#domme reader

[joestarfoundation]

dom female reader headcanons + imagine

your babyboy wakes up every morning, eager to please you. you are his everything, his entire world revolves around you<3 he loves the feeling of submission and the thought of you being in control. It's not just a kink for him, it's a lifestyle

you can see the excitement in his puppy eyes when you enter the room, dressed in your favorite leather outfit. he knows what's coming next, and he can't wait. as you walk towards him, he kneels down in front of you, ready to serve and devour your delicious cunt<3

he loves when you use him for your pleasure. whether it's making him worship your body or using him as a human furniture, he is more than happy to fulfill your desires. he finds joy in knowing that you are satisfied and that he has pleased you<3

one of his favorite things is when you take him shopping for new lingerie. he loves the feeling of you picking out what he will wear, knowing that it's not just for show, but for your pleasure! he takes great pride in wearing what you have chosen for him, and it makes him feel even more submissive:((

he also loves when you take him out in public, holding his leash and showing everyone who is in charge. he loves the feeling of being owned by you, his goddess, and being on display for everyone to see. it makes him feel special and wanted

tell him he's your good little slut and feminize him, although he doesn't accept it, he has fantasized more than once about you dressing him up in pretty, girly outfits. he knows that you would take such good care of him and make him feel beautiful and desired, much more than he already is<3

slap him, peg him, degrade him, ride him, praise him... practically use him

you hummed as you looked for some strap that could break the little naughty whore you had behind you, he had been very whimsy all this time that you were gone

he even touched himself without your permission, you found him in the room you both shared, humping his hand while making a moaning noise like a bitch and he seemed to have forgotten you were right there

"oh my god what did i do, im so sorry mommy..." he sobbed when you heard his voice from inside of the closet

"what is this my babyboy?" you asked while staring at him

he blushed heavily but still tried to find the words, "i uhm... im sorry about earlier, i was really confused and all, it won't happen again i promise-"

"didnt we agreed that if i caught you doing something like this again you would be punished?"

he tried hard to say anything but you didn't give him any chance "well baby, i'm not gonna forgive this..."

he stared at you in fear and he slowly took off your skirt, "so what are you gonna do now?" he asked with big, childish eyes

"do you wanna know what's gonna happen now?" you ask with an evil smile on your face

he nodded nervously while looking down, he didnt understand why you had come here to punish him, all he did was touching himself!:((

"bad boys deserve to be punished and take up in the ass mommy's huge cock"

now, at this moment you had a big dildo tied to your waist, probably one of the biggest ones you had used with him. you tried to close your legs a little and press the base of the fake cock against your crotch to get some stimulation, you imagined that this time it would be like the other times, him lying on his back, with his legs open, your dildo in his ass, and your hands jerking off his neglected cock<33

he loved being dominated by you after all, no woman ever made him feel more wanted and horny than you :3

but now, you couldn't imagine it anymore. he stood there completely naked and scared:(

"baby, just let me put this thing in your butt and i'll leave you alone, it wont hurt much, i promise..."

he shook his head. completely scared and helpless:(((

"just trust me baby... you want mommy to fuck you, don't you?"

the question had been rhetorical, but you knew exactly what he wanted. he stared at you with those huge eyes, shivering from fear and need, "yes please mommy, i-i need you to please me.."

"good boy<33" you whispered and moved closer to him. "close your eyes and wait for mommy to fuck your sweet asshole :3"

he followed your orders like a good boy and he closed his eyes waiting for you to get ready to slide your fake cock into his ass<3

"mhmmm-m-mommy" his cute moans, echoing in the silence of the night, helped you to relax a bit before going through with it

"ready baby?" you asked as you pushed more of the toy towards his hole and started sliding it slowly inside of him

"uhhuh-hhuh-mm-mmm" he answered in a whisper as you continued to slide your big plastic dick in and out of his ass, occasionally stopping to put pressure on the tip of the cock

"your mommy loves how tight you are babyboy~ fuck- could you call me by my name sweetheart?" you asked while pushing the dildo deeper inside of him

"mhmm hmmm- y/n!! y/n baby<3" he moaned in excitement, he was trying his best to make his tiny asshole take more of the giant dildo inside of it, but he was struggling. his cute face was red from embarrassment and lust, you could tell he was really enjoying every second of it though<33

"oh my god mo...mommyyy!! i cant hold it, its coming!" he cried out loudly

the combination of his cries and you slowly moving the dildo in and out of his ass filled the room with soft moaning sounds <33

you finally stopped the slow motion movements and decided to speed up a little bit, slowly slid the big strap inside of him, each inch pushing further inside of him, deeper and deeper until it pressed against his prostate, stimulating him with gentle vibrations until he reached another orgasm:(((

he collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily while you removed the strap from his ass. you smiled down at him and knelt down to pet his hair, smiling widely at the sight of your babyboy getting pleasure from such things

a minute later he turned around and hugged you tightly, "thanks mommy... i love you so much <3" he said in between kisses on your cheek you smiled, "of course you do baby, i love you too <3" you replied and kissed him passionately on the lips

then, with nothing else left to do you both fell asleep wrapped up in each others arms:)

[sh1-n0bu]

imagine dating an older man this, imagine dating an older woman that COWARDS🗣️ imagine being an older woman and having a younger guy astronomically DOWN BAD (for all intents and purposes, this is a joke. i am not an older woman, nor am i shitting on ppl who love aforementioned relationship dynamics, this is just a horndogged thought)

imagine being an older woman, who never really saw the appeal in romantic or sexual relationships, only focusing on what was ahead of you. the job, adventures of life, education, academic achievements and your own personal hobbies, pastime enjoyments and relationships other than the romantic or sexual ones. there was more to world and life than just that after all, even though your friends’ nagging of when you will reveal the secret guy, or when you will find someone to settle down etc rang out during nearly every night outs, surely giving you a grey strand or few. really, you just… weren’t interested at all. there were rarely anyone who caught your attention and those who did were only appealing to the eyes rather than the heart

sure, there were some boys who would saunter up to you at the bar or cafe with their smug little faces and annoying attitudes, talking some shit about how they like their women like a silver fox, talking about how you were a beekeeping age, or even the stupid ‘i like my woman who are as old as my momma’. useless little things being said as a means to get a single night stand. you’d always tell them off with some backhanded insult, sharp words or how this wasn’t the predator franchise

one thing led to another and one of your closest and longest lasting friend had downloaded a dating app on your phone for you. something something about how you were in the perfect age to settle down now and if not, at least go out on a romantic date for once rather than taking yourself out on dates or with the ladies. you decided to humor them, keeping the app and adding very minimum information about yourself, work, hobbies and what not before kicking the acknowledgement of the app’s existence into the back of your mind

many DMs and snaps were sent to you of course, the usual beekeeping age bullshit. the rare few men who would be around your age range would end up being married, had a fiancée or in an odd form of relationship. you made sure to get their partners’ phone number and name before blocking them, calling them or texting them to notify them that their partner was a cheating bastard and had a dating app. “it’s their relationship, not yours!” most would say, but ladies gotta look out for one another in your opinion. made a pretty few sweet friends that way too

it was one of your slow and peaceful weekends when your phone dinged, another DM text in that accursed dating app. though instead of the usual annoying half-assed flirts or dick pics, it was a simple compliment. ‘good eve, ma’am. i just wanted to say that you look breathtaking. have a nice night, ma’am’ was all it said, a reply to one of the pictures you had added to the app for the introduction part. surprisingly straight to the point and respectful, so with a shrug and a ���might as well give it a shot’ thought, you messaged back with some words of gratitude. something that quickly derailed into a nice normal conversation and getting to know each other texts. checking his profile, you found out that he was basically in the same position as you. forced by some of his friends to grow outside his shell, few pictures and simple descriptions, just a few years younger. safe to say, he was your first match in that damn app

life continued on, weekdays and weekends switching in their endless circle and you and your dating app friend had gotten close. it truly did felt like he was a nice mannered young man and when he asked if you would be willing to go out on a date, you agreed. nothing wrong with putting the dating app to its original intents and purposes. he was sweet, planned nearly everything with your added thoughts and preferences and had let you enjoy a nice dinner date, all freshened up and smelling of a sweet cologne with a decent suit. perhaps this whole dating app thing was a good idea after all, even as he stuttered sometimes and tripped over his words upon seeing how gorgeous you were, you thought of him as oddly cute

one dinner date turned into a few dates, then park, movie and hobby dates and before you two had known it, the whole thing had shifted smoothly into a relationship. things taken slowly at your own preferred pace, no use of rushing or getting down and dirty. it was a good relationship and possibly the best one you had so far, you'd wager. even your sweet boyfriend - as much as you both occasionally laugh and joke how it was unfitting and even a little bit young and childish for your age - had gotten used to this shift in life, comfortable with making you breakfast in bed on the days you have a work off or just sleeping in, making your coffee just the way you like, eggs cooked to fit your needs on a crispy toast, a pancake, with an adorably whipped cream drawn smiley face. it was just perfect

but of course, there were the occasional moments when your boyfriend nearly destroyed these perfect moments — at least, in his opinion. waking up in the morning before you, and seeing your sleeping face, all peaceful and calm with the grey streaks in your hair and the laugh lines on your face did things to him. you just looked so ethereal, basking in the glow of the morning sunlight, like the reincarnation of aphrodite. and before he knew it, he had a morning wood, quickly scuffling out of bed and towards to bathroom to take care of his problem before you woke up

or when you’re showing him the latest dress you bought, or any clothes really, just peacefully showing him what it looked like on you as you twirled in front of him and gods, you were so breathtaking. all he could do was just nod dumbly like the lovesick puppy he was as a weak ‘uh-huh’ escaped his lips. oh, the little pooch of your tummy, the rolls on your sides, the love handle, the hipdip — whatever these things were called, good god, he wanted nothing more than to just slink down from the couch onto his knees and politely ask to bury his face into them. let him touch them, the little fats on your body, the rolls, the pooch. he’ll lovingly caress them and your stretch marks and everything with reverence

or when you’re testing your new lipsticks on his face, applying the newly bought make up on your gorgeous, kissable lips before smooching him on the face, turning him more and more into a painting of your doing while he drunkenly sits there on the couch with a stupid fucking smile. oh no, this one wasn’t kiss proof either, better try all of them and see if they’re kiss proof too. oh he was covered in lipstick? don’t worry, nothing big. he’s just too busy admiring you and occasionally wondering how the color would look in its perfect kiss shape on his leaking dick while you mocked him for being a horny dog

maybe he slipped up one day, instead of thanking you usually with the sweet nickname after you had done fixing his tie for him, just idiotically smiling at you as a “thank you, mistress” dropped from his lips. an immediate freeze and after a moment, his face was turning red with an embarrassed apology after apology while he hid his face into the crook of your neck. not like you minded too much, just laughing and patting him on the back, reassuring him that it was fine, mistakes happened. though, you won’t lie, it was adorable in the sexy way on how he just let that slip out

ever since that little incident, your sweet boyfriend’s longing grew worse and worse. their hands started to wander more, squeezing, pinching and pawing hopelessly against the fat rolls of your tummy or gripping at your love handles with an eagerness of a puppy whenever they came to stand behind you while you made dinner. damn near sliding towards you on their knees to help you put on your shoes before you leave the house for work and have mercy on him if you choose to wear high heels that day, placing your heel between his thighs while his other hand gently guided your leg by the ankle to slip into the heel. he thought he was being slick but no, you caught it all. of course you would, he was damn near whimpering nowadays every time you come home all exhausted and collapse onto the couch, scrambling over and getting on his knees to massage your tired feet while his adam’s apple bobs while staring at your meaty thighs, mindlessly nodding and going “uh-huh” while you ramble about your day while your pretty boyfriend just wishes he was that goddamn stockings, snug around your legs

it was during one of these days that you decided to take pity on him — how could you not? his pathetic puppy eyes had you wrapped around his fingers — moving your leg out of his hands and instead hooking it over his shoulder. pulling him closer by your leg towards your thighs while you shift down more to place yourself closer to the edge of the couch. pretty eyes blinked up at you with a stuttered, “h-honey…?”, hands placed on his knees like the good boy he is while a pretty pink color bloomed on his cheeks. you just gave a roll of your hips on the couch, a sweet smile and a “my thighs feel exhausted too. help me out?” and he was immediately nodding his head vigorously, shaky hands grabbing and gently squeezing the fat while his breath grew shaky. god, he could see the lace edges of the stockings under your skirt now! and even more, he could see your panties. god help him, he was growing hard in his boxers like some stupid teenager seeing a woman’s boobs all over again

“a little bit up” you called out, watching his reactions with the same smile, lipstick covered lips spread wide on your face. your boyfriend whined instead of following through with your words, peering up at you through his pretty lashes. his hands pushed your skirt up, enough to take in your panties and stockings in full view as he gulped down his saliva, muttering out a weak “m-may i taste you, ma’am?”. the honorific instead of your name or the usual patnames just seem to fall from his lips so easily now, eyes constantly switching from your pretty face and colored lips and to your underwear and the fat of your thighs covered by the heavenly nylon

“you wanna taste me, pup?” you hum out, voice like a sweet honey or the finest red wine and have mercy on him, the idiot merely lost it right then and there, ready to lose any sense of dignity as he nods his head with an obedient “yes ma’am, i would like to taste you ma’am”. you simply cooed at his eager words, the leg thrown over his shoulder pulling him closer to the couch, closer to the heaven between your thighs as you balance your feet on his shoulder. he whined again at how you were teasing him, refusing to give him a solid answer and just toying with him like he was a canary trapped in the fangs of a cat. but he might as well be a willing canary that flew into the jaws of the feline with the way he cutely adds a final, “please allow me, ma’am…?” and damn near cheers a loud excited whoop when you nod at him, giving him the green lights

your boyfriend lets out a stuttered breath through his lips when he pulls down your panties, even folding them sweetly and placing them beside your legs on the couch like the sweet boy he is, when he sees your pussy, covered in the same color of bush as your hair. gulping again, he trails gentle kisses up your legs, from the lace ends of your stockings and up the bare skin of your legs, making sure to kiss the stretch marks he comes across before he finally nuzzles his face into your bushy mound. weakly, he licks at your folds, as if this was his first time eating out a woman and occasionally suckling at your clit. he was just so adorable with how he tenderly kisses and suckles and licks at you, like he had never felt the touch of a woman. so when your hands grasps at his hair, scratching at his scalp once before pulling him flush against your pussy, he downright moans against you before diving in like it was his final food. slurping at your wetness and eating you out like you were his last meal while his two fingers pushed your labia open, whimpering out words of “t-thank you, ma’am, thank yo-you for letting me touch you” and “you taste mmgh so sweet, ma’am.. i aamgh l-love your pussy juice s’much”

when you do cum into his mouth after his excited tongue and finger fucking you open, he opens his mouth eagerly to taste every single drop of your sweet pussy juice, already addicted to the taste and scent of it from just a single taste. his fingers continue to massage your soft walls, thumb swirling over your clit in gentle motions while his free hand pushed down on your lower tummy, pleading you to cum again and to get his face wet with your slick like he was some pathetic toy for you. only when you patted his head at last with a “good job, pretty boy” did he pull his fingers away — albeit with heavy disappointment — as he drawled out “th-thank you, missus. i’m glad to be-be of use to my missus” with his lips and jaws dripping with some of your cum. you laughed at seeing that look on his face, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed and his hair a mess with your slick all over his jaw. seems like your pretty boy was a messy eater

first time writing smut for my female readers, this was truly a shift in my writing ngl. as you can tell from the smuts on my blog, im more comfortable writing for a gender neutral reader, top reader and im sure most — or at least half — of my readers feel comfortable with that norm as well. but lately cough cough a bit of rp on c.ai with cod character bots with my older oc cough cough ive gotten addicted to the thought of being an older woman and having a younger man just whipped for you and decided to challenge myself with writing for a femdom reader. and by younger, i mean within a decade of years age gap, preferably within 5 years even. nothing too serious. hope you all liked this small brainrot and the dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 2

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm having too much fun with this one! Where did all the angst go????????

Huge thanks to @bigtreefest for talking through so much of this with me. Thanks for being so fun to riff with, Essie!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom checked his hair in the mirror for the fifth time, rolling his eyes at himself. It was fine, he looked hot. Why was he so nervous? Probably because he was down to thirty-three days before he had to be moved into somewhere new. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this kind of pressure before. 

He was going to be meeting you for the first time in—he checked his watch—twenty-six minutes. You had asked him if he’d like to meet for dinner two days ago. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. You’d sent him a message that said, “Let me take you to dinner,” and when he’d said he’d like that, you followed up with, “Great. My assistant will be in touch with the details.”  There wasn’t really much asking involved.

And that seemed to be par for the course with you. When you wanted to stop communicating through the app, you’d said, “We should take this conversation to texts.” When you wanted to know something, you’d say, “Tell me about…” And when you wanted to see more of him, you said, “I bet you have such a pretty cock, send me a picture.” Thank god, he’d already had a bunch of dick pics locked and loaded.

It was uncommon for him to feel like he was on his back foot so much. He rationalized that it was because all of the communicating so far had been over texts. It would be better in person. He would be better. More in control. More in his element.

He looked in the mirror a sixth time. He looked fucking good. He was wearing a crisp, long-sleeve button-down in a dusty shade of blue that matched his eyes. He had it unbuttoned lower than necessary, but not so much that it’d be too slutty for an upscale restaurant. He paired it with his tightest gray slacks and finished the look with his Italian loafers. Fuck, yeah, he looked good. He looked expensive.

He drove himself to the restaurant your assistant had made a reservation at and handed the keys over to the valet. Maybe he should be saving the little money he had right now, but if everything went to plan tonight, he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was a show of confidence, he thought, as he handed the folded bills over to the kid parking his car. 

Just as he made his way inside and gave his name to the hostess, his phone buzzed with another text from your personal assistant, Julia.

Hi, Ransom. Her last meeting of the day went long, so she’s going to be a little late for dinner. She wanted me to tell you to go ahead and order whatever appetizers and drinks you want. She should only be about fifteen minutes.”

Damn it, the one time he tried to be ontime, he was left waiting. This was why he was always late. But no, tonight he’d wanted to make a good impression. And of course, it bit him in the ass. So, fuck yeah, he’d order whatever he wanted.

The hostess led him to a lone table in a private room. That’s what he was fucking talking about. This was the treatment he deserved. Private dining, special menus, special treatment. He couldn’t wait to get used to this.

But first, he needed to close the deal. He needed to convince you that you needed him, that he was worth taking care of. He’d never had a job interview before, but if there was one thing he could do, it was turn up the charm. He was gonna flirt like his life depended on it. Because it did.

So he ordered a Macallan and the carpaccio and decided to use this extra time to strategize.

Later, Ransom would deny it, but he felt the air still when you finally walked into the room twenty minutes later. It was clear you’d come straight from the office, your belted shirtdress reeking professionalism. But it was also obviously designer and had been tailored to fit your curves perfectly. And there was an elegance too that wasn’t out of place here. Combined with the obviously high-quality jewelry you wore, it was clear you belonged in rooms like this. He could see it immediately, you were dripping not just money but sophistication. 

He’d only seen you in bits and pieces in your profile. Carefully cropped photos, so as not to give away the whole of you. He’d assumed that meant you’d been hiding something. He hadn’t put much thought to what, only focused on the dollar signs. Figuring he could make anything work as long as it came with enough money. But now, seeing you, all of you, in person, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you would want to hide any of it. His worries of how much he’d need to rely on little blue pills completely disappeared.

You strode toward him quickly, and he stood up to greet you. “Ransom,” you said, your voice warm. “It’s so lovely to see you in person.” You gave him a brief embrace accompanied by a soft peck to his cheek. He felt your touch linger even after you’d sat down in your seat. 

He sat down as well. “It’s lovely to see you, too,” he said, his voice pitched low in the way that so many women he’d been with liked. “You’re even more beautiful than I was expecting.” He let his eyes rove over you for a moment, a predator’s smile on his face. It was a move that had worked for him countless times.

So he was surprised when your response was to snort derisively. “Ah, I see I’m in for the hard sell tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen,” you leaned forward, “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t already mostly made up my mind. But it’s been a long day, and I’d rather not talk business on an empty stomach, alright?”

Ransom felt his jaw tick, but he tried to school his expression, not let you see how much that irritated him. “And what are we supposed to do instead?” He may not have been completely successful.

You gave a careless shrug. “Try talking to each other like real people?”

Ransom opened his mouth to respond when the waitress approached the table, carrying a bottle of wine. “Welcome back,” she said to you as she poured you both a glass. 

“Jen,” you said, smiling broadly, “how are you?”

“I’m doing well. I was happy to hear you and your guest would be joining us tonight. The chef has prepared a tasting menu for you. I’ll be out with the first course shortly.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you. And pass my thanks on to Antonio as well.” 

Jen nodded and smiled in response, then left the bottle on the table and exited the small room.

When you turned back to Ransom, he raised an eyebrow. “They know me here,” you said casually.

Yeah, clearly. His thoughts couldn’t help but flit to his mother. How she would kill for this type of treatment. To have her wine brought out to her without ordering. A special menu created just for her. To be on a first-name basis with a five-star chef. He might not be so eager to never see her again if it gave him the chance to tell her about this. To rub her face in it.

His thoughts returned to you when he felt your gaze on him, an expectant look in your eye. You were obviously waiting for him to do something. Shit. What had you said before the waitress came in? That you wanted to talk to each other like real people. Fuck, did he even know how to do that? He cleared his throat, searching for something, and finally asked, “What made your day so long?”

A satisfied smirk passed over your face before transforming into a genuine smile. “Thank you for asking.” You sighed, and he saw it, just for a split second before it was gone again. You were exhausted. “I have many board members with many opinions. Some more informed than others, but I have to listen to them all. Those days can be draining.”

“What kind of company is it?” he asked. You’d been fairly cagey with personal information over texts. He wondered if you might be more forthcoming in person.

“Medical technology,” you said, somewhat dismissively. “Primarily portable scanners for things like MRIs. I won’t bore you with the details.” 

Ransom hoped you couldn’t see the dollar signs in his eyes at that. Shit, proprietary tech? You must be loaded. No wonder this restaurant was bending over backwards for you. He would, too, if this night went to plan.

As he was trying to formulate a follow-up question, you switched gears. “What about you? What do you do with your days?”

For one terrifying moment, Ransom’s brain went completely blank. What did he do with his days? Absolutely nothing, if he could help it. He went shopping, he went drinking, he went sunbathing, he read, he watched TV, and he went to the gym. It all added up to a big fat zero and that was the goal; that was why he was doing this now. But that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, was it? No, you wanted him to say that he was putting himself through law school, or caring for a sick parent, or that he wanted to quit the three jobs he hated. There was no way to explain how he’d been able to do absolutely nothing up until this point and why he wasn’t able to continue that way now without getting into who his family was or what they’d done to him. No, thank you. You didn’t need to know any of that.

As a stalling technique, he swirled his wine glass and then took a sip. A little hum escaped him at the taste. Your lips curled up into a smirk. “You like it?” you asked. “Jen brought us one of my favorite bottles. They always have it on hand for me here.”

“It’s excellent,” he said with a nod, which earned him a pleased look from you that he felt in his chest.

Jen chose that moment to come back in, bearing the first course. By the time she’d finished telling you both what was being served, your question to Ransom had been thankfully forgotten.

You took one last bite of your entree, then set your silverware down on your plate decisively. You looked Ransom in the eye. Having your full attention on him was almost disconcerting. “Alright,” you said. “I’d very much like to enter into an arrangement with you. High level, I’ll support you in exchange for you being available to me. What are your initial thoughts on that?”

Fuck. Yes. Finally. He nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I’d like that,” he said, trying to keep his tone even so as not to betray his eagerness.

You smiled like you'd won something. “Excellent. That makes me very happy. Now, what I'm offering: I'll cover all of your living expenses. Rent, utilities, bills–”

He cleared his throat, and you paused, giving him a questioning look. “I need to be out of my current place soon. Very soon. I’ll need a new place to live.”

You took out your phone and immediately started typing. “That’s right, you mentioned that on your profile. I’ll set up a few showings for us in the coming weeks. When do you need to be out of your current place?”

“Thirty-three days,” he said, too quickly.

There was a hint of something in your eyes, recognition, maybe, or– Ransom didn’t know, but whatever it was sat uncomfortably in his chest.

But after looking at him like that for too long, even if it was just a nanosecond, you nodded and made a note in your phone. “I’ll tell my real estate agent to prioritize listings that are available immediately. But, if it takes some time to find one we like or it isn’t available right away, I want you to know that I’ll get you somewhere to stay in the meantime.” You reached over and gently laid your hand over his. “I don't want you to worry about that.”

He swallowed, trying not to show his relief, and nodded.

You waited a beat and then said, “Say ‘thank you,’ Ransom.”

These fucking women. “Thank you,” he gritted out, realizing much too late that he hadn't managed to suppress his accompanying eyeroll. 

Luckily, you just chuckled in response. “Oh, I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

“Yeah?” he asked, starting to get a read on you. “Is that what you think I need?”

You leaned forward, your voice dropping an octave. “I think you’re begging for someone to put you in your place.”

He matched your posture. “I don’t beg.”

A smirk bloomed on your face. “But you’ll do it for me, won’t you? I’ll teach you how to beg so pretty.”

Ransom cleared his throat as heat engulfed his whole body. That picture of your legs in leather boots that went up to your thighs flashed in his mind. “So that’s your thing? Control?”

You leaned back in your chair. “That’s one of my things,” you said evenly. “But it’s one of yours, too, isn’t it? You marked an interest in submission on your kink list.”

Oh. Well, he must have, amongst all the others he hadn’t really read. And it’d done the trick. He was here, so close to his end goal. He couldn’t back out now. “Yeah.”

You nodded once, seemingly pleased. “And have you been in a relationship like that before?”

“I have,” he lied, adding his own smirk. He was so fucking close.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him. You were silent for too long. Then, “I’m going to have a lot of rules for you. We’ll go over them later, but the first one is that you don’t lie to me. Not ever.”

“What–”

“Have you been in a relationship like that before?” Your voice was firm this time, demanding. It almost made him want to–

He swallowed, but didn’t let himself look down. “No,” he said, “I guess I haven’t.”

Your posture relaxed some, but you didn’t let go of his gaze. “Thank you, Ransom, for telling me the truth.” There was a beat of silence that he wondered how to fill, but then you spoke again. “Good boy.”

Suddenly, Ransom could hear his heart beating in his ears. He swallowed dryly. Your expression had turned smug.  The irritation that caused in him helped him to shake himself out of whatever had just happened. “Rules, huh?” he asked, trying desperately to regain his defiant air.

The smirk from earlier returned, got wider. It reminded him of that other picture from your profile. The one he’d looked at too many times. It was even better when he could see your whole face. “Yeah, rules. What I want you to wear, where I want you to be, how I want you to speak to me,” you paused, making sure you had his full attention, something sparkling in your eyes, “when and how you’re allowed to cum.”

Heat flooded his face, he wasn’t able to stop it. He felt it travel to the tips of his ears. And by the way the sparkle in your eyes got even more intense, he knew it was visible to you.

You leaned forward again, your voice a little rough, “I was fucking hoping you’d blush pretty for me. Even better than I imagined.”

He didn’t have a response for that, so he looked away for a moment, to the corner of the room. Your gaze was too intense to hold. He cleared his throat again, then looked back at you. “Well,” he said, slow but determined, “for all that I’m going to need a monthly allowance. In addition to everything else.”

You nodded. “I’m prepared to offer $3,000.”

He leaned back in his chair. He had something you wanted. He could see it now. He’d press this advantage. “Seven.”

One corner of your mouth twitched and your eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. Or it would have been if he hadn’t been watching you so closely. “Greedy boy.”

He shrugged casually. “You wouldn’t respect me if I just blindly accepted your first offer, would you?”

The twitch in your lips turned into a small grin. “Five thousand,” you said, ignoring his question. “Final offer. For now.”

He sat up straight. “For now?”

You nodded. “For now. If we need to look at these things again in a few months, once we’re settled, then we can. Adjust if we need to.”

“Alright. I can accept that.”

“Excellent,” you said, making a few more notes in your phone. “I’ll have the financial elements drawn up and sent over for you to review and sign tomorrow.” With that, you put your phone away, and smiled at him, genuinely. He couldn’t help but smile back.

The shortest moment later, Jen was back with dessert—a chocolate torte dusted with gold, a collection of red berries artfully pressed into its center. She placed it between you and you immediately dismissed her with a sincere, “Thank you, Jen,” without ever moving your gaze from Ransom.

When she was gone, Ransom picked up his dessert fork to have a taste, but you stilled his hand with a quiet, “No,” and picked up your own fork. He struggled to repress his eye roll at whatever power play this was. But you surprised him when, after effortlessly sliding your fork through the cake to collect a small bite, instead of taking it for yourself, you held it over the center of the table. For him.

He reached out to take the fork from you when you admonished him again. “No, Ransom.” He looked at you questioningly, but you just stared back, unblinking, challenging. Finally, he leaned forward and opened his mouth to accept the bite. His eyes slipped shut as he closed his lips around your fork and you slowly pulled it back. As he savored the bittersweet chocolate, he felt the tips of his ears go red again. His eyes snapped back open when he heard you breathe out, “So fucking pretty.”   

You gaze was on him, drilling into him and he couldn’t look away. At least until the screen on your designer smart watch flashed. You quickly pressed a button to dismiss the alert, but then it happened again. And again. You sighed as you actually looked at the messages coming in.

“Shit,” you muttered, then gave him an apologetic smile. “I need to go take care of this.” You sighed again, heavily. “I’m sorry to cut our evening short, but please stay as long as you’d like and enjoy the dessert. Everything’s been taken care of. Julia will reach out with the details of the apartment showings.”

 He stood up as you did, still a little dazed from you fucking feeding him that cake. You took the few short steps to join him on his side of the table. You wordlessly placed your hand on his cheek and brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. Then you grasped the back of his neck with your other hand and pulled him into a kiss. 

It was– It was fucking dirty. Wet and hot and demanding. He kept trying to gain control of it, but you wouldn’t let him. You wouldn’t give up anything. It was the closest he’d ever felt to being consumed.

Too soon, you pulled away, leaving him a little breathless. Your hand was still on his cheek. “I will see you so soon,” you said, softly. Then you pulled away, and left. You were already on the phone demanding details by the time you’d made it to the door.

Ransom just stood there for a moment, trying to let his mind catch up. Then he let out a breath. He’d done it. He’d gotten everything he wanted. He sat back down in his chair and picked up his fork. This cake seemed like the perfect way to celebrate.

Tag List is open!

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @alexakeyloveloki @kmc1989 @awkwardgiraffe726 @watermelontidewater @alicedopey @lokislady82 @sassybearfire @mencantaleer @jvanilly @stars4birdie @have-another-doughnut

[chaoticcompersion]

Good Boys Don’t Whine•D

He’s a mess.

Shaking. Gasping. His body is too sensitive, too weak, too wrecked to handle any more, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop. Not until I decide he’s had enough.

His head is buried in the crook of my neck, breath coming in shallow little pants, fingers digging into my thighs like he’s holding on for dear life.

“S’too much,” he whimpers. His voice is wrecked, almost pathetic, like he actually thinks I’ll have mercy on him.

I smirk.

My hand keeps working him, slow but relentless, his cock twitching against my palm. He’s soaked, completely at my mercy, dripping down my fingers like he doesn’t know how to stop giving in to me.

“Too much?” I echo, dragging my lips over his ear, letting my breath tickle his heated skin. “Then why are you still begging for more?”

He shudders, trying to shake his head, trying to fight it, but his body betrays him. His hips keep twitching up into my fist, desperate for friction, for release, for me.

“You really thought I was gonna let you off that easy?” I hum, tightening my grip just to hear him choke on a moan.

He whimpers. Tries to bury his face in my neck, as if he can hide from what I’m doing to him.

“Look at you,” I coo, sliding my free hand into his hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back. His blown-out pupils meet mine, hazy with exhaustion and desperation, his lips quivering like he’s about to fall apart.

God, he looks so pretty like this.

“So fucked out and needy,” I murmur, letting my nails rake against his scalp. “And you’re still whining? Tsk. What kind of good boy does that?”

He gasps at the words, his whole body tensing, his cock twitching in my palm.

Oh?

A slow smirk curls across my lips. Interesting.

I loosen my grip on him, just to hear the way he whines—a frustrated, desperate little sound—and then I squeeze, watching his thighs tremble as his breath stutters.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” I whisper, voice dripping in amusement. “My pathetic little thing, so desperate to be good for me.”

He makes a broken noise, somewhere between a moan and a plea.

I laugh.

Then I tighten my grip on his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Tell me.”

“I—” His voice is barely there, his whole body trembling.

“Tell me,” I repeat, lips brushing against his. “Tell me how bad you want to be my good boy.”

His breath hitches. His fingers tighten against my thighs, nails digging into soft skin. I feel the way his body locks up, the way he teeters right on the edge.

"Please," he gasps. "Please let me be good for you."

There it is.

My hand moves faster, teasing his achingly sensitive tip, working him until he’s whimpering, writhing, barely holding himself together.

“Then give it to me,” I whisper against his lips. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He shatters.

His whole body jerks as he falls apart in my hands, cum spilling over my fingers in thick, messy spurts. His thighs quiver, his voice breaks, and the only thing he can do is hold onto me, moaning my name like a fucking prayer.

I ride him through it, letting him soak my hand, dragging out every last drop until he’s twitching, overstimulated, gasping for breath.

And then I pull away.

He lets out a soft, wrecked whimper, burying his face in my shoulder, shaking from the aftershocks.

I let him rest. For now.

But my fingers trail down his spine, slow, teasing.

Because I’m not done with him yet.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

DEBAUCHÉRIE

⚠️𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘⚠️

🎀𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝🎀

“I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me, what you'd do to me tonight”

Pairing: Sub!Nanami Kento x Domme!Reader

Genre: Smut, Porn with plot, Happy ending.

Word Count: 4592

Warnings: PWP, soft domme Reader, plus size reader, female bodied reader, no protection, pussy eating, shibari, good ol' sex.

Summary: It was always a dream of Nanami's to be tied up like a good little boy, one that many partners after hearing would recoil in disgust expecting to be dominated instead... Its been too long since Nanami Kento got laid, so long that out of desperation he agrees to accompany his senpais to a sex club. A sex club where he sees you. But can you make his dream a reality?

A/N: At the end.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Lounging on the sofa, directly in his line of view, in the long black dress that hugged every curve of your body, your posture was relaxed, an easy smile on your red lips and a fringe of admirers lapped up your every word. The slit in the side of your dress gave him a perfect view of your leg and the tattoo hugging your calf. Your hands held a glass of red wine that you sipped slowly while your eager devotees tried to stand out to you. Nanami felt like a moth, caught in your fire. 

It had been on Geto’s insistence that Nanami Kento agreed to visit the club. Having heard about it from him and Gojo before, he finally swallowed his pride and asked them to introduce him. Debauchérie – an apt name for a sex club, Nanami had mused, remembering the dark red neon sign he had seen when entering.  

Gojo had explained to him in detail where they were going; he’d even borrowed an expensive – probably designer – turtleneck shirt of his to wear. It sat snug on Nanami’s frame, the fabric soft and comforting, yet elegant. “You can't wear just anything, Nanamin.” Gojo had warned. “It’s a very exclusive place; it took months before we could become members and bring guests.” 

And it was, definitely, no less than thorough. Nanami had had to sign a waiver attesting to his consent and such before even being allowed in. It probably helped that Geto was a “valued” member,  given how smooth the process had been. 

Seated at the bar, Nanami allowed himself to take in his surroundings. There were small tables and couches all around the room, which, even for a Saturday evening, was not very full. Off to the right, there was a passageway leading to more private rooms, and to the back,  there were places for open play that no one had started using yet. However, a lot of patrons had already reached varying stages of undress, and when a very pretty girl wearing nothing but nipple pasties came by and complimented how he looked, asking for his name, the poor man could only choke out a “Ke- Ken”. 

The girl giggled and flounced away, but not before throwing him a wink and a flirty, “Nice to meet you, Ke-Ken!” Mouth dry, he resumed scanning the room…and that's when his eyes had fallen on you. 

“She’d be a good fit for you,” Geto said in his ear, making him jump. Both he and Gojo had decided not to leave unless he found a partner, and had instead taken seats at the bar with him. “She’s very experienced…and attentive.” Gojo looked over too – his eyes wide. 

“Oh, yes.” Gojo backed Geto up.  “We had the pleasure of playing with her once. She’s so-o-o-o-o good.” 

“You mean…” Nanami looked over at the two men. They nodded slowly and sneakily as he turned back to look at you.

As luck would have it, you chose that exact moment to look toward the bar, your eyes locking with Nanami’s. Realising he’d been staring at you, you gave him a soft smile and signalled a waiter over. Nanami watched as you placed your order; when finished,  you looked back at the group around you and said something else, eliciting groans and pouts from most of them. Nanami only understood why when you got up and drifted over to where he sat. 

You were even more stunning up close, he admitted to himself. Lips full and plump, painted in a dark red. Eyes framed by long dark lashes and lined in black. You greeted the other men first. “Suguru, Satoru! It’s been a while. Who’s your friend here?” So you were already on a first-name basis with them…

Gojo, almost climbing over Geto, answered, “This is Kento, Mistress. He’s our junior.” 

“His first time here,” Geto added, giving up his seat for you to sit by Nanami. 

You reached out a hand and ruffled Gojo’s hair. “I’m not your mistress right now, Satoru. You can call me by my name.” The same hand was then presented to Nanami, and you introduced yourself. But all Nanami could think of was that you were already close enough to Gojo and Geto to use their first names, and also how pretty your lips looked with the red lipstick and how much he now wanted to call you Mistress and… 

“Nanami? Hello? Earth to Mr. Kento.” 

Shit! You’d said something he’d totally missed. Nanami felt his cheeks burn. He pulled himself together, ignoring the throbbing in his ears. “Apologies, I might have spaced out for a moment…seeing your beauty up close caught me off guard.” Behind you, Geto and Gojos eyes widened. They never knew Nanami could be this smooth.

You chuckled – a sound that dripped from your lips like honey – and repeated, “I was wondering if you would like to play tonight. With me.” Nanami’s jaw dropped, but you continued, confidently, “I hope this isn't too forward for you, but we came to a sex club after all so I'll be a bit…forward. I think you’re very attractive, and I’m a Dominatrix who likes playing with pretty boys, so, Kento – I can call you Kento right?” 

You cocked an eyebrow and leaned in close. Nanami swallowed and nodded. Your lips widened into a smile. “Would you like to play with me tonight?” 

Not trusting himself to speak, Nanami could only nod. But you shook your head. “I need verbal assurance, Pretty Boy.” 

“Y-yes. I would like to.” 

“Hmmm…” You sat back, smiling sweetly, but crossing your arms in front of you. “Well then, let's go over some basics. You know I’m a domme, so I'm going to take it that you’re subbing for me.” Nanami nodded. “Is this your first time doing something like this?” Nanami nodded again, confirming what you’d thought. “In that case, we can take it soft and slow for your first time, Pretty Boy.” 

Nanami blushed. 

You led Nanami down a long corridor, entering one of the rooms at the far end. Gojo and Geto had assured him that it was fine and they would not “wait up” for him. 

“So…should we continue this in one of the private rooms?” 

The room wasn’t too large, but there was enough space for a plush bed covered in black silken sheets, a small black couch and a table with an assortment of toys. It seemed to follow the theme of the club, dark red walls, while most of the furniture was black. The dim lighting made Nanami’s eyes twinkle. This was what you had asked the waiter to prepare for you earlier. Taking a seat on the couch, you patted the space beside you, encouraging Nanami to sit. “We need to establish a few rules and boundaries first,” you began. “When we are playing, you will call me Miss, or Mistress. Is that okay with you?” Nanami nodded, but you shook your head. “From now on, whatever I ask, I need enthusiastic, verbal responses. I will not continue unless I have clear consent from you, Kento.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” Your left hand found its place in Nanami’s hair, and you gently raked your fingernails against his scalp. 

“Good boy.” Nanami felt his cock twitch. You placed your other hand on his chest. Against him, it looked small, but the command in your fingertips was unmistakable. You ran it along his turtleneck, squeezing at his chest. “Now, is anything off-limits?” 

Nanami thought for a moment and said, “Nothing with pee or scat, please. And nothing that will leave any visible marks.” 

You nodded. “Alright. I don’t do scat play either and I will not be engaging in rough play with you for your first time, but it is always good to ask and be clear.” Your lips had sneaked closer to his skin during your little explanation, and he could feel the warmth of your breath when you asked him your next question: 

“Is there anything you would like to do tonight?” 

Nanami blushed. “You don’t have to be shy…” you told him gently. “Tell me, Pretty Boy, how can I make a wild dream come true for you?” You leaned forward and bit your lip. 

“I–I—” Nanami could barely hear himself speak as he said the next words. “I want to be tied up and used…would-would you…?” 

All the stress of the last few days seemed to catch up with the weary man as his shoulders drooped and he waited for you to be repulsed by his ask, ashamed at how needy he was. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised...you chuckled. 

“Is that so, Pretty Boy?” Your tongue darted out licking a strip up your lip. 

Nanami's cock twitched again and he let out an involuntary moan. “Oh, do you like it when I call you a pretty boy?” He nodded, then remembered his earlier agreement. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

You placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head to make him look at you. His brown eyes were dark, screaming his exhaustion coupled with building need. “Do you have a safe word you’d like to use?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t need that, I’m sure I can take whatever you give me.”

You frowned. Your hand still petting his head, you explained,  “It is vital that we have one. Regardless of how experienced your partner may be or how hard or soft you play, having a safeword is a basic requirement. If you like, we can use the traffic light system to keep it simple.” Nanami nodded but looked puzzled, so you elaborated. “If you feel like everything is going well and you don’t want to stop or change anything, you can let me know you’re green.” You paused, waiting for him to show you he understood. When he nodded, you went on. “If you like what we’re doing but feel like it's becoming too much or want me to dial it back in any way, you say you’re yellow. I can return to what I was doing previously, or pause and let you have a short break.” He nodded again. You continued. “And if you are very uncomfortable, or hurt, or change your mind and want to stop in any way, you say red.” Nanami couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would have to, but he was grateful for your assurances. He nodded again. “Red means I will stop whatever I’m doing and make sure first and foremost that you are okay. If you’re bound or tied I will release you immediately, if you get hurt you must let me know so I can treat you. I love it when my boy communicates with me.” Saying this, you kissed him at the edge of his mouth, lips barely touching. Nanami blushed pink. You smelled like strawberries and vanilla, and he found himself wanting to bite. 

“Red, yellow, and green. I understand, Mistress.” he assured you, itching to start. His cock had begun to harden in his slacks, fed by the ministrations of your hands. 

You got up and walked over to the table with the toys. “You’d like to be tied up, wouldn’t you?” you said out loud, then turned to him with a dark blue rope in your hands. 

Nanami felt his blush deepen as you strolled over to him. The sound of your black stilettos made a sharp tapping sound on the hard floor as you towered above him. He would do anything for you. “Yes please, Mistress…” His voice was barely a whisper. 

You bent down and kissed his head, giving him the perfect view down your neckline. The soft milky mounds of your breasts threatened to spill out of the corset under your dress, mesmerising him. You smirked, hand moving to his crotch. You gave his bulge a gentle squeeze drawing out a deep groan, then ordered, “Get up and strip for me, gorgeous.”  

The poor man, caught in the net you cast, immediately followed. His hands fumbled with the belt of his trousers as he half ripped them off his body. He peeled off the turtleneck and folded the garments, laying them on the couch where you sat. He was beautiful. Years of hard training had transformed his body into a wall of muscle. His skin had a light tan and his stomach was tight. You greedily drank in the sight.

He was about to remove his boxers when your voice rang out again, “Stop. That is mine. You can only touch it when I let you. Got that?” 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now, arms up and legs apart.” Nanami complied, and you rose, circling him slowly. He could feel your eyes taking him in, studying every inch of his body, and he itched to cover himself from your discerning gaze. But even before he could finish his thoughts, your hands were on him, feeling the muscles in his arms, all the way down, body flush with yours. He could feel your breasts pressed against his back., the warmth of your breath on his skin and your nails running down his sides, feeling up his torso. “What colour are we at, Pretty Boy?” you asked raspily.

Nanami responded after a second’s thought, “Green. More! Please, Mistress.” He felt your lips against his back, leaving tiny kisses along some invisible pattern as you complied, feeling every inch of him…except your hand never so much as grazed his crotch, making him pant with anticipation. 

You stepped in front of him and picked up the rope off the couch, then unravelled it while making sure he was watching your every movement. The contrast of being so bare – so vulnerable – in front of you was stark. “I'm going to tie you up now, is that alright?” 

Nanami nodded, grateful at how gentle and thorough you were. “Please, Mistress.” 

You hooked your thumbs on the waistband of his pants and tugged them downwards, allowing his semi-hard cock to spring free. A sharp intake of breath from you made him shy away. Perhaps you would be turned off by his size. But to his astonishment, you kneeled down and gently licked the glans, eyes never leaving his. 

“Someone's excited,” you remarked, impressed. Your hands worked deftly – practised movements that hinted at your familiarity with the rope.

Nanami appreciated, when from time to time, you would check in with him, “Is anything uncomfortable?” or “Is it too tight?” and wait for his verbal confirmations

“No, Mistress.” or “It’s just a little painful around the arm, on that last loop.”

 You twisted and looped and knotted, and once you were done, you turned him to face the long mirror in the room. Blue vines ran all across Nanami’s chest, crissed and crossed into a five-point star. His arms were bound to his back, but his legs were free. Each line of rope sat snug, not too deep or loose, just enough to make sure that he was unable to move his upper body. The two lines you had artfully drawn against his crotch grazed against his balls every time he made the slightest move. He looked at you, dark pupils blown out in lust. You held his chin, then hooked your fingers onto the rope around his neck and pulled his head to yours, and Nanami’s world exploded. Your lips were hot on his.  Your tongue probed for entrance at his teeth, licking his cold cupid's bow.

Reaching down, you trailed a finger up his length. “I want you to kneel for me, Kento.” You had placed a cushion on the floor and Nanami dropped to his knees, looking on in reverence as you stood before him and removed your dress. 

The silky fabric fell to the floor in a puddle. You were left in a black laced corset and matching underwear. Taking a seat on the couch, you spread your legs open. Nanami had the most perfect view. “Do you want to see?” you asked him teasingly. 

“Please, Mistress.” There was a whine in Nanami’s throat he didn’t even realise he was holding. 

“Then take them off.” You gestured at your panties. Nanami fumbled. His hands were tied behind his back, what did you mean…? 

“With your mouth, Kento. I want you to use your mouth and take my panties off. And then, maybe – if you do a good job – I'll let you taste me.” 

Eager to please you, Nanami crawled over to your cunt and bit the edge of your panties. Desperately, he pulled at the fabric and inched it down with his lips and teeth. He could smell your arousal already, and it made his head heavy. He really wanted to taste you. His cock was now hard, and it bumped your leg. The little friction made him hiss. 

“Go on, Pretty Boy, just a little more…” Your encouragement kept him from losing his focus, and he continued to pull the infernal cloth that barely seemed to budge. But with just one more tug, it was around your knees. He stopped and looked at you, pleased with himself. 

“Oh that won’t do, Kento. No, you have to take it all the way off.” Nanami’s cheeks burned. All the way off? Down your legs, off your— “Off, come on. And don’t get it stuck on my heels, darling.” 

Nanami pulled at the panties again. It was humiliating, being asked to do such a ridiculous task but even more so for the fact that his cock was rock hard and straining. You spread your thighs wide, showing off your glistening cunt. Your skin was smooth. Not that he minded hair but in a moment you would show him why. “Do you want to taste me?” 

“Yes please, Mistress.” 

“Then turn over and rest your head on the couch. I’m going to sit on your pretty face.” Nanami flipped over and watched as you raised yourself off the couch to straddle his face, your pussy dangling over his mouth like forbidden fruit. A drop of your arousal leaked out, falling onto Nanami’s lips, and he couldn't help sticking his tongue out to lick it. The musky sweet taste of you travelled straight to his cock and he twitched once more. 

This must be the nectar of the gods, he thought to himself. His tongue reached out, desperate to taste more of you. “Please, please. Please, Mistress.” 

You didn’t torture him further. Sinking your pussy lips onto his mouth, you both let out a sigh of relief. His nose rubbed against your clit, while his tongue lapped at your pink folds. Divine… 

A hand in his hair, you pulled him, “Yeah–just like that–good boy...” Your knee was digging into the couch as you pushed your cunt into his face. And Nanami ate your pussy like a parched man. Slurping and lapping up your juices. Sucking on your sensitive bud. He wanted to hold you – to feel the plush of your ass filling his hands; he involuntarily pulled at the ropes that bound him. You stepped back for a moment, allowing him to breathe, then returned to your throne. But Nanami showed no signs of hesitation. His lips found your bud, circling it in his mouth as he started to suck. Loud wet noises filled the rooms along with soft moans from you. “Kento…Such a good boy…Keep going.” You felt his tongue flatten against your cunt, probing at your hole and exploring. His face was messy and wet but he didn’t care. Nothing had ever tasted as delicious as your wet cunt did in his mouth. Nothing had ever felt as good as your thick thighs that squeezed his head between them.  

Nanami felt a sharp tug on his hair as you came with a cry, legs quivering. Your head felt heavy and it took you a moment to get off him and look at him adoringly. He knelt at your feet, panting but looking up at you expectantly.

You helped him to his feet and sat him on the couch, placing yourself on his lap. Your hands once again found his soft hair, fingers carding through it. His weeping cock bumped against your dripping core, and you began to move your hips to rub against it. “You’re such a – kiss – good boy. – kiss– following all my orders – kiss – so well – kiss–” Nanami felt a bead of pre-come drip out onto his thigh as you kissed down his neck. 

Your pussy lips rubbed against his length as you kissed and licked his mouth. “Let me see you, please…” he rasped, looking down at your corseted breasts. Sounds of his grunts and heavy breathing now filled the room, along with the wet shlick of your skin against his. You undid the front of the corset, letting your breasts spill. A sharp intake of breath from him made you want to kiss him again, but his head dipped down and he took a nipple between his teeth, lightly grazing it before starting to suck at your tit. You pulled his hair back, yanking him off you. “Did I give you permission to suck my tits?” 

Nanami’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. “No, Mistress. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You continued, “Next time you do something without permission, you will be punished. Understand?” 

Nanami swallowed and nodded, burning with desire now; your pussy was right on top of his cock. One thrust and he could have put it in, but he knew that would not be allowed. He begged again, all inhibitions out the window. All he wanted was to feel you on him. “Mistress, please…” 

“Please what?” His hips bucked and he forced them down. “Please fuck you?” You cocked a brow, unsmiling. “After what you just did?” 

His dick stood now, painful almost, in need. “I’ll do anything,” he begged. “Please, just touch me–” His voice was cut off by a choked sob and to his surprise, a tear ran down his cheek. 

“You make the prettiest little sounds, Kento,” you purred in his ear. “Okay, I’ll fuck you like you want.” And you held his cock as you spoke and slowly slid it into your pussy. “You want me to fuck you like this, right? On my tight wet cunt?” He nodded furiously. “Want to feel me squeeze your cock so good?” Another nod. “Okay, but you aren’t allowed to come…” 

Nanami let out a strangled cry. 

“You heard me. You asked to be fucked. Not to come. Didn’t you, darling?” 

You were a succubus, and Namami was a willing victim. Semantics be damned, he was ready to burst, to spill into your warm wet hole, as you squeezed around him. You cradled his head in your arms, holding him close to you as you slid up and down on his cock. Your combined arousal made it easy, even though he was large. 

“Fuck, please– Mistress. So good, you make me – haa…”  Obscenities fell from his lips along with pleas, over and over. “Mistress, I need –” 

You felt him twitch and stilled. Nanami could have cried. He strained against his bonds, desperately trying to hold on to you, but you were already off him. “To the bed,” you whispered and helped him up. It was difficult for Nanami; he had never been denied for this long when release was so imminent. He stumbled to the bed, grateful for your help, but wishing you would just let him come already. The teasing was maddening and he did not feel he had the patience for it much longer. You lay him down, propping him up with two large pillows before sinking onto his cock once again. His hands grasped at nothingness under him as you leveraged yourself on his chest and fucked him now – no holds barred. Your ass hit his thighs with a loud slap each time you came back down, and his cock was reaching deep inside you hitting your gummy walls that held him in a vice-like grip. 

“You wanna come for me, Pretty Boy? Wanna come for your Mistress?” 

“Please—please—please.” The words fell from his mouth like a prayer. A prayer to you, his Goddess. 

“Then come. Come for me, my Pretty Boy.” 

And with that, he was lost. Thick ribbons of ejaculate shot into your cunt, painting your insides white. You collapsed onto his large chest and felt his rapid heartbeat slowing, the rise and fall of his chest now gentle…The ropes around his body rubbed against your nipples, hardening them into peaks. 

Lifting yourself off him, you helped him sit up before you quickly removed his ties. The skin was raw and red where he’d pulled. You lifted his hand to your mouth and licked at the angry marks, tasting the salt of his sweat. He met your gaze – still hungry. “ I need you. I need more, please,” he pleaded. “Let me eat you out again, Mistress!” 

You smiled and dipped your head so that your lips barely brushed his ear, “I have a better idea.” You pushed his chest, laying him down and turned, straddling his face once more; this time, however, your mouth hovered above his cock. Even though he had just come, Nanami was still semi-hard, and only a few licks and he was back at attention.  You glided your tongue along his tip, relishing the gentle shiver that ran under you. But the man wasn’t about to stay still. 

 Taking advantage of the newfound freedom of his arms and hands, he grabbed your ass, spreading the cheeks, pawing at them, pulling you deeper into his mouth.  Soft moans escaped you. You were both over-stimulated and needing release. His lips latched onto your clit and sucked and licked, fully lapping up all he could get. Your peak approached, and you felt the telltale twitch of Nanami’s cock as well. He came just after you did, your thighs closing around his head as you gasped and trembled, orgasm hitting you hard. His cock spluttered and he came with a shout, spilling on your face and tits. 

You got off him and used a tissue from the table by the bed to clean yourself up, before lying down beside him and opening your arms. Wordlessly, Nanami crawled between them, resting his head on your chest. You left a soft kiss on his head and whispered, “You were such a good boy for me, Kento. I’m so pleased with you. You were such a good boy!” 

“Even if I did things without your permission?” he asked tentatively. 

You shook your head. “It was your first time; you were learning. I don’t hold that against you. You’re my good boy.” 

Something in Nanami’s chest fluttered. It might have been his heart. “Can we…can we do this again?”

You laughed. Nanami didn’t think he had heard a lovelier sound. “Of course, Pretty Boy. Maybe next weekend. I’ll give you my number.” 

It had been three months since Nanami had first met you in Debauchérie; two months since he had become yours and you, his; one month since Gojo and Geto had found out and started teasing him about it. The teasing had died down, but his feelings for you had only grown. In your familiar red lipstick and a gorgeous orange sundress, you walked up to him and sat in the chair opposite his, holding out his coffee and sandwich. “Here you go, my Pretty Boy.”

He smiled, “Thank you, Mistress.” 

The End

A/N: Dear GOD this was a toughie to write. I kept going back and changing things over and over because I needed this to be some of the best work I've put out. So I changed and changed and cut and reworked and edited. And now here we are. I did it for you Haitch. You beautiful bastard you. I hope you enjoy it. (I agreed to give her whatever she wanted in exchange she would have to turn on boops.) Anyway, thank you so much for reading! A big big thank you to my editor, proofer, beta reader @ominouslywritinginmyhead. Tagging @actuallysaiyan thank you for always supporting me <3

As always hearts and reblogs are much appreciated and comments will earn you a kissie.

[mysweetvalentine1111]

Worship.

Alastor x fem! Reader.

A/n: Honestly this was just me having a bit of fun, my first time dabbling in smut writing and such. I probably won't turn this into a full fledged fic, but it was certainly fun. FYI I was picturing human Alastor while writing this.

Tags# female anatomy described, alastor being a simp for his wife, subby alastor, gentle domme reader, no use of y/n, goddess kink???? Is that a thing???? No beta we die like adam.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sweet, gods she was so damn sweet as she kissed him. Tasting of the most delectible nectar as she devoured his mouth like a woman starved.

Alastor didn't even notice the soft noise he made as her toungue tangled with his, all he knew was that he needed more.

He needed to be eaten alive by her sweet embrace, so completely and utterly consumed that his very essence was braided with hers like a daisy chain.

"O-oh god-" He breathed, his voice thick as she pushed him down, his hands tied above him and leaving him vulnerable and open. He needed more, he needed to feel her sweet heat envelope him as her hands explored his chest, her voice panting against his ear as she told him she loved him-

A raw moan tore it's way from his throat as she rolled her clothed cunt down against the bulge in his boxers, his hips subconsciously jolting up as he tried so desperately to chase the sweet relief that her core promised. Only to be halted with a gloved hand on his bare chest and a soft, bubbly giggle from above him, the sound making warm and fuzzy bubbles pop in his lower abdomen.

"My my, look at you, so eager..." His angel muttered, looking down at him with a small smile that was more fond than cocky.

"O-oh my god, darling please-" He breathed, his voice cracking in his desperation as his hips jumped once more. He wasn't sure how his darling managed to do this to him every damn time. But he chalked it up to her simply being divine, he was a simple mortal man, helpless to resist the allure of a goddess.

"Hmm? Please?" She asked, tilting her head in such a way that the light of the fireplace seemed to give her her a halo, how fitting.

"Please." He repeated, his bare chest heaving as his arms writhed in their restraints, but he was not allowed to touch. His mortal hands would taint her divine skin.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to though.

"Please, touch me, darling." He begged, swallowing thickly. Alastor was a man of pride and arrogance, but he was nothing but weak at the hands of his woman.

"I-it hurts, god, it hurts so bad, please-!"

"Hush now."

His pleas were immediately silenced at her gentle command, his body shivering as she dragged a gloved hand down the skin of his chest, a soft smile on her gorgeous features.

"I will give you what you need, my love." She crooned, and Alastor couldnt hold back a soft whimper of relief as he felt one hand squeeze at the base of his aching need.

"All you need to do..." She continued, leaning down and speaking directly into his ear, causing his entire body to shiver.

"Is pray."

[imrllytootiredforthis]

okay, so here's the thing, i'm not into breeding kinks if it is me the one being "bred", but that changes completely when i'm the one doing the "breeding"

[luna-andra]

Late Night Hotline | Sub!Konig x Reader | Part 2

Summary: Konig finds himself getting off to his Lieutenant's voice over the phone, and he can't get enough of her as he goes back for more.

C/W: 18+ MDNI, SMUT HEAVY, cunnilingus, fingering, collared sub, willing sub, praises, degradation, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, orgasm denial

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: I threw out the first attempt of me writing this part so I'm so sorry it took longer than I anticipated. I'm so much happier with this final edit, and I hope you are too! Gotta keep y'all fed <3

Enjoy~

Part 1

It didn’t matter what inflection or tone her voice carried; he could hear another version of her in the recesses of his mind. Moaning his name, whispering things that bounced back and forth from sweet praises to filthy degradation. It was at the most inconvenient moments, when she was presenting her reports during the current briefing, for example. When she was focused and neutral, paying no mind to how he undressed her with his eyes. If anything, she was better behaved than he was. At least from what he could see on the outside.

Then he discovered what went on behind her practiced persona. More like what she premeditated to transpire. His phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to a text message from Tempest.

Enjoying the view while you sit back there, trying to conceal your raging hard-on?

His eyes snapped back up, wide as saucers. They shifted cautiously, checking to make sure no one had seen him. Everyone else was too focused on Tempest, some of them looking too hard at her. It would warrant a cold glare from Konig if he wasn’t shocked by her message. Did she set them to send before the meeting started? He recalled her tapping away on the screen, the phone sitting in her lap while she waited for everyone to file in. And right now, she was still deep in her report, her phone tucked away in her back pocket of her ACU bottoms. Her face didn’t give away a hint of awareness that Konig received the first message. A deadly poker face, it almost scared him as much as it kept him aroused. 

Another vibration from his phone. He shifted nervously, preparing him for what was gonna pop up on the screen.

Wonder if you could sit still after seeing this…

A second message popped up shortly after, a file downloading. Scheiße…

The file was an image, her blackout silhouette posing in a doorway. Emanating a deep red glow of her surroundings. There was no way she was wearing any clothes in that boudoir-style picture. Konig could see the peaks and valleys of her entire figure. The pose did miracles for her silhouette, accentuating her perfection. She was leaning against the threshold with her back bowed, a lone foot providing support against the same surface, and a hand brushing back her wild, undone hair.

He had to shove the phone back in his pocket immediately. His lower lip was going to be a victim to the sharp bite of his teeth, definitely bruised and on the brink of breaking skin. It was all he could do to hold back any and every reaction those photos roiled within him. It was also the first time Tempest had ever sent risqué photos to him.

That little minx… she had him struggling to adjust without drawing attention to himself. Fuck, the seam of his pants was ready to tear against the strain of his cock beneath. He was aware that even soft he had a noticeable outline in some of his pants. And unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong pair today. He just hoped that his leak didn’t stain past his boxers.

“You alright?” A whisper came from Horangi. “You looked pissed.”

Konig glanced at him with a side eye, thankful that he’s unable to see anything else but the intensity in his azure eyes. “Ja, fine.” His answer contrasted the short, gruff tone in his voice. Horangi gave him one last questioning glance before he dropped it.

Tempest must have heard the two of them conversing. Her sharp eyes flicked to the back of the room, immediately locking onto Konig. It interrupted nothing she was presenting, just a fleeting moment of attention that made his cock twitch. If he didn’t get himself under control, he was gonna go insane.

“What of the weapons cache that was confiscated from the warehouse?” Ghost’s interruption jerked Konig back to reality like a cold splash of water.

Tempest shifted her stance to the other leg. Konig swore the room dropped a few degrees in between the pause she took to answer. “Accounted for, Lieutenant. It was my next topic of discussion.”

“Could’ve brought it up sooner, eh?” 

The twitch in her eyebrow disagreed with him strongly, maliciously. Their stand-offish aggression towards each other started not even ten minutes after Task Force 141 arrived to conduct a joint effort mission. Ironically enough, it was Tempest that conducted the eleventh-hour meeting with KorTac to announce their temporary stay. Konig recalled her words being:

For the next month, Task Force 141 will be roaming on our base. I will only say this once, no fighting. 141 will be treated as respected guests, these halls will be their home while they are here. No fighting. No. Fucking. Fighting!

141 arrived, Ghost and Tempest were immediately on rocky terms when he made the choice to disregard her presence and careful welcome. 

For the sake of maintaining professionalism and taking the high ground, Tempest took the retort, a relieving surprise for everyone else in the briefing room, letting it roll off her tense shoulder. “You’re right, Ghost.”

It was like everyone released the breath they were holding simultaneously. The volatile hostility had distracted Konig from his uncomfortable situation. He eased back into his chair, listening to Tempest close out the report. Konig had a big issue with Ghost. If there was an opportunity to put him in his place, Konig would seize it like a prisoner of war. The unhinged, sadistic part of him that comes out on the field whispers ways it could be done, leaving him for the wolves to feed on Ghost’s incapacitated body as he brings Tempest a trophy, that stupid skull mask, as a gesture of his devotion. He was stable enough to control his bloodlust, but there just may be a moment when they cross paths, and only one might come back alive.

Once dismissal was given by Konig, everyone filed out of the briefing room. He lingered behind to wait for Tempest to gather her paperwork, shuffling it into the leather portfolio. She wiped her face with one hand, an attempt to diffuse the anger Ghost had stirred up.

“I’m gonna snap, Colonel.” Tempest gritted between her teeth. “He’s insufferable.”

Konig leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “You kept it together, schatzi. I thought you were going to bite his head off right then and there.” The feeling was mutual.

Tempest scoffed, a smirk growing on her face. “And what message would that send to everyone else after saying ‘no fighting’?” She tucked the portfolio under her arm and faced Konig. Rather than making room for Tempest to walk pass, Konig straightened up, his chin dipping to look at her more directly. He could see the shift in her eyes from irritation to confusion.

“Speaking of messages, you want to explain yourself?” Konig was asking as her Colonel, at least his voice reflected that. In reality, he was a few more heartbeats away from folding to her all over again.

Clarity cleared up the puzzling glint in her gaze, and her voice lowered to a level that made his legs turn to lead. “You really want to talk about that right here, right now? We can talk about how I can have you so fucking strung out, leaving you pent up without release for a whole fucking week, huh?”

To anyone passing by the briefing room, Tempest looked like a subordinate expressing her grievances that could be connected to Ghost’s temperament and lack of respect. Not a single trace of the debauchery she was making out of Konig. Her resolve was crafted - no, stronger than carbon fiber, her words sinking deep into his bloodstream like venom. 

Her eyebrows raised after a pause passed when she didn’t get an answer from him. “At a loss for words, Colonel?” The added bite to his rank could rip through his jugular. “I left something on your desk. Maybe when you see it we can discuss this further.” The faintest smirk passed her mouth, and she stormed her way past Konig to leave the room.

Konig let out the breath that was caught in his throat since she started talking. His fist slammed on the nearby table when his pants became uncomfortably tight again.

----

The door clicked behind him as the sight of a black gift box greeted him, sitting perfectly on top of scattered files and loose papers across his desk. It was wider in dimension than its height, no larger than what could be a personal box of chocolates. After rounding the desk, Konig took a seat in his leather chair. He lifted the lid and set it aside, revealing a second box, but this one had a soft, velvet surface. Jewelry? No.

His deft fingers opened the top, its hinges giving some resistance. Inside sat a sleek, black collar with a metal ring adorned front and center, sitting on a bed of dark, red satin. Mein Gott… Konig’s eyes bugged, his fingers whispered against the high-quality leather. In the center of the collar was nestled a small card with scripted words, reading “If it goes on, there’s no turning back ♥” Konig was well aware of what this meant for him. Put the collar on, and he was hers. 

He already declared himself to be hers after the second time, the sober time they had phone sex, but this would be the physical affirmation that would seal the deal. If it weren’t for the fact that he wore the makeshift sniper hood, concealing both face and neck, he wouldn’t have even bothered taking the collar out of its pretty display case. She must have taken that into consideration when she picked it out. It was extremely arousing, the idea of having this dirty little secret with a physical memento. Going completely undetected. They could be amongst all of KorTac, and only two people would be aware of the collar’s presence.

The metal ring made a soft clink against its hardware as he pulled it from the satin bed, and he lifted the hood enough to bring the collar around his neck. Why did it fit so perfectly? How did she get the dimensions down so well? It fit snug, pressed flush against the column of his throat. It would take some time getting used to, he’s never worn something of the sort. The fabric of the sniper hood fell over it, and Konig tucked away the box in one of the drawers of his desk. The inner lining of the leather was soft and when it rubbed against him, he let out a soft sigh. I’m hers…

“I’ll take it you got my gift.”

Konig’s attention shot up to his unexpected visitor across the room, he didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Tempest. He went mouse silent. Her small boots thumped against the floor as she stepped forward to the front of his desk, leaning into it. Her face was still serious like the last time she saw her a few hours ago. Without answering, he flipped up one side of his hood to reveal the hardware hugging his neck. There was a glimmer in her dark eyes, like a furnace was turned on and was stoked with every piece of coal you could find.  

She finally smiled, wide and proud of his decision. “It looks so nice around that pretty neck…” her fingers traced along the edge of the cheap oak desk, and she made her way around. Konig’s chair swiveled to face her when she stopped in front of him, his heart already racing, and his breath labored. She knows exactly what that lethal inflection does to him, using it like the weapon that will be his demise. With Konig seated, he was at eye-level with Tempest, giving her access to use a hand to trail up his chest. The ghost of her touch had his body shuddering, he was ready to let out a throaty whine. He’s been so fucking touch-starved, it was enough to bring to life the entire network of his nerve endings. Her hand reached beneath Konig’s hood, looping a finger through the metal ring. “Perfect for me to just…” she gave a hard tug, and his body jerked towards her. Tempest leaned in, giving herself leverage on the armrest with her other hand. Her lips pressed close to his burning ear. “You like being my pet so much that you’ll wear that pretty little collar?”

Words disintegrated on his tongue, but when all he managed to do was nod, her demanding grip on his face pulled him out of his stupor. “Yes, my liebling.” He was crumbling to her will faster now that this was all happening face-to-face rather than over the phone. Her touch was flames licking at his stubbled jaw. Konig took a second to close his eyes shut only to look back at her with his baby blue stare.

“Look at those sweet puppy dog eyes.” Tempest cooed sardonically. “Already this hard just from my hand holding your face?” Her eyes darted down to look at the front of his pants at the tent he was pitching. She added to the stimulation with her thumb brushing over his stubble. “I’m gonna put that strong jaw to use.” Tempest released her hold on him and scooted in the space between Konig’s desk and chair. He paid close attention to her movements, following her again with a squeak of his chair turning.

Konig couldn’t pry his eyes away from Tempest if he wanted to. He watched her hoist herself up onto the edge of the desk, wiggling her hips to make herself comfortable in the space free of paperwork clutter. Apprehension and panic made his heart race when he noticed Tempest reaching to undo her belt, connecting the pieces of what she alluded to. “Right here?” A quick glance at the door to his office signified that she locked the door when she first came in. Still, the possibility of someone coming looking for Konig had him on edge. But wholly fuck, it was erotic. 

“You wanted to talk about my messages so badly earlier, and I’m gonna give you a chance to tell me what went through your head.” The fly of her pants was already down, and her lithe fingers slipped into the waistband of her pants to sit there.

Tempest was interrupted by Konig reaching down for her foot. “Here, engel.” He lifted one foot to rest on his knee, unlacing her boots with care to slip it off and set it to the side. His massive hands did the same as the other while Konig peeked up to her face, gauging her reaction. Konig thirsted for the slightest bit of delight from his domme. Her onyx eyes burned into him like a cigarette bud singing his skin, impatiently waiting for him to get on with it.

“I couldn’t chance another second of looking at that body of yours,” Konig muttered. “I didn’t want to know what it was like to come without touching myself.”

Hearing this brought her cruel pleasure, twisting that wicked smile wider. “It might just happen for you, sir.” Her hands began to shove off her bottoms, underwear and all. Konig assisted her, the act itself feeling extremely intimate. He did it mostly to avoid making direct eye contact with the thing he desired most right now. To avoid jeopardizing his chances of having any release from all of this. Tempest closed her legs off by crossing one over the other. “Keep talking.”

Konig bit down on his lip as he could see a tuft of groomed hair at the apex of her thighs. “My thoughts paled in comparison to seeing the real deal,” his German accent thickened as he went on. “Could see the outline of your nipples… the shape of your bare ass.” All thoughts ceased when her legs parted, the display of her glistening pussy left him open-mouthed. Paled in fucking comparison was the understatement of the year. His hips bucked once in his chair, hands gripping on the armrests so hard the leather groaned in his strong hold. Someone would have to stab his eyes out to make him look away from that beauty-

“Eyes up here.”

He let out a pained whine, willing himself to make eye contact with her. Fuck, he could already smell her from where he sat, it brought him to the brink of drooling like a wild animal. “Let me taste you, mein hase. Please, I need to have you.”

“Already this needy, after all the waiting you’ve done. Going the past couple of weeks with nothing but my voice and those looks you give me in the weight room? Don’t look at me like that, I know you look.” Tempest readied two of her fingers with a swipe in her mouth, not like she fucking needed it. Her greedy pussy swallowed up both digits as her strokes moved in and out of her at a languid speed. Her neck rolled back as she let out a soft sigh, the small part in her lips going very noticed by Konig as he coded every look, every sound and scent into his very soul. 

“I do, I have watched you.” Konig confessed. “I’ll make you feel good, liebe. Please, I need you.” It was taking everything to not lunge at her and claim that pretty cunt with his tongue, his fingers, anything she desired.

Her fingers left her pussy neglected, poor thing. Konig caught the sheen of her arousal coating her fingers, webbing between her fingers when she spread them just enough. Instead of offering it up to him, she sucked on her own fingers, eyes rolling back in her skull. This was pure torture at this point. His cock was strangled in his pants, and he wasn’t about to touch himself when he was so close to having what he needed. Her fingers left her mouth with a gentle smack as she shifted her hips a little more forward. “Finish the job.”

Tempest couldn’t finish her command without Konig lurching forward like a starved predator. He lifted his hood just enough for his mouth to latch onto his target while his rough, calloused hands reached underneath her to cup her perfect ass. The tug had a sharp gasp coming from her when he pulled Tempest closer to him, her hips hanging off the ledge with the assist of Konig holding her in place. One of her legs fell limp to the side, so he pulled a hand away from her just to toss that lazy leg over his shoulder, giving her better leverage.

His growl was primal, almost demonic. Vibrating against her sex. Konig swiped his tongue from the bottom of her entrance, all the way up just below her clit. Tempest choked back a moan, clenching it tight in her throat to keep it from echoing in the room. The sound coming from Konig was a warning for her to give him every cry and moan, he wanted to hear it all the same way she ordered him so many times before. When she tilted her head down to meet his feral stare, the half-lidded, eyebrow furrowed expression she gave him had the cum shooting up his shaft dangerously quick. 

Konig had to close his eyes and breathe to calm himself down as his tongue continued exploring her divine taste. He was drunk on it all, the taste, the way her body twitched and squirmed at every flick of his tongue, the privilege of pleasing his domme, the look she had just given him. What he would give to make her stay like this, splayed out on his desk for him to take. 

After teasing her with a few laps up and down her slit, he moved on to circle his tongue on the neglected bundle of nerves, rolling it between his lips with a nibble. It made her squeal, something Konig had never heard from her. “Fuck, wait…” now she was the babbling mess at his mercy. “Too good~” Her small hand gripped onto the back of his head, scrunching up the fabric of his mask.

He wasn’t stopping now, not after the teasing she has been doing to him all this time. Konig wanted her trembling, quaking on his tongue. To show her what she’s been holding out on, make her regret it. To melt any and all thoughts floating around in that pretty head, his name being the only thing she will remember. “Too much for you to handle, pretty baby?”

“Shut up, almost there.” Tempest mewled as her hips started rutting into his assault on her clit. Konig didn’t need a warning of her impending climax, he could hear it in the crescendo of her moans. His hair was now tangled beneath the stranglehold she had on him. The sound of his name falling from her lips endlessly was a whole entire music score dedicated just to him. He kept the pace strong and steady, fueled by the need to make her come undone.

And that came sooner than anticipated. Her thighs squeezed the sides of his head as she writhed and bucked against his face. She tried scooting away from him, but it gave him the angle to pin her hips down, freeing his hands to add to the mix. Cries and screams pierced the air, a cacophony of stuttering breaths and whimpers of overstimulation. His tongue may have eased up on its ministrations, but he kissed the overworked nerve, open mouthed and lazily. “Mein perle…” Konig whispered against her sex, as if speaking to her pussy rather than her. A single digit lined up with the entrance of her weeping cunt, she was more than ready to take his thick fingers. “One more, liebling. Give me one more.” 

“Ohh…” Tempest’s back arched off the desk as Konig offered her his finger, her walls greedily sucking him in as she continued to pulsate from her first orgasm. “Konig...!” Oh, how he loved hearing her squeal his name. 

“You can take it, for me.” It wasn’t an order; it was a plea to let him break her apart one more time. He wanted to be the only thing on her mind as she fell asleep tonight, his name falling from those perfect lips in the dead of her slumber. Because he sure as hell was going to be dreaming of the way her face contorts and twists in blissful agony as she begs for him to ease up on her swollen pussy.

She was already tensing up for another, Konig could feel it in the way her body responded to his finger curling against that spot. “That’s it, come for me.”

Tempest did just that, convulsing and sobbing through each shockwave that racked her body. Konig pulled his mouth and finger away, knowing she was sensitive as hell from what he just put her through. He slid a hand behind her lower back and neck, lifting her from the desk and onto his lap to straddle him. She continued to tremble through the high, her hot breath against his neck as her arms found their way around his torso. 

Konig wanted to stay like this with her, forgetting everything else that happened outside his office. It didn’t matter. None of it. He rubbed her back as she started to settle down. “How was that schatz?”

A pleased hum was her response before she sat up to move his mask away to reveal his lips. “Need to taste.” She leaned in for a forceful kiss, her tongue slipping past his lips, groaning at the perfect mixture of his saliva and her arousal. As if she couldn’t get any hotter.

[boybasher]

[gvnwitchrxse]

𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱 💋

I can’t get over the idea of a big, beefy, pure hunk of mussel man getting absolutely destroyed by his little wife/girlfriend! There known to be an absolute monster in the streets. Crushing anyone they get there large, scared hands on in a fight. But in the comfort of your shared bed he’s nothing but a puddle of what he used to be underneath you. Panting whiny pleas, and apologizing over and over as you fuck yourself on his monster dick. Just a moment earlier he was staring down at you with a lopsided grin. “ Aww you think you can top me baby? When you get tired just let daddy know.. I’ll be sure to take care of ya.” Oh if only you had a camera to show everyone his pathetic state. He whined staring up at you with half lidded, teary eyes. Sweat shone on his forehead and chest as he panted, his grip tightened by the second on your waist. He sobbed before releasing a guttural moan. He threw his head back up into the pillows, before spilling his hot load in your dripping sex. You stilled on top of him momentarily relishing in the feeling of fullness. He barely opened his eyes staring up at you silently begging for mercy. You cooed at his shuddering while rolling your hips into his cock. You smiled feeling sickly sweet as you stared him down. You leaned forward slightly beginning to tweak his hardened nipples. “ when you get tired just let mommy know…I’ll be sure to take care of ya.” You quickly straddled him, his shine covered cock slipping inside your stretched cunt again easily. His eyes shot opened as he released a string of curses.

Izuku Midoriya, Touya Todoroki, Gojo Satoru, Hakari Kinji, Tengen Uzui, Inosuke Hashibira, Eren Yeager, Jean Kristien, Denji Hayakawa~

[angelsforthenight]

arcane women nsfw headcanons

(vi, caitlyn, sevika, ambessa)

cw: 18+, overstimulation, brief mention of bdsm, choking, spit, i talk about both topping and bottoming with each characters.

vi:

when topping: eats it for her own pleasure: meaning she can have her face buried in between your thighs for hours and hours on end, pushing you back down onto the bed whenever you’d try lift yourself up and get away from the onslaught of overwhelming pleasure. service top when she’s in a good mood, sure — she’d be obsessed with your sounds, the way your walls would flutter around her. it would be making love rather than sex: sweet and tender. but when she isn’t in a good mood? she’d be selfish and greedy. more focused on her own pleasure than yours. her stroke game would be Crazy… ?!?? fast and rough as fuck. like let us breathe, damn!

when bottoming: a shameless MOANER!!! vocal as fuck obviously. she drools, whining in frustration when she doesn’t get what she wants. loves to arch her back. she’d have sensitive ass nipple piercings that would drive her insane if you touched them, crying out if you’d flick your tongue against them. pants like a bitch and breathlessly begs to cum hehehehe

caitlyn:

when topping: would treat you as if you were a fucking science experiment, meaning she’d explore what would stimulate you the most and push you to extreme lengths to see what would truly break you. murmuring ‘ah…’s and humming to herself in fascination when she clocks your reactions, what would make you squirm and twitch like crazy. she’d be pretty cruel, not giving a fuck if you’d start crying. a little ‘poor baby’ would suffice. a freakaleek…. bdsm would go WILDDDD with her, and you wouldn’t expect it too; the way she carries herself so humbly in public.

when bottoming: heavy breather until you’re, like, three rounds in… that’s when the whining and the drawled moans and whimpers start to come out full throttle. power bottom, would communicate if she wanted you to keep doing what you’re doing. “just like that, don’t stop…” would lace her fingers through your hair if you were eating her out, gripping it tightly if the pleasure was truly messing her uppppp! not only your hair, her hands would find purchase in anything to hold on to if you were fucking her good, good.

sevika:

when topping: ohhh this bitch likes to taunt… i mean, taunt taunt you. she’s so teasing, laughing at the helpless look on your face. she’d force you to look up at her, make eye contact as she’s fucking you senseless. would play coy when she’d stop just as you were on the brink of releasing, “oh? is something wrong?” would gently yet patronisingly shush you if you started to cry. oh my fucking god and the smearing??? she would spit on your already weeping pussy and spread it with her fingers, mixing it with your arousal. shit, she’d make you suck her fingers before smearing it all over your face, especially if your face was already wet with tears. she’d love squishing your face, giving it a playful shake whilst knowing you were on the brink of passing out. PET NAMES!!!! bunny, baby, princess, sweetheart would not fail to leave her lips. good at hiding how pathetic she really is, except when she’s eating the fuck out of your pussy, being so driven by your sounds and the way you taste that she’d cum without even being touched.

when bottoming: professional hip buckler. so fucking stupid. you’d see a completely different side to the sevika she usually presents herself as, being a needy and whining mess instead: eyes rolling to the back of her head. loves being overstimulated, babbling words like ‘yesyesyes’ that slur together. if you’d choke her, you’d be able to visibly see her brain kick down a few gears; the foggy eyes, arched eyebrows and slack jaw combo would be sososo cute :(( would nod along like a bobble-head to anything you’d tell or ask her to do, with her lil puppy eyes too. maybe a little bit of a masochist,,,,, shhhhhh

ambessa:

when topping: oh ambessa would know how to FUCK. it would be so easy for her to find your sweet spots, and she’d be vigilant like a hawk about it. she’d hit your g-spot consistently, her movements precise and efficient. she’d enjoy your shyness, your struggle with looking at her in the eye: finding it adorable. would talk you through your orgasm. sweet voice whispering praises in your ear as you teetered on the edge of a searing climax. your waist would be her favourite thing to hold on to, especially if she’s giving you back-shots. her lips would be rested in a satisfied smile throughout the entire thing.

when bottoming: hmmmmm i feel like bottoming would kind of be an extension to her topping, meaning she wouldn’t be a bottom 😭 ambessa is such a dominant, powerful character that it’s quite hard to imagine her as submissive. so she’d just let you pleasure her once in a while, praising you as you’d lap up her juices like a dog, fuelling you to do more. her moans would come from her throat, face falling a little if it felt a little too good.

a/n: fofmfhskejfnsjwjdnnwjw something small whilst i cook up a long abby fic. (i miss writing long story fics🙁) lmk ur nsfw headcanons ab these characters >3<

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 1

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one's a little different for me, but I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it too. But don't worry, my trademarked angst isn't gone forever. 🤭

Huge thanks to @biteofcherry for talking through the initial idea with me and @bigtreefest for being a sounding board throughout the whole writing process.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Sixty days.

That’s what the certified letter said. The one he had to sign for. The one from Linda.

When she and Harlan had told him they were cutting him off, he’d rolled his eyes. What did that actually mean? He wouldn’t have access to his trust anymore? Whatever, that was fine. He had his checking account. He had his house. He had credit cards. The only thing he thought it really meant was that he wouldn’t have to see any of his asshole family ever again. He was coming out ahead, all things considered.

Except. He didn’t actually have much of anything, as it turned out. His parents were on his bank accounts and credit cards. The deed to the house was under Linda’s name. And she was fucking evicting him.

It was this panic, wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing, that he wasn’t used to. That he didn’t know what to do with. He’d gone out of his way, worked hard to make sure he never felt this way. To make sure his life was comfortable and easy. And now his asshole granddad and bitch mother had ruined all that. Now he had sixty days to find a place to live.

He needed to come up with a plan. He could do that. He was good at plans. But where to start? He couldn’t afford a place he’d actually be willing to live in on his own right now (he couldn’t afford a shitty place either, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that). His grandfather, during the announcement of Ransom’s new status, had suggested he get a job, but fuck that. Ransom knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t meant for work. And also, any job that wouldn’t make him want to shoot himself required relevant experience and degrees and all sorts of other things Ransom didn’t have. So getting a job was out.

He could sell his things but, as he’d been so rudely informed by this entire situation, he didn’t actually own much. The only thing of significant value that his name was actually on was his car. But he’d rather cut off his own arm than sell his vintage BMW. So he marked that down as an absolute last resort. 

He could see if he could stay with a friend until he got things figured out, but all of his friends were assholes and he already knew that none of them would say yes. Plus, all of his friends were assholes and he’d sell his own body before he asked any of them for a favor.

Actually…

Okay, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. He knew exactly how hot he was. He’d been very aware of that since he was a teenager. And if he sat down and actually thought about what his biggest skills were, it’d be fucking and talking. In that order. This could work.

But how to go about it? He wasn’t eager to go out and stand on a corner in barely anything at all hours. Same went for sitting in a hotel bar and hoping for the best. Plus, he didn’t like the uncertainty of all that. He needed a reliable, steady stream of income that would be there whenever he needed it.

And that’s when he remembered Andrea. 

His friend Chad had dated her for about six months. Well, “dated.” Everyone in their circle knew exactly what that arrangement was, even if Chad had never admitted it. Ransom pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

Hey, where did you meet Andrea?

The dick took two hours to respond.

Andrea? At the grocery store. Why???

 Ransom responded immediately with an eyeroll emoji and followed it with

Cut the shit, asshole. What was the app?

The three dots to show Chad was typing appeared and disappeared three separate times before Ransom finally got the truth.

SUGR

But watch out, bro. That shit was way more expensive than it was worth.

Ransom smiled. That was exactly what he was counting on. 

He didn’t bother correcting Chad about which side of this arrangement he was hoping to be on. He didn’t need the embarrassment of anyone knowing that mommy and (grand)daddy had finally cut him off. And if this worked the way he hoped it would, no one would ever need to know. 

The first setback was that he had to pass a background check before he could join the app. What a fucking hassle. And it took a whole week before he got the email telling him he could move forward with setting up a profile. He could physically feel the number of days he had to find another place to live ticking down. The constriction around his chest got tighter with each one. 

But in that week of waiting, he became even more convinced that this was a good idea. There had to be tons of old hags desperate enough to bankroll him in exchange for sex with a hot youngish thing. And he’d be able to suck it up and do what was needed if it meant his lifestyle wouldn’t have to change. Hell, that's what viagra was for.

The other thing he’d done while he waited was take about a hundred pictures of himself. He’d used all his best outfits—designer sweaters, skintight t-shirts, pants that hugged his ass. He did fifty pushups and then took a bunch shirtless so that he was sweaty and his abs popped. He had a few that were just of his junk in gray sweatpants. And then he threw in a couple straight up dick pics for good measure. He was ready.

But, ugh, there were so many forms to fill out first. He had to agree to all of the terms and conditions. The company reserves the right to blah blah blah. The company does not guarantee yada yada yada. Agree, agree, agree. 

There were forms that asked him to detail the expenses he wanted covered and another that wanted him to rate kinks based on his interest. These were both optional so he skipped them. Was he the only one who understood what was happening here? He'd do whatever she wanted that guaranteed him the most money. That was it.

Finally, he got to the point where he could build his actual profile. It automatically imported some of the biographical information he had to give to set up his account, which wasn’t ideal. Hugh D. 35, stared back at him. He normally hated his given name, but he didn’t hate the way it kind of seemed like Huge Dick here. He could work with that. But that 35. That– that felt old for this sort of thing. He tried to change it to 30, but it wasn’t editable. Well. That was fine, right? He was going after women. Weren’t they known for being less shallow than men? That was part of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Yeah. It’d be fine. It just meant he knew what he was doing in bed. That’s what mattered.

He moved on to pictures. They only let you add fifteen, so he combed through all the ones he’d taken and picked the fifteen best. He scrolled through the ones he’d chosen before he clicked save and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was good. He was hot as fuck.

He skipped through all of the useless essay questions. Who cared what his interests were or what he was offering?? His dick pics spoke for themselves. 

But he did put something in the headline area. Call me Ransom. >20k/month only

Perfect. Done. Save. Now he just needed to sit back and wait for the DMs to roll in.

The DMs did not roll in. It’d been forty-eight hours, and he’d gotten absolutely nothing. He couldn’t understand it. What was wrong with these women? He was offering himself up at a fucking steal.

He’d figured the onus was on the buyer to make the first move, but maybe he’d gotten the etiquette wrong. Maybe he needed to sell himself a little more aggressively. 

He went to the browse feature and set his filters for women with the biggest budgets. Then he sent a random ten of them a simple “hey”. Then he made himself close the app.

When he came back a few hours later, he was chagrined to find that he hadn’t gotten any responses. There must be something wrong. When he went to the chats to make sure he hadn't missed something, half of them weren't even there anymore, and he couldn't find the corresponding profiles either. He refreshed the notifications page. He restarted his phone. He uninstalled then reinstalled the app. Nothing made a difference.

Finally, as he was checking his settings, a message popped up.

Honey, what are you doing?

Yes! Finally! 

He clicked on the profile. Carolyn M., 55. Under what she was offering was rent, living expenses, and a negotiated allowance. Perfect. 

He wrote back

I'm looking at your pictures and touching myself. What are you doing?

The response was immediate. 

Oh my god, no. That's not what I meant.

He stared at her message, confused, but then she sent another. 

I'm going against all of my instincts to just block you, and I'm going to take pity on you instead. 

He was typing before he even fully processed what she'd said.

Excuse me??

This is not the way to get what you want.

What the fuck??

You’re obviously new to this, so let me explain something to you. Yes, these relationships are transactional, but most of us are looking for a genuine connection as well. No one who wants that is going to contact you based on your profile. 

Who the hell did she think she was? Ransom knew what he was doing. He’d never had any issues picking up women. He didn’t need help. He locked his phone with a scoff and threw it on the couch as he got up and moved to his bar. He deserved a drink after dealing with that bullshit. 

As he poured himself a glass of eighteen-year-old scotch, he paused. This bottle was $700. Who knows what everything in this bar totaled to? And this whole house. Fucking shit. He was down to forty-nine days. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

He took a large gulp of his drink and then picked his phone back up. He could do this. He could play the game. He could fake anything if it meant his life didn’t have to change.

Fine. How do I fix it?

Start by filling out the information. Be honest. Any prospective match will want to get a sense of who you are. Right now the only thing I can tell about you from your profile is how highly you think of your own dick.

This fucking bitch.

Okay, sure. What else?

You are demanding a lot of money without giving any details about how that money will be spent. Anyone who sees that will immediately feel taken advantage of. The best version of these relationships is an equal give and take. A lot of us are here because we enjoy taking care of someone. We don’t enjoy feeling like a faceless ATM. Give an actual, honest account of the expenses you would like covered.

God, this was annoying. But he had to keep his eye on the prize.

Anything else??

Put some actual effort into your first message to someone. Something you think you might have in common, something you liked about their profile, or a relevant fact about yourself. ‘Hey’ isn’t going to get you anywhere. And don't just jump into sexting immediately. 

Despite himself, he took a screenshot of the conversation. If it helped him get more money, it was worth it.

Alright. I’ll do it.

You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone helps you out like this.

He rolled his eyes.

Thank you.

He hoped she could feel the sarcasm coming through the screen.

Well, look at that. Maybe you can be someone’s good boy after all.

The heat that rushed to his face at that– He didn’t know what that was. Annoyance probably. What else could it be?

He was about to send something snarky back when her status suddenly switched to offline. Goddamn bitch.

Ugh. It took so much effort to take things seriously. To act like he cared. This was exhausting. 

But he could do it if he kept the goal in mind: being the pampered pet of some rich old lady. Once he’d achieved that, all he’d ever have to do again was get it up for her once or twice a week, tops. He just had to get there.

So he poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a slow sip as he looked at the first section of his profile he’d previously left blank. The About Me header stared back at him as the cursor blinked. Come on. He could do this. What did these women want to hear?? He wished he could see other prospective babies’ profiles. Do some market research. 

He skipped down to the next section: Looking For. He’d already selected women with no age restrictions. Now he just had to get into the specifics. Ok, this he could do. Buttering people up was a skill he’d been honing his entire life.

A woman with life experience who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. Someone to share good times, good food, and good sex with. And yes, someone to spoil me rotten. 😉

That was cute, right? Yeah, these old bats would love that.

Ok, now it was on to what he offered. He remembered what Carolyn had said about not wanting to feel like an ATM. He needed to make it seem like he’s was bringing something to the table (more than just his dick, that is, which, honesly, should have been enough).

I’m offering companionship with plenty of intelligent conversation. I’ll keep you from being bored at any functions you may need to attend, and I’ll look great on your arm doing it.

That seemed good enough for now. He could change it up depending on what he found waiting for him out there. 

He switched to the form for expenses. For rent, he put approximately 10k a month (he’d looked around the Boston area for what was available and that seemed to be the going price for the sort of place he wanted) with a note that his lease was ending soon and he’d need a new place to stay. That was close enough to the truth and made him seem like more of a charity case, which would normally bother him, but right now was exactly what he wanted. He divided up the rest of his asking price across utilities, clothing, and other expenses.

On the kink list, he started by putting yes to everything, figuring that’d make him more expensive. But would that look weird? Desperate? Fake? He went back and randomly switched a few to maybe and a couple to no. Ok, that was done. 

He went back to his photos and removed the straight up dick pics. He left the sweatpants one, but moved it to the end. And he added a couple more of himself in sweaters that he knew made people drool.

There was only one thing left. This fucking About Me. Come on! Okay. Okay.

The only thing I love more than reading is getting to talk about what I’ve read. I’m well-educated, and I’m at a point in my life where I just want to be able to enjoy things with good company. I love trying new restaurants, and I know my way around a whiskey menu. And as for other realms of experience you might be curious about, let’s just say I know what I’m doing. 😏

Ugh. God. He hated this. The whole thing was so fucking corny. That had to be good enough right? The last thing he did was delete everything but Call me Ransom from his header. And then, without overthinking it, he hit save and immediately put down his phone.

Goddamnit, fucking Carolyn was fucking right. The whole thing made his blood boil. But now, finally, the messages were rolling in. Sort of. Moderately. But it was something.

He’d gone back and tweaked a few things based on the response he was getting, and each improvement seemed to have made a difference. He was starting to get the hang of this bullshit.

But, frustratingly, he hadn’t managed to hook a whale yet. He’d had some promising conversations, but none had ultimately gone anywhere. How exactly were these conversations supposed to move from “Hi, how are you?” to “What say we make this official and you bankroll my entire life? I promise I’ll lay the pipe real good.” The one time he’d tried that, it hadn’t gone over well.

But god, the days were running out.

He sat down with his phone, hoping to find something that would help him strategize, when a new message popped up at the top of the screen. 

God, you’re pretty.

Ransom stopped and stared at the message. 

He couldn’t remember ever being called pretty before. Handsome, sure. Gorgeous, hot, all the time. But pretty– Pretty felt different. And he couldn’t explain why.

He clicked through to the profile.

And there you were.

Don’t you want to be good for me? the line under your profile picture read. Ransom swallowed involuntarily as he kept reading.

You were forty-nine, had founded your own business (although you gave no clues as to what that was), and you were looking for someone to take care of. Glancing at what you were offering, Ransom surmised that what he needed wasn’t outside of your budget.

He moved on to your photos. He picked up a little more caginess there. There were no straight-on pictures of your face, but he spent several moments looking at a close-up of just your smirk, soft lines framing your mouth. Then, as he continued to swipe through the pictures, he stopped again at one that was just of the back of your legs clad in shiny, thigh-high boots, with some of the tallest stilettos he’d ever seen.  Something about that image made his breath catch in his throat.

He moved back to your message and stared at it again, his fingers drumming against his leg. After thinking about it for far too long, he fired off a short response.

I know.

Your reply was immediate.

Yeah, I bet you do.

Tag List is open!

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @alexakeyloveloki @kmc1989 @awkwardgiraffe726 @watermelontidewater @alicedopey @lokislady82 @sassybearfire

[chaoticcompersion]

Edge of Obedience Part 2•D

***Part 1***

We barely made it into the backseat before I had him exactly where I wanted him.

Parked on a quiet side street in Brooklyn at 1 a.m., the city hummed around us, but in this car, he was mine.

He sat there, back against the seat, breathing unevenly, eyes dark with need. His cock—so big, so thick, so fucking desperate—strained against his pants, twitching at nothing. I hadn’t even touched him yet, and he was already a mess. The plug inside him had him so sensitive, stretched open, keeping him right on edge.

And I knew why he was this bad.

I had told him not to cum for the last four days leading up to this date. Four long days of denial, of building frustration, of his cock getting harder at just the thought of me.

I leaned in close, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Unbutton your pants."

His fingers fumbled as he obeyed, unfastening them and pushing them down just enough to free himself.

Fuck.

He was soaked in precum, the head of his cock glistening, still dripping. It leaked down his length, wetting his thighs, proof of just how pent up he was, how much he needed this.

I let out a slow, satisfied hum, dragging my nails lightly down his thigh, deliberately avoiding where he wanted me most. He shuddered.

"Look at you," I murmured, trailing my fingers just close enough to make him twitch. "You’re already so worked up. Four days without cumming, all plugged up, and now you’re sitting here, dripping all over yourself like a desperate little thing."

He swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes, ma’am." His voice was wrecked.

I finally wrapped my fingers around him, slow, teasing. He moaned, head tipping back against the seat. So big, so hard, throbbing in my hand like he could barely stand it. I stroked him lazily, watching him fall apart, his hips lifting just slightly, chasing more.

"Ma’am," he panted, "please… can I cum?"

I didn’t answer. I just squeezed the base of his cock and let go entirely.

His body jerked. He whined.

"Not yet," I said smoothly. "Hands behind your back."

He obeyed instantly, gripping his own wrists, thighs tense. I resumed touching him, drawing slow circles over his tip, playing with the precum pooling there. His thighs trembled.

"Please," he gasped, eyes blown wide. "Please, I need to—"

I stopped again.

"Fuck," he choked out, chest rising and falling.

I smiled. "That’s two."

He groaned, pressing his head back into the seat, fingers digging into his own wrists. His huge cock twitched, aching for attention, but I was in no hurry. I let my hands roam instead—his stomach, his chest, his thighs—touching everywhere except where he needed it most.

"Are you feeling it yet?" I asked, running my fingers along his inner thigh.

He nodded frantically, jaw tight. "Yes, ma’am."

I wrapped my fingers around him again, teasing, stroking him back to that edge. I felt his muscles go tight, his breathing sharp and erratic. He was right there.

Then I let go.

He gasped, body jerking forward as if chasing the pleasure I’d stolen.

I grinned. "That’s three."

His hands fisted behind his back. His cock—big, throbbing, so helpless in my control—twitched helplessly, flushed red, aching. He looked at me like he was about to fall apart.

"Poor thing," I cooed. "All plugged up, denied three times, four days without cumming, and you’re still just dripping. You must be a mess inside."

He let out a broken sound, shifting, adjusting the plug. I could tell it was getting to him, keeping him stretched while his cock throbbed untouched.

I let the silence stretch, watching him squirm, his need written all over his face.

Then I whispered, "I’ll count you down."

His whole body tensed. I stroked him slowly, deliberately.

"Five… four… three…"

I paused.

He gasped, hips bucking. "Two," he pleaded.

I smirked. "Wait, what number was I on?"

His eyes went wide. "Three," he said desperately.

"No, no, I think it was four."

"No, please!" He was shaking, panting, barely holding himself together.

I laughed softly. "Alright. Three… two… one."

"Cum."

His entire body jolted. His head snapped back against the seat, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. His cock pulsed hard in my hand, so much cum, hot ropes spilling over his stomach, his thighs, his brand-new shirt—the one he’d been telling me about at dinner.

Right as he moaned, broken and wrecked, someone walked past the car.

We both froze. His eyes snapped to mine, wide, horrified, so turned on.

And then—at the same time—we giggled, completely breathless, as his cock twitched one last time, spilling the last drops of his orgasm onto his ruined shirt.

He whimpered through it, hips jerking with each pulse, his thighs trembling. I stroked him through the aftershocks, milking every last drop from him.

When it was over, he collapsed forward, breathless, burying his face in my chest. I let him, running my fingers through his hair as he panted against me, completely wrecked.

"You ruined your shirt," I murmured.

He let out a weak, breathless laugh. "I don’t care."

I smirked. "I bet you don’t."

After a minute, he stirred, still dazed. His lips brushed my collarbone, his hands creeping up toward my chest.

"Can I see them?" he whispered.

I chuckled. "Absolutely not."

He groaned. "Please."

I ran a finger under his chin, tilting his face up to mine. "Beg me."

His eyes darkened. "Please, ma’am," he breathed. "Just let me touch them. Just for a second."

I shook my head. "You can do better than that."

His jaw clenched. He swallowed hard. "Please, please let me touch them. I’ll do anything, I—"

I tugged him up by the chin, just enough to kiss him, slow and deep.

Then I pulled back. "One more time."

His breath hitched. "Please, ma’am, let me touch your tits."

I smirked. "Good boy."

I guided his hands where he wanted them, watching the way his eyes went hazy with lust, how he groaned low in his throat as he finally got to feel me.

But I wasn’t done with him yet.

My hand found his cock again, still sensitive, still plugged. I gripped him, felt him shudder.

"You’re gonna go again," I taunted.

His eyes fluttered closed. "Fuck."

"Ask for it."

His voice was wrecked, desperate, his body already melting into mine.

"Please, ma’am. Let me cum again."

[n1ght0f-nyx]

giving him a fast and rough handjob that lasts what feels like several hours, he lays on the bed, his thighs squirming and clenching as you bully his sticky cock, he has cum a bazillion times, cum pooling at his thighs and stomach "oh god.. please mommy..i need more...d-d-dont stop!!" he begs and pleads, and you cant help but grin "don't worry babyboy...i wasn't planning on it~"

[gvnwitchrxse]

𝔒𝔒𝔘𝔘𝔘𝔘𝔘 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔏𝔒𝔙𝔈 𝔗𝔒𝔓! 𝔖𝔘𝔅! 𝔖𝔦𝔪𝔬𝔫 ℜ𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔶‼️‼️❤️‍🔥

I need more sub!top Ghost please I beg of yall

[imrllytootiredforthis]

i want a pretty boy on my dick like rn