your ear, pulling his cock out of your cunt. You whine, clenching down on nothing, suddenly empty, until he turns you roughly over onto your back and grabs one of your flailing ankles, hooking it over a burly shoulder. “Cunt this good oughta be locked down. Should just chain your leg to the bed so I can wake up to this pussy every day. Would’ya like that, bird?”

Like it? You think wildly—

Keep me, keep me, keep me, pleasepleaseplease.

The leg not hooked over Simon’s shoulder gets pulled around his hip, spreading your legs wider to accommodate the width of him between them. The scour of his voice threatens to erode you, smash you to pieces. There won’t be anything left after he’s done with you.

He’s just so big. Built like an ox, broad and solid. When he braces his forearms on either side of you, his biceps bulge, skin pulling taut over the muscle. The dark hair of his pits is stark against pale flesh.

Blood roars in your ears and over you, he moves like a wave, filling you up again and again. You’re swimming in uncharted waters now; gazing out into an unfamiliar and dangerous sea. A swell this big might take you right under.

Too bad for you, the hazy adumbration of danger in his words is pitted against the maw in your soul, the deep, cavernous hole that yawns wider with each passing year.

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: overlooking a sea of evergreen peaks illuminated by a silky moonlight hue, winding a long, narrow road darkened on both sides by tightly clustered trees, your arms wrapped around your chest. Cold layered like a skin, sinking deep into your bones, cold wet like a damp hate; trees clustered around your wandering soul, spurned into wandering like a little undead ghost with teeth clattering in Morse code, saying: so many wrongs done, it is almost incomprehensible.

Is it too much to ask to be wanted?

You need it like air.

The issue is that—

more than horny, you’re really, really fucking lonely.

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: a dream of being a lighthouse keeper, skin saltwater slick, seafoam on the backs of your knuckles, slathering over frozen fingers clutching at the gallery railing. Beckoning something to you.

What it is, you do not know.

“Look at tha’,” Simon says wonderingly, grabbing your face and yanking it towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “Just needed to get turned out on a fat cock, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” you gasp. “So good, Simon, ohmygod—”

“Only this needy for me, right?” The glint in his eye is terrifying.

“Only you, only you—”

“That’s right,” he growls, bearing all of his weight down on you, forehead to forehead. His sweat-slick chest slides against yours, cock buried so deep that you can taste him at the back of your throat. Dark eyes stare down at you with an intensity that steals the breath from you, glossy like he’s rapidly losing the ability to be consciously present, but ever attentive to the pleasure rippling across your face.

When his cock grinds into the soft plug of your womb, his eyes narrow when yours bulge, and he batters that spot until you seize up and spasm around him. His buzz cut gives you nothing to hold onto, so you dig your nails into the bulky planes of his back instead.

“Fuck—hold on, Christ, fuck; here it comes,” he spits, the veins in his neck protruding when he grits his teeth.

Your blood goes red hot when he rams deep into you, each thrust deliberate. Hips losing their rhythm. You don’t notice the first spurt of cum, too preoccupied with the smell and weight of him blanketing you, infiltrating every crevice of your body, but the second is hot. Scorching. You ignore the screaming alarm at the back of your head, barely coherent enough to parse out its meaning. All you can focus on is the warmth spreading inside you and your own walls pulsing around his cock, milking his release out of him.

Time blurs. You lose some of it.

You don’t come back until Simon rolls over onto his back, taking you with him. His cock is still buried inside of you, his cum running out in rivulets, pooling at the base of his dick lodged at your entrance. You’re going to be messy when he finally pulls out.

Despite the ache already setting in, you feel reborn. Renewed. The old, dead skin flayed off. You can’t imagine how you’ll feel when you’ve got your energy back, when even tracing your eyes across the other side of his room doesn’t take tremendous effort. The traces of him littered around the room make you curious. A half empty glass. Steel-toed boots sticking out of a half-opened closet. A damp towel crumpled into a ball on the floor.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s no use trying to fill the gaps in. Whoever Simon is won’t matter in the light of day. You repeat this to yourself until it sticks.

When you try to get up, planting both hands on his chest, he pulls you back down, forcing your head onto the pillow of his chest. “Simon, the sheets are wet—”

“I’ll deal with it later,” Simon says, eyes already shut, on the verge of falling asleep. “Now shut up. You’re ruining the fucking afterglow.”

You wake up the next morning covered in bruises and bite marks and dried cum between your thighs and on your belly, so sore that even twitching your finger hurts.

It takes awhile for everything to come back to you. When it finally does, consciousness snaps back into you, discomfort giving way to quiet self-satisfaction. You managed to do it. Your first one-night stand. A real milestone. The tacky sheets beneath you are proof enough of your accomplishment.

The sadness slithers in when you realize that it’s over. One and done. In a half hour or so, the man plastered against your back and breathing heavily on the crown of your head will wake up, groggy and bleary eyed, and side-eye you until you put back on your clothes from the night before and slink out, tail tucked between your legs. A few hours delayed from when you were planning to throw in the towel at the bar, but still. In the end, it always comes around.

A gruff voice at your side tells you to quiet, bird—s'too early for your bitchin’ before manhandling you onto your stomach and shoving his raw cock into your cunt and it’s only now that it dawns on you that you were too horny last night to remember to ask him to use protection.

The thought is wiped from your head when he bucks his hips forward, impaling you on his swollen length. You lose track of time after that.

Breakfast is an informal affair. Cereal from a box and a bit too much milk, and a cup of instant coffee. You wince when you sit down across from Simon at the kitchen table, your inner thighs still tender and pussy sore from the battering it just took. If it strokes his ego to see how gingerly you sit down, he doesn’t show it.

It’s weird sitting across the table from him after last night. Hard to just leave it unaddressed, the truth simmering in the air. The red marks across his back make you wince, cheeks heating. Thin crescent marks and scored nails. It’s hard to reconcile yourself with the girl from last night.

He eats in silence for the most part though, ravenous after the night before. Doesn’t comment on the state of his shoulders or the way you shift on your chair. Not even bothering to make eye contact with you. Your appetite takes a bit of a hit watching him shovel food into his mouth, hardly even pausing long enough to breathe, but you’ve seen plenty of hungry men eat before.

Still though, silence has always had a way of getting under your skin. You’re not comfortable around it, prone to chattering. So you can’t help the way your mouth opens and the words come out involuntarily.

“Do you do this a lot?”

“I don’t shit where I eat,” Simon grunts dismissively.

The expression makes you grimace. “So do you usually pick up girls elsewhere or—”

The look he gives you could melt the flesh off your bones. You realize your misstep, interrogating the man you just fucked about his other hookups. Best not to ask questions. It’s not like you’ll see him again after this.

These last few moments are bittersweet. There won’t be many opportunities like this in the future, mainly because you don’t think you’re cut out for one-night stands. Last night proved that. As good as it was—and for as many times as you came, another time in the wee hours of the morning when Simon rolled over on top of you and shoved your legs apart to eat you out (a midnight snack)—in the light of day, you feel world weary. Like something monumental happened and passed you by.

You almost want to thank him for making it special, but the anxiety around finally pissing him off is more than you can bear. You want to leave on a good note. It’s better this way. You’ll never have confirmation about whether he’d eventually grow tired of you like everyone else. Never know if he’d one day manage to lose interest in the real you, not the made up sex kitten from the bar.

It’s better this way.

You tell yourself that when you push your chair out and stand up, hands fisting in the oversized shirt Simon made you wear before leaving the bedroom. “I should get going.”

He stops eating, staring up at you. His eyes are inscrutable, and the longer he stares, the less you understand his look.

You shift from foot to foot. “Thanks for… I had a good time.”

Simon doesn’t say anything, but when he drops his spoon into the bowl, the metal clang makes you flinch.

His silence leaves you off balance, like you’ve overstepped somehow. All motion stills under his scrutiny.

“Got somewhere ya need to be?” he asks, a vague, almost menacing undercurrent in his voice. It’s said like a warning. There shouldn’t be anywhere else you need to be.

“I…—don’t you want me to leave?”

He looks distinctly unimpressed. “You gonna walk home like that?” His words make you tug at his shirt, pulling it down to cover your thighs.

Your whole life has been made up of misunderstandings. Missed opportunities. Men who you thought loved you vanishing into thin air. You’re a poem often lost in translation. A long game of hide and seek; people run towards you then feign right, leaving you in the dust.

Whatever this is, you don’t recognize it.

You swallow on a dry throat. “…No?”

Simon searches your expression for something before he nods, satisfied. “Then sit the fuck back down. Finish your damn breakfast.”

You sit back down (wincing when you do) because the alternative is admitting that you don’t know what’s next. That you’re out of step again, but this time without that sinking feeling in your belly. A wild fluttering instead. That thought again that maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew.

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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milo-is-rambling · 2 years ago

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Ughhhhhhh okay okay okay I am going to try to be an adult today and by that I mean I work a full shift tomorrow but I actually don’t feel like rotting away in my room tonight so I’m gonna shower and then do a load of laundry and put away my clean laundry that has been sitting around for the better part of a month and then swap my laundry to the drier and watch tv then if im still up and motivated I’ll put it away if not I’ll put it into the laundry basket all my clean clothes are in now

#having to wear clean clothes and black pants/skirts half of my days means I have to a lot more laundry #I can’t just wear the same exact tank top and shorts combo for three days and then shower and change into an identical tank top and shorts #combo #now I have to wear a clean red shirt half of my days and only bottoms that cover all of my legs #which suuuuuuuuuucks shorts for life !!!!#I mean really it’s fine cause the few pairs of black pants I own are comfy and the black skirts I love but yknow. annoying to not just be in #teeny tiny short shorts all the time #it’s so comfy

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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

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♡ TW: enemies to lovers, past bullying, reformed bully x victim

♡ fem reader

“No way.” You shake your head—face warped in something akin to disgust. Judging him for even asking, glaring in disbelief at him and what dangles from the clothing hanger in his hand. He couldn't be serious.

“Come on, please, for me?” he pleads, downright pleads. But there’s no way.

“No.” You say more firmly, planting both hands on your tilted hips. “I don’t get what you’re thinking, but it’s not exactly a time in our lives I want to relive.”

He pouts and sags a little where he stands, clasping his hands together in prayer, making the ill-taste outfit swing. “Oh, come on, it won’t be the same as then,” he promises with zero believability backing him. He even dares smile as he spouts the bullshit in his next words, “It’ll be like therapy. Let’s reframe your trauma together.”

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “You’re stupid.”

He feigns feeling insulted. “I’m serious!”

“You always said I looked like trash in that—no way I’m not putting it on,” you dismiss.

But then he gets down on his knees. Hands still together as if in worship. Looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. “I was lying through my teeth back then—you know that! I’ll be honest this time around. Tell you exactly how often I had to change my pants because of you—”

“Ew, stop.” You can’t believe the spectacle he’s creating—such a drama queen—and all for getting you to put on a make-shift copy of your old high-school uniform.

“Come one, pretty, pretty, pretty please?” He shuffles forward on his knees until he’s right by your feet—bottom lip jutting out in his pout. “The prettiest please?”

You look down at him—you mouth a prim pursed line, gritting your teeth to try and steal yourself. Grimacing at the outfit sprawled on his lap. There’s no way. Absolutely no way.

“Pretty please?” he continues, making you roll your eyes with a sigh.

“Fine,” you bite out but quickly add, “But you have to wear one, too.”

You think you’re being smart. But he only grins—a wicked little twinkle in his eye.

“Way ahead of you.”

From behind the outfit meant for you, he pulls forth a black gakuran to match.

Okay, so you hadn’t really thought he would have bought one for himself—you realize now the mistake in your speculation. Of course, he’d bought one for himself. But hold on… You raise your brow, folding your arms atop your chest. “And where’s the pants?”

“They didn’t have my size, but my sweats are already a good lookalike,” he explains away. “This doesn’t really fit either, but it won’t stay on for long, so’ doesn’t matter.”

He gets up and hastily pulls his shirt off of his head, then, with just as much enthusiasm, pulls the black school jacket on. And he’s right—his black sweatpants could pass for the old Tobi trousers he used to wear. All in all, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Looking at him feels just short of seeing his old high-school self.

“Come on. You said.” He holds out the rendition of your old uniform. “Get dressed.”

You regret conceding. But it’s too late to go back on your word now. Rolling your eyes, you receive the hanger with a sigh, “Oh, fine. Just this once, you freak.”

You get dressed without making much of a show. Leaving your current comfy outfit in an unceremonious pile, you pull the tacky articles on hastily. Black pleated skirt and sailor blouse with a little red bow sash—there’s even a pair of knee-high socks to go with it. As a grown-up, it’s utterly humiliating having to wear it now.

But he doesn’t seem to share your discomfort. Only groaning, “Damn. There she is—my prettiest little junior~”

You ball your skirt in your fists. Glancing up at him only to look down again, fixing your gaze to the floor. Heat in your face. Mumbling, “This is weird—you look dumb.”

“Oh yeah?” his voice curls with newfound enjoyment. “Well, you don’t look a day older.”

He comes closer, and oh god—you don’t know why you’re so nervous. But fuck—you feel like your back in time—back in time when you were a sorry loser getting picked on, and he was… he was a—

“Perv,” you manage to say. Though, that’s not really the word you’d been thinking.

He chuckles, so close now that he also starts to play with the hem of your skirt. “That’s for damn sure.” Agreeing, he hums, “Only for you though. So’s fine.”

He bends down and finds your neck with his tongue and teeth—his hand traveling up under your skirt without further ado.

“Hey,” you protest, wringing his ill-fitting jacket in both fists, hauling him off. And even though it makes him look back at you like a kicked puppy, you don’t let it get to you as you scold him, “Thought we were reframing my trauma. At this rate, you’re just itching to make me relive it.”

He tries giving you one of his innocent smiles. “Oh?” His arms curl around your waist, pulling you close—chest to chest—simpering while leering down at you, voice in a purr, “It won’t be any fun if I can’t bully you a little bit like I used to.”

He tries leaning down to catch your lips, but you push him away. Breaking free, then scoffing, “Tch, if that’s how you’re gonna play this, then have fun beating off on your own.”

“But—” He starts, but you’re already on your way to leave the room. Hooking two fingers into the band of your skirt, he stops you and spins you back, now all mopey and sorry, “I’m sorry, don’t go, princess—how about we one-eighty it, and I tell you all the reasons I love you? Will that make you humor me?”

He’s back to pleading.

And you can’t help the small smile it gives you. Muttering, “Maybe.”

He smiles giddily, too, “I love how pouty you can be sometimes.”

Your brows furrow, “Hey!” That’s not a compliment.

But he only laughs and continues, “And I love your snippy little tsundere attitude.”

“Those are both insults, you tit—” you argue, but he doesn’t care, hugging you close, lifting you off your feet before falling with you down on the bed. Hanging over you, he admires every inch of your perfect body tucked into that cute little uniform he used to make fun of because he was scared of how silly you made him feel.

“I love how you tell me off.”

Deciding to face his fears was the best decision he’d ever made.

“I love how you look at me.”

It’s crazy to think you’re here with him still, after all these years.

“I love how you put up with me, how you make all my wishes come true—how, even though I don’t deserve you, you stay with me anyway—how you’re mine even though I’m a scumbag.”

You’re eyes soften under his speech. For all his tactlessness, he can also be really quite sweet. You raise both hands, reaching out to cup his face—beholding the softness in his eyes—that way he looks at you. It makes your chest stir.

“You’re not that bad,” you confess, pulling him down to tease his lips with yours.

Kissing you once, he accredits you, “That’s ‘cause you make me a better man.”

You smile and kiss him again, then resume your teasing, “Don't get ahead of yourself. You’re still a boy.”

He lifts and raises a brow down at you in retaliation, “Is that so?” And oh no, you recognize that look.

“Well, this boy is feeling hormonal and horny and just raring to go—” he overplays. Gasping, “And what do you know? How lucky!” He lowers himself again, then starts peppering kisses all over your face in between words, “I’ve got this perfect little high-school sweetheart lying here all up for the taking—”

♡ BNHA – Hawks, Dabi, Bakugou, ♡ JJK – Gojo, really silly in-love Sukuna ♡ HQ – Kuro, Atsumu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 5 months ago

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hi, im not reall sure if you request are open but if so id like to request something. Its NoNutNovember (i know its acctually april) but R teases g!p Nat the whole month by wearing seductive sets or just nothing underneath her dress when they go out, by constantly „innocently“ bending down, randomly lightly grazing her fingertip over nats bulge when she doesnt expect is and when they watch a movie or lay in bed and out of nowhere starts to massage nats balls. And lots of dirty talk. By the end if the month nat fucks r incredibly hard. I hope its understanible english is not my mother tongue. Anyway i hope you have a great day🤍

Burning Desire

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: amab!Nat x fem!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, top!Nat, bottom!reader, teasing (a lot), dirty talk, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, Nat has a big thing (I don’t make the rules)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: NNN is surprisingly fun for you, not so much for Nat ;)

𝐀/𝐍: been a while

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Natasha was sure that any longer of this torture and she’d lose her mind, the challenge was seemingly easy enough right? Just a month of no sex and masturbation. There was no real challenge in that right? Well it wouldn’t be such a problem if her girlfriend wouldn’t take such pleasure in teasing the hell out of Nat.

It started easy enough, some light teasing here and there. You made some dirty comment or bedding down exactly in front of Nathashas nose. Making sure to search all the skimpiest clothes from your wardrobe you could find. Whenever your skirt rode up enough to reveal yet another of her favorite sets you enjoyed seeing the noticeable bulge forming in her pants.

GYM sessions soon became your favorite time with Natasha. Not only would she be all sweaty and pumped up but it was also the perfect opportunity to tease her, wearing some short tights which made your ass stick out even more paired with a tight sports bra had the widow going. Too bad that it was yet another few months without having her hands on you. “Oh baby” You mumbled your hands falling to her crotch, all that dominant energy suddenly fading from her eyes as she released a soft whimper. “Someones excited huh?” You mocked her as you kneeled the bulge in her pants, another set of moans escaped her throat, you'd rarely seen her so submissive for you. This NNN was a real blast for you “please baby I need it” she mewled her sweaty hair sticking to her forehead “Ah, remember the challenge Tasha, I’m sure you don’t want to admit to the boys how you only lasted a mere two weeks right?” Your hands never leaving her hard bulge, you were surprised that she hadn’t creamed her pants yet.

She let out a long sigh but eventually stopped your hand “You’re playing unfair” She huffed before turning away completely to pick up her set of whatever exercise she was currently doing.

Another favorite of yours was movie nights with your girlfriend, she typically chose another old bond film to watch with you. Mumbling the lines along the actors when she thought that you weren’t paying attention to her. Today was no different, she rested next to you on the couch. Her head on your shoulder, your hand playing with her red hair, until you slipped her hand under her shorts stroking her abdomen. She let out a shaky moan.

“Baby” she sighed. You moved to tug her pants down some more revealing her gray boxers which already had a little wet patch from her pre cum on them. Your hands worked on her balls forcing more and more moans from your poor girlfriend's throat. “You’re so hard already” You chuckled not stopping just yet “This is so stupid can’t we stop now?” She whined and you almost had pity in her “Come on” You encouraged her “It’s only a few more days”

“Just imagine my tight little pussy pulsing around your big cock” Your hands worked wonders on her balls massaging them in a way you knew it would’ve made her crazy. “Wouldn’t you like that, Natty?” She hummed, pushing her head in your neck in a desperate attempt to distract herself.

In the night of the first december she woke you up in the middle of the night with wet kisses on your neck. “Baby, are you awake” she whispered her kisses open mouthed all over your neck. You took a glance at the glock on the nightstand, 4:05 AM, Natsha was always a night owl. “Can I fuck you please” She mewled licking your skin, you were surprised by her iron will that she could last for so long.

You nodded excitedly to finally feel her inside of you again “Yes, baby, I need it too” She hands ran down your torso, pushing up the oversized shirt you wore to sleep. Her hands found your tits pushing them together, the sight of it forced a moan from her throat. “I wanna suck on your tits” She whined looking at you with puppy eyes “Go ahead baby” you chuckled enjoying how desperate she had gotten over this month.

Her mouth found your nipple tugging on it, enjoying how your face twisted in pain and pleasure. She sucked on your nipple, before licking all over your chest “Fuck, you’re so good at this” You cried out carching your body into her touch, letting your hands fly in her hair. She moved onto the other side letting her teeth scrape over her soft skin. She didn’t stop until you were decorated in her marks. She kissed down your stomach in the process, tugging your panties down your legs.

She kissed your pubic bone taking in your scent, she watched how messy you were already slick running down her legs. Her fingers find your button to play with it. She rubbed tight circles over your clit making you mewl. You were so desperate already she was sure her dick would slip right in. You wanted you scold her for teasing so much with her feather-like touches, but you let her have the power over you after teasing her all month.

She grabbed onto her hips, twisting you around to lay on your chest. She pulled up her hips positioning herself behind you. She kissed down your spin rubbing her dick between your legs brushing over your clit, making you mewl in the process. “Fuck, Nat I’m ready” You clinged to your pillow “Go in, please” She lined herself up pushing her penis inside your tight heat. You moaned at her stretch crying out for more. She let you adjust to her size for a couple of minutes before she thrusted in and out.

Her thrust became faster and faster until she hammered inside of you, you could feel her tip brushing against your cervix. She panted like a dog above you rutting inside of you like her life dependent on it. “Fuck, I need to fill you up, gonna make you a mommy… wouldn’t you like that?” She slapped your ass “All round full of my kids” She was crazy for you, just as much as you were for her. “Please fill me up, I need your cum inside of me”

You clenched around her dick squeezing you tight, you were so incredibly close just like you. “Fuck, Nat I’m close” You moaned “Cum with me please” She fastened her hips again before you cried out in your own orgasm. When she was sure you came first she let go herself, her hips slowing down to unrhyming thrusts. You felt her cum deep inside your womb, dripping out when she pulled out to collapse beside you.

You crawled to her side enjoying the closeness to your girlfriend after intimacy. “Hey” You mumbled kissing her lips “Hey yourself” She threw her arms over your back keeping you close on her chest. “Round two?”

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

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midnightrodeo1968 · 1 month ago

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Short Skirt, Red Bottom

#short skirt red bottom #spank me daddy #spankable bottom #harder daddy #spank me pls #bd/sm daddy

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sungstars · 3 months ago

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bedrock | loser!jisung x fem!reader

i.e after jisung went down on you for the first time… he just can’t get enough!!!

authors note: PART TWO OF FALL OFF!! i hope it is up to everyone’s standards <3 I HAD SOOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS LOLLLL i really hope you guys enjoy !! i feel a bit insecure abt postin it...

word count: 1.5k (not proof read)

content warning: unprotected sex, switch!jisung, unprotected sex, creampie, use of sex toys, lmk if i missed anything!!

jisung couldn’t get enough of you. ever since that night where he went down on your for the first time, he needed more.

whether it was laying between your thighs for hours, lapping at your cunt and making you finish over and over or fingering you on the couch during a movie.

countless nights passed where you've offered to return the favor, but jisung declines.

he always passes it off as he just wants to focus on pleasing you, but of course, you didn't buy it.

the real reason was because every time jisung got you off, he would always cum in his pants before you even finished once. it was so embarrassing that he would bust in his pants like a fucking virgin.

everything about you was just so intoxicating though. your scent, the way you tasted, your moans, and praises. how could he honestly not finish in minutes?

which led him to his dilemma right now. sweat matted his hair to his forehead, his entire body felt so fucking sticky and warm.

it was all your fault. you dragged him to the dumb skating rink in your stupidly short tennis skirt that left little to the imagination.

he couldn’t even focus on skating when he knew there were more than just his eyes on you, fuck, he couldn’t even take his eyes off of you.

his eyes almost popped out of his fucking skull when you bent down to fasten the buckles on your skates, the outline of your cunt peeking through the thin material of your underskirt.

said skirt flailed around when you moved on your inclines, showing jisung all of your cute tricks you learned from years of roller skating and also the bottom of your ass.

jisung had the most raging boner for the last hour and a half. cheeks flushed and ears a burning red that he blamed on the skating and his once again, awful attire of a hoodie and sweatpants.

you paid him no mind when he would basically whimper whenever the two of you came into contact on the floor.

if jisung could look past the part of how turned on he was, it was really endearing to watch you have so much fun.

after another hour of skating, you were tuckered out and wanted nothing more than go home and shower.

jisung was more than happy to comply. he needed a fucking shower and the chance to beat off one good time.

being the gentleman he was, he offered to let you shower first, but also for selfish reasons.

you took longer in the shower which gave him the opportunity to get some sort of release from this god awful erection.

when he was sure you were in the shower, he reached for the top shelf in your shaded closet and pulled down one of his shoe boxes.

it’s been so long since he had to use anything but his hand, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

thank you jeno for working at a sex store last christmas.

if jisung had any room to feel embarrassed for pulling out a pocket pussy that’s skin tone replicated yours, he definitely would’ve.

however, he needed to fuck something more than he needed to feel embarrassed. so he’ll worry about that later.

tripping over his own feet trying to get to the bed and his joggers down his hips, he let his cock hit his abdomen with a wet smack from the precum already dribbling down his tip.

he hurriedly grabbed the bottle of lube you guys kept in one of the nightstands, squeezing an unnecessary amount onto his hand and wrapping it around his dick.

small moans left his plush lips as he stroked himself, a chill running down his spine from the borderline ice cold lube.

his back arched slightly into the bed after a few strokes, feeling that knot already forming in his stomach.

“fuck,” he whimpered, moving his hand and sliding the toy down his cock, “fuck fuck fuck.”

the toy felt so tight and nice around his cock. you would be even better than this stupid toy, he knew it.

the way you clenched down on his fingers when they opened you up. . . jisung could only imagine how your cunt would spasm on his dick.

your pretty whimpers when he’d push into you, trying to fit all of his cock into you, how you’d probably try to run from it, oh he needs you so so badly.

another moan escaped his lip when he began to pick up his pace fucking the toy, thinking of all the nasty ways he would ruin you.

“mmfh,” jisung whimpered, his toes curling slightly at the thought of filling you up and fucking his cum back into you.

god. . . he doesn’t think he can go without—

“having fun without me?”

jisung’s eyes shot open, a flush immediately taking over his face as he saw you standing over him, one hand clutching your towel over your naked body.

he opened his mouth and closed it a few times, trying to form a sentence yet nothing came to mind.

you didn’t say anything either, opting to nudge his hand from the toy and putting your own on it, starting to slowly move it up and down his cock.

“thinkin’ of me?” you teased, “why use this when you coulda just fucked me instead, ji?”

he dug his fingers into his palms, whimpering for the nth time this night, “t-too nervous. don’t wanna cum too quick cause you’re s-so pretty.”

an endearing smile cascaded across your features, “you wanna fuck me ji?”

the raven haired boy nodded his head, lip caught between his teeth to stop his little noises as you used the pocket pussy on him. it was so hot, him using a pocket pussy to think of you.

why should he use this when he has the real thing right in front of him?

you stopped your movements, completely removing the toy from his cock and watching his body tense up from the cold air hitting his cock that looked red and angry.

placing the toy on the bed, you unwrapped your towel and adjusted yourself to sit on jisung’s lap.

the tip of his cock catching your clit, causing you to hiss and jisung groan. his whole body was still so tense, your poor boyfriend.

grabbing the base of his cock, you slowly pushed the tip into your cunt, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

“fuck,” the boy whined, “so so tight and warm.”

you sunk further down, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix and you placed your hands on his chest.

grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt, you bounced slowly on his cock, “you’re soo big jisung, fuck. i cant believe y-you’ve been holding out on fucking me.”

his hands grabbed your hips, forcing you up and slamming you back down on his cock harshly. you wanted to scream, his cock reaching all these spots in you that you didn’t know could be touched.

his pretty flushed face and hooded eyes looking up at you as he fucked you on his cock like you were his pocket pussy.

“you feel so good,” he said as he watched your tits bounce in his face, “look so good too. f-fuck, i cant believe i’ve been so nervous to fuck such a perfect girl.”

without waiting on a response, he flipped the two of you over and threw your legs over his shoulders causing you to yelp.

he pushed his hips into yours at a brutal pace, cock hitting your spongey spot over and over. one of his hands coming down to rub your clit roughly, lips raising ever so slightly into a smile at your wails.

tears welling up in your eyes at the pleasure, one of your hands wrapped around his forearm as you let out a string of moans. jisung was so interesting, one moment withering under your touch and the next, treating you like nothing but a fucking toy.

“j-ji,” you squealed, digging your nails into his skin, “i-i’m about to fuckin—”

your walls practically spasmed as you reached your peak, crying out jisung’s name which pushed him over the edge as well.

jisung thrusted shallowly into you, cum still spurting into your cunt and starting to spill out, kissing your neck gently as the two of you came down.

when you whined from over sensitivity, jisung pulled out and gave you a sweet kiss before collapsing next to you.

“can’t believe you held on fucking me within an inch of my life ‘cause you were scared of underperforming,” you whispered, tracing shapes on jisung’s chest, “and now i need to shower again.”

jisung hummed, turning over on his side to look at you, “i was thinking i should eat you out then fuck you ‘till i can make you squirt.”

“you fuck me once and suddenly you have all the confidence in the world?”

“i wanna fuck you ‘till we break the bed like bella and edward.”

you shook your head as you pulled your boyfriend down into another kiss.

it was going to be a long night.

END

#nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream #park jisung hard thoughts #park jisung x reader #park jisung imagines #park jisung smut #jisung hard thoughts #jisung hard hours #jisung smut

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mattscoquette · 19 days ago

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giving perv!matt head under the mistletoe

your living room buzzed with excitement as all of your friends were gathered together, all of the holiday decorations making it all the more lively. a large tree sat by your couch, decorated with lights and various ornaments you’d received over the years. little knick knacks scattered across random shelves and counter tops, and garland was wrapped around the outline of your windows. but to matt, none of that mattered. he was stood under the most important decoration of them all, mistletoe, while he waited patiently to catch you under it with him.

his eyes traced over everyone in the living room, but stopped on you when he saw you standing and talking to your friends. despite the december weather, you were wearing quite the revealing top. the way your hair sat on your shoulders, how yours hips looked in your outfit, matt could already feel himself growing hard. he stood leaned against the wall, peering down into his drink trying to shake his thoughts as he felt a hand lightly graze his shoulder, and saw you smiling up at him. “hi matt,” you beamed, “you having fun?”

matt’s eyes turned to you and raked over your body, gaze falling to the way your tits looked in the tiny red top you were wearing, and how your short white skirt did nothing to cover your thighs. his cheeks flushed a deep red as he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and nodded when he realized no words were coming out. you smiled softly and giggled under your breath, knowing you didn’t even have to try to make him nervous.

“y’know,” you said in a low and sultry voice, standing on your tip toes to whisper into his ear, “you’re standing underneath the mistletoe.” you could feel him nod next to you slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck. his shaky hands made their way to your waist, holding you in place against him while you continued to talk. “would you like to join me in the bathroom?”

you pulled away to grin up at him, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. he nodded feverishly, letting you drag him down the hallway into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and pinning matt to it. he let out a shaky whine as he felt your lips attach to his neck, marking your way across his skin before sinking to your knees in front of him. he looked down at you, his eyes wide and chest heaving. matt’s dick was already twitching and beginning to press against the zipper of his jeans, his pants tightening.

you giggled as you played with his belt, undoing it and taking it off all in one motion. your hands made their way to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as you tugged them down to matt’s ankles. you were face to face with matt’s bulge underneath the boxers, his tip already leaking feverishly with precum, a dark stain on the front of the fabric.

leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to matt’s clothed cock before pulling the boxers down. his dick sprung free as small moan escaped his mouth, sinking his teeth to his lower lip to conceal his sounds. you took him in your hands, beginning to pump slowly as you started to speak.

“i bet you love this, right?” you sighed, looking up at him with faux, innocent eyes, “you waited all day by the mistletoe so i could come take care of you, hm?”

“y-yeah,” he whimpered softly, feeling like he could cum already from the way your thumb kept flicking across his tip, “w-wanna be good for you.”

you grinned up at him, shuffling a bit closer to him on your knees. “you wanna be good for me?”

he nodded rapidly, his head thrown back against the door in pleasure. you smiled to yourself as you leaned down to lick a slow, long stripe along the length of his cock. matt couldn’t help the moan that ripped from his throat, making it obvious to anyone outside the bathroom what was going on. you gave a few more small kisses and kitten licks to his dick before taking him in your mouth, your tongue swirling and flicking around his tip. matt’s hands were instantly cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you made a mess of him.

“please,” he muttered softy, “wanna cum.”

you sighed softly, sending vibrations through matt’s body, bringing him even closer to the edge of release. you wanted to tease him a bit more, pulling off his dick and asking already?, but you decided he was probably pent up from the months he’s been creeping around you, and it was the season of giving, after all. your head continued to bob up and down on his cock, your red tinged lipstick leaving its stain on his shaft.

matt looked down at you, the sight of you on his knees before him too much. his eyes screwed shut as he whimpered, his grip on your jaw tightening. “mmph, fuck, please, w-wanna cum on your tits, please.”

who were you to deny his request? you pulled off of his length, re-positioning yourself slightly as you sat on your knees, pumping his cock a few more times before your chest was painted with his white spurts of cum as matt released all over your cleavage. his eyes slowly peeled open, seeing you on your knees in front of him, coated in his fluids. you flashed a quick smile at him, standing to your full height before grabbing a washcloth from the shower and wiping yourself down.

matt stood there, nearly dumfounded and in shock as to what just happened while he watched you so nonchalantly fix your hair and makeup, before standing in front of him, ready to leave.

he gaped down at you trying to speak, his hair messy and cheeks red, his pants and boxers still pooled around his ankles. you smiled softly, leaning up to press a small, gentle kiss to his parted lips before scooting past him, about to slip out the door before you mumbled a tiny “merry christmas, matt.”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ this fic idea was the first thing i thought ab yesterday morning and the first thing i did when i got up LOL. also just bc they hooked up twice does NATWT mean they r tgth <3 this is just a christmas present after this he’s going back to to pining over her <3

based on this concept

#© mattscoquette #˳༄ ₊ perv!matt ୨ৎ #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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fox-guardian · 7 months ago

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[ID: Three sets of digital drawings of Alice Dyer from The Magnus Protocol in different outfits on a brown background. She is a thin white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair with faded pink tips, crooked teeth, and pink painted nails, and she is always wearing pink cat-eye glasses, two pairs of silver earrings and silver snakebites, with a varying third ear piercing as well.

The first image features three pajama outfits.

The first is a baby pink cami, dusty pink shorts, and burgundy slippers, in which she also has her hair tied in a bun with a burgundy colored scrunchie. She is standing hunched and yawning.

The second is a dusty pink cami, gray PJ bottoms with pink stars and moons, a dark blue robe, and burgundy slippers. In that one, her hair is down and extra shaggy, and she is scratching her side, lifting her shirt a bit.

The third has her with nicely curled hair, wearing a baby pink satin robe, a black cami, and burgundy stockings, slippers, and matching makeup. She is standing coyly lifting her robe slightly with one leg lifted and a hand to her mouth.

The second image features three work outfits.

The first is of her in a pink and gray flannel shirt, dark blue hoodie, patchwork flannel maxi skirt, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a gold and red braided bracelet and a pink one. She is standing in profile, smiling with her hands behind her back.

The second outfit is a blue, pink, and brown flannel shirt over a grey undershirt, a pair of ripped blue jeans, a brown and pink flannel tied around her waist, brown socks, dusty pink converse, pink bracelet, and a dark blue hoodie draped over her shoulder. She is standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding her hoodie, and she is smiling as thought talking.

The third outfit is a burgundy blouse, long navy skirt, brown belt, and burgundy shoes. Her hair is also done in nice curls and she is wearing soft burgundy makeup. She is smiling awkwardly and shrugging.

The third image features casual outfits.

The first is a soft pink tank top with a navy bra peeking underneath, a frilly brown maxi skirt, pink slip-ons, and a grey and brown flannel purse. She is also wearing the three bracelets previously shown with, and pink donut earrings. She is smiling with her hands behind her.

The second outfit is a burgundy bra, baggy brown and grey flannel hanging off her shoulder, a pink and brown flannel tied around her waist, a navy knee-length skirt, white crew socks, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a grey bracelet, a pink beaded bracelet, tooth earrings, and navy eyeshadow and burgundy lipstick. She is standing leaning to the side with one hand on her knee, smiling and holding up a peace-sign with her other hand near her face.

The last outfit is a dusty pink crop-top with a boat on it, dark blue hoodie, a short burgundy-plaid skirt, shredded navy tights, gray knee-high socks with burgundy stripes at the top, and dusty pink converse. She also has her usual bracelets as well as shark earrings and smeared burgundy lipstick. She is jumping up, smiling and shouting, with one hand punching into the air.

end ID]

~~~~

ALICE OUTFITS <3 these were soooo fun to do omg. i have my own favorites out of these, please tell me yours!! i'm really happy with how they all turned out <3

#fg's art #the magus protocol #tmagp #alice dyer #i hope that ID format works i tried to make it not just three big blocks of text #tried to make it Readable also #part of me wants to make a bunch of alice-colored plaid textures to just Paste over her chowder style but.... the definition of forms....#anyway I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THESE I WANNA DO MORE <3 #who next?? 👀

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lomlhwa · 18 days ago

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mommy (j.wy)

pairing: sex worker!wooyoung x client!reader

preview: you really wanna be a mom, but you don't wanna be tied to a man. so you find a service that offers impregnation with no strings.

tags/warnings: fem reader, exhibitionism (fucking in a very not private room), bondage, mating press, so much breeding, lots of talk about making the reader a mom (of course), masochism, degrading + praise, sir kink, choking, hand kink, pet names (princess, angel, baby), wooyo tries to be professional and fails, so much dirty talk, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.6k

song recs for this fic: i need u by bts

a/n: someone requested this but i'm not gonna put them on blast (you know who you are)

the sterile environment of the fertility clinic was nothing less than uninviting. the bright fluorescent lights were nauseating to say the least. it almost made you wanna turn around and change your mind, but the secretary spotted you before you could make a run for it. “who are you here to see, ma’am?” she asks you, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “um, jung wooyoung.” she scrolls through her computer before finding your appointment. “ah, miss y/n. you’re his 4pm to 6pm?” she asks and you nod. she clicks her tongue before picking up the phone sitting on the desk and dialing a short set of numbers. you hear the sound of the intercom beeping before she speaks. “jung wooyoung to the lobby, please.”

before you know it, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen comes sauntering into the lobby. “you paged me, mrs. na?” she raises her hand and points at you with her bright red acrylic nail. his eyes follow her finger until he reaches you. “she’s your next client. she’s here for the all-in.” a smirk forms on his face as he turns to face you. “hello, i’m wooyoung. please follow me back to our room.” you nod and walk towards the door he entered through. “enjoy your service,” the secretary says, not even looking up from her computer. your hands tremble while holding your purse in your hands and walking down the hallway.

wooyoung pushes open a glass door, leading to a room solely adorned with a bed and a nightstand. you spin around to find a coat stand and place your purse and sweater on one of its hooks. when you turn back around to the bed, you find wooyoung staring at you with blown pupils.”have you signed all the paperwork?” you rock back and forth on your heels as you nod. “i know that mrs. na said you’re here for the “all-in”, but i need you to verbally specify what you’re here for,” he instructs. he leans back on his palms, raising his hips slightly to adjust how he’s sitting. you curse god for the way wooyoung’s grey sweatpants sit on his body. “um, i would like to be a mother. but, i don’t have a partner, nor do i want to be tied to someone for this process. so, i guess i’m here for you to um, get me pregnant.” your voice lowers at the last part, still feeling incredibly embarrassed that this is the way you’re spending your saturday afternoon.

wooyoung rises off of the bed and walks over to you. “you understand this is a completely professional exchange then? nothing done or said means anything?” when he runs his finger over your bottom lip, you start seriously reconsidering your decision. but it’s too late to turn back now. “i understand.” another smirk flashes over his face before he moves out of the way. “well princess, on the bed with your legs spread. i wanna see how this pretty skirt bunches at your waist.” your feet move as if they have a mind of their own, rushing to get yourself thrown on the bed. wooyoung groans at the sight of your compliant body following his every command.

he slots himself between your legs, running two fingers over your slit through your underwear. your hands move to grip his arm and he's quick to pin you down. “professional means you don’t touch.” he leans over you, grinding his hardening cock against your core as he reaches into the nightstand. he pulls out a pretty pink ribbon, waving it in your face. “i’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” before you can protest or fake promise not to do it again, your wrists are crossed and bound together. you struggle against your restraints as wooyoung ghosts his fingers down your sides, goosebumps following his path.

“much better. i like you like this. so perfect and compliant.” you turn your head away from his dominant gaze, your cheeks heating up. he bucks his hips against yours and a small whimper escapes your lips. you bite your lip to try and suppress any further noise threatening to leave your throat. wooyoung grabs you by the jaw and forces you to face him once more before landing a hard slap across your face. “sluts don’t get to look away from the one who’s going to fuck them.” your cheek stings as wooyoung looks at you with fake pity.

“from this point forward, you will refer to me as ‘sir’, got it?” you press your lips into a thin line before nodding. you hadn’t realized you had booked the kinkiest worker in this establishment. “words, princess.” your face flushes before you respond; “yes, sir.” a wide, toothy grin takes over his face as he leans down to kiss you. his plump lips envelop yours, pressing his entire body against yours. the kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongue. you tug desperately against your restraints, desperate to feel more of him. you grind your hips up against him and his hands fly to your hips and slam them back down. “bad girl.”

you whine, a frown forming on your face. wooyoung removes himself from between your legs to pull your underwear off from under your skirt. “i don’t wanna take this cute skirt off of you. i love how slutty you look in it.” he admires you for a moment, drinking in your appearance. suddenly, you realize that behind wooyoung, there’s a large window with no curtains drawn over it. your legs snap shut as someone walks by the room, despite them not even looking into the room. wooyoung clicks his tongue and shakes his head, tilting his head to the side. “everyone’s used to what happens in this room, angel. don’t get insecure now.” he grabs both of your knees and forces your legs back open.

wooyoung pulls his sweatpants and boxers down to mid-thigh, letting his cock finally spring free. your jaw drops at the sight. you had read his profile online, and it was adorned with a bright red size warning. a company policy you assumed. but you had seriously underestimated how badly he needed the warning. “scared, baby? don’t worry, i’ll make it fit.” you shake your head, staring at him with wide eyes. “it won’t fit, it won’t,” you babble and he hushes you. “i’ve got you. your pretty cunt is gonna suck me in so perfectly. sluts know how to take dick, right?” biting your bottom lip, you stare at him with a worried expression. “y-yes, sir.”

he brings his hand to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. your body tenses at the feeling of finally getting to what you truly came for. “i’m gonna breed you so well, princess.” his jaw falls slack as he bottoms out into you. “fuck you so full of my cum so that you have no choice but to get pregnant.” you tug so hard against the ribbon tying you down that you worry it might rip your skin open. wooyoung takes his time with the first few strokes, drinking in the way you feel and how your body reacts to him. he admires the way your eyes cross and your hips stutter every time he rolls his hips. “p-please let me t-touch you, sir,” you plead in a soft, high pitched voice. in this moment, wooyoung loses it. he reaches over you to untie your wrists, holding them in his hands. he sees how bruised you are and presses kisses to your wrists.

your arms rest on his shoulders and you tangle your fingers in his hair. he shoves his face in your neck, panting like a dog. “i know i said this was professional, but you’re so pretty i’m already so close.” he pulls away from you and connects his hand to your throat. his long fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your vision blurry. “c-cumming oh my god, i’m gonna cum,” you manage to barely get those words out before wooyoung folds you in half and forces you into the mating press. “you’re gonna be such a good mom. you’re gonna look so pretty all swollen with my kid. oh, you clenched so hard at that, you like when i talk to you like this, don’t you? you little slut.” your legs begin to shake as he drives you over the edge, your orgasm making your vision go white.

“just a little more baby, i’m gonna fuck you through it. i’m gonna fill you up so well.” a pout forms on your puffy lips as your body stings from overstimulation. he presses kisses all over your face as his hips stutter. finally, he releases inside you, painting your walls white. he chants praises and compliments as he empties himself out. he pulls out slowly, quick to shove two fingers into your hole to plug his cum inside. he leans down awkwardly to grab your panties and helpy ou put them back on to catch what drips out of you.

he pulls his pants and boxers back up to his hips before speaking. “it’s now 6pm. your session is over. take a test in a month and a half to two months. call the clinic if it fails and you may be eligible for a free second session.” he presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone before handing it to you.”i’m not supposed to do this, but please give me your number.” you smile and type out your number before handing his phone back to him.

you can see his smile as he walks out, leaving you to your own devices. you struggle a little to walk but manage eventually. the secretary gives you a knowing smile as she sees you wobble out. “have a good night, ma’am.”

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