#throatfucking kink
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prettygirlpaige · 11 months ago
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I just want someone to stroke my hair while they fuck my throat. Is that really too much to ask?
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delphi-dreamin · 20 days ago
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...I'm about to write Buggy making sure I can't talk for two days and having a religious experience over it. What the fuck?
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gutsby · 1 year ago
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I’m a Good Girl, Officer!
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Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh
Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.
Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.
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“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”
Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.
It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’
In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.
Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:
“HEY BIG RED!”
A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.
“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.
Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.
“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.
You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.
Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.
The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.
In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.
You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,
“Call me, daddy!”
The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.
“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”
You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,
“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”
Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.
You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.
You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.
“Shit!”
You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.
Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.
The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.
Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.
Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.
“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.
That only prompted your group to take off running.
You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.
Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.
Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.
Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.
I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.
This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.
Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’
The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.
“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.
You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.
You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.
To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.
“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.
His gaze darted back to you in an instant.
You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.
Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.
Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,
“I said don’t move!”
You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.
Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.
Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:
“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”
At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.
“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”
When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.
“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”
Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.
The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.
“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.
You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.
You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.
“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.
His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.
“Bitch bit me,” he spat.
You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.
“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.
At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.
“Quit squirmin’, girl.”
“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”
“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”
The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.
You decided to try your luck anyway.
“Make me, pussy.”
The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.
“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”
“Shane—”
Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.
“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”
“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.
“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.
You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.
“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.
“Fuck what Dixon said!”
“You cain’t just— you got no right—”
“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”
Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,
“You fucked up.”
You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.
Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,
“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”
“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.
“Huh?”
“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”
Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.
“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”
“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.
It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.
“Well who’ve we got here?”
Shit.
You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.
“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”
“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.
“Bit me, too.”
You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.
“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.
“Fuck you,” you muttered.
The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.
You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.
You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.
Your heart leapt into your throat.
“Daryl?!”
This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.
Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.
“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.
It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.
“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.
And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.
For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.
“You know this little hellion, Detective?”
Daryl cleared his throat.
“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”
“No shit?”
The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.
“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.
Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.
He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.
“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.
You rolled your eyes.
“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”
Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.
“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.
“Alri—”
“What?” you cried, “For what?!”
You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.
Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.
The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.
Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.
“C’mon now,” he murmured.
“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”
Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.
“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”
When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.
“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”
You watched him reach for you again.
Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.
You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.
Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.
Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.
Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.
“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.
Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.
“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”
“Like four people saw us.”
In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.
“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.
“We were drunk!” you cried.
You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.
“So?”
“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.
“Oh?”
You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.
“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”
Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.
“That was yer room?” he winced.
“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”
“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.
“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”
You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.
“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”
“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.
Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.
“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”
“Really, pig?” you sneered.
“Yeah, slut.”
Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.
“What did you just call me?”
“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.
Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,
“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”
You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.
“Excuse m—”
“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”
“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.
“Oh, believe me, we will.”
Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?
Presently, you looked out the window.
Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?
Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?
You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.
The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.
You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?
There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?
You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.
Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.
“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”
Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.
“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.
You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.
“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”
You shook your head no.
“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”
You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.
“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”
You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.
“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.
You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.
Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.
He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.
“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.
You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.
“To Shane,” Daryl added.
Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.
You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:
“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”
Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.
And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.
“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.
Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.
“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”
At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.
It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.
They were there to fuck you, not fight you.
At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.
And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.
“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.
“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.
You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.
Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.
“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.
“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”
You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.
“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.
“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”
Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.
“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”
This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.
You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.
“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”
All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.
“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.
Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.
Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.
Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.
“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.
“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.
Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.
You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.
All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.
Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.
You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.
Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.
“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”
You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.
Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.
“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.
You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.
You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.
Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.
When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.
“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”
That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.
You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.
“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.
You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.
You clawed at his wrist.
“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.
Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.
Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.
“How bad?” he asked.
“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”
You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.
Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.
Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.
“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.
Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.
“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.
Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.
You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.
Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.
“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”
You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.
It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.
Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.
“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.
“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”
You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.
Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.
Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.
The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.
Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.
Shane clenched his jaw.
“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.
He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.
“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.
Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.
“Have you?”
You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.
“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.
You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.
Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.
The three of them had you circled in an instant.
Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.
He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.
When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.
“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.
You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.
At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.
You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.
You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.
You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.
The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.
Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.
“Give her a minute,” he muttered.
Shane scoffed, shaking him off.
“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.
Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.
“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”
Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.
That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.
You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.
“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.
You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.
“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”
“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.
Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.
You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.
With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.
There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.
Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.
“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”
You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.
You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.
“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.
In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.
You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.
“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.
You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.
“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.
You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.
When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.
Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.
“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”
“Shane,” Daryl growled.
Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.
“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”
“Fuck,” Rick hissed.
You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.
Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.
Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.
“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.
“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.
Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.
Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.
A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.
When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.
You blinked and watched him closer.
As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.
Your eyes widened.
Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.
“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”
Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.
Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.
Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.
And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.
Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.
“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”
All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.
“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”
“Shit!” Rick hissed.
“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”
“Is tha’—” Daryl started.
“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.
Another voice broke out over the line,
“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”
Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.
“What’s—”
“I’ll explain on the way.”
For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.
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blackdykegirlblogger · 29 days ago
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nsfw werewolf abby hcs ^^
a/n: this is 1000% inspired by @abbyscoochiecruncher and her werewolf abby drawing. ilysm consider this a "be my mutual" proposal. anywayssss
side note istg i'm going to get to all the other fics i have planned eventually. consider this a side quest <3
you can claim to be a freak all you want, but sex with abby will genuinely make you reconsider your belief in god. 
first and foremost. the strap is long. and mean. and knotted. and goes so deep you swear to everything you love it tickles the back of your throat. none of that "it won't fit" shit is flying with her. she'll wait until you're properly aroused, lube you up as much as you need in order to take her, but um, you're taking her. every inch. until she bottoms out.
she likes when you whine about it being too big. It fuels her ego like nothing else. 
has body hair everywhereeee. arms? hairy. legs? hairy. happy trail? more like a happy forest. (unrelated side note: she’s surprisingly not musty. i like to think she smells like cloves and pine cones)
her stamina is…well…frightening, but that's to be expected when fucking a supernatural creature. rounds go well into the double digits. it could go much longer than that tbh, but you always find yourself tapping out (much to abby's dismay).
if you’re on your period it’s literally game over for you. she’s already obsessed with your pussy as is, but when it’s all bloody and ultra sensitive and bloody and sore and BLOODY??? nothing is getting her to pull out bro. nothing.
practically owns the mating press, especially during full moons. she loves watching the way her cock glides in and out of you, loves watching the stretch and the struggle as you try to take all of her girth. and watching your cum ooze out of you as she keeps on pushing herself in. she also adores pronebone and fucking you on your tummy in general.
breeding kink up the wazoo, but are any of us surprised? i think not. when i say she wants to give you babies, i mean babies (or maybe a litter in this case). like, she will dig her claws into your hips to hold you down as she (in her head but shhh don't tell her that) pumps you full of so much cum that you can't even hold it all. she'll stay inside you for hours while you're passed out due to her brutally fucking all the energy out of you, giving a slight thrust every now and again to make sure nothing tries to leak out of your (horrifically abused) pussy.
outdoor sex! outdoor sex! outdoor sex! yes ma'am chasing you into the woods and eventually catching you and shoving you into the ground and tearing apart your dress and-
yall are gonna boo me for this but no fingering :( i'm not that much of a freak chat i'm not trying to get my coochie all scratched up. but hey if you're into that then follow your heart ig.
often gets carried away when giving head. believe it or not, the overstimulation isn't even on purpose. she's so just enamored and pussydrunk and stupid that she loses all track of time and physically can't pull her lips away from your clit.
werewolf!abby isn't as big on dominance as regular!abby. like she still won't bottom (i'm a bit of a pillow princess but ntm on that) but she's a lot more open to you "taking control" via riding her, tying her up, maybe choking if you catch her in the right mood etc. she thinks it's beyond adorable.
if you're not into biting then don't even bother laying with this woman bc by the time she's done with you....
throatfucking! next question-
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multimilfs · 2 months ago
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Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Poking The Bear
Summary: Agnes has the misfortune of being called in to work a murder case on Christmas Eve. When she leaves you frustrated, you decide to do what you do best; poke the bear.
AO3
A/N: I said "is anyone going to humiliate this woman in this ultra-specific way?" and didn't wait for an answer. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3
Words: 8k
Included: Established relationship, Christmas, Porn with plot; g!p, teasing, somnophilia (implied), dacryphilia, phone sex, accidental orgasm, semi-public sex, humiliation, jealousy, blowjobs, dom/sub, sub space, throatfucking, unprotected sex, masturbation, light breeding kink, light degradation, praise, orgasm denial.
Tag List: @vii-v @absolute-memegarbage @crazycatladycaceta @hannah-0730 @shinysuitcloud @bubbly-moonwarrior @emilynissangtr @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @thelesbianapollokid4 @dmtrxie @notice-shy @vintagegoddess12 @rosie6reyes @softfruity @tragicsapphic34 @msharkness @setsuna1415 @kermidd5 @snickerdoodles-stuff @women-are-so-ethereal @imlike-so-gaydude @lotus-ignis @n0body-is-perfect @goblinscum420 @d-z20 @borntodieedition28 @autbot @ee-bah-sims @kathrynscontroversiallyyounggf @renravens @theothersideofthescreen @sp3c-tr0 @sapphicharknesss @coffeelover245 @madamslaytan @heady-pomegranate @ragnarockz @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @goforgreat @welmelsblog @igoturmoney @mol2311 @obnoxiouslycontemplating @bellatrix-black8 @deathly777 @emmasaviorqueen-blog @greatygreatgreat @chlizets @latedawnearlysunsets92
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Through the peaceful, warm silence of the morning, an alarm clock blares.
Agnes growls under her breath as she does every morning, lumbering from the comfort of the bed and over to the windowsill where the alarm clock sits. A particularly rough blow shuts it up.
God, why did she let Vidal insist on this shift?
Her routine is simple enough she could do it with her eyes closed; and does, for most of it. It isn’t until she turns the shower to a cooler temperature that she feels anywhere close to awake. She needs coffee—bad.
Halfway through said cup of coffee and one of the donuts you picked up, she realizes she hasn’t kissed you good morning yet.
You grumble a bit when she turns you over, untucking your head from the blankets, but you don’t wake. You look heavenly, painted in the warm glow of the Christmas tree you insist on keeping plugged in all night. Agnes smiles.
Pressing her lips to your forehead, she murmurs, barely a whisper, “Be good, baby.”
A hand wraps around her wrist and she startles. Pulling back, your eyes haven’t opened.
“Agnes, come back to bed.” You say, voice gravely from sleep.
“Vidal will be on my case if I don’t show.”
“I can make your morning better than Vidal can.”
You stretch, curling back into the blankets, but hold her wrist just tight enough to indicate you’re still half awake. It’s good your eyes are closed; she doesn’t need you seeing all the kinds of fond you’re making her.
Agnes really shouldn’t get you started, but curiosity kills cats, not bears, “Oh yeah? How would you do that, baby?”
“You’d come back to bed and sleep until I say.”
“And then what?” She prods, trying not to laugh.
“Then we’ll have a really nice breakfast. Donuts for you.”
“What would you have?”
“You.” You answer, casual and so matter-of-fact, “I’ll even swallow, out of Christmas spirit or something.”
Agnes jolts at the change. Though true to form, she can feel the familiar coil of arousal between her legs. She really shouldn’t have gotten you started.
She’s half awake, she won’t remember this, Agnes tells herself as she tries to move from her kneeling position on the bed. Your grip on her wrist remains.
“Sleep. We’ll have fun when I get home.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” You whine.
“I’ll be home before you know it, I swear.”
“Fine. ‘Love you.” You murmur.
You rescind your hand and turn over, pacified as you burrow back under the covers. Agnes shakes her head.
“Love you too.” She whispers.
With one last parting kiss to your forehead, she’s gone, with you none-the-wiser.
You wake up a mess.
There’s a half-remembered conversation with Agnes lingering in your mind, but it’s hazy enough to feel like a dream; an unsatisfying one, the persistent throbbing between your legs says. You offered to blow her, you remember that much—it’s all pretty blank after that.
No, there was something about having fun when she got home, too.
You can’t wait that long.
It isn’t until two of your fingers are knuckle-deep and you’re missing the fullness Agnes offers that the idea strikes you. You scramble blindly for the phone on your night-stand. The movements change the angle of your fingers and you whine, rolling your hips, even as the blind grabs for your phone grow more frustrated.
Once found, it is ripped viciously off the charger, and you open it, going through your messages for the quickest access to her number. You grin at the contrast between your long-winded messages and Agnes’ one word responses.
An infinitesimal movement of your hips reminds you of your intention.
The phone is brought to your ear and it rings… and rings… and rings…
…and rings…
“O’Connor.” Her gruff voice comes down the line.
Your breath hitches in your throat. You squeeze around your own fingers at the sound.
“Yes, Detective, I’d like to report a crime.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end.
“Go on.”
“Well, my wife woke me up this morning and got me turned on, and she didn’t even have the decency to fuck me before she left. What kind of woman does that, Detective?”
You can hear the curve of her grin, “A lousy one. That’s a pretty serious crime.”
Maybe it’s the low, lilting drawl of her voice down the line. Maybe it’s the way you can see how she’s sitting in your mind; shoulders back against the seat but hips forward, legs splayed with careless confidence, one hand toying with her belt. Maybe it’s the easy humor she slips into with you that she’s never had with anyone else.
Whatever it is, two sentences from her brings you closer to finishing than thirty minutes with your hand has.
You whimper, “Keep talking.”
Another pause. Then the faint rustle of fabric.
“What are you doing?”
Her tone is utterly serious. Unforgiving. And god if it isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
Finally showing your clit some attention, you moan shamelessly. It’s nice to feel full, but your fingers never quite reach the right spots, and you can’t get off on penetration alone—with Agnes or otherwise. It’s fun to work yourself up though; pushing to the heights you can reach there before really giving yourself the stimulation you want.
If she keeps talking, that—combined with the circling motions on your clit—will send you straight over the edge.
The anticipation builds over the line. For a moment, you pull the phone away to make sure she hasn’t hung up. She’s likely weighing the best thing to say to both turn you on and strike the fear of punishment into you.
Instead, her tone is almost pleading, “Don’t do this now.”
An image strikes you of making Agnes beg, of driving her to a point where the easy dominance falls away, and she’s reduced to chasing whatever kindness you give. It brings you so much pleasure it hurts. You need it. But how to get it?
“Is Agent Vidal in the room with you?” You ask.
The idea of Vidal witnessing what you’re doing to Agnes makes your toes curl.
“No.”
“I thought you were stuck with her today.”
“Leave Vidal out of this.” She demands, but it’s strangled.
She’s clawing for control over the situation, scrambling for a foothold. Normally, you’d give it to her. Normally.
“I don’t think I ask for much…” A lie. You make many requests in the sanctity of your bedroom, “all I wanted was for you to fix what you started.”
“Baby.”
You have to pull your fingers away from your clit, desperate to come but not ready yet.
“There are so many ways you could have done it, too. You could have woken me up with your head between my legs… or with you inside me. It could have been nice, right?”
Only the sound of her breathing comes down the line. Heavy, uneven, like when she’s holding herself over you, hips driving her deeper—
God, you’re so close.
You whisper, needing to know that she’s as affected as you, needing to hear her say it, “Are you hard, Agnes?”
“Yes.”
Even though you haven’t moved any part of your hand, the mental image nearly sends you tumbling over the edge.
“Will you come with me?”
“I…I can’t.”
You know. With the shades open, her office is basically an observation room; meaning if she were to do what you ask, there’s almost a guarantee she’d be caught. A sick part of you wants it. Wants to know that you have enough power over her to make her take the risk.
Gently, you begin to toy with your clit again. You can make her do what you ask. All you need is for her to say it—the confirmation that you’ve undone her so thoroughly that she can’t help but fist her cock under the desk where anyone could see.
“Please.” You beg.
You hear her inhale, the sound sharp in your ear. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are no doubt shifting around the office, searching for the perfect way to hide what she’s about to do.
You’re standing on the precipice.
The harsh beeping of a disconnected call blares in your ear. Yanking it away, orgasm thoroughly ruined, you yell in frustration.
An officer pulls open the door before you can reach for it, nodding, “Ma’am.”
The precinct is busy for it being a holiday. Uniformed officers sit around desks, either on the phone or talking with others. You spy the Chief talking animatedly to a few toward the back.
They’ve really done up the place this year. Last year it’d been sad, grey. Now there are a few little trees spread around, some personal decorations here and there, a menorah on the front desk with candles waiting to be lit. It livens up the place.
In the back sits the partial vision of Agnes’ office. The blinds are somewhat closed, but she’s left the door open, allowing you enough of a glimpse to know she’s in there. You can imagine her without having to see; her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hunched over the desk, hand toying with strands of her hair as she frowns over evidence.
Gazes follow as you cut through the center of it all. You do your best to ignore the heat working its way up your neck. Once upon a time, a few of the other officers had tried to catch your attention. You’d entertained a few of them. But they were minnows, and you wanted the shark.
You wanted the unapproachable, stone-faced Detective O’Connor.
And you had been the one to catch Agnes, but her fellow officers couldn’t imagine their illustrious Detective not being the one to do the catching. If only they knew how you could have her eating from the palm of your hand.
A swift knock on the open door and you lean against it. She’s exactly as you imagined. Though there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and her fingers tap on the desk like she can’t sit still.
She doesn’t look up, barking, “I’m busy.”
“I’ll pass this off to one of the other officers then.”
Her head snaps up and you grin. Hanging from one of your fingers is a white takeout bag. The scent of orange chicken and rice permeates the air, but it isn’t what you’re hungry for.
Work forgotten, she looks you up and down, licking her lips. Her fingers twitch on the desk. You clear your throat and she snaps out of whatever daze she’s in. Clearing her own throat, she sits up, tugging on the bottom of her flannel shirt. Your smile widens.
“Close the door behind you.”
Stepping in, you kick it closed with a low, “Yes, Detective.”
“What are you doing here?”
“My job.” You cross to her desk, dropping the takeout bag on top. You’re perched on the edge closest to her. She looks up at you from her chair, lips pursed, tugging on her shirt again, “What kind of wife would I be if I let you go hungry?”
“None of the other guys get lunch delivered personally.”
“None of the other guys are married to me. Do I get a kiss for my troubles?”
Briefly, she looks out into the precinct—not that she can see much with the shades drawn—then back to your lips. Agnes shifts, licking her own, before nodding.
You lean forward and hold onto the chair by one arm, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Your other hand palms the length you know pulsates between her legs. Upon contact she grunts into your mouth, hips bucking.
Her hand fumbles blindly for your wrist. Catching it in a firm grip, you can feel the tension in her frame as she decides whether to press you closer or shove you away.
Pulling back just enough to smile, “Poor baby. Have you been like this all day?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Detective?” You murmur.
Her breath hitches. Blue eyes so blown out they’re nearly black regard you, her chest rising and falling as she struggles for an even rhythm of breath. You test her grip and find its slackened. The palm of your hand caresses the entire outline of her through her jeans.
Agnes doesn’t push you away, but she doesn’t pull you closer, either. The hand on your wrist allows you enough movement to stroke slowly from base to tip. Every inch of her seems to jump at the whisper of your touch.
Looking into her eyes, you can see how she’s fighting for control. She just can’t find the path to it. Good. You want her like this—panting and desperate. It makes you clench around nothing.
“What have you been imagining all this time?”
She swallows. Clears her throat, “Vidal will be back soon.”
“I can be quick.”
“Anyone… could see.”
“We have a few options. Your favorite is off the table, though.”
The favorite in question being Agnes bending you over the desk and fucking you hard and fast. It’s efficient, allowing her drive in deep while having the benefit of spanking you as she chases her reward. Her cock twitches at the reminder.
She’s tense, taut with energy like she’s only a few strokes from finishing right here. The thought is hot and you want it, bad—but not all dreams can be reality.
“What do we have?” Agnes asks, finally.
“If I crawl under the desk no one would see what I’m doing.” You offer.
Your hand keeps moving. It’s more for yourself than anything; you like feeling her, hard and wanting, yet so restricted, jumping at the slightest bit of attention. A thumb swipes over where you know the head is and she chokes, hips stuttering from what had been a slow roll into your hand.
“Do it.” She demands.
The subtle authority returning to her voice sends a shiver down your spine. One more swipe of your thumb and she keens, before clamping her mouth shut.
You laugh. Waking up this morning, this is the last thing you expected for yourself from the day; but you can’t deny you’re enjoying every second.
“That’s my girl.” You praise.
Bracing to slide off the desk, there’s a knock on Agnes’ closed office door, and disaster strikes.
The knock startles you. You try to turn and look toward the door, but forget just how precarious your seating situation is on the edge of the desk. You lose your balance. You’re able to get your foot under you just enough to fall into Agnes’ lap, rather than onto the cold tile of the office.
Agnes lets out a cross between a harsh breath and a moan as you fall into her. Your back presses firmly to her front.
“Don’t—god, I’m gonna—”
Strong hands settle on your hips to shove you off, but it’s too late. Agnes grunts. Nails dig into your sides as she ruts helplessly against your backside, unloading spurts of cum with every press of her hips.
You freeze in shock.
Then out of habit your hands find hers. With one, you lace your fingers together. With the other you caress her wrist, brushing gently as you turn your head to meet her eyes, careful to keep every inch of your body where she needs you. Her hips tense, stuttering, whimpering as she fights the orgasm that’s ravaging her.
“It’s okay. Let it happen.” You encourage, brushing a finger against her inner wrist. A war is waging over her face as she’s caught between desire and shame. Desire must win out. Agnes movements pick up speed as she furiously grinds up against you, and you can’t help the praise that falls from your lips, “That’s it.”
Now that she’s given in, she can’t stop, the hands on your hips clenching as she presses closer, harder with every thrust, powerless to the desire she can’t stop shooting. A wounded noise leaves her throat. You empathize; you know well how getting what you want can quickly move into pained-pleasure, when your body just keeps giving and giving.
Agnes’ expression is pained, laced with helplessness to her pleasure. Her eyes don’t leave your own as she rides out the waves. You try to sit still, letting her take what she needs. She allows you to watch every twitch of her expression, hear every noise she lets slip—it’s an act of trust that overwhelms. Lifting a hand to her cheek, you wipe at the perspiration there.
Eventually, she relaxes into the seat, her hips stopping in their frantic search for friction. Her eyes slip closed and you watch her breathe.
You’re eternally grateful that whoever knocked didn’t barge in right after; there is no way you’d have been able to talk your way around what was happening. It’s a mercy that Agnes rarely shuts her office door—now that she has, everyone understands something important is going on.
Running a finger along her cheekbone, you whisper, “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” She growls.
“Given the mess you just made, I’d say you’re on cloud nine.” You tease.
With a sudden show of strength, you’re shoved into a standing position. You turn to take in the weight of Agnes’ glare.
Agnes snarls, “Fuck you.”
“You could have… if you had a little self control.”
Your eyes fall to her lap for emphasis, the evidence of her desire stark against the front of her jeans. Her hands clench on the arm-rests. Blood has rushed to her face, painting her features in red hues that betray her forced calm.
The sight of her so humiliated is doing it for you; and you can see that she sees, regarding you with a loaded, wary look. It will take no shortage of negotiation, but you will be revisiting this again.
You open the take out bag and pluck out the napkins near the bottom. Carefully, you wipe them over the planes of her face, soaking up the sweat that had been clinging to her skin. Agnes doesn’t meet your eye.
“Agnes.” Waiting until she locks eyes with you, “It’s okay.”
She scoffs, “I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”
“And it was hot.”
“You’re really something else, you know that?”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I also know that you love me for it.”
Agnes rolls her eyes.
“Unfortunately.”
“Careful, O’Connor, I can still give this lunch away to one of your coworkers.”
The bag is promptly snatched from your reach. You laugh.
Now that she’s standing, you breathe a sigh of relief; her flannel is long, perfectly hiding the evidence of your activities from the world. You just hope no one outside was looking in too closely.
Desire rears its head at the thought. You need to get out of here before you do something that’ll get you both caught.
You lean up and steal a kiss, “Enjoy your lunch, baby.”
When you open the door to leave, you come face-to-face with Agent Rio Vidal holding two cups of coffee in her hands. You startle and she raises her brows at seeing you.
“Agent Vidal.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart, or I would’ve bought an extra coffee.”
“That’s okay, I was just bringing Agnes something to eat.”
“Take mine.” The coffee cup is held between the two of you. You can see the faint mark of her lipstick on the lid as she leans in, “I don’t need the extra caffeine anyway.”
“Keep it, Vidal. She can have mine.”
You turn so you can take in both of them. Vidal is relaxed, posture brimming with a quiet confidence while Agnes is tense, staring at the two of you like she could throw something—and she would, if she didn’t think it’d encourage the former somehow.
Agnes has always been… odd around Vidal; moreso than the normal awkwardness between two exes. And Vidal has never been subtle with her interest in poking Agnes’ nerves.
Whatever it is, you’re going to use it and see where it takes you.
You accept the offered cup of coffee, making deliberate eye contact with Agnes as you take a long sip. A latte—thank god, Agnes’ black drip would’ve made you gag.
“Thanks for the coffee.” You murmur low. Then you throw your wife a smile, ignoring the promise of pain in her eyes, “See you at home, Agnes.”
Coming home you’re delighted to find a few last-minute packages on the porch. Carrying them in, one shifts heavily in your arms, and you know immediately what it is; one of the speakers in Agnes’ car crapped out on her a few months back, so the passenger-side only spits out static where there should be music—or the sports broadcasts, in your wife’s case; you bought her a new stereo system so she wouldn’t have to ‘make do’ anymore.
There’s also a few new shirts, a nice leather belt, and a watch she’d been eyeing but wasn’t willing to buy for herself. You wrap all of them with a smile on your face and slide them under the tree.
The busy work of it all eases the tension in your shoulders and some of the arousal between your legs. There’s a lingering peace in every corner of your home. It’s quiet, barring the music playing from the kitchen, casting a nostalgic glow over you where the lights seem just a little warmer.
You sit down on the couch and take it all in. Ornaments wobble on branches, glittering and winking at you as they twist. There’s a garland draped over the fireplace with dancing lights; you feel warmer inside when you remember how Agnes helped you set it up, shaking her head at your excitement.
With the bustle of the season, you’ve forgotten to take time like this to stop and let it sink in. So many spend Christmas alone, hungry, without a place to go. You don’t have to. You have a wife who will spend every second with you in the warmth of your home. Tears prick your eyes.
You fall asleep on the couch with that warm feeling in your chest.
The scent of garlic and butter tickles your nose. You snap awake.
Did you leave the stove on?
You shoot up from the couch and throw off the blanket you don’t remember grabbing. It falls to your feet, twisting in your ankles, and you do all you can not to fall face-first onto the floor. How long have you been asleep?
Wait. Did you even put anything on to cook?
Agnes’ flannel-clad back greets you when you round the corner. A sigh leaves you. One hand settles over your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow to a normal pattern. It all comes back to you; wrapping gifts, sitting down to enjoy the quiet, intending to get up and start dinner afterward.
You step into the kitchen and wrap your arms around her waist from behind, forehead resting between her shoulder blades. A hand lifts your own so she can press a kiss on the back.
“How was work?” You ask, voice muffled by her shirt.
“A waste of time.” She answers. Her form shifts, one shoulder tensing as she stirs what sits on the stove, “It could’ve waited until after Christmas.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Vidal’s a workaholic and fails to realize the rest of us aren’t.”
“You are most of the year.”
Agnes grunts noncommittally, “What trouble did you get into?”
“Wrapped a few gifts, took a nap. I’m surprised some of your guys weren’t beating down my door with how rowdy I was being.”
“Chief would’ve just sent me to handle you.”
“I’d like that… you, handling me…” You murmur, hand moving down her front with intent.
A strong, veined hand grabs your own. She forces it back to its former resting place. You keep your hand where it is directed. The haven you’ve found nuzzled against her back—surrounded by the scent of her cologne and the heat of her—is just as inviting as anything more salacious could be.
Something bubbles and pops on the stove. Agnes jolts, before relaxing. You drag yourself from your haven to look over her shoulder; a pan of sauce is stirred on one burner, boiling pasta churning away on another. Simple, but hearty.
You press a kiss to the skin you can reach, just behind her ear, “You’re getting better.”
Before, her dinner of choice would’ve been a canister of peanuts, maybe a microwave dinner.
“Don’t say anything until you’ve tasted it.”
“I’ll do what I want.” You answer.
“Don’t I know it.”
Jabbing her side with a finger until she cracks a grin, “Let me taste, so I can tell you how amazing it is.”
The wooden spoon is lifted from the sauce and over her shoulder to your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, immediately lulled further into bliss by the combination of onion, garlic, and tomato.
“Agnes, that is delicious.”
Her brows raise. With a flourish, she allows herself a taste.
“You love to stroke my ego.” She says in that self-deprecating tone you know well.
Your hand and mouth move before you think, “That’s not the only part of you I like to stroke.”
Whether by a lapse in understanding or simply because she lets you, your hand finds its mark before Agnes can stop it. The full width of your hand presses at the apex of her thighs. Your mouth drops open.
Agnes is painfully erect for the second time today with little work on your part.
She drops the spoon against the pan and removes your hand again, blunt nails biting into your skin in the way you like. You don’t react, still reeling from the information you’ve gleaned. Agnes libido isn’t what it once was—a reality of age—even if she’s like a well kept oldsmobile; capable of going the distance and then some once you get her properly started. But you’ve done very little in the way of actually getting her started since visiting the office.
“What on earth have you been up to today?” You ask, breathless.
“Don’t start.”
“I’d say you’re well past the starting point, given what I just felt.” A laugh escapes, then you pause, “You didn’t…”
Agnes curious gaze meets yours over her shoulder. Understanding dawns, along with indignation, “Of course not.”
“Needing a little extra help is normal.”
“This is all your doing.” She snaps, “Go sit down.”
“If it’s all my doing, you should let me fix it.” You coo.
In a sudden burst of movement, Agnes is out of your arms, sauce and pasta left behind on the stove. You blink. Did something happen at work? Have you hit a nerve?
She crosses the space to the kitchen table. The chair at the head of the table, facing the stove, is yanked from its resting place. You wince as it shrieks against the floor. But she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, turning the chair and meeting your eyes with a hard look, pointing.
“Sit.”
You move without thinking. There’s a subtle note of steel beneath the command that sends you into submission on instinct, like a pet might jump to obey their owner. The thought doesn’t chafe today; you want to be good, you want to obey.
Plopping down into the seat, hands settle on your shoulders. Agnes growls in your ear, “Stay.”
And you do.
As she finishes dinner, moving the pasta into the sauce with an unsure—but successful—flourish. As she nearly burns herself cutting the garlic bread fresh out of the oven. As she casts quick, dark glances your way every few minutes, as if having to make sure you’re where she left you.
You are the picture of poise and obedience, fighting every desperate urge for nearness to follow her command. But the longer she takes the harder it becomes. Hands settled on your thighs, your fingers scratch anxiously at the fabric of your pants, helpless and without any other way to expel this building energy.
“Agnes.” You whine.
“Quiet.”
It takes ages before she approaches you. She takes her sweet time putting dinner on plates, making it pretty in a way you know is just to drive you crazy; she doesn’t give two fucks about whether or not something looks nice as long as it tastes good.
Dinner is brought over to the table, but you tilt your head. Agnes only brought one plate.
“Up.” She commands, “You’re in my seat.”
You stand. Reaching for the chair next to hers, a hand on the back stops you from pulling it out. There’s the deep sound of porcelain meeting the wood of the table. As she leans around you, the scent of her cologne makes you dizzy.
Agnes snaps her fingers. You jolt, snapping back into your own mind. She points to the floor and your brows furrow. Then, it clicks, and your face grows warm.
You sink to your knees in front of Agnes’ chair as she sits in it.
“I can guess what a perp is going to do just by the way they sit in interrogation.” Agnes drawls, idly tapping her knee as her mind works, “But you… I can never guess how you’re going to act. Look at you now, all good and obedient for me, when you were acting like a whore in my office today.”
So caught up in the dizzying feeling of submission, you’ve been oblivious to the weight of your own desire. Agnes’ words change that in an instant. There’s a needy, pulsing beat between your legs, and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to help yourself. It doesn’t work.
“You started it.” You say, breathless.
You can’t breathe around your desire for her. Oxygen is a secondary need to the feel of her, whether she’s buried deep inside or grazing her fingers over your flesh; you want her and it hurts. But you keep your hands on the tops of your thighs.
Agnes chuckles. It’s a low, rolling thing. Agnes’ usual response to amusement is to grin, maybe even shake her head and scoff—laughter is a rare thing, aged and cultivated until it’s amber laced with smoke over your senses. You feel the heat of it. The intoxication it brings is warm, a weight settling comfortingly over the shoulders.
“I’m collecting on your offer from earlier.”
And with that, her thighs part, and you surge forward without being told. Her belt is unbuckled in one fell swoop. You moan, unable to help yourself, needy for the feel of her skin, to taste.
A testament to the overwhelm of your desire that the concept of toying with her again does not cross your mind. Your hand finds the desperate length of her cock, exposing it to the cool air.
It stands proud, tip flushed and leaking, veins stark against the fair skin. You pant. With single-focus, you lean forward.
An equally fair hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to Agnes’, “How many taps?”
You blink. You’re buried beneath desire, mind clawing its way to the surface.
“T-Three.”
Agnes nods and you’re free.
The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the length of her. The hand on your jaw goes slack in surprise, Agnes’ hips jumping. A groan echoes through the room.
You circle your tongue over the tip, drinking in her taste and the sounds falling from her lips. It’s heady, making the room fuzzy around the edges.
Submission brings with it a strange feeling of power. You’re doing as she bids, being good, but every sound and reaction coming from her is real; the truest manifestation of how well you’re doing to please her.
The world falls away. Your head feels floaty, strangely empty despite the manuevers you’re employing with your mouth. You don’t need words, you don’t need thoughts, you just need to offer Agnes whatever she wants.
Which you do by taking her cock in your mouth until she hits the back of your throat.
A thud sounds from her hand slamming on the tabletop, scrambling for something to grip as she chokes out, “Fuck!”
You do all you can to repress your gag reflex, forcing yourself to just relax everytime she hits the back of your throat. Agnes has her head thrown back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as she pants, whimpering with every movement of your tongue and mouth.
Through it all, her hand remains on the side of your face, a careful guide. You can’t help the hand that sneaks under your skirt; Agnes is shaking with tension, begging to let go and chase her pleasure at your expense, but she’s holding herself back and guiding you through taking her in the way that would do the least harm.
You moan. Agnes’ cock twitches in your mouth and she matches your moan, a semblance of that control slipping with a particularly rough thrust. You gag, tears forming in your eyes.
The hand between your thighs shakes, fumbling for your clit while focusing on what really matters. You’re so wet there’s barely any friction.
You want Agnes to make you gag again. You want her to push into you and take what she wants until you’re crying.
Looking up, you try to will all of that thought and intent into your eyes, but Agnes’ are closed.
You whine.
Blue eyes regard you from beneath drooping lids. You will one thought into your mind and one thought only; use me.
Agnes swallows. The pad of a thumb runs under your eye, collecting some of the wetness there as if to say are you sure? In answer, you take as much of her as you can physically manage, eyes meeting her own the whole time.
Her restraint snaps.
Agnes’ hand travels to the back of your head, her hips moving faster and firmer than you can comprehend. She takes over completely; driving into you for what she needs, making you gag obscenely, without a thought in the world for if it is too much.
Not having to make choices allows you to focus on obtaining your own pleasure. With every tear she forces from your eyes, you swipe over the pulsating bud of your clit. You can feel your own orgasm building low in your gut.
“I’m going to cum.” Agnes groans.
Delight shoots through you. She’s going to cum and it’s because of you; because you were good and gave her everything she needs. It feels amazing.
Why, then, do you pull off and out of reach?
Agnes growls. You blink.
Words. There are words to go with the desire you feel. You close your eyes, searching for them, mentally scrambling at the edges until you can wrap your hands around them and their meaning.
“Can I…” You start, voice rough from the beating your throat has taken, “Can I ride you?”
Agnes makes quite the scene; splayed open on the dining room chair, hair a mess and eyes blown out, cock twitching and needy through the fly of the jeans she ruined only a few hours ago. You clench.
Agnes licks her lips, “Yeah, alright.”
You stand on shaking legs and Agnes holds up a hand, stopping you as she lifts her hips and fumbles in her back pocket. She obtains her wallet and rifles through until she locates a small foil wrapper.
It’s safer, you know. You’ve used one almost every other time for the duration of your marriage.
“Agnes.”
The woman in question pauses before opening the condom. Her brow pops up in an unspoken question.
The words are instinct, comprehensive thought still far away, “I want you to cum inside me.”
Outside, the world rages on. Westview residents race down the street, returning home from last minute errands, gifts in tow that they’ll have to sneak inside. The wind is kicking up and through the trees as snow grows closer with every second.
And then there is you and Agnes, tucked in the warmth of your home, caught in the weight of your words. Stopped in the face of the potential consequences.
Agnes throws the unopened condom on the kitchen table.
“Then come here.”
You stand with your legs on either side of her own, steadying yourself on her shoulders. One steady hand settles on your hip. The other pushes your panties aside and aligns her to your entrance as you lower into her lap.
You could take her in one motion with how wet you are. Yet, Agnes keeps your descent slow, careful. She watches your face with every inch you take—same as you watch hers.
Agnes’ chest is heaving, eyes dark and stormy, face pinched in concentration. She’s the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. You clench around her and her hands tighten on your waist.
“Sorry.” You murmur, out of habit.
Agnes raises a brow, but doesn’t respond, helping you down the last few inches. When you settle fully in her lap you let out the breath you’d been holding.
One hand sneaks under your skirt to trace shapes on the bare flesh of your hip.
“You pulled an interesting stunt with Vidal today.” Agnes says. The hand on your hip tightens, “I’m not so sure I should reward your behavior.”
“Then why let me…”
“Why deny myself just because you’re acting like a brat?”
There’s a small testing thrust of her hips. You clench. She groans, head falling back against the chair. You whimper. Trying to move your own hips, eager for what you’ve been denied, you find yourself held in place.
That’s not fair. All day she’s been teasing you, driving you to the edge of what you want—what you need, just to deny you.
“You started it.” You whine, trying to move your hips again, still finding yourself held stationary as she leisurely thrusts up, “You woke me up and got me all bothered, it’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, baby.”
“Please.” You whine, “It’s not my fault, please.”
Muscles in her arms tremble as she lifts you slightly before sinking you back down onto her. The fullness makes your toes curl but it isn’t enough.
“Calling me at work and getting me worked up wasn’t your fault?”
“…No.”
Agnes laughs, “If you’re going to lie, you could at least be convincing.”
You won’t win this fight by playing fair, not when Agnes is clearly uninterested in fairness.
“You… You feel so good. Can’t think properly.” You breathe, moaning a bit more than comes naturally, “I’m so full of you.”
The thrust of her is uneven. She stops moving you completely and you fight down a grin.
You press a hand between your bodies, applying pressure to your lower stomach as she continues to thrust, subtly picking up speed. Her pants are growing louder, a wheeze leaving her mouth when you press.
“That’s you.” You murmur, leaning forward and ghosting over her lips, tracing the bridge of her nose with the tip of your own. You press harder and enjoy the way she groans, “Nobody has ever been as deep inside me as you.”
“Fuck.” She snarls.
You’re pushed up again, suddenly empty, and whine, blinking at the change. But then her strong hands are on your hips and spinning you around.
Your front is pressed against the table, bent so your cheek rests on the top of it. The texture of her jeans is rough against the back of your thighs as she lines herself and fills you in one thrust.
“Oh, fuck!” You cry.
Agnes sets a brutal pace, chasing that which only you can offer. Every thrust has her cock brushing that perfect spot inside you and you lose control of whatever sounds you’re making.
“Is this what you wanted?” Agnes snarls in your ear, “For me to leave work and fuck you like some bitch in heat?”
“Yes!”
“You haven’t earned it.”
“No, Agnes, please!”
“Hold it.” She orders.
With every move she makes, you do all you can to ignore the pleasure, to pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s somewhat possible when it’s only her cock. But then she leans down and starts toying with your clit and you cry out, fighting not to roll your hips against them.
You want what you’ve been chasing all day, but you still want to be good. You’re her good girl, aren’t you? You have to keep being good even if it hurts.
So, you hold your orgasm at bay, while Agnes chases her own. Judging by the uneven rhythm of her hips it won’t take long.
“Please let me come, Agnes. Please.” You beg.
“Why should I?”
“I’ll give you anything—anything! Please, my love!”
“Anything, huh?”
The tone of her voice is low, dangerous. Layered with a rasp that nearly undoes you.
If she doesn’t let up, it doesn’t matter how good you are; you’re going to cum.
“Anything!”
Agnes phone is slammed down on the table right beside your head. It isn’t on, but you have the sinking feeling that you’ve just landed yourself into something far worse than expected.
Her thrusts stop, but she keeps a light, teasing pressure that grazes your clit just enough to keep you engaged without getting you off.
It is torture. And the silence building as you stare down the upturned cell phone is only making it worse.
“I’m going to make a call and turn on the speaker. Then, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to let whoever is on the phone hear you as I make you cum.”
The weight of it is like a lead weight of nerves in your stomach, “But—“
“If you want to act like a whore you’re going to be treated like one.” She snarls, then her tone grows softer, “Yes or no, angel?”
Whoever she calls and puts on the line, you’ll never be able to look in the eye again. But you’re so full and eager that you don’t truly care at this point.
Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, maybe everyone will be too busy to pick up.
“Yes.”
A harsh thrust that forces the air from your lungs, then her lips are next to your ear, breath hot, “That’s my girl.”
The echo of your own words from earlier make your toes curl. Her phone is snatched from the table and she continues to toy with your clit as she makes the call.
It rings… and rings… and rings…
Faintly, you hear the line connect, and you gasp.
You can’t make out who the voice belongs to, but you hear a faint, “Yeah?”
Agnes barks down the line, “Don’t say a word.”
The bang! as her phone hits the table again makes you jump, a small shriek leaving your lips. It wobbles. Faintly, you’re impressed she hasn’t broken the thing with how she abuses it.
A long finger slams down on the speaker button and as the phone tilts slightly, you read the name on the screen, and your eyes widen.
Vidal.
Before you can say a word, though, Agnes is back to work. Something in the action of being heard has made her more aggressive. You swear you can feel the bruises forming on your hips where she grabs, leveraging you for every single thrust.
You try to choke down your moans and whimpers, not wanting Agent Vidal to hear you like this, but Agnes won’t stand for it; one hand grabs your jaw and pries your mouth open.
She pushes in to the hilt and you let out a shrieking moan.
“You were so talkative before. Have you lost your nerve?”
“I—please—“
“Calling me this morning and getting me worked up, teasing me in the office, in the kitchen… and incapable of handling your punishment.”
“I’m sorry, Agnes. Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Use me. I want—I need you to fuck me until I can’t remember being without you—I need you to fuck me until you cum inside and make me yours forever—please!”
The knowledge that every word from your mouth is being heard by someone else is not forgotten, but you’ve been pushed beyond caring. Agnes is intent on making you beg for what you want and you want it bad.
Agnes’ fingers and cock alternate stimulating you. If her fingers are working, her hips aren’t—and vice versa. You’re frankly astonished she’s been able to last so long because you’re teetering on the edge of pleasure at the barest contact.
But her will has always been steel. And she wants to see you humiliated.
The hand on your clit slides to your lower stomach and presses, mimicking your own actions only minutes before, “When I knock you up, you’re going to feel it right here.”
Something inside you snaps. You wail.
Agnes’ hips are moving at a clip, every inch of her rubbing where you need, setting you alight from within. Her hand doesn’t move. The faster she goes, the deeper she drives, her hips begin to lose their rhythm.
Any words devolve into animalistic grunts as she ruts into you, mouth alternating between kissing and biting at your neck from behind.
You’re so fucking close. If she denies you now, you think you might die.
“Let me cum, Agnes, please—pretty please—I’ll be your good girl, please, I’ll be so good. Let me cum and fill me up, it’s all I want—“
Through gritted teeth, “Go on then.”
Something inside you snaps.
The command is exactly what you need. Your entire body clenches so tight you fear you may never relax again. You lose track of what noises leave your mouth, you think you may even lose consciousness for a few moments.
All you know when you come to is that your throat is raw and Agnes is driving into you, choking out in your ear, “Gonna cum—“
Her hips meet your own at full force and don’t pull back, remaining, pulsing forward as if she can’t get close enough. Every spasm of her cock paints your insides with her desire, marking you as hers. Agnes holds your hips as she presses in with every twitch, struggling to breathe.
Weakly, you reach a hand back to tangle in her hair. Your throat aches, “That’s it, baby. Fill me.”
A groan. Another rough twitch.
It reaches a point where the pressure ebbs. She remains, but she’s not twitching anymore, nor is she fighting to become one with you. There’s only the sound of your breathing in the room.
Agnes moves to straighten and pull out, but you whine, reaching back to grab whatever part of her you can reach.
“Stay.” You whisper.
She pauses.
A hand gently caresses along your spine, “You can’t stay like this, angel.”
“Just let me feel you a little longer.”
There’s a comfort in the fullness; in the knowledge that Agnes is the only woman who can provide this for you. That she even wants to.
It’s all a blur beyond that.
Eventually, you can’t stand being bent over on the table anymore, even if you never want to be without the feeling of Agnes inside you. The call with Vidal is disconnected at some point. You and your wife move slowly, hand in hand, up to your bedroom.
You gently shove her onto the bed while grabbing damp washcloths. Neither of you can stand a shower at this point.
The two of you take your time, being careful to mind the sore spots. You lean slightly into Agnes as you wipe some of the sweat from her flesh.
“You’re so good to me.” You murmur, kissing the underside of her jaw, “Thank you, my love.”
“Consider it an early Christmas gift, angel.”
You tamp down on the urge to say something sappy for her to scoff at. Instead, you guide her down and kiss her, soft and slow.
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jj-one · 11 months ago
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SALTY & SWEET 🥣
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pairing: established relationship, nerdy bf!dom!Jungkook x gf!reader, jk is around 21/22 in this genre/tags: smut, (some) fluff, angst, degradation, praise kink, oral (m receiving), facef*cking, food play, c*m play, c*m eating, use of word daddy (once) words: 981
**old repost from my deleted blog
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Oh you sad, sad little thing… always finding yourself in these compromising situations. The whole morning went as normal with Jungkook, he was super nice to you and smothered you with lots of loving kisses! But once he arrived back home from classes his entire mood shifted completely.
“Get on your knees, wanna use that pretty little mouth of yours right now.” Jungkook was hovering over you as you sat down.
You were just minding your business on the couch eating a bowl of strawberries when he said that to you.
“W-what?” Your eyes bug out of your head like a deer in headlights.
“Did I stutter? On your knees NOW!” His voice becomes more stern.
You squirm to get up, not wanting to waste another minute incase he gets angrier. Your body feels shaky from his intimidating persona, he usually comes off as sweet and caring but when he’s mad he becomes almost sadistic.
It didn’t take long for him to end up down your throat. All 7 inches of him being taken by you. You kept choking and gagging but the more you did it the more Jungkook would just keep pushing your head back down. His fingers latching onto your hair and thrusting his hips harder to get more of his cock deeper in your throat.
“C’mon, you can take it like the little pathetic slut you are. You’re my precious little pup right?”
His words made you so fucking wet for him.
You wanted to please him in the best way you could. Bobbing your head back and forth, his spit combined with your saliva all over your face. Jungkook likes it messy though, he also loves shooting his load out on your face after a long day. You acted like nothing but a toy for him to use, just a fuckdoll he can manipulate and dump all his cum into when he’s frustrated.
His glasses were sliding down to his nose as he keeps lowering his head to get a finer view of you. Your fucked out face was so angelic to him, so divine… you looked the most beautiful when you had Jungkook’s cock buried in your mouth.
“There atta-girl… such a good little slut for me aren’t you?” The way he talks to you will be your true weakness.
You had to prove your love to him. Your devotion. You wanted his cum as a reward so you had to work hard for it and push through the pain. You try humming to loosen up your vocal cords and take him better, the vibrations sent chills up his spine and he almost lost his balance for a second. Feeling the way he throbbed and twitched on your tongue made you moan against his shaft.
“Fuck yeah… good girl my good little fucking princess…”
You kept letting him throatfuck you and the tears came rolling down now. He loved seeing you become a crying fucked out mess for him, it filled his heart with the utmost joy.
“Aww.. my darling’s getting teary eyed, can’t take all of it huh??”
Your jaw hurts so bad but you can’t stop now, you have only one goal to achieve and that was to make your boyfriend cum all over your pretty face. His cock slammed into your uvula and you made a loud gagging noise, he would just grin and keep pushing hisself in you relentlessly. He laughed at your misery, the way your knees buckled and quivered while being under him.
He wouldn’t be laughing for too much longer though, one more thrust to the back of your throat would leave him nearly unable to talk. His body felt paralyzed. Eyes were violently rolling to the back of his head as he feels his release approaching. He jerks his hips back and quickly pulls out of your mouth. He doesn’t bring his cock to your face though, instead his attention is drawn to the bowl of strawberries you were eating from earlier.
He stands in front of it on the couch and viciously strokes his cock, large white ropes of cum come trickling down onto the fresh strawberries. Once he finishes he looks back at you now with an evil grin.
“Get on all fours for me doll.” He instructs you.
You do as you’re told, getting on your hands and knees, crawling your way towards him. He takes ones of the strawberries— that are now all coated with his hot delicious cum and brings it to your lips.
“Open wide.”
You open your mouth and he plops the strawberry in, you immediately close your mouth to start chewing. The strawberry was so sweet and juicy while Jungkook’s cum was warm and salty, this might be the perfect combination you’ve ever tried.
“Taste’s good right princess?”
You nod your head and finally speak “Yes, so yummy daddy, want to eat more!”
“Then go ahead, eat more.”
You dip your face in the bowl of strawberries and eat another one. You can’t get over how good his cum tastes with the savory fruit. He pets the top of your head like you were a kitten, just grinning at the sight of you eagerly eating his cum.
“Such a naughty little girl… you really are a huge slut.” He degrades you more, wrapping his hand around your neck as he lifts you from being on all fours.
You’re back on your knees again facing him while he kept a tight grip on you. The way this man had you so down bad for him, you were willing to let him do absolutely anything to satisfy his needs. Your body couldn’t stop trembling under his touch, he had you perfectly the way he wanted.
“Still look so pretty, even after sucking off my cock..” his hold on you was only getting tighter at this point.
“So obedient for me, always.”
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anantaru · 1 year ago
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BONUS KINK — COCK WORSHIP
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kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3
𖧡 — including — wriothesley, heizou, scaramouche, neuvillette
𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, cock & balls worship, oral (male! receiving), cowgirl, love sick genshin men, rough, throatfucking, very messy, petnames used: baby, love
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𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY
in a show of uncharacteristic obedience, wriothesley for once, let you take the lead in the bedroom before a delighted, devilish grin lights across your eyes and lips when you start your movements slow for him, his chiseled abs constricting when you unhurriedly swallow down the head of his leaking length.
your mouth greedily takes him in before browsing over the finer, more dominant details on his rigid shaft with your tongue sliding across the throbbing veins— and, it didn't even take a couple of seconds before you were able to eagerly listen to the low creaks in his voice, the gentle torment from your tongue never allowing wriothesley to catch his desired breath.
ah, well, you just love him so much, and adore to have his cock deep inside your mouth until the bulbous tip prods at your throat, always in need to give him the special attention— precisely with your mouth before you'd line yourself up on his girthy length, never dropping his eye contact, becoming aroused by the subtle hints of desperation in his drifting gestures.
his strong body leans into his chair with the size of his biceps doubling when he flexes the muscle the moment he presses his hand together to keep his composure, attempting to swallow down the delicious moans you were effortlessly able to lure out of him— dragging your tongue around his cock head in agonizingly slow circles until you can practically feel him writhe from above.
"all of this is yours, baby," he coos, "fuck..." and twitches in your mouth, the pleasure increasing when your eyes flutter open to watch him from under your lashes, affirming him with a hum, your quick tongue tickling the delicate pink skin as wriothesley reacts immediately, the tender flesh since long hardened under the gentle attention of your warm lips wrapped around it.
shoving your head up and down until he groans again in a low, ragged voice, he gets enraptured by the sweet sensation of a warm, wet mouth sealed on his twitching length, your sloppy tongue coaxing out the noises he'd normally be too embarrassed to make in the first place, although not tonight— because now, wriothesley's eyes are silently closing, his broad frame quivering when the lewd, wet noises of your sloppy sucks and hiccups tickle all over his lengthy shape before he found himself unable to resist arching his hips into your unyielding teasing, groaning out uncontrollably.
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𖧡 — HEIZOU
within the bound of a shattered moan slithering over the tip of your tongue, you realize that you coveted, yearned and longed for nothing more than to feel and clench around heizou's cock all day and night, until the pleasure running through your veins was pistoling in and out of you, the rigidness of his cock angled perfectly to touch the spongy parts that ached the utmost.
all day, everyday, you think about his perfectly shaped cock being deep inside of you, admiring each shudder and twitch, deliciously stretching you open and planting soft, wet kisses on the dangerously aroused places over and over until you're violently cumming on his shaft, gushing your warm arousal across the thin skin before your boyfriend goes on to prepare you for yet another intriguing round.
your warm liquids drip over his moving length that was splitting you so wonderfully, pumping steadily into your hole as heizou drapes his body over your quivering one, placing a small, open mouthed kiss up the side of your head before hissing out a ruptured groan from above when you clench down on him— his pale skin, sweat stricken and illuminating his chiseled abs, brilliantly glimmer under the dimmed lights as he repeatedly slides the full hardness of his erection over your soft walls, admiring your beautiful, blissful facial expression. 
you're so drunk on him, in fact, you had never felt anything so intense yet at the same time, this deliciously light on your constricting hole, your pussy twitching and throbbing which only caused you to become more vulnerable heightening by the hypersensitivity of being stretched beyond compare.
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𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE
for one thing, the air was unimaginably too suffocating for anybody to bear or go through tonight— and behind a curtain of looming light flickering a silhouette of two frames, scaramouche sits against the edge of the bed, his thighs spread with your own figure being settled in between.
"i want to give it the attention it deserves," you coo and scaramouche was honestly surprised, yet also irritated, to listen to an overflow of sincerity in your whispering voice, attempting to part his legs a little more but ultimately failing when his shorts and boxers, draped around his ankles, wouldn't leave him to it.
"don't— fucking, say that," he mutters before stumbling across his words, "ugh, but, if you must," he rolls his eyes and feigns an award worthy annoyance, "i'll allow it,” he adds, "this time," and aims for flippancy, his pale, bristling cheeks flustering and manifesting a cavernous red when he makes eye contact with you, fighting a smile when he leans back against his elbows to admire the view in front of him.
his attempt to come off as unendingly confident was ultimately shut down when you wetly kiss all the way down to the base of his oozing erection, only to then place the flat of your tongue on top of the thin, quivering skin to lick back up at a prominent vein throbbing against the wet muscle.
biting his tongue to keep himself quiet, he watches how you treat his cock like you'd never get enough of it, ever, and for some reason it's cavernous, awfully overwhelming to see you in such sensual state, on your knees in front of him while planting passionate, loving kisses across his shaft, willing and obedient, ready to take his every command.
scaramouche wouldn't admit it to you, over his dead body, but he was really enjoying the attention he was currently receiving— mainly your sloppy suckles and drunken swallows that rippled down the length of his cock as he manifests an expression akin to utterly drunken on bliss, bathing in the enjoyment you gave him.
but he needs more, he longs for your warm mouth to touch him everywhere as he thrusts his hips up to catch your pace half way, only then for you to abruptly pull him out and tickle out a sad whine from his parted mouth— the happening now, was a particularly tasteful form on torture, with his cock sliding wetly across your face as you suck on his balls, catching him off guard with widened eyes before coaxing out the most delicious, high pitched hiss from the back of his throat, the friction from your open mouthed kisses practically melting into his balls that scaramouche believes he will end up drowning in this continued flow of marvel.
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𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE
acting on pure, impulsive need, neuvillette plants a kiss at the smooth connection of your shoulder and throat as you grind your chest into his own, leisurely bouncing your hips up and down until hitting the base of his cock, drool rolling down the sides of your mouth as you breathe out passionate affirmations that were sweeter than honey to him— making it your duty to give your boyfriend the love he deserved.
as always, neuvillette conceals the state of his flustered face in your neck, the brush of his soft lips sliding over that spot that sent a satisfying shiver through your body, from head to toe, the look on your face being his unwavering favorite as you sharpen your thrusts— while the way you were riding him, with his large palms squeezing the flesh of your ass as the skin jiggled each time neuvillette shoved his hips up to meet your movements— not wanting to leave the hard work all to you.
you take in every inch, gyrating your hips and squeezing down on his shaft when his tip brushes over your deepest spots— ugh, you just knew his body so well it's almost scary, down to the very last nerve and what would make the air get practically knocked out off his lungs.
you indeed knew many things, and found the sensation of his sizable length overcrowding you pleasurable, breathing heavily when you lean over, effectively haltering against the shell of his ear.
"you're ticklish here," you confidently point out before squeezing down on his shaft, your cunt constricting his circulation, "also here~" narrating your precise turns and luring him in deeper with your hole split open, the sheer whiteness of your arousal dribbling down the curve of his balls as you let his fingers dance over the expanse of your ass, neuvillette's jaw clenching as an inaudible response flurries from his lips, his darling face drunk on the impending softness of your warm pussy.
"what about here?" you ask again, arching an eyebrow in feigned sinlessness, dragging the pads of your fingers in circles around the margins of his pink nipples as his breathing deepens before searching for your eyes to meet at last, his throbbing erection turning harder with the veins pressuring into your walls, causing a tingling sensation that spread through your body.
"you're a devious one, my love," he slows your hips down with his hands, it's suddenly heavier and you enjoy being filled— but it almost comes out like a warning from him, the maddening onslaught that went on in between your legs building and building, revelling in how easily you had gained so much power over this beautiful, powerful man.
although, for how long?
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©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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phantomsies · 4 months ago
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plaything • onyakopon - kinktober part two
“..let’s roleplay, wear a disguise..”
kink: cosplay kink
📝: plus size black reader, bondage, use of multiple toys, sex tape, squirting, missionary, latex + leather, collar/leash, throatfucking, breeding, rough-ish themes, dom ony
📃: I don’t know how long it’ll take me to do these but I’m determined to finish lmao!
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“You know you look good as fuck, right?..” a deep tone grumbled from behind the lens of a mounted iPhone as a beam of light glared directly at you. A sheepish smile would stretch across your once made up face, along with a playful giggle.
“You think so?”
“You gone make me nut just lookin’ at you, baby. Imma fuck the shit out of you..”
his words seemed to trail off into a pitiful moan as the male stroked his erect cock to the sight of you. That lengthy member, seeping with precum and saliva from the tip after relentlessly assaulting your throat as you head lies upside down from the edge of the bed. The sensation of gliding back and forth inside of that constricting, wet warmth; mimicking that of your insides was enough to drive him insane. Feeling your mouth and lips wrap around that shaft and suction with pure ease was unreal. You didn’t gag or even falter once. Granted, you couldn’t push away even if that’s what you desired. As at the moment, your hands were restrained. Along with your ankles, that were neatly separated by a steel spreader bar and your wrists hung from the center of the device. You were completely at his whim and ready for the taking.
“Then hurry uppp..I need you..quit playinggg..”
it was that whiny plea that nearly made him pound you into the mattress right then. However, he was biding his time until he could have you again. Not only did he need a moment of rest, but he needed to ensure that every second of this glorious, debaucherous footage was captured on camera! Since you and Ony began dating some months ago, the relationship had been nothing but bliss and adventure. Not only had you two grown as individuals but as a couple as well. Your friendship certainly helped to lay that foundation. He asked you to be his shortly after you guys wound up sleeping together the night before a convention. Needless to say, after he got a taste of you, he couldn’t let go…and the feeling was mutual. It was never a dull moment and having someone to share your love of geek and nerd culture with as more than a friend was the icing on the cake. The two of you often went on bookstore dates, scouring the manga section for hours, in between coffee breaks. You’d go to arcades, anime cafes that were nearby and even attended a gaming conference for his birthday, where he entered a tournament and won a thousand bucks! When you weren’t out and about, you were teaching him how to craft his own cosplays and watching him play video games. You’d even dress up and create funny TikToks together..it was a blast…
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you what you need..just lay your pretty ass back and lemme take care of you, alright? And you lemme know if you start to feel uncomfortable. You remember our lil’ safe word and if you can’t talk..tap me twice and imma stop, okay?”
“Yes, baby..I understand.”
“Good girl..you know I gotta make you straight.”
but alas, your bonding time isn't limited to wholesome activities. You’d partake in some even more risqué when the chance arised. At the moment, the two of you were and had already begun doing something you never thought possible. However, when your boyfriend approached you with the idea of putting on matching cosplays, having sex and filming it just for the excitement, you couldn’t help but to laugh! You thought the idea was a little insane and granted, your sex life was incredible…this was certainly new. Prior to that night in the hotel, you were a virgin. Never being fully intimate with a man or anyone in any capacity. So to go from that to now fucking your boyfriend in a scantily clad Catwoman cosplay with the crotch torn open and breasts exposed..it was a leap. Now here he was hovering above you, dressed in a skin tight Batman getup, ready to pound you into oblivion! With your legs suspended and pushed back, Ony would position himself to align with that slit. The juices and glimmer of that slick were practically emanating off it as he tapped that cock head against your swollen clit. He’d watch in real-time as those puffy nipples stiffened from the sensation. But alas, you weren’t the only one feeling the effects.
“Fuuuck…your shit feels so good, baby. Imma nut all in this pussy. I swear..” sucking his teeth and whimpering as the friction began to take its toll. He couldn’t withstand it any longer and with a single hand placed into the center of your pudgy tummy, he’d ask if you were ready and with your consent, he’d glide in with pure ease. The way you opened up for him was as if your body were practically inviting him in. The initial pop from that mushroom tip splitting you open was oddly satisfying to your boyfriend.
And you creaming on this dick..them pretty fucking toes all white..oh my God, you know that’s my weakness...” Doting on you whilst getting acclimated and conforming you to his shape. One thing Ony never shied away from was taking a moment to tell you how much he loved you. And all of your features to boot. He’d feed you light yet deep strokes start with..watching your movements carefully to make sure glue could handle it. Once you became automatically receptive to him, he’d speed up and increase his thrusts.
“Looking sexy as hell in that outfit too…you so pretty, baby..my nasty lil’ bitch..” that deep, baritone voice singing your praises whilst those hips snapped, bucking against the once latex coated plush of your thighs. The sound of the ripple collided with your high pitched wails and his own loud grunts. Onyakopon was a man unhinged at this point and he hadn’t even broken stride yet. Naturally, it was the same reaction you garnered when the two of you had sex. It never took more than three minutes for him to swell inside of you; pushing through those constricted, warm walls and trying his damndest not to climax early.
“You like when daddy get in them fuckin’ guts?..be squeezing my shit like you don’t want me to pull out.” Chuckling as he leaned down to observe your expressions. He’d watch you writhe but also beam with excitement as his movements became a bit more fast paced. Not to mention how loudly you were moaning. Attempting to paw at him with no avail. He’d tease your most erogenous areas; lightly rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples and even tugging at that leash and collar dangling around your throat. He’d notice you’d begin to laugh and beg for more..even using language you never had prior! Which was a turn on in and of itself.
“Yes daddy, keep fucking me..make me squirt on that big dick. You got me so close!..”
“Oooh..I love when you talk back to me, mama..lemme know what you want..”
revealing as those thrusts reached yet another speed. This time, fast enough to make your breasts jiggle and the bed to jolt around underneath your bodies. Your bound legs would tremble and those once shallow breaths became deeper. You were in the midst of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Yeeees! Right there, you so deep in this fucking pussy. I’m ‘bout to come!”
but your boyfriend had other plans in store for his precious little plaything. With this newfound element to you guys’ hobby, came an adventurous side neither of you ever thought possible. Your relationship had blossomed into one full of excitement and joy, however, curiosity was among your attributes as well. Reaching over, Ony would retrieve a purple microphone shaped device that had been sitting next to you…along with a light pink dildo and a bottle of lube. And your shiny plastic-like ensemble and signature cat eared mask were not the only accessories you were sporting. Because just below that overly stimulated hole that had been dripping with cream, was another; stuffed with a bejeweled, glittery, flower shaped anal plug. It had been serving as another tool for stimulation and perhaps, preparation for later on. But for now, watching you writhe around from an intense orgasm, courtesy of that vibrator was his top priority. With a deviant smirk plastered across that handsome face, he’d harness the toy in one wand and tug your leash with another.
“Not yet, baby..I need to hear you beg for this shit. Lemme know who this pussy belongs to. Who makin’ you feel this good...” rhetorically stating as he pressed into the center of your belly. Pressing that whirring device against your clit to add even more stimulation. Meanwhile, those thrusts would only become much more brutal…erratically paced, sharper and certainly faster. As a result, all you could produce was incoherent babble and loud whimpers. That orgasm would come barreling out at any second and you were being forced to hold it!..and he was quite unrelenting when he wanted to be.
“Unt uh..I need words. I can’t do shit with that..tell me who the fuck this pretty lil’ pussy belongs to. Right now..” it seemed that he was far past coddling and your body would reach its capacity at any minute. So as that fat cock and swollen tip penetrated those soft folds, stretching that entrance with each deep stroke, you’d muster up enough strength to provide him with a sufficient answer. “F-fuck..it’s yours..it’s your pussy, daddy..”
to which he’d respond with a satisfied smirk, leaning down to shove his tongue between your lips; aggressively kissing you before feeding you two light taps to the cheek.
“That’s my good girl..now come, baby. Squirt on that fucking dick…wet my shit up.” With that encouragement and his shaft slowly retracting from your spasming cunt, Ony would be in for quite a surprise as those juices began spraying all over his sheathed abdomen. He watched in amazement behind that mask as you curated such a beautiful mess. It was one he’d never tire of, regardless of how many times he fucked you. Your eyes would trail to the back of your skull once more whilst that bladder emptied all over your man’s costume. Naturally, he didn’t mind one bit and the satisfaction that he’d be able to rewatch the footage over again at his discretion was even better!
“You such a nasty little slut, baby. I fucking love that shit..” cooing to you as he teased that shaft against your quivering slit. Those plump lips encompassed the center of it whilst the tip resided against your swollen bud. He figured you’d had enough time to recover so that he could finish out his climax...
“I ain’t done..you said it’s mine so imma fill it up. I’m ‘bout to come all in this pussy..” one thing that you loved about Ony was how vocal he was and not shy in letting you know his desires. When he craved your body, he wasn’t shy about his desires. He’d bare himself to you in his entirety. Whether it made him look vulnerable or weak. Alas though, he’d continue pumping every inch of that girthy length into you; buried to the hilt with no plans to come up until his seed was nestled deep into your womb.
“You gone let me get you pregnant, baby?…lemme breed this pussy?..” which may as well have been rhetorical in his eyes. He was determined to see you stuffed full of those thick ropes of cum regardless! “Yes, nut in me, baby! Come in this pussy..” Burrowing over you, he would thrash his hips sporadically..beads of sweat trickling from maneuvering in this costume. He was only seconds away from exploding when he’d grasp the center of your spreader bar and slow his pace to agonizing halt.
“I’m coming!—“
suddenly, you’d feel those warm spurts of silky cum splattering throughout your womb. It was a sensation you’d never tire of and loved when he filled you up. “Oh my gosh!..yes..” tossing your head back as he released loud grunts, emptying every remnant of his sack into you. Those thick ropes spilled out when he finally withdrew his pulsating cock from between your folds. “You feel so fucking good…c’mere, lemme kiss you.” Sharing that moment of tenderness as you came down from your highs. He’d lovingly stroke your face upon letting his tongue swirl around your mouth. ”I love you, baby.” “I love you too, Ony.”
He wanted to ensure that you were okay and that he hadn’t been too rough. “Aye, lemme get these cuffs off of you for a minute so you can stretch. I don’t want you to catch a cramp.”
you couldn’t help but to giggle at his cautious and protective nature, despite trying to put you through the mattress moments ago!
“Of course, as long as you put it back on…I kinda like it.” Beaming as you uttered the statement. To which he could do nothing more than laugh at. It was blatantly obvious that he had awoken a monster..
“You freaky as hell, you know that?” “Mmm…so I’ve been told..”
either way, you were his little plaything to enjoy and have fun with..and best believe, he was going to milk every second’s worth of this salacious side of you. Until either of you could function! Just as he finished unhooking your restraints, he’d toss them aside and catch a glimpse of that puckering plug and dildo as well. Which ignited a spark within his brain.
“Don’t worry, I ain’t done..I need to feel all them pretty holes, baby. Let’s see how you do with two dicks inside of you..”
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rafescvntyclubgf · 3 months ago
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+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘
𝕽𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓
𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝓟 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓛𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂
𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹!𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 @rafesthroatbaby 💋 𝓔𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂
𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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🔪 Skipping out on the party to hook up with your favorite professor
🔪 Hockey!Rafe coming over to your place to see your costume. Guess he’s going to have to buy you a new one.
🔪 Letting Perv!Rafe ruin your panties after you caught him digging through your drawer during the party
🔪 Rafe, you, and who?
🔪 Backshots with stalker!rafe
🔪 Frat!Rafe getting you ready after bringing you home from the bar on Halloween night
🔪 Just playing with you while you watch scary movies
🔪 Rafe sending you a picture in his costume after you send him one in yours
🔪 Getting greedy and asking for more
🔪 Ghostface!Rafe breaks into your house and holds you down
🔪 “Don’t stop.”
🔪 Bouncing on Tatted!Rafe’s lap, just like he likes
🔪 Boyfriend!Rafe loved your costume and wants to rip you out of your fishnets
🔪 Wet and messy with your Dad’s Best Friend Rafe
🔪 Ghostface!Rafe breaking into your room and playing with what’s his
🔪 Rafe sending this to your ex-boyfriend JJ after a quick fuck at the frat house
🔪 Role-play with Rafe after you tell him you like Scream
🔪 Dark!Rafe, fulfilling your fantasies
🔪 Spitting and throatfucking with Professor!Rafe after he picks you up from the bar
🔪 Dealer!Rafe playing with you like a toy after you didn’t have enough money
🔪 Size-Kink with Dilf!Rafe
🔪 Stalker!Rafe breaking into your house and tying you up
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GIF made with an edit from @/yarin
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thewritingrowlet · 8 months ago
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The Loving Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene
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tags: creampie, anal (I think it counts), throatfuck, cum-in-mouth, daddy kink
word count: ~3k
author's note: surprise, mothertruckers
You lean back in your big chair as exhaustion finally settles on your mind and body. You look through the tall glass behind you, “oh, it’s dark already—what time is it?”. You flip your phone on its back and tap the screen twice. “Oh, it’s almost 10”, you murmur, “Irene will kill me”. Irene? The smiling woman on your lock screen? Are you sure?
You’re not sure, but you’re not in the mood to fuck around and find out—not after spending the whole day away from her, making her go through her day by herself. “I’m coming, love; please wait a moment”, you say to your phone, the picture a representation of her being.
It’s nothing but a moment for you, as you find yourself stuck in the sea of cars. “Where are these fools going?”, you wonder. Well, “these fools” are trying to get to their safe havens, just like you are. “These fools” are trying to unwind after working their asses off to provide for them and theirs, just like you are. “These fools” are trying to go to the harbor where their hearts are anchored, just like you are. You chuckle as you think about it, “I guess we’re more alike than we know”.
-
A wave of joy washes over you when you see the black Genesis sedan parked in front of your house. You resist the urge to just stop the car right here as the acute avidness to see your cherished wife is mighty. You park your car in the driveway next to her car and jump out right away.
“I’m home”, you say softly as you turn the handle of your front door. That is correct: you are indeed home. This is the safe haven that you’ve worked hard for and saved up for so that you and your wife have somewhere to unwind after spending long days at work—this is the harbor where your heart is anchored.
You see a lady draped in white run towards you, and another wave of joy washes over you. “My love” is all the greetings you can come up with, as the sight of her takes your breaths away, no matter how frequent you see it. Irene wraps her arms around your frame, fighting your cold with her warmth. There are plenty of sounds you find to be enjoyable, but your lady’s sob is not one of them. “Where have you been? I was so worried about you, honey”, she asks tearily. You put your lips on her forehead to soothe her, “I’m so sorry, my love; I was neck deep in work that I lost track of time”.
You know that you can’t offer comfort when standing up, so you lift her up by her thighs and take her to sit on the sofa. You pet her softly in the back of the head as she sobs to her heart’s content. She finally falls silent after a few minutes and hums softly in rhythm, imitating a cat’s purr. “Feeling better, love?”, you say to her. “Y-yes”, Irene says, “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to be burdensome to you—I-I’m sure you’re tired, and-and I wasn’t being helpful”. You peck her cheeks thrice, just like how she likes it, “I’m sorry for coming home so late, love; I had so much work to do”. Irene returns the pecks to you, “thank you for working so hard all the time”.
You lay down on the sofa for a cuddle, and you hear Irene’s stomach rumble faintly. “You haven’t had dinner, love?”, you ask her. “We-we were supposed to eat out, r-remember?”, she says. You punch yourself internally as the memory returns to you, “I’m so sorry, love”. Irene used to voice her disappointment whenever you forgot about something, but she ditched that habit when you two got married. “We have sliced beef in the fridge, don’t we? I’ll make us something if you’ll let me go”, you say to her. Irene reluctantly unwraps her limbs from your body, seemingly sad about not touching you.
You open the fridge and grab half an onion and some sliced beef and put them on the counter next to the stove. You throw some minced garlic into a preheated nonstick pan that already has a bit of oil in it and wait until the fragrance fills the kitchen. Since Irene doesn’t really like onion, you cut the onion in half again, only using a quarter of it. You throw the onion—chopped largely so that Irene can avoid it easily—into the pan and cook it down until it’s soft. You look over your shoulder and see that Irene is still on the sofa, presumably asleep. “I hope this meal can convey how much I love you, my dear Irene”, you say to yourself as you dump sliced beef and sauces into the pan.
You put the food on a large plate and reheat some leftover rice in the microwave. You walk to the sofa and take a knee in front of the sleeping beauty. “Irene, my love”, you poke her forearm gently, “let’s eat, baby”. Irene wakes up slowly from her peace, “carry me, love”. You carry Irene on your back and take her to the dining table, and the overwhelming smell wakes her up entirely. “Wow, that looks so good, love!”, she gasps in excitement, “I want to eat! I want to eat!”. You silence the beeping microwave and take the rice out of it. You take a seat in front of your wife as she starts eating excitedly. “Oh my fucking God, that’s so fucking good”, she says. “Love, what did I tell you? Save the profanity for when we’re in bed”, you scold her. “Well, bed is where we will be after this”, she murmurs, not loud enough for you to hear.
You wash the dirty plates and pan after finishing the very late dinner with Irene. Irene stays silent as you do, which is curious, because she usually praises your cooking endlessly while she waits for you. “Did you like it, love?”, you ask her as you’re walking towards her. In your head, you expect Irene to say that she did like it—love it, even—but she says something else. “Daddy”, Irene bites her lip sexily, “I want my dessert”. You know what she means by that, and so does your cock. “You better earn it, then”, you say as you carry her to the bedroom.
Irene shakes herself off your arms and starts kissing you in arousal. She even goes as far as invading the space in your mouth with her tongue. The fact that she’s the one doing all this and is the first to break the kiss is funny—Irene can’t even keep up with herself. “Dad-daddy—fuck”, Irene struggles to breathe, “plea-please, I-I need you—I need my husband’s big cock”. You sit on the edge of the bed and rouse her, “I’ve always told you to work for it if you want something, so come and work for it”.
Irene kneels in front of you and frees your cock from your trousers and boxers. “I can’t live without—”, you cut her off by forcing your cock into Irene’s mouth. These fools only call Irene a cold person because of her front; everything about Irene is anything but cold, take her mouth for example. “Stop talking, start doing”, you command. Irene’s gags sound incredibly hot, and you’re desperate to hear it right now. There’s only one way to achieve that, and that is by fucking her mouth hard. You hold her head with both hands and bounce her on your cock. You feel the tip of your cock reach the back of her mouth, and Irene starts making the gagging sound that you love. “That’s my good wife”, you groan, “fuck, that’s so fucking good”.
You mercilessly fuck Irene’s mouth, sometimes stopping to make sure you don’t hurt her too much—with what you have in mind, however, her voice is guaranteed to disappear after the night ends. “Fuck, I’m getting close”, you announce. Irene looks at you and winks, and you can hear her telling you to cum in her mouth. Once you feel that your cum has accumulated on the tip of your cock, you plug your cock deep in Irene’s mouth and blow your load with a deep groan. You let her head go and Irene pulls away from your cock. She pokes your knee to get your attention. “Yeah, baby?”, you ask, and Irene swallows your cum in one gulp in front of your eyes.
“I—hah, holy fuck—I hope we’re not done”, she says. You shake your head, “we’re far from done, honey—strip, please”. As much as you like seeing Irene in a shirt, it’s not comparable to Irene in nothing. Irene starts her ritual by tying her hair in a bun and biting her lip—she’s making it really hard for you to resist the urge to just rip her clothes off. She reaches for the buttons on her shirt and undoes them one by one, letting the shirt drop to the floor after. “If you’re trying to tease me right now, sweetie, it’s working”, you admit your defeat, “I want to fuck you so bad right now”. She walks towards you after taking off her trousers, “and I want to get fucked by you so bad right now, daddy”.
You tell her to sit on the bed while you leave to get something to cover her eyes with. “I hope you’re down for something naughty, baby”, you say as you show her a silk blindfold. “I was expecting you to have me do the work because you were tired”, she says as she puts on the blindfold herself, “let’s get naughty, daddy”. You help her move to the center of the bed, and since Irene can’t see through the black silk, she doesn’t know that you’re grabbing more silk cloths to tie her limbs with.
“Daddy, where are you?”, Irene sniffs around the bedroom, trying to pick up your scent. You softly rub her cheeks with your thumb, “I’m here, love”. She blindly grabs your hand and guides it to her pussy, “I’m so wet for you, daddy”. You play with the nub of Irene’s pussy with your middle finger, “how bad do you want daddy, hm?”. Irene squirms around as your finger keeps stimulating her, “ahng, ngh, fuck, daddy—I-I need you so fucking bad. Please, daddy, I’m begging you”. You stop fiddling with her clit, “do you trust me, love?”. Irene nods to your question, “I-I’m sure daddy will take care of me”. You peck her lips before tying her hands together. “Next time I tell you to strip, I want you to take everything off—but it’s okay, I forgive you this time”, you say as you unlatch her bra and pull her panties down. Irene whimpers softly as her arousal peaks, “daddy, daddy—ngh, fuck—punish me, daddy; I’ve been naughty”.
You flip Irene onto her stomach and lift her waist up. “Ask nicely, love”, you say to her, your cock hard as rock. “Please-please-please—OH, FUCK”, Irene screams when you put the tip of your cock in her ass, “daddy, it hurts—it hurts so much”. The only thing coating your cock is her spit from the blowjob earlier, “you asked me to punish you, so this is your punishment”. You know that Irene will say the safe word if she wants to stop, so for now, you keep moving forward until your cock is fully lodged in her rear. As you keep fucking her ass, however, Irene lets out screams of pain that sound genuine. You’ve done anal with Irene before, but considering that she wasn’t prepared for this today, you feel bad for doing this, so you retreat from her ass.
You lay Irene on her back and take off her blindfold. “I’m so sorry, baby”, you apologize to your sobbing wife, “that must’ve hurt so bad, right?”. Irene shakes her head, “y-your pleasure comes first, daddy; I-I’ll do whatever you want me to”. You free her wrists so that you can cuddle her properly. “There’s no need for that, love. I’m not more important than you”, you spray kisses on her face, “I’m sorry for acting without consent”. Irene takes off her bra that has been hanging loosely on her arms and throws it away, “c-can we have vanilla now, daddy? I-I can do the work”.
You grant her request and lie down flat on the bed, giving Irene the chance to do whatever she wants. Irene lines up her pussy with your cock and goes down on it until she reaches the base, letting out a long moan as she goes. “I’m so glad I’m married to you”, she says, “ah, ngh—your cock makes me so fucking happy, daddy”. You palm her soft tits that are bouncing in front of your eyes, “I’m glad I’m married to you as well, love—God, fuck, you’re so tight”. Irene plants her hands on your chest and starts fucking herself with your cock, “ah, ah, ah—I-I will always be tight for you, daddy”. If you were to rank the top 3 sounds Irene makes, the order would be her moans, her gags, and then finally her laughs—her moans are simply angelic and deserve the top spot.
Irene keeps bouncing herself rapidly on your cock as she’s more comfortable taking you in the pussy than in the ass. “Daddy, would you let me cum? Please let me cum, daddy”, she begs. You tell her to cum whenever she wants, “you’ve earned it, baby; you’ve been so good”. Irene screams and trembles as she cums, and you feel her pussy squeezing your cock. “Daddy, daddy”, she falls limp on your body, “thank you—ah, fuck—thank you so much”.
You let Irene catch her breath as you whisper praises and affirmations into her ears. “Can I mark you, daddy? I want to show people that you’re mine”, she says. You chuckle, “the ring on my finger already does that, love—but sure, mark me if you want to”. Irene latches her mouth on the side of your neck, kissing and nibbling it to plant her hickeys on your skin. You’re usually the one doing the marking, so you never knew that getting kisses and nibbles in the neck feels this good. “Love, I like having your lips on my neck”, you say. Irene doesn’t say anything and keeps focusing on applying her love mark on you. “That should be enough”, Irene straightens her back, “your turn to mark me now”. She slaps your hands away when you reach your arms out towards her. “No, no, mark me from the inside”, she points at her pussy, “you haven’t cum yet, so give me your cum, please”.
You roll over and get on top of Irene, “you want my cum in your pussy, love?”. “Breed me, daddy”, she rubs your cheeks softly, “I’m so fucking fertile today”. You look at Irene in the eyes, “are you sure? You have a career to chase, love”. Irene rolls her eyes in annoyance, “fine, you’re right; I’ll take the morning after pill then”.
Seeing that you’ve come to an agreement, you start thrusting into her warm core. You’re instantly reminded of how tight she is. “Fuck, love, I don’t think I can last long”, you say, hoping that it won’t disappoint her. “Th-that’s okay, daddy; I won’t last long either”, Irene replies. You guide Irene’s hand towards her pussy, indirectly telling her to touch herself as you’re fucking her.
The two of you are busy with your own tasks: Irene is touching herself and you’re fucking her balls deep. “Ah, ah, I-I think you hit my cervix”, she says between moans, “are you sure you don’t want to breed me, daddy?”. She places your hand on her stomach, “just imagine, daddy; my tummy would start getting bigger and bigger, and I’d be so fucking horny all the time that I’d cum just by humping your thighs”. “What—fuck—what about your career, love?”, you ask, still doubtful about this whole pregnancy thing. Irene moans loudly as she feels the increased pace, “I-I’ll gladly throw it away as long as I get to please you every day”.
You’re still not entirely sold on the idea, but her words make you so damn aroused. You hug her tightly and continue fucking her—you can hear your orgasm knocking at the door. “Babe, I’m cumming”, you announce to her, and Irene tells you that she is about to cum as well. You grit your teeth and release your load deep into her pussy, possibly sending it straight to her cervix. At the same time, Irene shakes as she rides the high of orgasm. You reject her request to stay inside and walk towards the drawer where Irene keeps pills and condoms. You take one pill and a bottle of water and hand them to her. You tell her to take it in front of your eyes to make sure she doesn’t throw it away or something.
“Look, love”, you softly say to her, “I do want to have a child with you, but we haven’t talked about this thoroughly before; me getting you pregnant right now is not wise—I hope you understand, love”. Irene nods, “y-yes, honey. I’ll be patient and make sure that I’m ready for motherhood before you breed me”. You smile gently, “one day, when we’re both ready, we’ll have sex all day long to make sure you get pregnant, okay?”. “God, you’re making me so wet”, Irene says, “I swear I’ll drain every drop of cum out of your cock, honey”.
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velarisnightsky444 · 6 months ago
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Kink/Fluff/Angstober Masterlist
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This year, I'm mixing up the three. Every day will alternate between the three, instead of just focusing on one like I did last year. I'm very excited for this. Here is my prompt list.
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Kinktober Days: Oct 1: Cockwarming with Azriel Oct 4: Thigh Riding with Nesta Oct 7: Sex Pollon with Elain Oct 10: Threesome with Neris Oct 13: Cuckolding with Elucien Oct 16: Throatfucking with Cassian Oct 19: Wing Play with Rhysand Oct 22: Impact Play with Eris Oct 25: Toys with Feyre Oct 28: Praise with Lucien Oct 31: Face Sitting with Mor
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Flufftober Days: Oct 2: First Kiss with Mor Oct 5: Baking with Elain Oct 8: Rainy Days with Nesta Oct 11: Love Letters with Rhysand Oct 14: Singing to Sleep with Azriel Oct 17: Pet Names with Mor Oct 20: Cuddling with Gwynriel Oct 23: Massage with Emorie Oct 26: Neck Kissing with Feyre Oct 29: The First 'I Love You' with Cassian
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Angstober Days: Oct 3: Miscommunication with Lucien Oct 6: Discovering an Affair with Rhysand Oct 9: Grief with Mor Oct 12: Panic Attack with Cassian Oct 15: Tired of Fighting with Neris Oct 18: Betrayal with Eris Oct 21: Nightmares with Nesta Oct 24: "You're too Good for me" with Azriel Oct 27: You're Losing Me with Rhysand Oct 30: Jealousy with Feyre
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Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @panther-girl-124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogersbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel
Comment if you want to be added to the Kinktober Taglist, or to a specific character taglist!
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gutsby · 3 months ago
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Bloodline
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Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader
Summary: The General needs an heir.
Warnings: 18+. NONCON. FORCED IMPREGNATION. Unprotected p-in-v. Arranged marriage. Throatfucking. Face-slapping. Breeding kink. Praise and degradation. Age gap. Dacryphilia. Fear play. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.
Note: Silphium and pennyroyal (or ‘glechium’) were herbs commonly used for contraceptive purposes in ancient Rome.
Word count: 4.4k
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You woke up knowing you were fucked.
In more ways than one: today brought your husband home from his latest campaign in Germania, and last week, your only batch of contraceptives was running low. Now, it was gone. You cursed the apothecary who had sworn she would procure your silphium drink before you were to see the General again, but presently, there was nothing more to be done. You had tracked your cycle and knew you were ovulating that week. You just hoped your husband would be too battle-weary and overwrought to seek a place in his bed, between your own legs, tonight.
‘Down’ came the order before the door to your chambers had even closed behind Marcus Acacius later that day.
Down meant he wanted you lying back.
Down meant your thighs had better be spread apart by the time he reached the bed. He wasn’t a patient man.
Down meant your meticulous menstrual contrivances had all been for nothing; you had been married to the General for almost a year, and in that time, you had promised yourself you would never bear him a child. While the only reason for your being forced to wed in the first place was to give him a son, you despised the idea of being the Emperor’s pawn. A vessel for the next awful bloodlusting boy to be born—you had been a present from your uncle Geta to Acacius, and ever since then, you had come to hate them both. You drank your herbal teas daily, without them ever knowing, and you feigned ignorance when, after months and months of the General’s best efforts, you never fell pregnant by him.
Today might very well be the day to change all that, if you had to judge by the look in your husband’s eyes, though.
The harsh, dark irises were alight as he approached you. Their gaze betrayed little more intrigue—or curiosity to know how you had been these last three weeks he was gone—than sheer lust. You could see it in his movements while he peeled his armor apart and drank your body in.
He shrugged the last scrap of metal and fabric away and climbed over you in bed. His motions were graceless, and his body was heavy. He smelled of dirt and blood.
“Wider,” he told you.
Wider your legs spread. He slipped between them, and with an affectionless, rough grip, he grabbed your wrist.
“Touch,” he commanded.
You obeyed that, too. Your fingers were guided to, and wrapped gingerly around, the thick, warm base you had come to know well since marrying Acacius. He pulsed proudly beneath your hand, and the grunt he gave said he was expecting this the whole long while he had been away. You stroked him slowly. Firmly. Contemplating.
“My love—” you started, low.
“Quiet.” Your husband’s voice swiftly supplanted yours.
It bid you to do as you were told, and open your mouth for nothing else but to pleasure the appendage you held.
You knew better than to speak in moments like these. But you also feared, for very good reason, that if you didn’t interject now, you may never get a chance to prevent this dreaded thing. It would only get harder.
He would only get harder.
“Husband,” you tried more warmly, stroking his cock as though you loved him, like weren’t repulsed by the thought of birthing his son. You forced your gaze up, too.
And no sooner had you done that when a hand landed across your face. Your cheek flamed; your skin bristled.
“My sweet wife insists on being heard, does she?” the General broke in, and you could tell it was through teeth, “Does it look like I’ve even begun to fuck you yet, girl?”
You shook your head that it didn’t. Your face stung, and you were about to look away when you felt the same hand that had delivered the last blow take your chin.
The General tilted it back up to his.
You felt him harden even more seeing tears start to well.
“Whatever it is, tell me after. I’ve waited too long for this.”
From his tone, you could tell that meant more than sex.
An heir.
He must have known you were withholding something.
Your hand moved quicker. More nervously. Worrying.
“Allow me to…to use my mouth, then. I-In other ways.” You hated even saying it. Your voice trembled as you did.
Silently, you braced yourself for another hit. Your wrist worked relentlessly, moving up and down the man’s shaft with little more intelligible thought in your head than the fear of being punished by him, when it stopped.
The General halted all movements of your hand. He eyed you once, uncaring, and then shook his head. The next thing you knew, you were being shoved off of the bed.
You never thought you would feel such relief sinking to your knees on the floor. You were good at this—could finish your husband off in under two minutes, easy—and for once, you were happy to feel the man’s fist in your hair. Holding you firm, guiding you fast, and being his normal gruff, callous self to force you onto his cock.
He filled your mouth quickly. Though it might not have meant much to a girl who had never seen, much less sucked, a dick in her life before becoming a wife, Marcus was big. He fit uncomfortably between your lips and stretched your jaw until it ached. At length, you let him move your face up and down, again and again, wetting his shaft with your slick, shiny, delicate strings of saliva. You almost felt grateful to be made to move so fast, so your tongue couldn’t get fully acquainted with his taste. You gagged lightly when he shoved you down to the base. Your eyes rolled back; his belly grazed your nose.
“You look better when I’m in you,” Marcus said coldly.
He dragged your head back, and you inhaled a breath. Your eyes rose to his, and he smiled—he saw tears again.
You blinked and let your expression fall limply, knowing how much he loved seeing you weak. You took the tip between the seam of your lips, and you kissed it once. Then you kissed it again. Your mind grew dizzy with the idea that you might actually get to swallow his load and be left alone the rest of the night if you only kept going.
You opened wider to do just that when next you heard:
“You’ll look better with my child inside you.”
As if galvanized by some sharp, unseen electric current, you wrapped your lips around his head. Fully. You tried enveloping the rest with your mouth, desperate to get your husband’s mind off of putting himself anywhere but at the back of your throat, and you hummed. The man above you gladly pushed himself further. You choked.
And just when you were about to force a breath through your nose, flatten your tongue and prepare to go deeper on the man you disliked most in this world, you felt him coax your gaze up to him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. You had to blink once or twice to even see him. When you had, you found him beaming.
For once, the General’s gaze was soft as he watched you.
You felt him tug your hair forward, and your lips went with it. Your throat resisted at first, but then it relented. In just a few moments, he was sliding down your throat.
You felt powerless. Your husband seemed to know.
“We’ve been unlucky, haven’t we?” he asked.
Surely, the question was meant to be rhetorical, for you couldn’t move your mouth without gagging on his cock.
Instead, you blinked. More tears flowed down your face.
“Nearly a year of being my wife, and still no child.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve taken him for contrite.
He sounded like he could’ve been forlorn, but the tone he used was too smooth. Slow. His voice was like molasses, almost. And then he moved his hips and sank in deeper. Your throat opened because it had no say in the matter.
You blinked harder, and more tears fell.
Please cum, please cum, please cum—
“I have it on good authority that a girl your age should be as fertile as anything. It shouldn’t take this long to take.”
—just finish, just finish, just finish where you are.
Marcus shifted again, and this time, you couldn’t control the spasm in your throat. You just coughed, and sputtered, and gagged down his length. You jerked your head pathetically under his hold, and just barely were you able to steal a gasp of air. The man loosened up.
And though his touch was less tight, his voice almost soft, and his eyes as bright as they had ever been, the words that followed after struck your senses like a fire.
Practically searing the insides of your skull when it came:
“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”
You would’ve liked to swallow, but your esophagus was too chock-full of cock. Your lips were stretched, tongue flattened along his length, and your cheeks were now glistening with tears—from the strain of your husband’s intrusion, for one, and the fear of what he might already know, for another. You felt the head of his cock slide deeper down your wet and velvety channel before carving a path back up. Its ascent was slow. Teasing.
The fingers that were threaded through your hair held your head in place as he withdrew all the way to the tip.
“Answer me, wife.”
When you hesitated, the General slapped you again. His cock fell out of your mouth, and you coughed reflexively.
“I-I-I don’t…I don’t know what—”
“Think harder.”
A hit was shortly delivered to the other side of your face. You flinched, and winced, and right before you tried answering again, you felt your jaw forced open for something else. Rather than being made to let words fill the space, your husband’s cock was thrust in. It went far.
Your mouth was leaking with drool now. You couldn’t contain the spit. If anything, the General seemed to enjoy that as he slid himself further. Then he grunted.
“Why is it I’ve filled you with enough cum to paint the fucking Coliseum, and you still haven’t give me a son?”
You gagged. Your hands flew to his strong, bare thighs to grab the flesh out of habit, and once again, he withdrew.
“Why?!”
“I don’t know!”
Of course you did.
Still, you shook your head and kept your gaze plastered on his, begging for some shred of lenience. If he’d had any within him, you reckoned you weren’t seeing it that day. Before you could stop him, the General forced his way back into your mouth, and shortly down your throat.
“I think you’re a lying—” He jerked his hips once, to stab the very back of that place, “—pathetic fucking whore.”
You tried to whine in protest, but the sound was shortly muffled by his cockhead gliding back and forth in that wet, fleshy passage. Its path was suffocating. Your eyes almost rolled back from how fucking awful he tasted.
Please, please, your nails scratched at his legs like some kind of wordless entreaty. Your gaze was glossy and wet.
You could scarcely muster the strength to meet his own, but when you did, you found your husband smiling back.
He slid out of your mouth, and you could breathe again.
“We’ll try once more,” he said, pulling you up to your feet by your armpits, like he might treat a toy he didn’t like. When you were standing upright between his legs, you felt a shudder pass through your frame, and you tried to hide it. He leaned in: “Why haven’t you given me a son?”
“My body must not be r-ready.”
Wrong answer, apparently.
He slapped you again.
By now, your face was blooming with pain. Your skin stung, and your eyes burned, and you could still feel a trace of his precum trickling down your throat, and you hated him so much. But you had to be stoic. Insensitive.
Inventive.
“Silphium,” you stuttered out, before swallowing the awful tang you sensed and recollecting yourself, barely, “Pennyroyal, too. I hear there are…concoctions that help to make the womb more…more…hospitable, I believe.”
You were lying through your fucking teeth. Knowing your husband was far too dense and war-crazed to have ever consulted an apothecary in his life, and hoping he’d be stupid enough to accept whatever it was you said. When it came to things concerning your health, he rarely cared.
You swallowed hard and for once, felt a little more stable.
Then you were shoved onto the bed again, and any semblance of composure was sucked from your bones. You fell pathetically against the plush, satin covers of maroon and gold and were prone for no more than two seconds before the General started tearing your clothes.
“We’ll see,” he said simply.
He flipped you onto your back, and you writhed without really meaning to. You were operating on pure instinct, feeling a man nearly three times your age moving his hands across your front and ripping fabric left and right. It wasn’t fair. You could hold your tongue if he hit you hard enough, but your muscles fared worse when it came to constraining their natural inclinations. You kicked your feet, you squealed, then you begged him—
“Please, stop! I’m not ready yet! I can’t— I can’t— STOP!”
This was just like your wedding night. Only worse, because you knew exactly what lay in store with harrowing clarity and certainty. The General grinned.
“Pennyroyal, huh?” he sneered, yanking your clothes away while you thrashed and tried to push his hands off, “Is that what my wife needs to be ‘ready’ to bear sons?”
“Yes!”
“Silphium?”
“Please, please.”
There were fresh tears brimming in your eyes when he peeled the last scrap of covering off of your body and shoved you back down. You were shaking, and he was smiling, and as much as you knew the man hated being defied, you reckoned he took pleasure from the chase. Seeing the moisture well up and spill, feeling you crawl back in bed, meet his greedy, calloused hands and beg him over and over again not to make you do it, not now.
You could hardly even see him through your tears, but you felt him. Sensed his lower half forcing its way between your legs and then his member coming to rest on your belly. You squirmed at the feeling of your spit still coating him, and now brushing against you. You sobbed.
“You can’t keep forcing yourself inside me—”
“I can.”
“Won’t make a baby stick if you just—”
“I will.”
You felt betrayed. All your life you’d been force-fed these sunny, sanguine ideals of what motherhood was going to be, and this was all it was? After cherishing that prized thing between your thighs—like virginity were some real gift to be given—for so long, this is who owned it now? The General hadn’t had so much as a fraction of the compassion or patience a wife needed to feel secure. He didn’t treasure you, or care for your pleasure, or do anything to soothe the ache of his repeated intrusions. You couldn’t begin to think what he’d be like as a father.
Presently, he smoothed your hair from your face; not to comfort you any, but to make sure that he could see your expression when he sank himself in. When he took again.
“We’ll have to seek the Emperor’s best,” he murmured.
Your husband gripped one of your knees, and at the same time, held himself. You felt his thick, leaking head trail from your navel to your pubic bone, down exactly where you wanted him least. You tried to protest, but his grasp on your leg only tightened. He pressed you down into the mattress and wiped his cock between your folds.
“This pennyroyal you mention…” Marcus went on.
For some reason, your legs tensed as he said it.
“Or silphium. Whatever it is. Can we get it?”
His tip teased your soft, swollen clit—a place he rarely cared to touch—and, against your will, your body started.
Some minuscule ripple of pleasure there. You swallowed.
“Yes. We can. Please, just—” You glanced down between your body and the General’s then, and the sight nearly sent your head spinning. He looked so big. And cruel. And dripping with precum across your puffy, wet skin.
He knew this act well. You knew this act well enough, but for some reason, you thought your actions aimed at forestalling the inevitable might succeed this time.
You reached for his wrist, and your eyes pleaded with his.
“Don’t do this again,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic.
The General only shook his head, and he held on tighter.
“As your husband, I’ll do this as often as I please. And you’ll learn to like it, if you just stop fighting,” he said.
He found your dripping entrance, like he always did.
“Just let me in. Let me feel her, honey, I deserve it.”
You shook your head, but he pushed on anyway. Your stomach clenched, your walls tensed, and, in spite of your body’s strongest attempts, your husband notched the first inch of himself inside. He let out a happy sigh.
“That’s it. That’s a good wife,” he told you contentedly.
His girth was too much. It was always too much. No matter how slow he went, or how much you tried to prepare yourself, it always hurt. You whimpered at that feeling and had to bite your bottom lip to keep the sound from slipping out. Marcus nodded and kissed your cheek
“Sweet girl. ‘S’all she needed, see? One little inch, or—”
His words were cut short. Then he thrust in all the way.
“—eight, maybe.”
You shrieked and met his palm. It clamped over your lips.
That first stroke was torture. Dragging back was even worse. Re-sheathing himself and making you listen to his wretched grunts and groans of pleasure was pure agony.
“Will the herbs help? Pussy feels plenty ready to me.”
He was mocking you now. Your whines were stifled under his hand and your walls were forced wider for his girth as he sawed back and forth, over and over, without mercy.
“Nod if you want it,” he panted, “Nod if you need that.”
You weren’t sure if he meant the herbs or him. Slowly, and knowing he’d hit you if you didn’t, you nodded.
The General grinned. He didn’t hesitate to speak again.
“Good. Now you can stop soliciting apothecaries behind my back and using these same herbs as contraceptives.”
Your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, though you knew it was a stupid thing to do when the man’s gaze was practically scorching through your own. You froze.
Your husband wedged his cock even deeper, and you felt him in your cervix—unprotected from any medicine now.
Medicine that he knew about, too, apparently.
You had no choice but to whimper when he kept digging his strong hips into yours, repeatedly, battering that soft, sensitive, defenseless place with his dick like he owned it. You wanted to kick your legs but sensed it was useless. General Acacius would get what he wanted.
What he needed was a son. You could see it in his eyes.
“My stupid, silly wife,” the General chided you, now fucking in deeper than he’d done before. Taunting, “I hope our son gets my brain, or the poor boy’s fucked.”
You wanted to cry. You were still sobbing, but the tears had come with such force before that there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in your body to allow them now. Any wetness, it seemed, was inside your legs, allowing your husband to pound into you with complete abandon.
Skin slapped skin. The man’s breaths grew quicker, more frantic, while your own you wished would halt altogether. His hand moved from your mouth to take your chin in his palm; he looked proud as he drilled your soft, limp body.
“Finish. Please,” you whimpered, all fight extinguished.
You didn’t know what else to say. Your husband had caught you, somehow, and probably knew as well as you that your body would now be forced to accept whatever he gave it. When that warm, throbbing member between your legs had had its fill and the man had decided he’d humiliated you enough, he’d paint your insides white. He’d shoot thick, hot ropes of cum where you’d dreaded him most, and in all likelihood, that seed would take. If not today, then tonight, tomorrow or the next day—there was no clear end in sight until the General had secured the heir he so desperately wanted. What Geta promised.
And you would be a mother, whether you liked it or not.
Every subsequent thrust, grunt, and groan rang hollow to you then. It was like your mind was lost from your body, your brain an open wound, and what was left of you simply splayed on that bed. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Being fucked and filled up without a modicum of concern for your humanity. Or what remained, anyway.
When he was finished and he could feel your body stuffed with his greedy, sticky release, the General leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.
He seemed more confident than ever as he spoke.
“I can feel my legacy has already been cemented.”
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As it turned out, a month was enough.
Within the year, you gave birth to a son.
This was no great shock to you—getting forcefucked every night for five weeks straight would’ve done the trick for any woman in your position, you supposed.
What surprised you most was how gentle the General became after learning you were pregnant with his child. Ever the paragon of paternal affection and husbandly devotion to you from that moment forward, you were convinced the man had been transformed overnight. He never spoke so much as an unkind word to you, or gave a glance that said anything less than that he was in love and elated to help you bring new life into this world. He never forced himself on you in bed. You could sleep again
One morning, you were cradling your baby in your arms. In just a few short weeks, you had already memorized every inch of his soft, sweet face. And you knew from the first you’d never love a single creature more on this earth
When your husband approached, you smiled—beaming.
“How is my son?” came the deep warble of his voice.
You drew the blanket back an inch with just your finger; beneath the soft cloth, the two of you could see that the infant was sleeping peacefully. He made a delicate sound, and you were half-certain you could hear the General’s heart splintering in two along with it. He dropped to his knees beside you, where he leaned in near and let his eyes say all the rest. They were cheery. Wet.
Sometimes, you, too, enjoyed seeing him cry.
You pet his wavy grey locks and gave them a tug.
“Is he exactly as you pictured? Your legacy?” You smiled.
Marcus blinked, letting two warm tears trickle down.
“Better than I could have dreamed him myself.”
That made your heart swell with a still larger ache. This was all your husband had ever wanted—wrapped up in your arms and swaddled with wool. Your son looked like him, too. You could see the General’s appreciation of this every time his eyes fell to the child, and every time his gaze drifted to you. There was admiration. Adoration.
Love, for once.
“Will he be a soldier like his father?” you asked next.
“A much braver one than I ever was.”
“Will he do Emperor Geta proud by this calling?”
Once more, your husband’s eyes flitted from the baby up to you. His look was soft as he reached out for your hand.
“There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that, my love.”
You squeezed his palm. You couldn’t help yourself.
“And will he carry the Acacius family name with pride?”
At that, the General’s hesitation was even shorter than the last. He swiftly confirmed that his son would, indeed, wear his name like a badge of honor. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty on that front, he assured you.
His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but mirror it.
Even as you slid the knife from in between the folds of your son’s blanket, you were smiling at him all the while.
“And what if he doesn’t?” you asked quietly.
The General’s gaze fell to the blade next.
You thought he might die on the spot.
“What if he bears no name at all?”
The serrated edge now hovered over the baby’s throat. When Marcus jerked toward the thing, instinctively, you only lowered it more. Brought the silver closer to skin.
“Please— You— you can’t— can’t— can’t— please stop.”
He was fumbling for words. You didn’t blame him.
“Your precious legacy is a fragile thing, General.”
And with that, you drew the knife closer.
Your husband let out a strangled noise.
Right when he rose to knock the weapon out of your hand, you took it and flipped it back around to him.
Your first stab was swift. Into his chest.
“My child will never know your name.”
It was clear the injury stunned him.
When you plunged the knife in again, the man let out another sound—this time, a grunt of pain—and you wedged it deeper. You didn’t flinch when his face twisted
“My son will take my name.”
Frankly, with the trauma your blade had already inflicted on his chest, you didn’t expect the General to be able to say a word. Or resist. By the look of horror in his eyes, you could tell he was capable of listening, though.
Now, he would be forced to hear it all.
See his own life taken away from him.
And feel the blade thrust in when you punctured his front for the third and final time. Your eyes were shining now.
Still cradling your child, still holding his gaze, still smiling like this was the single greatest day you’d lived to see.
“Acacius, your bloodline dies with me.”
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joeloverture · 1 year ago
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sea-cret obsession | j.m. x f!reader
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masterlist | updates blog pairing: dad's enemy!yachter!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your dad's always had a superiority complex when it comes to his place at austin's finest yacht club. when joel miller joins the club, not only does he dethrone your dad — he also becomes your newest obsession. warnings: (18+ mdni) yachter!joel, dad's enemy!joel, age gap (mid 20s/mid 50s), alcohol, joel is implied to be older than reader's dad - don't read too far into it, reader wears a bikini (anyone can, i promise!), fantasizing, creepyish joel but reader's into it, soft!dom joel, porn with a paper-thin plot, m!receiving oral, throatfucking, facial, cum-eating, f!masturbation, blowjob in the captain's chair, daddy kink (oops), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, degradation, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 2.9k a/n: this was supposed to be a ficlet for @iamasaddie's ✏️game. this is not a ficlet. please suspend your disbelief, this concept simply fell into my lap the moment i saw the wonderful moodboard aly put together for me. go check out the other fics, most of which are much shorter than mine and are absolute brain candy, that stemmed from aly's game!
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Austin is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell, and you haven’t stopped sweating bullets since climbing out of Lake Travis. After an afternoon of floating belly-up in your bikini off of the dock of the yacht club your dad frequents, your need for a drink finally outweighed your need for aimless swimming.
Your bare feet are still burning from the hotfooted walk across the wooden deck into the bar. Water droplets cling to your skin and leave a pattern of stippled concrete in your wake. It’s been a few hours you’ve seen your dad around the club, having already gotten into a pissing contest with new club members over horsepower and amenities. Your dad’s the type to always want the biggest and the best: the most decks, the biggest wine fridge, the nicest galley — because God forbid he lose his running ten-year superiority to a newbie.
So yeah, you need a drink. You don’t even have to order; the bartender, Callie, simply slides your usual order over, which you nurse while watching a preseason football game. You haven’t bothered to sit down, your hip popped out with your elbows propped up on the granite countertop.
You don’t even notice the wolf whistle from behind is directed at you until a man sidles up next to you, flashing a smile at Callie. He looks like he belongs in a yacht club, curls styled and sculpted neatly around his face down to where the collar of his blue blazer begins. Some of the buttons on his striped shirt are undone, and your eyes, much to your chagrin, linger at the slice of tanned chest peeking through the fabric.
He looks you up and down, unabashedly licking his lips when he sees the crease of your thighs. “Sweetheart, you’re much too pretty to be entertainin’ the ragtag kinda men around here.”
It’s not the first time you’ve been hit on by the yachters at this particular club, but it is the first time one of them has caught your eye. “I’m not–” you start before you hear the telltale sign of your dad’s laughter coming from close by. You turn around, drink in hand as he rounds the corner, sunglasses on and a towel around the back of his neck. 
Your dad’s expression immediately sours with a speed you’ve never seen in him before. His lips draw tight at the sight of you – or maybe the sight of the man next to you.
“Joel,” your dad says, separating from his entourage. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”
“Seems it,” the man, presumably Joel, nods, flagging down Callie for an old fashioned. The glass sweats condensation along his sturdy hand. He holds eye contact with you while he sips, only looking away when he runs his tongue along the rim of the glass. “Oughta let me take ‘er for a ride one day. Bet she’d appreciate the fine machinery of a real boat.”
You don’t miss the innuendo to his words even if your dad doesn’t. You scrub your hands along your sides, your sunscreen-sticky skin dewy beneath your palms. You shush the part of yourself that bets you’d appreciate it, too.
“Your boat is maybe good for getting to the retirement home across the lake,” your dad snaps, squeezing your shoulder. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s head home.”
You find your flip flops at the bottom of your beach bag, barely having the time to kick them on before your dad is practically pulling you out of the yacht club. He gives half-hearted waves to his usual boating buddies until you’re in the parking lot, surrounded by heat shimmering over the blacktop. The scalding hot leather seats burn the backs of your thighs and the small of your back as you settle in. With a purr, the air conditioner blows a fresh burst of wind in your face.
“What was that all about?” you ask when he starts the engine.
Your dad clips his sunglasses on his polo shirt, gripping the steering wheel ten and two with a winded sigh through his nose. “Fuckin’... rookie with his triple-decker Ferretti.”
Joel looked rich. But not Ferretti rich. “Who the hell in Austin owns a Ferretti?”
“That son of a bitch, that’s who. I don’t want you runnin’ amok on Joel’s boat, you hear me?”
“Ain’t planning on it,” you respond as if you don’t already know what’ll happen if Joel propositions you again.
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You see Joel again soon, but only in passing. A wink behind your father’s back, a drink from the gentleman across the bar that was only coincidentally Joel. The locations of these run-ins are always different. Sometimes you walked by each other on the dock. Sometimes he’d give you both a quick wave from across the water before he sped off, leaving the boat rocking on the stirred up tide and your dad cussing up a storm.
Today’s almost-tryst happens on the dock. You’re walking past Joel’s designated dock in a bikini that you’d nearly thrown out because of its snug fit. You have to smother your disappointment when you don’t see him on the top deck sipping a beer. You know better than to be disappointed over the man who your dad has not only claimed as a mortal enemy, but also claimed as the antichrist. With the thoughts Joel gives you when your hand is between your thighs, it might not be too far from the truth.
You think you have most of it figured out – he’s rough, he has to be. With how relentless as he is on the waters, it makes no sense for him to be anything else. His fancy, custom belt buckles snicking as it comes undone so he can yank his jeans down and get inside of you. Those chains he always wears would hang in your face, swaying with every roll of his hips into yours as he chases his pleasure deep inside of your–
“Woah there, darlin’,” a honeyed voice coaxes you, a muscled arm darting out to stop you in your path. “Almost walked right into the lake.” Your head snaps up to look at Joel, the very inconvenient object of your fantasies. You swallow the quickly-forming lump in the back of your throat. “You sure you ain’t had too many?”
“Positive,” you say. You haven’t even done a shot s0 far today.
“Mmm, alright.” The playful glint in his eyes doesn’t seem too convinced. It makes your heart stutter before you remind it to keep beating. “Tell ya what, you’re welcome to ‘sober up’ on my boat.”
You look between where your dad’s dock sits empty. He’s out with his co-workers today, shooting the shit too much for their own good. Then you look between Joel and his boat, the beauty of a Ferretti that’s just two steps away.
Mouth already watering at the possibilities, you say, “I do remember you promising me a ride, old man.”
Joel’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, and he makes the long step from the dock to the boat, hand held out for you. You don’t hesitate to let him help you aboard. 
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You’re on your knees in front of the captain’s chair before he gets to the middle of Lake Travis. “Old man,” he mocks above you with his legs spread as far as they can go. You kitten-lick his hardened cock, making sure to lap up the obscene amount of his precum. There’s certainly one part of Joel that doesn’t need to go to a retirement home, and it’s in your mouth. You suckle at the leaking head of his cock while his strokes your cheek, only pulling away to spoon a drop of his precum from your lip onto your tongue. “You like suckin’ an older man’s cock, pretty girl?”
You nod eagerly, taking him deeper so you can tongue the vein along the underside of his cock. From that, he groans, head slumping on the headrest so he can gather himself. You spit a generous amount into your hand, wrapping around the base to properly suck him.
“Bet there’s a whole ‘nother lake in that skimpy lil’ bikini of yours, ain’t that right?” You nod around his length and go a little deeper. He’s heavy on your tongue, long and girthy all at once. He presses lightly against the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him, but you wouldn’t pull away from him even if the yacht itself set on fire. He moans as you start to bob your head up and down. You rub your thighs together just thinking about what his cock could be capable of between your legs. “Mhm, I know, baby. You wanna push that outta the way and give it a rub for me? A rub for your real daddy?”
A choked whimper punches its way out of you. His hips jerk from the vibrations, unintentionally pushing himself further down your throat. You expect it to be too much, but it isn’t. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath as you wrap your hand around the wide palm seated on his thigh and raise it to the back of your head. “Please fuck my throat, daddy,” you pout up at him, a mixture of your spit and his precum dripping down your chin and into your cleavage.
Another groan tugs its way out of him when he looks down at you. He cups the back of your head and brings his cock back to your mouth. “Can’t say no to such a gorgeous fuckin’ face. Gonna look so damn good covered in my cum.” You keep licking his tip, not wanting to miss a single drop of him. “Go ‘head and put a hand on your pussy, baby. Rub that clit that daddy’s got all throbbin’.”
And how could you ever say no to him? Your hand is down your bikini within seconds, peeling your tacky panties away from your cunt so your fingertips can rub circles along your clit. A circle against your swollen core pulls a moan from you right as he thrusts into your throat. He starts out slow, tentative as he pushes all the way into your throat and then pulls all the way out. His second thrust is much harder, stifling your breathing for a moment as a strangled noise of pleasure leave his parted lips.
He nudges you further down onto his cock, burying your nose into the triangle of skin exposed by his rumpled button-down. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. Joel keeps your mouth speared on his cock with shallow rolls of his hips into the warm wetness of your mouth. You whine, prompting a hearty chuckle from him. “Good girl, daddy’s good little girl. Keep playin’ with yourself for me.” He smirks down at you. “Ain’t much different than what you do in your own bed, huh? Pussy just cryin’ for some cock, I bet.”
You moan in agreement as your eyes flutter shut when you rub your clit harder, harder, harder until arousal is smeared all over your knuckles and across your mound. “Nuh-uh,” he says with a punctuating adjustment of his hips. You gag, spit webbing through Joel’s happy trail. “Eyes on me.”
You’re satisfied to find him just as debauched as you feel. Strands of his usually put-together hair are out of place along his forehead, and his golden chain glistens with sweat. His hands grip the arms of the captain’s chair, spread on the tanned leather and exerting dominance over your kneeling silhouette. But you aren’t fooled. There’s a certain rosiness to his cheeks, a flare to his nose, that lets you in on the secret: he’s just as wrecked, just as in deep as you are.
You pull up and immediately sink down on his cock again, pleading eyes looking up at him, asking him. I want it daddy. I want you. And then he’s fucking your throat in earnest. His hips buck up to meet the back of your throat. You struggle to keep up with his size, his pace, but you suck his cock even with the knowledge that you won’t know how to explain your sore throat or raspy voice to your dad.
Joel squints down at you, absorbing the seeping spit from the corners of your raw lips, your droopy, ecstasy-laden eyes. He sighs, sinking down into the chair as he grinds his cock into your mouth and moves your head up and down his length. You take the hand that isn’t playing with your clit and reach to grab at his balls, kneading them. A narrow breath trips out of his lips. “Nasty bitch. Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close. Keep – keep doin’ that.” You drag your tongue along that bottom vein again, kneading one of his balls and making sure that when he pulls you off of his cock, you treat the head to one final taste. 
“Open up, slut,” he coaxes. His cock twitches. He jerks himself once, twice, and then cums, rope after rope hitting your damp skin. His cum is hot, sticky, and you’re too preoccupied with trying to catch some of his release that your hand stalls over your cunt. You whimper when his cum lands on your tongue and follow it up by swallowing. Joel’s breath is unsteady as he looks down at you, cock softening in his lap. “Good girl,” he praises, reaching out to run his thumb along your stained skin. Drop by drop, he feeds you his cum, and you lap it up just as eagerly as you’d lapped him up. 
You pull your hand out of your bikini when he’s done, tacky arousal stretching between your fingers. Going back on your haunches, you suck in a deep breath through your abused throat. 
Joel pats his wide, thick thighs above you, the same ones you’ve been fantasizing about since that first day in the bar. “I promised you a ride, didn’t I?” A familiar, hooked smirk pulls at his mouth. Your face lights up in recognition and you practically scamper onto his thigh, stumbling as you tug your bikini out of the way to settle yourself on the linen coral shorts he has on. Joel laughs, a noise that has your cunt leaking onto the fabric, clit fluttering from the friction. Heat pulls tight in your stomach.
His hands land on your hips, guiding you back and forth when you hesitate at first. “Grind on daddy’s thigh, baby. Wanna see you cum on me.” Your head tips forward, forehead slotting against his shoulder when you start to push your hips into his. Need springs awake in your stomach when he drags you forward. A frayed moan tumbles out of you from his near-manhandling. You rut into Joel, bouncing, grinding yourself on him in the same way that you’d imagined yourself doing at least a dozen times before this.
“Daddy,” you whimper when the muscle goes taut underneath you, plucking something in your cunt. At the same time, a speedboat passes Joel’s yacht outside, leaving the ship rocking on the water in time with your movements as you ride his thigh. You yelp, a strained noise as the pressure intensifies on your clit. “Close!”
He grips your hips even tighter, bounces his thigh up against you. “That’s it, that’s it. Let it happen baby, give it to daddy.”
You come undone with the taste of his cum still rich on your tongue and his words ringing in your buzzing ears. Your orgasm whips through your body and leaves you shuddering against his center, halfheartedly continuing to roll your hips up against him. His thumbs rub circles into your skin while you come down. You suck in a shaky breath, Joel’s palm stroking the small of your back. “Did good for me, baby. Look real pretty when you come. Real pretty.”
You give him a shy smile, and he leans forward to kiss you, a brief moment of gentleness amidst his usually ubiquitous harshness. He pulls away with a tiny pat to your ass. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You stumble off of him on shaky legs, leaning against the captain’s console. Joel pulls his shorts down his thighs and tucks his cock away, the wet spot your cunt had made on him beyond visible as he stretches himself out. He fishes around in a drawer in the galley for his baby wipes and joins you back at the console. He takes them to your face, wiping down where his cum had hit your skin. He even dabs gently at your thighs. Orgasm bliss clings to the edges of your vision still, and you can’t help but lean into him as he takes care of you.
“Could take you for a real ride, now,” Joel says with a moderate shrug. “Nice cove on the west side of the lake, good for a quick swim. I’m sure your dad would throw a fit if he knew, but I’m sure you’re good at keepin’ secrets, too. Got a real good mouth on ya.”
You playfully punch his shoulder with a roll of your eyes, and in that moment, it feels like you’ve known Joel much longer than you have at all. Like this isn’t your first time on his boat, and this wasn’t his first time being in your mouth. “Alright,” you begrudgingly smile at him. “Whatever you say, old man.”
It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he starts the engine.
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nottswitch · 4 days ago
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⋆౨ৎ bully!theo teaches you a lesson for talking back to him in public
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nav // aus / bully!theo // more
and so, bully!theo is born! read at your own discretion, and i hope you’re gonna enjoys this lil fucker of a man <3
warnings: 18+ mdni, kinda dubcon, oral (m receiving), rough throatfucking, throat bulge, size kink, choking, gagging, mentions of vomiting, hair pulling, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise if you squint, cursing, smoking
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you knew you probably shouldn’t have done it. theo had warned you against it many times, and yet, you still couldn’t resist – the smirk he had when he completely obliterated you for the hickeys he, himself, left the night before was simply grating on your nerves too much. so, you retorted with a sharp quip; did you really have to bring up his dick size? maybe not, given that you knew for a fact it wasn’t ‘smaller than a pickle’, but it just seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.
now, you had to deal with the consequences – theo’s huge cock mercilessly destroying your throat as you kneeled on the cold floor of the guy’s bathroom. his hand painfully fisted your hair as he shoved your face into his crotch and back, again and again and again, showing no signs of stopping any time soon.
"you think you’re so cute, huh? so fucking smart, aren’t you?" he hissed, pulling you off his cock for a moment and leaning down, his ragged, smoke-smelling breath hot against your skin. you swallowed a thick mixture of his precum and your saliva, feeling your throat constrict after at least ten minutes of non-stop pounding. your lips were swollen and stretched out, your chin dripped with liquid, the stains at the front of your blouse rapidly growing in size.
a strong slap landed on your cheek, causing your head to snap to the side. your ‘ow’ was loud and high, but it did nothing to make theo even wince. he squished your cheeks between his fingers, his darkened eyes almost drilling a hole in yours with their intensity. the muscles of his jaw rolled back and forth, his nose scrunched up in contempt.
"where’s the fucking attitude, huh?" he shook your face in his hold, making your head go dizzy for a moment, and yet you couldn’t deny the wetness that pooled between your thighs at the gesture – at every one of them, really. maybe you were sick for it, but your body had its own story to tell.
"yeah, thought so." theo scoffed at the lack of your reply; the only sounds that came out of you were the rapid, shallow breaths you took due to the exertion of sucking him off so furiously. he fixed you with another look of disdain and then, without any warning, spit right on your face. his saliva trickled down the side of your nose, making you wince – not that it was the first time, yet it still felt equal parts as degrading as it was arousing. you had half a mind to spit back, but then realized you’d probably end up with a completely dysfunctional throat.
theo smirked darkly, the anger still seeping through his every pore, and dragged his fingers all over your face, smearing his saliva over your cheeks and lips. then, without any real resistance on your part – was it the lack of strength, or was it the buzzing ache in your lower belly, you couldn’t quite place it – he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag; your hands flew up to his thighs to steady yourself, but he shook them off, slapping you once more. your skin stung, and your brows were furrowed, but it didn’t deter theo in the slightest.
"keep still," he muttered, pressing at the base of your tongue. your gag reflex flared up, and you felt the familiar churning in your stomach as you tried to hold back as much as possible. before you were ready to give in and just throw up, theo took his fingers out of your mouth, providing a brief sense of relief, but then immediately replaced them with his cock.
the gagging never stopped; in fact, it only got worse as theo started roughly thrusting into your throat again, his hips moving in a quick, steady rhythm. your hair was in his painful hold, tight against his body; no way you could pull away, even though your throat was sore and aching.
"’s all you’re good for," theo rasped out through his low groans, the smirk obvious in every word that left his mouth. "a fucking cocksleeve, yeah? stupid little thing, but fits my cock so well, shit–"
you hummed incoherently around his length, trying at least an attempt to express your disagreement, but it only made your throat open some more, and the tip of theo’s cock hit deeper. you could feel the bitterness of bile rising to the top, but the huge, throbbing erection was an obstacle that kept it at bay. theo could clearly see the way your body trembled, and for a moment, he held you down, your nose pressed right into the trimmed hair on his pelvis.
"so, cara," he drawled, his fingers running along your scalp in almost soothing motions, even though they were anything but. "you still think i have a small dick, hm?"
you couldn’t reply even if you wanted to but still tried to move your head in a ‘no’. theo huffed, finding your squirming to be amusing, and his free hand glided around your neck, feeling the bulge his cock created at the front of it. you were breathing through your nose, or at least attempting to, but it didn’t really help: every single twitch of theo’s steel-solid length made you gag a little over and over again. your entire cleavage was soaked in your own drool at this point, and it was obvious that theo would have something to say about it later.
"you don’t think so?" he raised an eyebrow, as if your admittance was a surprise. he started stroking himself through your throat, fingers curling into your skin, and somehow, it felt even more humiliating than simply being throat-railed: he wasn’t even using it anymore, your body being just a means to jerk himself off. "cazzo, you feel so fucking good silent."
theo let his head fall back against the wall, groaning as his hand sped up. the other one pressed you even further into his crotch, and seconds later, you felt thick, hot spurts of cum spilling inside you one after the other. the throbbing of his cock almost choked you, added to the pressure of his hand from the outside, and you pushed at his thighs, trying to finally get him out of you. it seemed like he didn’t want you to actually die – good – because he let go, pushing you head back in return. the emptiness you felt after letting go of his still half-hard dick was strangely disappointing, the sickeningly pleasant buzz in your soaked pussy only intensifying. you sucked in the drool connecting your swollen lips to theo’s cock and wiped them with the back of your hand; it didn’t help much, you were still completely drenched.
knowing you wouldn’t get anything more, you sighed and stood up on wobbly legs, taking a couple of steps towards the bathroom sink. as you splashed your face with some cold water, you heard a click of a lighter. in the mirror’s reflection, theo was bonelessly slumped against the wall, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep first drag.
"might need a repeat of that tonight." the words came out along with a swirling cloud of smoke, grey and undoubtedly bitter. you scoffed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the puffiness but only making it worse in the process.
"you fucking wish," you muttered, but your voice lacked conviction. it was a well known fact that ‘might’ meant ‘will’ in theo’s vocabulary, and you also knew full well that you’d give him what what he asked – no, demanded – for.
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dummy-daisy · 1 month ago
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Hii, I wanted to ask what kind of videos you watch. I remember that you posted about not having anymore vids to watch and I wanted some recommendations. Byee
i've had this in my asks for a while and finally got around to answer it.
my favorite categories include:
ruined orgasms (female and male ones)
edging videos (especially if there's lots of talking/whining)
painful anal sex
anything with chastity belts
pussy torture / sometimes nipple torture
throatfucks
in general i prefer amateur videos, but i do enjoy the assylum videos, they combine my painful anal, humiliation, pain and piss kink!
now to some of my favorites on Pornhub:
i absolutely LOVE TheSweetMartini, they make exactly my kind of porn! chastity, female orgasm denial, edging
for ruined orgasm content, i love QuinnPie and prettyenby
Rosie and Alena's videos are of course classics
and my favorite couple on xhamster:
GreatMasterSword do amazing spanking, throatfuck and rough fucking videos
other than that i mostly just scroll and see what turns me on 😊
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itaehynz · 6 months ago
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HII BABY! ahem SOOO for the event i’d like to request for “welcome to the movies”, the movie batman BUTTTTT villain catwoman!reader x CHOI YEONJUN . HEAR ME OUTTTTUH (a little plot but mostly smut ykyk 😇)
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ONE NIGHT ONLY.
pairing: batman!yeonjun x catwoman!reader.
genre: forbidden love, superhero x villain au, smut, a little angst & fluff.
word count: 4.4k
warnings: profanity, argument before intercourse, yeonjun and reader are both dicks in the beginning, mention of killing, includes an explicit sex scene; harddom!yeonjun at first, sub!reader, big dick jun implied (it’s real), public sex, oral (both receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, dacryphilia, marking, hair pulling, throatfucking, choking, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple play, breeding, degrading + praising, soft sex toward the end (but not for long), kissing, spitting, breeding kink, name-calling; pretty/pretty girl, good girl, gorgeous, slut, whore, baby.
“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.”
ni’s notes; the event masterlist is coming soon but here it is!! i hope you enjoy this fic, my love. also thank you to my proofreading friend, if you see this, ily babe. happy reading my lovelies! 💕
SPECIAL MASTERLIST!
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With the arrival of night comes danger—dangers this city has been dealing with for years on end, dangers caused by you. And, of course, Batman is always the one to the rescue. He has always been their superhero, the person they can always count on. But not anymore. A rumor has begun. A rumor you started. A rumor to ruin his reputation.
You two have been secretly meeting at night to avoid being seen by others. This is all because of him - he's the one who made this rule. He's the kind of man who always gets what he wants and never takes no for an answer. However, the rumor that the two of you are in a committed relationship, which isn’t true, has officially ruined his reputation. But where's the fun in telling the truth?
It doesn't matter how much you love him; you love to toy with him even more. Getting under his skin, and ridiculing him, makes you feel giddy. The knowledge of how angry you could make him with a simple action. The adrenaline hurries through your veins at the thought.
But that's before you hear something rustle behind you. You think it could be a random citizen, so you simply ignore it, until your mouth is covered by a black leather glove.
“Stay quiet,” the voice says. It’s deep and rich. You recognize the voice—actually, you know it. It’s him.
The man who never denies himself pleasure, the man who always knows what he wants. The man goes by two names, Batman or as you’d like to call him, Choi Yeonjun.
When he appears behind you, you don't gasp or panic. You knew he was coming sooner or later. Once the news spread, you knew he'd have no choice but to come to you. Eventually, he'd try to figure out who spread the word, only to be led back to you. Besides his assistant, nobody knows about the two of you, except you and him.
Soon, he uncovers your mouth and begins leading you to god knows where; however, you're not complaining. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to seethe with anger. You truly looked forward to hearing from him, whatever he had to say. Every time you two have a conversation, it almost always ends with sex. This time should be no different.
He pulls you into a dark alleyway, a blind spot away from the citizens of Gotham. "Tell me," he says, bringing a finger to his temple and inhaling deeply. "Tell me what led you to this point, Y/n."
To your dismay, it's as if every reason you had has been wiped from your memory entirely. Under his mask, you see his eyes piercing into yours. You find yourself feeling more intimidated as you look away, making an effort to avoid his intense gaze.
He grasps your face firmly, bringing your eyes back to his. After doing so, he takes his mask off, throwing it somewhere. What you're now faced with is an expression you’ve never seen before. He’s furious. His eyebrows furrowed and a firm wrinkle was prominent in the center of his forehead.
He looks at you with raised brows, expectant. Expecting a reasonable answer from you, not whatever random bullshit you can think of.
“I wanted to see if I mattered to you,” you draw in a large breath, “If we mattered to you.” He looks at you dumbfounded, has he not been the best he could be to you? What more could you want from him? He scoffs, “You’re joking, right?” he questions while looking at you, once again, expecting an answer.
You laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I care about how much I mean to you? You're Batman, you don't care about how others feel about you,” you add, rolling your eyes in a joking manner. He scoffs at your ability to joke in situations like this, soon falling into a small laughter. Withdrawing his hand slowly, slapping your cheek twice in a ridiculing manner.
He seems completely disinterested in continuing the conversation, as your responses didn't give him anything to engage in. He's convinced that you started the rumor because if not you, then who else?
Deciding not to think about it any further, he runs a hand through his hair before walking away from you. You grab for your mask, taking it off before calling out to him. As you call out to him, he pauses in his tracks before turning his head in your direction with a raised eyebrow.
“I just,” you murmur, rolling your eyes once again. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I admit, it was a stupid way to do it but I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all.” He looks at you once again, amazed by your reasoning. He’s never found anything more stupid than that.
"Are you serious?" is all he says. The more you think about it, your reasoning for doing this is pretty dumb. Not only does it ruin his reputation because it's said that he's dating the city's worst villain, but it also ruins yours. Obviously, your reputation was trashed the moment you started this job, but now it's worse than it was before.
You simply nod at his words as he scoffs for the nth time, shocked by how far you've gone. You know how hard he's worked to get into his position, and the fact that you were able to break all that down with a simple news article baffles him, to say the least.
“I should fucking kill you.” He threatens, scowling at you. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor as the distance between the two of you gets smaller and smaller. “What?” you question, already knowing that he’s fuming. This is your way of trying to get more of a rise out of him. You trust yourself and know what you're doing, he wouldn't dare to kill you… right?
“First, you ruin my reputation and now you're standing here acting like you’re an innocent ass fucking fool, acting as if you don't know why I’m here,” he pauses, seeming as if he wants to hear your side. “Yeonjun, I’m the fool? If anything-” “Yes! You are! So, don't even try to go there with me, Y/n. You need to fucking learn your place and keep our business in between us. Stop doing stupid shit to get a rise out of me because I already knew what you were doing once that dumb excuse came out of your mouth.”
“I need to learn my place?” you scoff lightly, beginning to walk closer to him. “You should be the last person talking about learning their place. You’ve never known yours! You're always intruding into someone’s life and trying to fuck things up for everyone. You’ve never known your place, and now you're shocked when someone else doesn't know theirs? Well lucky for you, I’ve had a great fucking teacher! So since you wanna talk big, why don't you show me what my place is, huh? Show me exactly what my fucking place in this world is, Choi Yeonjun.”
Those words were all he needed. Just like you needed to provoke a reaction from him, he needed you to say those few words. The moments it took for your heart to beat were the few seconds he needed to get you right where he wanted you.
He is aware that you can be a brat sometimes; that's for sure. However, this time was extreme. Not only did you argue with him, but you also kept giving him illogical reasons, even after he explicitly told you not to.
If you wanted him to fuck you, why not just say so? You went as far as revealing the relationship between the two of you, and just for some dick? Hysterical. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, is what he thinks.
“You’re just a fucking whore, aren't you?” He says, venom creeping its way into his voice. His cape drops as he makes his way to you, eyes blown out with lust and a tinge of fury. He almost laughs at the way your face shows pure worry, but your eyes say otherwise.
You're almost caught off guard by his sudden switch-up, but what can you say? You like how he’s acting. You like the way his calloused hands feel against your skin, the way his unoccupied hand feels against the flesh of your ass. Grabbing weighty amounts of your flesh and groping it roughly, he has no intention of being soft with you but maybe, just maybe you can change his way of thinking.
“You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? You like it when I treat you like shit—don’t you?” he growls softly in your ear, you can’t deny that. The pleasure you gain from arguing with him for no logical reason is immense. You know you should feel guilty, but the feeling of his hands on your body takes away all the guilt you’ve ever had.
He removes his hand from your face, both hands now resting on the apple of your ass. He rubs around it softly, reminding himself what belongs to him. “Hm. This is a pretty suit, are you sure this is the same as the others?” He whispers, kissing from your lips to the sweet spot of your neck. You hum in affirmation, causing him to put a stop to his ministrations. “Words, Y/n,” he taps your cheek with two fingers softly. “Yes, it is.” He hums, continuing to kiss in the same spot he was before.
You feel his hands gripping roughly at your flesh once more, soon hearing a tear. You jump in shock, grabbing at his arms for some sort of balance. He coos in your ear, telling you to stay quiet once again. You feel his hands spread your legs further, right before he presses a firm thigh between them.
“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.” He brushes his knee past your tender clit, emitting a soft moan from you. His soft kisses soon turn to bites, his finger now rubbing back and forth past your slit. He brings his other hand back around to stretch the tear of your suit, slapping your clit lightly. You gasp in satisfaction, causing him to wrap a hand around your mouth.
“I told you to be quiet, didn't I?” He questions, not expecting an answer. He runs a finger past your clit, rubbing small but rough circles into it with his thumb. His finger slightly teases your slit, going in and out to build the stimulation within you. His finger enters you in a swift motion, eliciting a whiny moan from you and into his palm.
He kisses your forehead softly, beginning to pump his finger faster before adding one more. You cringe at the stretch but soon adjust to it, squirming in pleasure. He tightens his hold on you, pushing your stomach down which does nothing but increase your volume.
“You hear those sounds, baby? Those beautiful, dirty sounds coming from you? Those are the sounds of a whore.” he says, slapping a hand on your clit once more. You whimper into his palm, watching as he smirks at the sounds coming from your cunt. He bites back a chuckle, seeing how easily he can have you writhing in the palm of his hand.
He draws his fingers from your soaking cunt and brings them to his mouth. He looks at you as he does so, wrapping his tongue around the digits as he flutters his eyes shut in delight. “Such a dirty mouth, yet you're so sweet.” He pulls his fingers from his mouth before lowering himself down to your cunt, humming in adoration once he’s faced with your wetness. “Look how pretty she is, so wet—so perfect. You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, bringing an agonizingly slow stripe of saliva to your cunt.
“You still wanna do this here? Or would you prefer to go back home?” he asks, pausing his actions. “N-no, please, this is fine, Jun.” He smiles at your desperation, chuckling softly to himself before licking another long stripe up your cunt. His hands grip your thighs roughly, spreading your legs more than before for better access. Before doing anything else, you feel his hands reach up your chest to tear another hole in your suit. He moves the fabric aside to release your perky tits from their enclosure, rolling one between his fingers.
You moan quietly, to abide by his rules. He flicks your clit with his tongue, keeping your thighs apart with his free hand. He laps at your clit, wrapping his pretty lips around your sensitive bud. He relishes in the taste of your juices, sucking at your cunt as if his life depends on it. Your moan increases in volume, causing him to hum into you. He watches you writhe in pleasure as he inserts two fingers, watching every pleasure-felt expression that appears on your face.
You begin gripping his hair, pulling at the brown locks as you roughly ride his nose. He groans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. He feels his pants getting tighter as your pretty moans fill his ears and shoot straight to his cock.
You feel your orgasm creeping up on you as he continuously moans into your squelching cunt. With a plan in mind, you tug his head away from your clit. He looks up at you, dumbfounded. He's confused as to why you did that before seeing you drop to your knees. He watches you pull down his pants, releasing his cock from his slacks. He groans in pleasure, bucking his hips toward your face frantically.
You lick at the tip of his cock, jerking the rest of him off. He watches you with lust-filled eyes, bringing his hand to your face. You melt into his palm, looking back up at him with doe eyes. His breath quivers as you wrap your lips around his tip, licking at his leaking tip. You swallow the drops of precum before licking at his slit once more, watching as he bites his lip in attempt to contain his moans.
You chuckle, “It’s so pretty, Yeonjunie,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You watch his hips buck upward in pleasure as you begin to hold his waist, preventing him from doing it again. He moans at the restriction, watching as you finally take all of him in your mouth. For some sort of stability, he grips your hair in his fist. He gains control over your throat as he bobs your head back and forth on his cock, seeing how you easily give in to him. He closes his eyes, stalling your head and fucking himself down your throat.
You grip his hips tighter, allowing him all the relief he needs as he fucks your throat. “F-fuck, baby… yeah, j-just like that, fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into your mouth. The noises coming from the alley would induce any type of curiosity in a person who just so happens to be passing by—the lewd sounds coming from your throat as he moans above you. The pretty noises coming from him as he shoves all of his length down your throat makes wetness form between your thighs, pooling at your entrance.
As you continue to let him fuck your throat, you reach down and rub rough circles into your clit. He opens his eyes for a split second to see how you’re occupying yourself and sees one of your hands away from his hip. Even though he feels himself nearing his orgasm, he yanks your hair to pull you away from his cock. He watches drool leave your lips as you stare up at him, breathing heavily and jaw nearly slacking.
He pulls you up by your hair, forcing you around to press you against the concrete wall. “You thought you were gonna get away with touching yourself? You thought I wouldn't catch you?” He rubs the soft flesh of your ass, tearing the rest of the bottom half of your suit off. “Look at you, baby. So pretty and wet, just for me.” He whispers in your ear, landing a firm slap on one of your asscheeks.
Watching as you wince, he soothes the pain with a soft knead into your flesh. It doesn't last long as he lands another one, telling you; “This is for lying in my face,” Another one. “This is for telling the press our business,” Another slap. “And, this? This is trying to make me look like a fucking fool,” Another one. “This one is for touching yourself without my permission, acting out, and all those times you treated me like I was a fucking joke; laughing in my face, lying to me, creating bullshit excuses for your actions, and thinking everything is a fucking game.” He raises his hand higher, before landing a harsh and rough slap on your ass once more.
You feel tears rolling down your face as he coos into your ear, kissing your neck and rubbing the bruising flesh. “Aw, my poor baby. You’ll be okay, just don't act like this again, okay?” He says, wiping your tears with his free hand. He kisses you one last time before pulling away to line himself up with your cunt. “Look at this,” he smiles to himself. “Doing all this crying, just to find out—you’re getting off on this shit, what a fucking slut.” He chuckles once more, inserting himself carefully.
You moan at the way he hits your sweet spot almost immediately, feeling his hand creep up to your breast. He pulls you against his chest by your throat, wrapping a firm hand around it. You watch him gather his spit in his mouth before telling you, “Open.” With quickness, you open your mouth as the spit drops from his to yours. “Swallow it,” he whispers, watching you carefully. You stare up at him, swallowing the spit just as he told you to. He smirks, kissing down your neck. He slowly starts fucking into you, pulling at your nipple between his fingers.
A moan erupts from your throat, slowly feeling a bit of overstimulation overtake you. You feel his pace slowly but surely pick up in speed, his pace becoming unrelenting. You feel his arm wrap around your torso to stop your squirming, his grasp tightening the more you move. You hear him groan in your ear along with the soft slapping emitting from your ass. His arm that was once wrapped around you is now creeping down to play with your clit, rubbing your bud in a circular motion.
“H-hah— fuck, keep—keep going, shit,” you moan, putting a hand over his. He kisses your neck once more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You're so, fuck, so fucking gorgeous.”
He goes from kissing to sucking purple and blue splotches on your neck, making you moan directly into his ear. The moan seems to spur him on as his pace somehow picks up. You feel yourself teetering over the edge as you claw your nails into his arm, causing him to bite down on the sweet spot of your neck.
The bite itself emits a loud moan from you, his freakish pace adding to it. He feels you clench around him, clawing into your hip. “You gonna cum f’me? Go ahead, baby. Let it all go, I know you need it.” His words bring you over the edge as you seem to cum on his command. But that doesn't stop him.
He still hasn't came yet, you remembered. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not seeming to be letting up anytime soon. The quickness of his hips, his balls slapping your cunt at the ferocious speed he’s kept all this time. He flips you around, making you face him. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his grip on your throat tightening.
You feel his warm tongue explore your mouth, groaning into the kiss. His other hand goes back to playing with your nipple, tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers. One of your hands reaches up to his face, holding his cheek as he continues to fuck into you. He decides to change the position as he releases your throat, turning you back towards the wall, and bringing both of your hands behind you. He holds both your hands in one of his and rests his hand atop your head, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back.
He begins pounding into you from behind at an erratic speed, chasing his high, “You're doing so good, baby. Keep moving your hips, shit, just like that.” He groans, slapping your ass as he continues his ministrations.
Feeling overstimulated, you pull your hand out of his and try to brush his thigh back, in an attempt to slow his pace. “F-fuck, ohmygod, p-please,” you hiccup, watching his face turn into a scowl. “What? Don't tell me you can’t, oh fuck—d-don’t tell me you can't fucking take it now?” he chuckles, bringing another hand to your ass and gripping the rose-colored flesh.
“That’s n-not, fffuck, yes— That’s not w-what I said, don't stop please, shittt,” you stutter out, he chuckles at how incoherent you’ve become and coos from behind you. “Uh huh, okay. Of course, what was I thinking? Thinking a slut like you would’ve wanted to stop,” he laughs. You whimper at his words, “I’m not a s-slut!” — “Aw, you sure?” He taunts, watching tears well up in your eyes. “Oh, pretty baby, why are you crying?” he asks, faux concern lacing his tone, “I thought you liked it when I fucked your brains out?” He taunts once again, listening to you whimper at the overstimulation.
“No words now?” You hear him ask as you mumble incoherently, reaching out toward his hand for stability. A small smirk ghosts over his lips at your neediness, his fingers ghosting over yours as his other hand continues gripping the meaty flesh of your ass. “Look at you—jumbling all of the words that come out of that pretty mouth, so pretty.” You moan pathetically, feeling your orgasm approaching once again.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his breaths become more erratic as he also feels his climax approaching. “F-fuckkk, baby. I’m right t-there, keep moving, please,” he moans, releasing your hand and placing his on your hips. You place your hands on the concrete wall, trying your best to keep yourself stable. You bounce back towards him, letting him take a break from doing all the work. His hands caress your back, reaching to pull you up. He holds you close to his chest, catching your lips in a kiss that's different from the last one.
The kiss is so passionate that you nearly forget your surroundings. His plush lips press against yours, hungry and intense. The adrenaline rushes through both of your veins, the pent-up anger and constant arguments have built the tension between the two of you. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand grabs your chin, deepening the kiss. You start to feel a warm sensation in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
In the midst of your shared kiss, both of your orgasms creep up on you and take you by surprise. He moans out of bliss; groaning into the kiss. Your back arches intensely as his hips still, releasing thick strings of cum into your fluttering pussy, your orgasm following soon after.
Your second orgasm hits harder than the other; you’re squirting on his cock, body jerking in his arms as he kisses your neck, easing you through your orgasm. You moan loudly, loud enough for him to have to cover your mouth. “Shhh, you did so good. So perfect f’me, my perfect girl.” He kisses your neck, watching as you come down from your orgasm. You let out cracked sobs, hearing him coo as he wipes them away.
“Breathe, baby.” He rubs your hip, massaging it softly. “You took me like such a good girl, so proud of you,” he kisses your lips, turning you back around toward him. He stares at you; his eyes are no longer lust-filled but full of love. He looks down at the shreds of your clothes, shocked. He knows he did that but it's still pretty shocking, which he laughs about.
You look at him, cracking a smile. He catches your eyes and begins smiling as well, “I really did that, huh?” he asks, a bit of shyness overtaking him. You smile timidly, nodding your head as he picks up the pieces of your suit.
“I’ll get this sewn back together for you—if you want me to,” he insists kindly, looking at you awaiting a response. You wave your hand in front of his face, “I don't need you to, I have plenty of others at your place.” He smiles at your insinuation of staying over and chuckles softly. You watch his eyes turn into crescent moons, followed by his sweet laugh.
He raises a hand to your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you pause, looking up at him to show how genuine you truly are. “For telling our business to the press, I really just wanted a rise out of you and-” “It’s okay baby.” He smiles, pinching your cheek softly.
“Even though you do get on my nerves at times, I still love you, y’know this. Plus,” he pauses, looking away for dramatic effect, “You know I hate false accusations.”
He winks at you, catching you slightly off guard. “Yeah, trust me I know. You’ve always wanted to prove a point,” you scoff with a minor eye roll. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never wanted to prove a point in my life,” he hums, pulling up his pants. You raise your eyebrow at him, leaning back against the wall. “Don't even, you don't remember that one time when you-”
“Shhh. You're prettier when you're quiet, baby,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. You roll your eyes, smiling at his response. He smiles back at you, ticking his head to the side, “You wanna head home?” — “Please, I’m quite literally bare.” He laughs at your comment, pulling out his grappling hook and latching you on his side.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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