blond3ang3l

[blond3ang3l]

@merakidoll @silas-222

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off those gorgeous legs, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near. 

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

[blond3ang3l]

Hear me out ok,,,,just….JUST HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE OKAY?!….

BigDick!Femboy!Armin who’s very feminine and dating M!Reader and everyone around thinks reader stays dicking down Armin on the daily only to find out that Armin is the one bending reader over bc reader is down bad for his big dick femboy boyfriend!👀

Everyone thinking the scratches on reader’s back/chest is from him fucking Armin but really it’s bc Armin likes using his freshly done nails to scratch reader up while being balls/guts deep inside reader. Somehow the truth comes out and everyone is just completely shocked finding out who really tops and bottoms in the relationship

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Ugh you had this sitting in my brain for days coming up with ideas, I fucking love this trope so much dude you don't even understand!!

cw- armin's mean in a hot way, his friends being total weirdo's and listening

It way by mistake honestly...at least on your part. On Armin's end though, he absolutely planned for Connie, Eren, and Jean to walk by and hear you guys.

It was common for everyone to see you two together, you guys were the "it" couple with just how sweet and romantic you two were with each other.

But they also knew Armin was a little slut. On more than one occasion when they hung out with you at the gym your back and chest would be covered in scratches and hickeys. Deep nail prints in your shoulders from Armin's acrylic that he let you pick out. And at least once every time they were hanging out, they would see him paw at you. Tugging at your waistband and almost flashing your dick to your poor friend group.

And they knew you were just as bad as Armin, worse actually. Everyone grew accustomed to seeing your hands on his ass full on groping him like it was nothing. No one blinked a at him being on your lap in the tiniest skirt you could buy him. Not even a glance when you would pull him away for almost 20 minutes before emerging from whatever bathroom or closet you pulled him in.

They loved to tease Minnie all the time ever since he got with you. He would always meet up with them after his college classes and his lipstick would be all smudged just for them to see you walking past with kiss marks all over your face and neck. They just thought it was funny how their friend was basically whipped by you.

Unbeknownst to you guys' friends Armin heard a little rumor of them having little flings with you much before you two got together. Now the only reason he found out was because when they got drunk, they got sloppy. Including on what they said and who they said it to. It was Connie in particular who said a little bitch too much, reminiscing about you "almost putting him through the mattress" before he got with Ony.

Was Armin mad you didn't tell him? No, because he knew you and it was so long agio that this apparently happened. That wasn't gonna stop him from dealing with his friends though.

The phone rang once, then twice, and on the third ring Eren answered the phone upon seeing your name flashing across the screen.

" {♡}, where you at? You were supposed to be over here like 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, fuck Minnie!"

They all stopped in unison when they heard your voice on the other side of the phone.

Armin's sharp nails dug into your chest, a bit of blood falling just from how harsh he was being. An airy, almost whimper fell from your lips. Laid out on your back your hands were tied behind your back with the white ribbon Armin usually had you tie into his hair.

"You're being so loud {♡}. You forgot your rules already? Or are you just a stupid whore that needs me to think for you?"

Your phone was placed snuggly beside you guys on speaker, just low enough so you couldn't hear their voices in your dazed out state, but they could hear you. "mm-minnie." "minnie, minnie." He mocked your whiny voice as if he was bullying you simply for taking his dick so well. "Not what I fucking asked you is it?"

"No fucking way..." Jean's shocked whisper was almost missed by Armin, but he made sure the phone was placed right by his head so he could know exactly what they were saying. You were folded in half, ankles practically by your ears, and he was still pushing you impossibly farther. "Whoring yourself out to our friends. Didn't even tell me."

"m" sorry min. y' know I love you, only you daddy." Your gold anklet dangled so prettily by Armin's deep blue eyes. The anklet that was usually hidden by your jeans and sweatpants. "Yeah? You're all mine. Fake ass tough act you put on. Not tough at all. Sitting here crying from my dick after you begged me to fuck you before you met up with our friends. Needy thing, aren't you?" His hand went across your face, not enough to hurt a lot, but enough to sting.

"Fucking me so good, daddy. Can feel you so deep." Your words were slurred, drunk from his dick repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. He could hear the shaky breaths and quiet murmurs of your friends. Shocked at hearing the harsh way Armin was talking to you and how you just accepted it.

His lips curled up in a smirk, sitting up to watch his dick in and out of you. Each thrust making you squirm and cry out for him and more. His hand dragged up your body, feeling your muscles tense up under him in need to touch him back. As touchy as he was in public with you it was nothing compared to how needy you got for his touch. Especially when he was putting you though the mattress like currently.

"Gonna make you go out to them full of my cum. That's what the princess needs isn't it? Since he can't seem to live without me fucking him every damn day." Pressing a kiss against your ankle you were left with a lipstick mark on it "Don't care 'bout them right now just want your cum. Please."

Hearing that Armin felt like he got his point across to the others. he pushed the phone off the bed before flipping you on to your stomach. gripping your ankles that had also been tied by the ribbon he pulled your right back against his dick. His angry red tip barely nudging your hole "Don't worry gonna give you exactly what you need baby."

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[blond3ang3l]

Think imma change up my writings, start adding pictures or something

[blond3ang3l]

WTF DID I JUST WATCH?! WHAT IN TARNATION?!😭😭😭

IM FUCKING SCREAMING, WTF😭

Ts was actually too funny, had me giggling and shit at work💀

[blond3ang3l]

How do we feel about happy trails? Do you think they lead to happy tails

Live. Laugh. Love a happy trail!

He has a happy trail and it’s one of the most attractive things below his abdomen. Little hairs that follow his pubs of his large aching hanging cock. It’s hiding a bit of his stomach ever so beautifully it makes you want to bite your fist.

You press your face into it, licking right through it when your going down on it, and he’ll smirk, hand on your curls,

“God, such a slut for it, aren’t you mama?”

Well, yes! Actually!

Your hand with go up and down it as he rolls his hips into you, thrusting into you deep, pinning you to the bed, he hits all the right spots making your toes curl. You bite your lip trying to contain a moan, but it’s the way he looks down at you while he fucks you silly, how his stomach tightens, eyes dazed in lust, you keen, “So fuckin sexy baby.”

The ends of his lip curves upward, “ ‘S that right honey?” He knows it’s right, sledge hammers his way into your guts till your moaning at the top of your lungs, all while prettily looking at his eyes or that happy trial.

Or worse, when the hair gets wet with your slick after he finishes fucking you full. It’s slutty, your mixed mess slipping all over his stomach, your puffy clit pulses. He’ll make your ride his lower abdomen, his happy trial meeting your cunt over and over, tickling you just right, till his chest is wet with yout juice, crying and sobbing at how good he is.

“Heh- Made a mess all over me darlin, got yourself right off, huh?”

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ John, Simon, Soap, König, Gaz, Joel, Smoke, Stack, Suguru, Satoru, Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Jason, Keegan, Solider Boy.

a/n: whole crew posted god DAMN (but I’m fvcking all them fyi.) can you tell I like men with a little (or a lottle) hair?

[blond3ang3l]

my cycy, i hope you had an amazing first day today <333

Omg I'm just seeing this, thank you baby. It went soo good and I'm actually thinking of joining clubs this year and getting out😭

[blond3ang3l]

Acknowledge Me

or: Simon finally gives you attention after you piss him off.

“The power it takes, to make me cry that way. Baby, I hate me when you get under my skin.”

cw: 3.6k words (lord), 18+ MDNI, Toxic!Simon/Meanie!Simon, smut with plot, daddy kink (daddy, pa), dubcon, p in v, dacryphilia, degradation (like hell), water park amusement, pvssy slapping, creampie, marathon!, intoxicated sex, pet names (lovie, doll, pup), overstim, orgasm denial, straight debauchery, after care, y/n visuals.

a/n: acknowledge me by doja cat was the big inspo.

Were you a fucking stupid brat?

Or were you simply itching for attention that you deserved?

If you told your friends, they wouldn’t call you a fucking brat. Stupid? Yeah.

For being with a man who didn’t hesitate to curse you out when you annoyed him. Simon Riley didn’t even flinch when you started hearing those hiccups over the phone, he could already picture your trembling bottom lip, huffed out cheeks and tears forming at your water line. If anything it pissed him off further.

“Don’t fuckin try it with those tears [+]. I fuckin told you, you tell me where the fuck you’re goin. Why the fuck did I have see you move to five different bars in three fuckin hours and you didn’t say a word to me about it till now!?” Simon yelled through the phone.

“You and your dumb ass friends are too fuckin reckless—“

“—Don’t call them that-“ you chided.

“-Oh, I promise you lovie, I don’t give a shit.” his voice with venom.

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

a/n: I really love meanie!Simon the most. Let me know what you think about him.

[blond3ang3l]

male reader

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

This was below Lestat. Going online to fill his needs of lust after yet another argument with Louis. He didn't feel like going to find another meaningless fuck because honestly, he knew his head would not be into it at all. Eyes darting across the screen of his phone for almost half an hour because just nothing seemed good enough.

Stupidly he was trying to find someone that looked similar enough to his lover. Just so he could imagine it was his dear louis. Finally, he found someone that had a similar enough body type. Clicking play on the video he waited for it to start up. When it finally did his heart dropped to his ass.

Because dead center in his camera was his friend for many centuries, a fellow vampire, you.

It was obvious the video was an amateur one. Seeming to be recorded on some type of handheld device, an older camera maybe. The camera was pointed right at your giggling face that seemed to be between the mystery man's legs, dragging your tongue up his thigh. He could hear the hitching in the other persons breath, their hand moving to the back of your head to move your face against his bulge.

Your eyes seemed to be trained on the camera as you pulled the man's boxers down with your teeth. He felt his Adams apple bob as your head got pushed down to deepthroat the man. A bulge in your throat which the camera was moved down to show.

He could tell the video was older because this had been before you grew your hair out. That didn't change the shock that he was feeling in that moment though.

Lestat gasped seeing you in this type of compromising position. You had never told him about any type of endeavors you had. Hell, you were the only friend he had that he yet to sleep with yet. Now to see you like this... it made his dick stir in his pants.

His eyes moved to the corner of his phone where the volume button was. Slowly pressing it up he was met the sound of you gargling and laughing as your head was finally pulled back. Spit, lipstick, and mascara running down your face. He gasped seeing your jerk the man off until he came all over your face. And you seemed so proud. Smiling into the camera as scooped the cum up and licked it off your finger.

"Look at you baby. Taking my dick like a champ."

He dropped his phone when he heard the voice. It was undeniable who the voice belonged to. None other than the man Louis de Pointe Du Lac. His "husband". The phone skipped ahead when it hit the ground. His empty room now filled with sounds of moaning. Not his own like he planned but one of the two people he never thought would be together.

Finally, when picked his phone back up he saw Louis on his back with you riding him into oblivion. Louis nails digging into your ass while you worked yourself on his dick. Lestat mumbled a small "Oh my god" seeing your back. The tramp stamp with "slut" in the middle of it making him bite his lip. He was pissed, pissed as fuck, but he also couldn't deny the dark stain in his slacks now either.

He hadn't even realized the video ended until he looked back at it only to see you on your back with louis cum leaking out of you. His lips meeting yours in a deep kiss. A kiss that Lestat had longed for in the last couple months. He thought that was the end of it...but then he scrolled to see a whole page of you two.

Most videos older, the page seemingly inactive for a couple years. That was until he refreshed and saw a brand-new video.

@gayaristocrat @silvern1006 @literallyrousseau

Right there in the thumbnail was you and Louis. Tongues sticking and just barely touching one another. And as mad as he should have been he wasn't mad enough to keep from clicking this new video.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[blond3ang3l]

We got to throw him off the scent. But how? The Boys 1.02

[blond3ang3l]

@merakidoll

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠  ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 6.6k. black fem!reader ◞ lowercase intended ◞ cnc ! ◞ popstar!reader + stalker!ghost, rough sex ◞ sub / dom dynamic ◞ readers just subby ◞ unprotected ◞ role play ◞ mask kink obvi ◞ size kink ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰  f + m. ꒱ ◞ shibari ◞ manhandling ◞ dryhumping ◞ pet name usage ꒰ petal , sweetheart , doll ꒱ ◞ daddy kink ◞ choking + excessive spanking ◞ overstimulation ◞ check ins + aftercare ! . minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ꒱ . . . listened to creep by radiohead while writing this so uhh, yeah. actually not super proud abt how this went but i needed it out! so, here’s some visuals for theme . <3 ‘n here’s the smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎ ❤︎ )

it’s strange.

a glove covered hand wrapped around your throat, soon after gripping bruises into your inner thigh to keep them shoved apart. audible, rough breaths from a heavy man pushing his weight down onto you — never would you have expected your night to go this way. 

you’d had your fair share of stalker stories, sure. it came with the job of being a cherished pop-star. the obsession of strangers curating parasocial relationships with people they think they fully knew. the letters, the gifts, the showing up to hotels and airports before the news could get the scoop. bombarding you with personal questions, the judging how you lived your life, and jealousy towards those whom you kept within your inner circle — or who you shared a bed with. this level of worship became senile. which is why you deserved a break. 

“she’s eating boys!” 

the volume of jennifer’s body surrounds your bedroom where you sat pretty at your vanity preparing for bedtime. pink, frilly panties adorned your lower halve with a short matching aeropostale top. finishing your skincare while occasionally watching the movie on your pink hp laptop that sits on your king sized bed, you yawn tiredly while spreading the jelly eye patches over your dark circles. 

its a lonely night. these past few months have been nothing but work for you. writing new songs, studio hours, staying on top of gym sessions with your hard-ass personal trainer, and preparing for another tour. you had to decompress, standing stern on your choice of pausing everything to take a mental health break for at least two months. you wanted to be left alone, spend time with your family and friends even . . feel normal. it sounded mediocre to say you hated being famous and missed your boring, regular life. but it was true. the money would always be nice, but nothing came close to feeling like just a human being rather than a robot.

it’s past midnight and you were unable to sleep. eating a good meal that consisted of garlic steak bites and broccolini alongside a healthy, filing smoothie before you took an everything shower. shaving, exfoliating, even painting your toes to now doing your skincare, face glowing in milk toner and snail mucin under the soft light of your lamp illuminating the room. 

your home was your safe space, always quiet, a place you couldn’t wait to come back to so you had the privilege of going completely non-verbal and straight faced without anyone questioning what was wrong or urging you to speak. it’s a big place, tucked into the top floor of a converted 1920s textile factory, it’s the perfect industrial loft, something you’ve dreamt of. it’s a cozy house you purchased and made a home from all your hard work. with its high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and oversized windows that gave anyone the opportunity to openly watch — it was serenely special. 

against one exposed wall, your dream minimalist kitchen gleams with dark concrete countertops, matte black cabinetry, and open shelving lined with copper pots, ceramic mugs, and wine bottles. heading down the tall staircase that lead straight into the living room with the kitchen directly underneath your bedroom — you go to grab a small snack and something to drink. you’re opening the vintage smeg fridge in cream to search for water and your favorite granny smith apples with caramel dip. you’d have to brush your teeth again before heading to sleep. 

in the corner of your eye, as you rip open the small packet of fruit, you swear you spot a shadowed figure in the crevice of your bookshelf and guest bathroom. gripping the bottle of water in your hand, you go to squint your eyes to double check and make sure you were just seeing things. you’d been up since five in the morning, running a few errands for the home like getting groceries for meal preps or cat litter for your fur baby snuggled in her corner currently by the glowing fish tank. you were tired, so you had to be seeing shit.

you turn for a moment, opening the bottle of water to take a sip, studying the area to clear your sudden fatigue. 

the man is there. 

watching intently, his eyes narrow as he sees you turn towards the shadowy area of the room where he stood. he’s been careful not to show himself yet, but he knows you suspect something is amiss. he feels his heart rate pick up slightly, watching as your eyes scan the room for any signs of movement. he’s torn between wanting to reveal himself and wanting to stay hidden in the shadows, observing you in your natural state. he can sense that you're feeling the creeping sensation of being watched, but he remains quiet and stationary in his spot by the entryway.

shaking it off, you go to head back up to your room to finish your movie and finally get comfy in bed. he waits until you are a few steps above the bottom floor before he starts to move swiftly. slowly and quietly, he pads across the living room, following you silently. he can already smell the sweet scent of your perfume and body wash, his senses heightened in the quiet of the night. the way your body moves in the soft light of your dim loft, flesh moving beneath the fabric of your clothing, or lack thereof. the slight bounce of your hips and ass as you ascend the stairs to leave him at the bottom. the man could feel his body reacting to your presence, needing to remain focused and following you up into your room.

he makes sure to stay far enough behind you so you don’t hear or see him. he doesn't have to worry much about making any noise, as the thick area rug covering the floor is plush under his feet and muffles his movements. he can hear the sound of the movie playing through the open door of your bedroom, and his gaze is stuck on the back of your body, the way you move and the shape of your daunting curves. 

he takes a deep breath, trying to control his growing desire to grab you, to feel the softness of your skin against his own. he has to remind himself to take it slow, to play the long game. he’s waited a long time for this moment, he can’t fuck it up. he can't ruin it now by acting too soon. he’s never felt this kind of intensity before, usually good on controlling his emotions. but you were like no other. an obsession.

he hears the rustling of fabric as you make yourself comfortable in bed, adjusting the covers and getting ready to watch another movie as the credits to this one rolled. the man leans against the wall outside your room, listening to the faint sound of the movie and the occasional shifting of the bed as you move. he can feel his body getting more and more tense, the desire to touch you becoming almost unbearable.

there you lay on your side, now streaming ‘the notebook’ with one leg thrown over the top of your comforter while the rest of you is tucked under, a sanrio plushie snuggled close in your arms by your head. soundly wrapped up and unaware of the predator lurking in your home. you are precious, he ponders. roaming over your figure, he takes in the way your shirt fits snugly across your chest, panties hugging your thick hips and supple ass poking out for attention. his fists clench involuntarily. a fucking delicacy you are. the blood is rushing to his dick aggressively now, mind racing with thoughts of what to do with you. 

he’s gotta do it, he has to hold you. 

he couldn’t take it any longer. so, he crosses the small space between the doorway and the bed in three long strides, towering over you as you lay mindlessly in bed, nearly drifting off to sleep. you look even more beautiful up close. features calm and innocent. his breath catches in his throat subtly; he couldn’t believe how close he was to you. to breathe you in, to envelop your beauty and pheromones. 

he doesn’t want to scare you. trying to ease his way into getting your attention. should he touch you first? would that scare you? or maybe he should make himself known. an introduction would only worsen the problem. he knows you, that’s all that mattered. you didn’t need to know him. 

the man speaks up, voice low and gruff as he utters, “turn around, sweetheart.” 

the scream that erupts from you is deadly. it’s puncturing his ear drums when you jump in your spot from the baritone of the voice in your room. in your state of panic, you’d face the intruder in your home, rolling over to the opposite side of the mattress before keeping your legs crouched on the floor. he notices how you begin to shake, not attempting to force you still in your act of horror. he wanted to be careful with you as you were too delicate to hurt. for now.

the blown pupils you have as your body trembles in full fear, eyeing the stranger in your vicinity, questioning whom he could be and how he was able to get into your secured home without you noticing. scattering around your bedside table, you quickly find a switchblade with tears in your eyes, stumbling backwards over a rocking chair before you’re hiding against the tall, sheer curtained windows, pointing your weapon in his oddly calm direction. 

“look at you,” he growls, and it’s nearly animalistic, like he’s been starved of speaking to you — needing you. footsteps slowly stalking closer as he wraps around the bed. “sweet little thing like you g’na hurt me with that, eh?” 

“no! s-stay away from me!” it’s loud the way you shout at him, tone shaky and body weakening to your dismay. 

the urgency to escape was fighting with you, but with the way this man was built, you’d have no chance to get far. he’s tall and brooding. a skull-patterned balaclava covered his face, eyes revealed to show dark brown irises, eyelids smeared with black eyeshadow to completely hide who he was. he wore a cotton obsidian hoodie with the hood thrown over his head, a camo harness adorned on his chest. thick padded cameo army pants and heavy black boots. fingers hidden by gloves. he looked terrifying, shoulders wide and muscles grown, practically busting out the seams of his attire. when he spoke to you, his voice carried a deep, chiseled british accent that urged goosebumps to spike up on your skin. 

the man watches you press back against the window, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. the moonlight catches the tears on your cheeks, making them glisten as they fall. he tilts his head slightly, studying you—how delicate you look right now, how beautifully undone.

“your shaking,” he murmurs, voice lower now—softer. not kind, never kind—but measured. controlled. “i don’t want to frighten you . . but i needed to be closer.”

your mind races as you try to make sense of his words. “w-who are you?” you manage to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “why are you here?” 

“that’s not important right now.” 

you’re too stunned to speak, eyes blown and heart pounding. you’re acutely aware of his sudden touch on your chin, the rough texture of his gloved fingers against your skin. you try to pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he only allows you room to squirm slightly.

the man lets out a soft chuckle, his grip on your chin tightening just a fraction. “don’t even think about trying to crawl away from me, sweetheart. i've got you right where i want you.”

your eyes frantically dart around the room, searching for any possible escape route, but — he's holding you, and that combined with the fact that he's positioned himself squarely in front of you, leaves you feeling utterly trapped and powerless. the anxiety you feel is tangible, but there's something else stirring in your belly as well — a strange, unwelcoming heat that spreads from the sound of his hoarse, commanding voice. 

he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your face, gasping when he goes to grab your wrist to pry the switchblade from your shaky fingers, the metal clatters to the floor as he tosses it aside carelessly. “don’t try it, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.” 

a gloved thumb swipes roughly across your tear-stained cheek, the crude gesture sends a shudder through your entire body, equal parts revulsion and perverse excitement. you hate yourself for it, wanting to deny the heat pooling low in your belly. defenses begin to crumble. brain scattered with wants of protest while your body betrayed you. what the fuck was happening to you? none of this should be arousing. it’s like a dark novel come true. this man could harm you, and you were turned on. 

ghost leans in even closer, the heat of his body hard against you, struggling to breathe. eyes search yours, studying your reaction as he tightens his grip on your wrist ever so slightly. “i could hurt you," he murmurs. "but i won’t . . unless you make me."

the man's words send a shiver down your spine, both terrifying and thrilling. nipples harden beneath the thin shirt you wore as your core throbs with unwanted desire. you try to pry him away, but it's like trying to move a mountain — utterly futile.

"no . . ”  you whimper, even as your treacherous body arches slightly into his touch. "please, i have a boyfriend. he loves me. he’ll come for me."

“hm,” ghost snickers condescendingly. “doesn’t sound much like a threat to me. from what i saw, seems like he does a piss poor job of bein’ a man. can’t even fuck you good.” 

how would he know that? the question dissipates after his free hand moves up to your neck, circling the delicate column, a thumb pressing against the pulse point, the wild thrum of your heartbeat strong. "petal," he murmurs, tone low and rough. "you're terrified of me . . and yet, i can feel how much you want me."

something circuits in your brain that makes you moan the instant he pushes the outline of his dick on your stomach, cheeks flaring up with heat from the thickness of him. 

“feel that?” he grinds forward. “that’s what you fuckin’ do t’me. what you’ve done to me for years.” 

as if you weren’t scared before, nothing prepared you to hear that come from him. “y-years?” your mind reels trying to comprehend that. it’s haunting. 

“years,” he repeats to finalize. 

whimpers ensue as you writhe against him, overwhelmed by his jarring confession. tears continue to leak from the corners of your eyes as conflicting emotions war within you — fear, disgust, and shameful arousal. 

"please," you beg, voice breaking in a sob. "don’t do this. i don't want this." even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your body responding differently to his touch, nipples pebbling and pussy clenching with need.

“liar," he hisses, grinding his hips harder against your midsection. "what’s this then, huh?” 

then, without even giving you a moment to think, he’s sliding his fingers into your panties to touch the stickiness of arousal brewing and seeping into cotton fabric. calloused fingers brushing over your puffy clit, hips jerking and almost collapsing into his touch. 

“listen to my girl,” he grits his teeth, swiping rough fingers delicately over your bud, gliding between fat lips to reach the heated opening he plunges into with gloved digits. “been a while since i heard her this wet.” 

a while? no, he couldn’t have. 

“it’s exactly what your thinkin’.” 

fuck, who knows what else he’s seen. given his knowledge, probably everything.

he groans deeply as his fingers slip through your slick folds, coating his glove in your essence. "mhm, good ‘nuf for me to slip right in,” he taunts, thrusting knuckle-deep inside tight walls. "tight ‘lil girl you got, yeah?” 

unable to stop the moan that spills from your lips, your hips buck greedily against his invading fingers. it feels wrong, so wrong, but you find yourself craving more of his touch.

"that’s it, petal," he croons, pumping his fingers faster, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. "take what i give you. learn how to behave.” 

ghost withdraws his soaked fingers abruptly, bringing them to your lips. "open up," he commands, smearing your juices across your bottom lip. when you hesitate, he pinches your nose shut, forcing you to part your lips on a gasp. he maneuvers his coated fingers past your teeth, deep into your mouth. "clean ‘em off. get a good taste f’me.” 

shuddering at the command, a mix of revulsion and desire warring in your mind. there's something in the way he's looking at you, something in his voice that makes you obey. opening up your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste your own cum off his glove. the taste is heady, a mixture of sweetness from you and leather from the material. that makes your head spin. you want him tasting it too. 

he lets out a deep, guttural groan. "you’ve got a greedy little mouth, don't you doll?" he mutters. "just can't get enough of me, can you?"

with the fog in your head, you don’t even fight it when he’s lifting you off the ground and bringing you back to your mattress, tossing you like you weigh nothing at all. it all happens so quick yet he’s moving like he knows you’re not going anywhere. you wouldn’t fight it, in fact, you couldn’t. big man like him won’t allow you to. he’d have his full weight pinned on you in milliseconds. a trained soldier. there’s no fucking way he’d allow you, not when he’s waited so long for this. 

before you can react, he’s on top of you—knees bracketing your hips, his stern gaze locking onto yours.

"stay still," he murmurs, voice dark with intent. his hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back. 

the rope he obtains appears from nowhere—thick, soft cord that bites just enough to remind you who’s in control. loop after loop, he ties off a shibari pattern across your chest, and arms, intricate and beautiful . . and inescapable. every tug only tightens the embrace. he’s removed your clothing so you’re nothing but bare. tying intricate knots around your backside and ankles, binding you spread-eagle on the mattress, on your knees and ass up.

a whimper sounds as the tan ropes pull taut, your body stretched apart and helpless. the position leaves you exposed—completely at his mercy. every breath makes your bound chest rise and fall, the restraints only tightening with each small movement.

ghost steps back just enough to admire his work, his dark eyes raking over every inch of you. "perfect," he grunts, voice thick with hunger. "like a fucking offering."

chin resting into the bubblegum pink duvet, you steady your breathing through your nose, fingers stretching out for a sense of control even if you knew you had none. the cold air of your apartment hits your pussy, goosebumps all over your skin from the realization that you’re fully exposed to this man. being bound by tough rope on soft skin made you feel taken. like you no longer owned yourself. you laid here, completely for his sin. there’s no point arguing, you’d given that up moments ago when your body decided to fully submit and be okay with what’s going to happen. what you wanted to happen. 

the stocky man runs his now bare hands down your spine, slow and deliberate, stopping to grip one ass cheek hard before sliding lower—fingers teasing through your slick folds again. “arch deeper, move back like you want it.” 

when you remain stubbornly still, he delivers a sharp smack to your still-reddened asscheek. "now, sweetheart. or i walk away and leave your pussy achy and empty."

a choked sob escapes you as the sting blooms across your skin—sharp and hot. arching instinctively, you push your hips higher into the air, presenting yourself exactly how he wants to lessen punishment, your pussy opening up like the prettiest flower. 

ghost lets out a low, approving growl. "there we gooo," he purrs. “like it when they listen.”

you’re moaning helplessly as you lay spread open for the brooding man behind you in full gear. his eyes are dark, hands are huge and fingers thick as they sprawl over your backside. smoothing the round globes of your ass cheeks before he’s giving your achy pussy one good, full-palmed pat. it’s sluice and ready to be fucked open real good, dick just aching thinking about it. shifting in your spot, you wish you could ease the ache between your legs by squeezing your thighs together, but you can’t. therefore you whine and pout about it, cheek laying flat on the bed, limbs struggling. 

his voice cuts through like a blade. “keep that ass up.” 

ghost crawls onto the bed behind you, muscled stature pushing you firmly into the mattress. you whine and squirm, but his hand comes down hard on the back of your neck, glueing you still. he’s inherently strong — you couldn't break his grip even if you tried to. he’s been watching you for months, and knows exactly what he wants and how he needs you. the games were done. 

he grinds his dick against your sore, exposed ass—fully clothed in those weighted camo pants, the rough fabric scraping over sensitive skin with every roll of his hips. the pressure is intense, maddening even. feeling every ridge of him through the layers between you, and a traitorous moan claws its way out of your throat. heaving with despair, the periwinkle of your toes curl, shoulder blades shifting as you cry out. 

"shhh," he hushes near your ear, voice dark and amused. "i just w’na feel you."

you gasp as he shifts you, his hands firm and unyielding as they reposition your hips back against him. the thick ridge of his cock presses right against your aching, dripping core—still separated by layers of fabric, but so heavy. 

a soft, broken moan escapes you as he grinds slowly—deliberate, torturous—with just enough aggression to make your toes wiggle and your thighs tremble. arching into the contact, you’d die to chase that forbidden friction.

"greedy lil’ thing," he murmurs into your ear, voice rough with need. "feel how hard i am for you? how bad i want to rip these clothes off ‘n bury myself deep?"

he’s molding the flesh of your ass like it’d run away. soft and bouncy, seeping through the gaps of his fingers. your wrists tug on the restraints, mouth agape as you mewl, now urging yourself to move back on it, tired of being teased. while arching your spine lower, you steadily rock the plump of your ass back onto his crotch, twiddling your acrylic nails and puffing out air from how good it felt to have your clit brush on the outline of his fat dick. 

ghost makes a noise of amusement, staying still to watch you use him how you’d like. "that's it, work those hips. get yourself nice and ready for me."

a free hand goes around to rub tight circles over your throbbing bud, mesmerized by how sticky you’re getting. the sound of it audible after each clap back, ghost licking his lips at the moist spot you leave on him, string of cum connecting. “fuck, g’na fill this greedy lil’ hole up real soon, petal.”

keening high in your throat, the dual stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, gently shaking your head as you continue to whine and hit your clit right on the fattest part of him. “o—ooh, my god.” 

the thick seam of his pants drags over your swollen clit in a way that’s maddening—too much and not enough all at once. your hips jerk, chasing friction, but he holds you firm. he continues to ground his hips deeper into you, his thumb coming to trace over your swollen lips you’d bitten red before sinking it into your mouth, letting you suck and drool all over it. 

“good girl,” he growls, rolling his hips harder. “suck it like you want my cock instead.” 

his voice is a low rumble, and he sounds so hungry. like he'd never be able to get enough of you. and you like it—being needed, being wanted. you can't deny the way he makes you feel, all weak and needy. you should be scared. he is dangerous, he's big and gruff, but when he looks at you like that, you just feel safe.

he thrusts harder now, gripping your ass and thwacking it roughly, pretty brown skin hot from his palms that are covered in veins, tattoos, and scars. accent so heavy it makes you wetter with each word he speaks. “just focus on my voice, let me see tha’ pretty face.”

his hand tightens on your hip, fingers digging deep as he watches your face—every flutter of your lashes, every desperate breath. he’s savoring this. savoring you.

“stay right there,” ghost grits, grounding the imprint of his dick onto your sluice clit at just the perfect angle.

"don’t move," he growls, voice strained. "not unless i say."

“i w’na cum so bad,” you whine with tear stained cheeks and nearly a snotty nose, feet kicking and body aching from the angle you’re positioned in. 

"you want to what, doll?" he asks, almost mocking. his thumb hooks further into your mouth, the imprint of it showing in your cheek. you’re slobbering over it, sucking up your saliva and moaning loud. he wants you to say it. “use your words. say that name.” 

“i w’na cum so bad, sir!”

a satisfied hum rumbles from his chest at the word. the submission, the desperation in your voice. he could lose it, hands digging harder into soft flesh. 

"yeah," he breathes, lips curling into a dark smile. "cum all over m’fuckin’ clothes f’me.” 

he’s rough and demanding, but you love it. he’s everything you should be terrified of—but it just makes you want him more. you need it. you crave it. you’re desperate to please him now, to be good in his eyes. you want to show him you’re worthy of being fucked by him. shivering as he whispers the words, a sudden pang of heat shoots through you from the depravity of his request. he's so obviously in charge right now, and you'd do anything to be worthy of praise.

"please," you whisper, voice pleading. "please, sir. i—i want you. i need you. i’m good. i’m . .  i’m —"

"you’re what, sweetheart?" he asks, voice low. he’s still got you pinned, but his touch is soft as he reaches up to brush back a plethora of hair covering your dolled features. his expression looks almost tender. "talk to me. you got it.” 

"i’m your good girl," you breathe, the words rushing out of you. "yours to use."

your cheeks flush with heat as he studies you, head cocked to the side in awe. and it’s as if your own words make you cum, stomach coiling as you breathlessly moan and rock back on him — so silent but visibly loud. ghost takes your waist and helps you keep your pace up. “nngh, baby. right. there.”

ghost hums, low and satisfied as he runs a hand up your spine after removing his thumb from your mouth. he begins to unzip his pants, unlatching his palm from the back of your neck and relieving his hefty dick out to rest on your pussy, precum just oozing out of the burly head. he takes the base — stout with a thick vein leading up to coarse hairs matted on his groin — to push out some precum leaking at the tip.

he’s got hair on his husky stomach, mostly on the middle area leading up to his chest. he’s heavily built, it was clear with clothing on. now that he’s pulled off the hood on his head, stepped out of his cargo’s — he’s got the hoodie hiked up to his midsection, smelling like bourbon and cigars on a saturday night mixed with cedar. all of him is shown in the mirror directly facing your bed, pussy clenching from the view you’d gotten. he looked rugged, completely out-sizing you by a ton. a dirty, older man aching to be inside you. you wished you could see his face. get the whole experience. 

“you want it, doll? want me to take what's mine?"

scalding, beefy hands find their way back to your ass, slamming down both palms repeatedly and pushing only the tip inside you to hear you gasp. every smack leaves you creamy, sobbing and grinding back as much as you could. gripping and yanking at your skin, swatting and repeating — he’s enthralled . “fuckin’ sweet ass you got, yeah?” 

he could’ve sworn he saw you smirk amidst the brutality of his strikes. pussy full on soppy and dripping between plush thighs. it deserved a good taste, thinking about it for a while now. you clench from the sudden emptiness you feel when he leaves you, ghost standing up by the side of the bed to unravel the ropes from your ankles, deciding to pull your arms below the backs of your thighs and wrapping them together with your feet. he always takes his time with it, being delicate as you breathe in the silence, keening from a few touches he’d leave close to your pussy. 

now your knees are to your chest, arms bound tightly behind yourself with rope harsh on your skin. thighs pressed together now easing the pressure on your clit. you plant your palms flat on the backs of your thighs, nails scraping your own skin out of sudden shock when you feel his hot mouth swallowing your pussy wetly. lifted up his mask to get his face buried in it, arched over you with a fat tongue thrumming on your achy nub while his lips sloppily encase you. saliva drips from his mouth down to your arms, stuttering out a mewl mixed with heady gasps, eyes slicking white. 

“g-god, daddy — fuck!” crying out, you unintentionally move your hips which has you nearly rolling off the side of the bed, ghost catching you with a grunt before he’s repositioning you aggressively, his head spinning off the tart taste of you on his palate. you try to move away, the pleasure too intense.

“unh uh, don’t you fuckin’ run now. gimme those hips,” he grumbled, starved as he spanks you hard and yanks your hips back, holding them tight on either side with his dick jumping against your stomach as he sucks you up and all your giving him. 

at this point you’re drooling, eyes descending to the back of your skull as you take every full-tongued lick, stomach twisting as you listen to how greedy he eats it, slurps it, beats it with fingers now to keep you open enough to take him — deep, ragged growls and hot swats on your ass. you cum, right then and there, and it knocks the air from your throat. 

“c'mon doll, cum for me. let go."

“unngh, m’god — mmmnh!.” 

you’re groaning out your noises, the intensity of it making your entire body tremble, humming and gyrating your hips out of frenzy. it’s too much, but it feels so good. 

“yess, fuckin’ good girl. cum harder lil’ girl. want you full on creamy.” 

fingers continue to shake and plunge inside you, your stomach folding inwards from his relentless hunger, eyes still turned out and mouth faltered with drool dribbling. “s-simonnn!” the wall of fantasy breaks and you can’t fucking think anymore, going into subspace and full on sobbing now, endorphins high and brain mushy. hiccuped screams bellowing out the quicker he finger fucks you. cum coating up to his knuckles before pulling them out and rubbing at your bud with all four fingers. 

“i know pretty girl, i know, i know. doin’ so good.”

the sudden emptiness makes you clench for him to come back, the stimulation on your juicy clit causes you to sputter out little drops of liquid. it’s so pretty as he stares, watching in awe while you struggle to move, dampening the sheets. 

then, his voice cuts through the haze, low and sharp. “look at me, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

doe eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused. his face is hard in the dim light—jaw tight, pupils blown wide with lust. "did you cum too hard?" he checks in, your eyes drooped and face pouty like there’s nothing in your head. "hm, baby? answer. what’s your name?"

“꒰ ♥︎ ꒱,” you smile weakly. “and you’re simon.” 

“yeah, i am,” he chuckles, caressing your cheek with a curled finger. “pretty thing, petal. pussy jus’ as sweet as you.” 

“can you fuck my pussy, daddy?” you moan, batting lashes and biting swollen lips, still needing him. what he does to you can never be explained. “wan’ it.”

simon’s eyes say it all even if you couldn’t see his face. eyes darkening and remaining silent as he moves you around the bed, dick still standing hard. 

he’d gotten a bit nicer to you by untying the ropes from your ankles so you’d have the ability to fully stretch and move your lower body. you sigh thankfully, doing side by side twists to crack your achy parts. simon holds on to you with fondness, this moment feeling intimate as he massages your waist and back. 

“if you can’t take it anymore, you tell me, okay?”  simon makes sure he’s stern on that as he aligns his dick with your opening, grabbing your ass and bringing you down on his dick from where he now lays underneath you. 

“mhm,” nodding drunkenly, you melt into his touch as he holds you up by your shoulders, gasping as you split yourself open down on his dick ever so slowly, taking your time. it’s immediate when you moan together, simon’s eyes daunting under dark makeup, bushy brows furrowed and sharp hips rising up to meet you halfway with a weighty dick kissing you open. 

“fuckin’ hell — yeah,” simon hisses, seeing the outline of his mouth fall open beneath his mask. you go to reach for it, pulling it up just enough to attach your lips for a kiss, missing it.  

he chose to stay in character for you, even if you were the one to break first. darting out your tongue, you glide yours along his passionately slow, simon swatting your ass with a quick hand release before raising his hips to fuck up into you. your nails dig into your palms, arms still bound as you hold your mouth open on his to breathe and focus on how good he felt stretching you and fucking all the neediness away. you try your best to fuck him, too. wanting to give back to him as much as he’s given you. 

“uh-huh, take it all in, swallow it up with your cunt,” simon exhales raggedly, your ass clapping down on his thighs faintly, though it’s not enough. 

blurry eyes and shaky thighs not an excuse to him. giving him small rise and falls didn’t cut it. 

“c’mon, c’mon. i don’t give a fuck,” simon grunts when you halt your bouncing, cracking a hand on your ass again. you’d surely have a welt tomorrow morning. 

“ooo, baby, i’m g’na cum again!” you weep, tits bouncing in his face he goes to latch his mouth on to, sucking and pulling with hunger. you take every greedy, rough pound he gives to coax you into a proper fuck. 

“not yet, you hold it till i get there. cummin’ all night, petal. gotta give some pussy to me, yeah? got s’much nut to give you.” 

“i want your nut,” the sentence is slurred, simon holding your upper halve still so you wouldn’t fall while he applies a bit of force to drop you harder on his dick. “i want it, daddy.” 

“want it where?” he grits, your ass now slamming down on his muscular thighs, wetness coating his groin, scooting your pussy on him to feel it hit that spot in you mixed with his pubic hairs brushing along your clit. “oh, fuck baby.” 

“i w’na taste it,” whining, you lose yourself in grinding as you slouch lower, getting his dick in just the right angle to make you both feel good. simon chokes, holding his breath with a grunt, scooting your hips faster back and forth, back and forth. 

“get it to the back of that needy throat?” 

“yess, want it so bad, pleasepleaseplease.” 

neither of you could control it. he’s growling like a feral animal while you whine and whimper like a broken toy. every push and pull drags you both out of mind. 

“cum on it,” the baritone of his voice gets louder, wrapping a large forearm over your waist before slightly sitting up, spanking you and gripping your ass to lift up so he’s got enough room to sink deeper. his chest rises and falls, hitting his dick up to catch your rhythm. “ugh, fuck, fuck. cum onnit. fuckin’ cum on this big dick, baby.” 

simon’s wheezing, the snag of your pussy knocking the fucking wind out of him, finding it difficult to catch a breath in this mask. he holds it just for you, so he can cum down your throat just like you want. he’s always g’na give you what you want. simon’s body is stiff as he keeps his composure, kissing you sloppy as you gush on his dick and fall weak, screaming into his neck where your face falls and you can’t stop from crying and swiveling your waist. 

he doesn’t even bother telling you, lifting you up and laying you on the bed where your head hangs off the edge, simon’s bulky thighs on either side of your dizzy head as he fists his dick to shove it down your throat, bursting in a load of cum with the loudest, filthiest growl you’d ever heard. like a goddamn animal. his palm clutches your throat, thrusting deliberately slow to feel himself inside it. 

“drink it, baby,” he hums, eyes rolled back and hips unable to stop moving. “fuck yes, all of it.” 

and you do, every last drop. lips tight and cheeks sucked in as you clean him up well, simon patting your cheek as a reminder that you did a good job after he shifts back, dick taking it’s time going limp over your face as he calms himself.

“c’mere, doll.” 

simon lifts you up in strong arms, yanking the balaclava off of his face showing disheveled brunette strands stuck to his forehead, kissing yours and taking you to the bathroom. he runs a nice, hot bath for you with bubbles and candles. makes sure he rubs you down good with shea butter so you wouldn’t scar anywhere, especially in areas where he found the rope to be too tight on your flesh. apologizing for it.

putting on sweats and a regular black tee, he’s grabbing his keys after you got comfy in bed, running out to get breakfast for you both while you rested off what you endured, dawn peaking through the curtains without both of your realization. he’d rest with you when he got back. 

[blond3ang3l]

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Nail artist! Toji who always does all different types of designs for you whenever you come into the shop. You found him on instagram through your best friend Shiu who had recommended him to do your birthday nails. And to your surprise he was just as good as his post.

He despises your boyfriend because you tell him all about how grimy he can be to you when you come get your nails done by him every two weeks. Straights up insults the man whenever he comes in. Even straight up asked him why he never was the one to drop you off or pick you up, only coming to you to ask for money. He's almost fought your boyfriend multiple times only for you to have to drag him away from Toji because everyone knew that he'd absolutely murder that boy.

He of courses never charges you for whatever you get done. Instead, he takes you into the back of the shop and has you jerk him off. Sticky precum covering your hand just like he likes. He's loud when he groans. Has you sitting on his beefy thigh while you work one hand on his dick and letting the other massage his balls. Always makes sure to get it all over your fresh set, marking you up before he has to send you off back home to your boyfriend. He doesn't worry though because he knows he'll see you right back in two weeks. and if you needed him before that he'd get a picture of your fresh set inside of you.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[blond3ang3l]

male reader

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

This was below Lestat. Going online to fill his needs of lust after yet another argument with Louis. He didn't feel like going to find another meaningless fuck because honestly, he knew his head would not be into it at all. Eyes darting across the screen of his phone for almost half an hour because just nothing seemed good enough.

Stupidly he was trying to find someone that looked similar enough to his lover. Just so he could imagine it was his dear louis. Finally, he found someone that had a similar enough body type. Clicking play on the video he waited for it to start up. When it finally did his heart dropped to his ass.

Because dead center in his camera was his friend for many centuries, a fellow vampire, you.

It was obvious the video was an amateur one. Seeming to be recorded on some type of handheld device, an older camera maybe. The camera was pointed right at your giggling face that seemed to be between the mystery man's legs, dragging your tongue up his thigh. He could hear the hitching in the other persons breath, their hand moving to the back of your head to move your face against his bulge.

Your eyes seemed to be trained on the camera as you pulled the man's boxers down with your teeth. He felt his Adams apple bob as your head got pushed down to deepthroat the man. A bulge in your throat which the camera was moved down to show.

He could tell the video was older because this had been before you grew your hair out. That didn't change the shock that he was feeling in that moment though.

Lestat gasped seeing you in this type of compromising position. You had never told him about any type of endeavors you had. Hell, you were the only friend he had that he yet to sleep with yet. Now to see you like this... it made his dick stir in his pants.

His eyes moved to the corner of his phone where the volume button was. Slowly pressing it up he was met the sound of you gargling and laughing as your head was finally pulled back. Spit, lipstick, and mascara running down your face. He gasped seeing your jerk the man off until he came all over your face. And you seemed so proud. Smiling into the camera as scooped the cum up and licked it off your finger.

"Look at you baby. Taking my dick like a champ."

He dropped his phone when he heard the voice. It was undeniable who the voice belonged to. None other than the man Louis de Pointe Du Lac. His "husband". The phone skipped ahead when it hit the ground. His empty room now filled with sounds of moaning. Not his own like he planned but one of the two people he never thought would be together.

Finally, when picked his phone back up he saw Louis on his back with you riding him into oblivion. Louis nails digging into your ass while you worked yourself on his dick. Lestat mumbled a small "Oh my god" seeing your back. The tramp stamp with "slut" in the middle of it making him bite his lip. He was pissed, pissed as fuck, but he also couldn't deny the dark stain in his slacks now either.

He hadn't even realized the video ended until he looked back at it only to see you on your back with louis cum leaking out of you. His lips meeting yours in a deep kiss. A kiss that Lestat had longed for in the last couple months. He thought that was the end of it...but then he scrolled to see a whole page of you two.

Most videos older, the page seemingly inactive for a couple years. That was until he refreshed and saw a brand-new video.

@gayaristocrat @silvern1006 @literallyrousseau

Right there in the thumbnail was you and Louis. Tongues sticking and just barely touching one another. And as mad as he should have been he wasn't mad enough to keep from clicking this new video.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[blond3ang3l]

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Boxer! Jason who no longer stays lean after he bought you a penthouse for the two of you to stay in. He was used to living after so many years, still that homeless child in his heart. Once you moved n it was like you flipped his eating habits in the best way. It wasn't like he ate like shit every day before you, but he didn't have the greatest habits. When he got too in his head he would go days without eating. Only to bulk up right after so he could have the energy to fight once again till he was exhausted.

With you with him now, he found himself watching the way you eat. What you like, how it was similar to what he ate, how you prepped the food, how long it took, everything he could till he got curious enough to try making it himself. It wasn't unusual anymore for you to wake up to him shoving food in your face to see what to thought and what needed to be tweaked. With him gaining more confidence in the kitchen he slowly started to lose as much interest in fighting and started branching out to other people to have them try his food. Slowly Boxer! Jason started to become Chef! Jason.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[blond3ang3l]

sick and twisted breeding fantasy of older farmer convincing a pretty young thing to be his wife. h

she blushes and twitters under his attention, but denies him, claiming "papa would never let me!"

and the farmer thinks that her pa cant refuse if theres a bump growing....

[blond3ang3l]

made this last night after i had 5 instagram stories in a row abt cass/batgirl in general

[blond3ang3l]

I literally NEED him bro

[blond3ang3l]

Turning 20 soon and my glow up is in process