angelqueef

[angelqueef]

softdom!gaz with anxious/inexperienced!reader who needs help loosening up

cw: 18+, oral m!receiving, boot humping, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, praise, cockwarming, minor petplay(?) (deer, doe, other nicknames used)

you’re tense, in every sense of the word. you flinch when silence breaks, your shoulders are stiff and elevated, when you’re focused your lips purse and brows tighten. it’s one of the first things kyle (and..everyone…) notices about you. but he sees through that brittle exterior, tames your hummingbird heart and settles you down. just one thumb pressed into the nape of your neck gets you breathing again.

it’s a relatively simple task for him, it took just a couple weeks for you to warm up—to melt under his brown eyes and buttery skin. but sex…sex is a different ball game. it took hours to get you to relax for him. so much so, he’s got you doing pelvic floor stretches and yoga in the mornings and evenings. he probably used a gallon’s worth of lube in one month. sometimes he’d think he had finally gotten through to you, you’d be blissed out and moaning just from a wet thumb to your clit and sugary praises, but the moment he’d gently line himself up to your hole you’d squeak and lock your thighs, refusing entry. and you’d cry, feeling guilty and insecure for ruining the moment, and he’d sit you on top of him and say “my sweet girl, poor little deer, hm? just need some time. let’s bump n’ grind for now, alright? that’ll be just fine.”

kyle would let you sob it out and thank him profusely, promising you’d do better next time. he’d reassure you, tutting and cooing and patting your butt until you both cum just from kisses and friction.

the next time, you cockily tried to take the lead. you’d built up enough confidence to kiss down his body and take his tip in your mouth after waking up from a nap, but you could barely get him in fully before your jaw pops and your neck burns. he’d tried to warn you, knowing you were being brash and impulsive, just wanting to impress him. but still, your sweet, big lug of a man would be so kind, wrapping himself around you and kissing away the tears that leaked from your eyes and nose.

“i’m sorry. i thought i could do it, i just wanna make you feel good,” you whined into his neck as he did his best at soothing you.

kyle shushed you, full lips pressing against your hairline, “i know, honey. i know. you’re just not ready yet. need a bit more time don’t ya?”

shame and embarrassment bubbled up—at your age you should know how to do these things by now. he’s the best at pleasing you, rocking your world and keeping you satisfied. why can’t you do the same?

———————————————————————————

it’s been two weeks since, but the whole thing still has you in a depression. you’re sitting at the kitchen table, spooning soggy cereal and watching the milk spill from the sides, feeling inadequate. the front door unlocks and you look up, just barely.

“i’m home, baby,” kyle announces, trudging his way to you. he tilts your chin up and ghosts a kiss on your honey and wheat flavored lips. you’re slouched, and he’s studying you—the way his t-shirt swallows you, the slight pout on your lips, knees to your chest. he’s comforted you as much as he can since it happened, but he knows how you are. poor thing.

“mm. cheerios?”

you offer a smile, one that doesn’t conceal the sadness, and lower your eyes to the hardwood.

you pause, “no boots in the house, kyle.”

your eyes meet his, and they hold a mischievous, seductive glint, “oh, whoops,” he bites his cheek to hide his cocky grin, “i’ll take ‘em off in a bit. come to the couch w’me?”

you squint with suspicion, but still grab his calloused hand as he leads you to the living room “…okay.”

he shakes off his jacket and undoes his belt. the evening sun shines through the window, highlighting the glow of the brown skin that surrounds his sinewy arms.

“what are we doing?” you ask with a sweet tilt of your head.

he plops on the couch and looks up at you, “i want you to kneel down in front of me, sugar pop.”

you freeze, you know where this is going. your heart lurches, beat rising to your throat, “nuh-uh, no. ‘m not doing it, kyle.”

“hey, calm down, ‘s okay,” his hands rub up and down your sides, sliding under your shirt to knead your skin, “i’m gonna get you ready this time, make sure you can take it. if you’re still not ready we can stop anytime, alright?” he pulls you to him, thighs squeezing yours. he can feel how stiff you are.

his voice goes lower, softer, just above a whisper, “try getting on your knees, we’ll take all the time we need.”

“but- what if i fuck up again? what if i can’t make you feel good?” you’re questioning even though your bare knees hit the floor.

“y’always make me feel good. we’ll keep practicing until you can fit all o’me in ya.”

you gulp, eyeing his crotch. it’s already begun to grow under his cargos. you’re terrified, you don’t want to gag and cry like last time, or even worse, get lock jaw. bile settles in your stomach at the thought.

“eyes on me, lil’ one,” kyle grabs your jaw, thumb and middle fingers sinking just below your ears, “open your mouth.”

he massages your jawbone, feeling the for the spot that clicks. “how’s it been feeling? still hurt?”

you shake your head no, brown eyes big and pleading, drool slick lips in a perfect “o”. fuck, what a sight.

“good,” he slips two fingers in your mouth, pressing down and circling against your tongue, loosening the muscle, “just relax for me, baby.”

you sigh, letting yourself melt a little as he does his work, both of his calloused hands wrapping around your neck and shoulders as he works out the kinks and knots you’ve been holding onto. he clicks his tongue and hisses when he feels the stiffness.

kyle’s brows are knit together in focus. he breathes deep, in and out, nodding after each exhale to get you to follow suit. your lids are at half mast, a sign you’re slipping into the headspace you so desperately need to be in.

“theeere she is,” he praises, closing your mouth manually, “y’feelin good?”

“mhm,” you nod, head loose and relaxed.

“you know, there’s a reason i kept on my boots in the house today,” he leads. your brows turn up, curious. he laughs a bit, leaning down to reach your ear.

“want you to ride one while i fuck your mouth. can y’do that, doe?” the gravel of his voice sends chills and butterflies straight through you.

your breath hitches, you’re blank. you want to, god you do, but you’re still unsure.

he clicks his tongue, “anyone home?”

you blink as he brings you back. deciding to swallow your fear and focus on being good, you nod, “y-yes, sir.”

he pats your cheek in approval, shifting his leg so his boot is right between your thighs, the tip just grazing your clothed cunt.

“go on, then,” he unzips his pants, letting his slick, hard cock spring against his tummy. you gasp, entranced by the sight, sitting yourself on the hard leather. hips rock back and forth and you let out a noisy sigh at the friction.

“lean forward f’me,” kyle commands softly, hand cradling the back of your head. he rubs himself on your cheek before slipping the tip just past your lips, letting you savor his precum before pushing it in further. he groans, “when i get to the back of your throat, i want you to swallow. wanna feel those pretty tonsils on me.”

you nod furiously, moaning at the wet heat building in your core, the sound of his voice, the nastiness of his words.

“deep breath.”

following his instruction, he pushes further into your mouth at a snail’s pace, letting you get accustomed to the weight and length of him. you gag and moan, vibrations reaching straight through him. he lets out a string of curse filled praises, gripping and petting the back of your head.

“there you go, good girl. nice and easy.”

hooded eyes meet your wide and glossed ones. tears dribble from your eyes and nose as you drool on his cock. you take a leap and lower your head onto him, swallowing hard once you feel the tip, you gag.

“jesus- f-fuck, honey,” he moans, and notices the worry in your eyes when your stomach pushes against your diaphragm, “no, no, don’t be scared-, damn, the gagging feels good. can you keep going?”

your hips stutter when you bob your head up and down, oh so slowly, shocked you can finally get him in.

“such a nasty, pathetic-,” he grits, “little thing. all for me, all mine.”

you whine, half in protest and half in pleasure.

he continues to watch you slurp up and slobber on his twitching cock, the sounds combined with the saliva hitting his balls brings him to the brink of orgasm. the taste of his salty pre sends pulses straight to the center of your legs, swelling up your clit and making you clench around nothing.

you pull back with a pop and swallow, “am i doing okay?” you ask, eyes teary and pleading for his answer. your lips are wet, puffy and plump with a pout. kyle can’t stifle the moan that rips from this throat.

he grabs your cheeks, accentuating the pout even more, “doin’ better than okay, doe. knew you had it in you.”

his words make you push yourself down on the boot harder, whining thank you’s and making out with his heavy balls.

“fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum. put it back in, want you to swallow it all.”

you inch his shaft down your throat, still wary. but for him, it’s slow, agonizing, teasing. he twitches against your tongue and you feel his balls tighten against your palm. your eyes roll back when you feel thick ropes of his spend hit the back of your throat—salty, warm, aquatic.

taking him out, you swallow and show off your tongue. glistening and pink, not a drop of cum in sight.

he damn near growls, letting out a prideful laugh, “come ‘ere, my girl. did so fucking good,” he pulls you up by your neck and kisses you with fervor, “so proud of you.”

tears start flowing from relief as you straddle him. the soggy fabric of your underwear presses against his half hard cock and it springs right back up again.

“did you cum too, baby?” he breaks the kiss, pausing to reach down and play with your panties, pulling them up so tight your lips swallow them. the cool, sticky fabric is pressed hard against your bud.

you moan, wide pupils meeting his, “nuh-uh, but s’okay, sir. i finally made you feel good.”

“oh, yes you did, sweet doe. made me feel so very good,” he leaves feather light kisses up your jaw and nibbles your ear lobe. he whispers, “but we can’t leave you unsatisfied, now can we?”

it’s less of a question and more of a soft demand—it’s dipped in sugar and cinnamon, stuffed into your mouth—you can’t deny it.

“n-no, sir…” you look away bashfully. you know what’s coming, and the thought makes your chest and cunt ache with desire and fear.

kyle pushes your panties to the side and bullies his fingers into your wet hole, you clench automatically, “hey, deep breaths. relax.”

you inhale deep through your belly, lowering yourself on his fingers slightly. you repeat this until you reach the base of his fingers, hissing at the growing pleasure and pain. he pumps and scissors his digits inside you, thumbing your clit in gentle circles. you moan, “feels- feels good.”

“yeah? want me to keep going?”

you nod furiously, your bottom lips is tucked under your teeth. you fall forward and suckle the warm skin that covered his jugular, his pulse becoming a pacifier.

he feels you pant against him, hips shivering and toes curled. he knows you’re about to cum, so he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock in one swift motion. you squeak and lift at the sudden feeling, too deep to register any fear or hesitation.

"go on, take it, honey. it's just me," he soothes, palming the cheeks of your ass. you fall back onto him and close your eyes, trying your best to just let him fuck into you. he hits your g spot every time without much effort, the waves of pleasure that hit you are overwhelming.

"s'too much," you sniff, "can't do it," you paw at his puffy chest, but he keeps you still, unwavering.

"yes you can, my strong girl. just let yourself feel good. s'okay. do you wanna stop?"

you inhale. as overwhelming as it is, stopping would be even worse. the thought of being empty without him feels like torture, so you give in.

"no..."

"atta girl. just keep breathing. i'm right here."

you nod and go back to moaning, crying, and leaving hickeys on his neck. ones he'd show off proudly, not caring if the rest of the force teases him. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, fucking into you quicker. his thrusts fill the living room with lewd sounds of slapping skin.

and suddenly, you feel it. the white hot ache shooting through you. your vision blanks and your mouth gapes open with a loud moan.

"there we go, that's it. keep letting go f'me, doe," he muses sweetly, thrusts slowing but still deep, "i'm so proud of you," he leaves a wet smooch on your temple, "so damn proud."

all you can do is let out a low whine, the orgasm and praise leave you fucked out and hazy, unable to say a word. kyle’s orgasm comes soon after—he spills inside you and lets out a sound you’ve never heard him make, a sound high pitched and broken. he relaxes against the couch, keeping you on top of him. refusing to pull out, he plugs his cum inside and silently hopes your gummy walls take shape of him.

you’re still crying and you’re thanking him profusely for being gentle, for having confidence in you, for helping you relax. he gives you more feather light kisses and praises in response, “it was all you.”

you notice he’s gone a bit soft and try to lift off him, but he grips your hips and slams you back down.

“nuh-uh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. we’re stayin’ just like this, baby.”

another pulse shoots through you, “for how long?”

“until we wake up,” he says with heavy eyes and a tired smile.

“okay,” you accept, simmering on him and drifting off.

———————————————————————————

a/n: feeling not so good ab this one. hope y’all like it. i’m tryna be consistent sowwy :/

[angelqueef]

heat wave | jason todd x black!f!reader

cw: 18+, angst, romance, reader and jason are emo af, toxic relationship, eventual smut, drabble-ish, not proofread

it’s past 2am, the room is still sweltering from the summer heat, air muggy and heavy. you lay on top of the comforter with nothing but a t shirt and underwear, scalp prickling with warmth under your bonnet. your phone lights up with a text from him—like clockwork, a notification that he won’t be back for another hour, again. you huff a sigh, scrolling through your message thread to count how many times he’s sent this exact text:

getting out of here as fast as i can. don’t wait up for me

you want to get used to it, you really do. you want to be the girl who takes his absences to the head and enjoys her own company, who doesn’t seek reassurance or attention or coddling, who leads a life that doesn’t seem to revolve around the empty space jason used to occupy.

not bothering to respond(you pettily turned on read receipts), you push yourself out of bed to get a glass of water. ice cools your skin slightly as you return to the room. despite the cold water, you’re suddenly hotter than before, the thin shirt that once felt cool and soft now felt heavy and rough against your shoulders and torso. your eyes sting from boiling tears. you’re overwhelmed, exhausted, angry. you lose control, ripping your shirt off your sticky skin and chucking it across the room, slamming your near naked body on the bed, face down in the pillow. you sob quietly, head pounding.

and just as you’ve begun to tucker yourself out, eyes heavy and stiff, the window slides open. you don’t dare to turn over and face him, too angry with him and too ashamed of your tears.

he knows you’re awake, though. he knows how different your breathing is, how tight your body seems when you’re uncomfortable.

“i’m home,” he speaks, a test to see if you’ll respond.

you only hum, voice thick with emotion.

he trudges to you, stripping out of his gunpowder scented uniform, “…i’m sorry, baby. i know i’ve been gone a lot. the heat’s makin’ people act up. hard to hold ‘em off”

sniffing, you turn to him. he’s bruised and battered, bicep smeared with blood from where he was cut through his jacket. you try your best to swallow the lump that rises in your throat again. as angry as you are, seeing him hurt is a worse feeling. your lip wobbles.

“w-what happened? are you okay?” your voice cracks and you cry more into the palms of your hands.

jason pinches the bone of his nose out of guilt and fatigue. he hates being the reason for your tears, he wishes you’d just go to sleep like he asks. but he knows you can’t do that.

“please. i’m fine. please, stop crying. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

you notice his voice is tinged with annoyance. it isn’t unreasonable, and he doesn’t mean it—he spends hours and hours fighting and defending, getting tied up and injured. all he wants is to come home without a word and wrap himself around you, to deal with the consequences in the morning. but you, inconsolable you, so sweet and sensitive. so worried about him being okay and unable to sleep when he’s not home. as tired as he is, he can’t ignore the way his heart tugs when he sees those puffy doe eyes peering up at him in the dark. he worms his way to you without a word.

you push at him, “you always tell me not to cry. but you’re always gone. and you always come home hurt. and- and now it’s too hot. and i can’t sleep. y’stupid, so, so stupid.”

despite your efforts to move him away and squirm out of his grasp, his big arms grip you tighter, pulling you into his lap and cradling your head against the crook of his neck, “i know, i know, baby. i’m so stupid for leaving you, hm?” you barely give a nod, feeling bad for calling him out of his name, but not apologizing either, “you know i hate leaving you. i don’t wanna be gone for this long, but i have to. please, understand me, sweet girl.”

you break down more, “‘m sorry, jay. i am. i don’t mean to be so needy. i just miss you, so much.”

“it’s not easy being with a guy like me, i get it,” his voice softens as he studies the sheen of sweat that covers your neck and blows cool air onto your skin. you let out a noise, something between a sigh of relief and a weak, pleading moan.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i can’t change this life of mine. i want you to try and sleep while i’m gone. you can’t keep wasting tears on me,” jason leans back to get a better look at your feverish, wet face. the brown skin of your cheeks is hot under his thumbs as he wipes your tears.

his chest aches and he pulls you in. he’s tutting and cooing at you, shushing your sobs, “pretty girl, y’got better things to do than worry ‘bout me.”

“no i don’t.”

a laugh escapes him, and he winces at the sudden sharp pain under his rib. you sit up away from him.

“what’s wrong? where are you hurt?” you probe and poke at his tender skin.

“everywhere,” he hisses, “but it’s okay.”

“no, i need to clean you up. c’mon.”

you pull him into the shower, stripping the both of you from whatever damp clothes stuck to your skin. lukewarm water comforting and cooling you down.

blood and grime pools around the pads of your feet as you gingerly bathe him, minding the deep cut on his arm. it’s silent between you, save for the pitter patter of the water and the occasional wince. maybe this is all you needed, the washing away of shame and sadness.

you lotion the both of you and dress the wound, and jason finally seems to relax. the frown line that permeates the skin between his brows softens, his shoulders drop, he’s slouching. and you’re kissing him everywhere, apologizing for not being stable without him, for continuing the chaos that he wants to leave in the city streets. he returns one as well, voice cracking from guilt. he hates not being home to swaddle you, to protect you.

and you forgive each other. you always do. his green eyes, albeit shadowed and tired, never lose sight of you, flitting from your warm, brown ones to your plump lips and to the soft skin of your neck.

the pair of you crawl in bed, still hot, still naked, but clean—forgiven.

“i love you,” jason states through the gravel of his voice.

your eyes well with tears again, this isn’t the first time he’s said it. your love for each other is quite evident, actually, but it never fails to hit you in the chest each time.

“i love you too.”

your lips find his in the moonlit room, pressing against them so gently, like you’re scared. he eases you though, working to make the kiss deeper, cradling the back of your head. his tongue slips between your lips to find yours.

you moan, throwing your leg over his hip. jason grinds against you, cock stiffening as the tip grazes your folds.

“fuck, baby, you’re so warm,” he palms the fat of your ass and pulls you closer.

“please, jay..need you,” you whisper.

“i’m right here, sweet girl,” jason bucks against you, precum and your own wetness making his movements sloppy and erratic. he groans, reaching down to line himself up with your pulsing hole. you arch your back more, breasts pressed against his chest, giving him easier access to slide into you.

“just like that, open up f’me, pretty,” he inches his way in, hissing as your slit swallows his reddened tip.

you moan more, nails digging into his scalp and the nape of his neck. more tears prick your eyes when he fills you completely, veiny shaft rubbing your velvety walls.

more shame creeps up inside your core, mixing with the pleasure and creating a knot in your stomach. this is a cycle for you two, you both know it. he leaves, you cry, he coddles you, you wrap his cuts up, he makes up it to you with sex. your moan breaks into a sob, and he understands.

“i know, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. just feel good for now, please? we deserve it, just let me help,” his voice warbles from pain and sweet ache, “we’ll talk more in the morning.”

you nod, relaxing against him. you breathe in and out, closing your eyes as you focus on how he’s making you feel physically rather than the how and the why.

“you feel good,” you squeak, voice sad and soft.

“yeah?”

“mhm. more please..”

he humps into you with more vigor, kissing and nibbling your ear lobe.

“baby, ‘m gonna cum. fuck- cum with me, gonna-,” his rhythm breaks and he bites down on the sweet skin of your shoulder.

you grind and push yourself against him to get closer to your climax. he reaches down a sweaty hand frantically and circles your clit.

“c’mon, let’s cum together, you got it,” he mumbles.

your orgasm crashes into you out of nowhere, stomach tightening as your brows knit together. he pulls out quickly, ropes of his spend spilling onto your damp tummy.

you pant together—hot, sweaty, exhausted. he pushes you onto your back and kisses down your body, you vibrate from sensitivity.

“fuck, ‘s too much, can’t breathe,” but you’re gripping his onyx locks, pressing his face to your skin.

“let me clean you up this time,” he licks his own cum from your tummy, making his way down to your sloppy cunt. he flattens his tongue against the slit, making one big slurp up to your swollen bud. you give a moan, sleepy and overwhelmed.

jason gives one final kiss on your lips. you taste yourself and him on your mouth—salty, sweet and bitter. you cling to him tighter, he breathes in the warmth radiating from your chest.

“i’m sorry i’m like this. i’ll do better,” you run a hand through his damp hair once more.

jason doesn’t respond, already deep in slumber. you sigh, unsure if you’d talk about it in the morning like he said.

your heart breaks in the pitch black of the room. you know this isn’t good for either of you. but you’re too in love to let go. so you’ll cling to him for now, until he slips from your grasp and leaves you in the night for good.

—————————————•——————————————

a/n: just a little something i wrote while i work on metal and pine. shout out to my jason todd peeps on here, your knight will be back soon!

[angelqueef]

John Price with reader! who isn’t asking for what they want so he shows them how to by edging the shit out of them.

cw: 18+ mdni, smut, edging, full nelson (but it’s only fingering), daddy kink (icky), dad bf! Price.

Price is always reminding you, how even if you are his “big strong girl” and to always let him know if you need help.

He’s a call or text away, even at the dead of night.

Well it’s hard for you to ask for help. You’ve been like this since you were young, you’re used to doing things on your own, whatever you wanted you’d get it your own way. You moved yourself out of your parents place and into an apartment yourself (with paid movers but alone nonetheless), got a new job yourself, when your car wasn’t working, you took 3 buses to make it on time, drive yourself on a two hour drive just to see the sunset, and solo trips—

in other words, hyper independent.

John didn’t catch it when he first started dating you, but it’s the way you simply did things and didn’t ask. Didn’t ask him to help you bring in groceries or when you needed help getting your old mattress out your flat, you’d magically did it yourself. Or when you were so drained from work, you told John you were fine and then spent a week holed in your apartment until you pulled yourself together, alone. When John questioned you about it you simply gave him a shrug. The straw that broke the camels back was when you got stuck in the rain for 3 hours and you forgot to call him that dire time of need.

You could’ve easily asked for help. You chose not to.

So here you were, sat in John’s lap, a hiccuping and withering mess, legs spread open and your feet on his knees, your back meeting his chest, while John plays with your soaking pussy.

But he’s not letting you cum.

No, no, noooo, this wouldn’t be a punishment if you came so soon, would it?

“ ‘M sorry Price, hnngh- mmm- hicc- ‘m sorry, was wrong.” You babble, stupidly grinding your hips against his fingers that have been putting you through hell for the last two hours.

He pulls his fingers out, making an exhausted whine fall from your lips, “I knooow lovie,” he coos, letting his drenched fingers brush through your wet folds, then to your pearl. “But you have to use your words for me, yeah? Tell me when you need Daddy’s help.”

A broken sob comes out of your mouth, legs shaking as the older man gives your throbbing clit a little flick, before circling it slowly with his thumb. you shake your head, head falling back against him. “ ‘S too much! I don’t- I can’t-“ you interrupt yourself with your own moans.

John holds you tight in his hairy muscular arms, pulling your legs over his forearms, he adds more pressure down to your clit until he knows your about to fall apart, eyes fluttering shut and making that beautiful face, deep in pleasure. The older man, holds you close when you whine about him stopping, fondling the pink of your cunt, his lips kissing your shoulder, “I told you baby, you have to use your words. What do you need help with? Hm?”

His tongue swipes from your neck to your ear, sucking and nibbling at your earlobe. He tsks at your quietness towards the question, giving your pussy a little slap that makes you keen, eyes opening to look back at the blue set looking down at you. “I asked you a question [+].”

In a low eyed haze, you purse your lips, chest falling up and down rapidly, youre humping the air like a desperate slut for any contact you can get but to no avail. Your face gets damp with tears, you slur, “Help- anngh- please help me Daddy. W-wanna cum, hicc hmm- please help me cum.”

“Gooood girl dove, doin so good for your Dad.” He slips two fingers in your aching hole, curling and thrusting them ever so perfectly in your sopping pink walls. You grip at his arms, as your walls quickly tighten and spasm around his thick digits.

“See? Wasn’t that hard to ask for help, was it?”

a/n: this is my audition tape to anon who sent me a request for dad bf John. I’m scoping the scenery out. Trying to prove how this is fun and camp !

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[angelqueef]

guys i’m coming clean and admitting i know nothing about cod i just think the men r hot and i learn about their personalities from fanart and other fanfic is this legal🥀

[angelqueef]

happy juneteenth beautiful black people!

[angelqueef]

thinking about gaz coming home drunk and his mommy kink slips out on accident…is this anything…

cw: 18+, mild sexual content, mommy kink, is gaz ooc? lmk, alcohol mention

he’s burst through the door when he finally picks the right key for the lock, softly your name and kicking off his boots. you were half asleep and reading dumb arguments under youtube videos, eyes almost shut until you heard the commotion outside your shared bedroom.

“[x], where’re ya, baby? why’re you hiding?” you don’t even have time to answer because he forces the door open, beelining straight to you.

you embrace him, clad in nothing but a white robe that did little to hide your curves, “‘m right here, big guy.”

he pauses above you, brown eyes glazed and raking over your figure. they pause at your breasts, nipples hard under the cool silk. before you know it he’s practically falling on top of you and leaving sloppy, whiskey scented kisses on your neck.

you giggle and cry his name in feigned protest, “you’re drunk, baby. relax.”

“nuh-uh, y’too sexy, mommy,” his voice, typically smooth and sexy, now had a soft and whiney edge to it. something you haven’t heard before.

muscles tense underneath him, “what did you just call me?”

he peaks his head up, blush deepening his brown cheeks. he’s only halfway processed the name he just called you.

“m-ma. mama. you know- like, hot mama. that’s what i said- didn’t call you nothin’ else. freudian slip ‘s all.”

“oh, that was a freudian slip, alright,” you laugh sarcastically. a new heat sending pulses to your core.

“stop…’s nothin’, really…” he’s resorted to stuffing his hot face in your bosom now, hiding from your gaze, from you.

you caress the apple of gaz’s flushed cheek gently with the back of your hand, beckoning him to look at you. he peaks up slowly with a puppy-like look to his eyes and a pout that makes your heart break.

“‘re you into that? it’s okay if you are,” you offer a gentle smile, palm rubbing over his thick curls.

his eyes shift from pleading to hungry, dark. a look you were used to. typically he was the more dominant in the relationship, pouncing on you and teasing you at every turn. but something about that glassy gaze sent you reeling—you needed more.

before you can speak again his lips crash into yours, hard. it’s evident that he’s trying to take control again, act as if he never let that side of him slip.

“‘m the one that takes care of you, honey. don’ need you to—,” he hiccups, “take care o’ me.”

he’s saying all this, positioning himself over you, but his actions say otherwise—he’s rutting against you and his deep grunts turn into light moans and whines.

you grab his jaw and break the kiss, and he pouts, something real childish.

you can’t help but chuckle at his drunkenness, “kyle, it’s just me. who makes your meals? and does your hair?“

“…you do..”

“and picks out your outfits when you don’t know what to wear?”

“you…”

“mhm…you take care of me too, baby. we can take care of each other, can’t we?”

he averts his eyes from yours, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“so, uh…you don’t mind?” he almost whispers.

“you can call me whatever you want, sweet boy.”

kyle shivers at this, burying his face in your chest once more. you hold him there for a bit, whispering sweet words and praises.

“don’t have to hide from me, baby. i’ll accept you no matter what.”

“thank you…mommy..”

you hum, proud, “you’re welcome. now, we’ll talk about this more tomorrow. gotta figure out your punishment for hidin’ this from me.”

he gulps, tightening his grip on you, excited and slightly afraid.

“but for now, let’s get you ready for bed, hm? you’re all stinky.”

kyle nods and lifts himself off you, eyes watching your every move and following you like a dog to the bathroom.

you spend the rest of the night taking care of him, scrubbing the bar air off him in the shower, brushing his teeth, oiling his hair. you revel in his vulnerability, how his tone softens and he melts into your touch. obeying you without hesitation. you even go as far as picking out his pajamas and tucking him into his side of the bed.

all that tucking was gone to waste though, he immediately turns over and wraps himself around you, grinding his half hard cock against your ass until he passes out.

you fell asleep smiling, horny and excited for tomorrow.

[angelqueef]

🤤

Mommy's Good Pup (1/2)

— pairing: sub!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish ⨯ fem!Reader

— warnings/info: 18+ | smut; pet play; established romantic relationship; himbofication; dom/sub dynamic; mommy kink; rimming; free use; unrealistic amount of cum/orgasms; fluff/aftercare; abrupt ending

Johnny has some secret kinks he’d love to explore with the first woman he truly loves and trusts. 

The front door slams shut behind you as you toe off your shoes to leave them behind before making your way into the flat, clutching the sleek black shopping bag in your right hand. 

When you enter the living room, Johnny has already perked up on the couch like a loyal dog who’s been waiting for his owner―which is already too perfect itself. 

Dressed in nothing else but a pair of black boxers and a loose-fitted tank top that matches his eye colour and gives a nice view of his muscular arms and shoulders, his baby blues light up as he tosses his phone aside on the couch cushion haphazardly, focusing all his attention on you and flashing a toothy smile before his handsome face twists into a sudden scowl. 

“Where were ye?” His voice is only half accusing with a petulant undertone, like you’ve left for days without a note instead of barely two hours. “I’ve been worried.” 

Approaching the couch, you put the bag down on the coffee table. “Running some errands downtown,” you answer honestly, giving a small unapologetic shrug. “Traffic was a pain in the arse, so it took a bit longer. Sorry.” 

He pouts, grumbling under his breath: “Could’a told me. Doesnae take much to type a wee message, innit?” 

You suppress a smile, but your eyes twinkle with mirth. Johnny is too adorable when he’s needy and clingy―which is always whenever he’s home from work and life on base. 

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were at the gym.” The scowl softens―even more so when you close the distance and slowly crawl onto his lap, knees bracketing his meaty thighs on either side as you straddle him. His hands come up naturally to rest on your backside, groping your ass cheeks through your jeans as his head tips back to peer up at you. 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “So thoughtful,” he croaks, pupils already dilating and swallowing up the baby blue of his irises. “But I missed my woman. Always do, ye know tha’, right?” 

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start rubbing and caressing the sore muscles, nodding absentmindedly. He’s still warm from his recent shower, his golden skin lightly flushed, and dark mohawk damp while the fresh scent of his minty two in one bodywash and shampoo clings to him. 

Johnny leans his head back against the couch, eyelids drooping with a soft sigh as he enjoys your gentle massage and the weight of you on his lap. It’s the missing piece of truly returning home and all he’s going to be craving on his leave for the next two weeks. 

His fingers dig into the plump fat of your arse through the rough fabric of your jeans, like a kitten making biscuits, then his gaze drifts over to the coffee table and the black bag resting on top of it. 

“So... what did ye get, hm?” he asks curiously. From the looks of the volume, you bought quite a few things. 

Trailing your fingertips along his collarbones where they peek out from his tank top, you draw your thumbs up to trace the curve of his thick neck with a look that borders on hungry as you observe how his pulse throbs below his skin. 

After licking your lips, you answer: “A few surprises for you to celebrate the start of your leave, baby. It’s something uh... something I think you’ll like a lot.” 

Dark eyebrows draw together in a curious and intrigued frown, hips shifting underneath you as he sinks deeper into the cushions, adjusting his grip on your body. It’s subtle, but his beginning restlessness is enough to let you know that you have his full attention―like dangling a treat in front of a puppy’s snout. 

“Oh, aye? A kitchen or bedroom surprise?” He lets out a boyish little laugh as you lean back to grab the bag and place it between your bodies. “Both, I suppose,” you answer with a pondering pout. “Depending on where we use it.” 

He snorts, heart skipping in his chest as you begin rummaging through the contents of the bag.  

“I just have a few questions, okay? Nothing bad, though.” And your own heart flutters nervously as your fingers wrap around the black soft leather collar. The small heart shaped name tag jingles softly as you pull it out―stainless steel glinting in the daylight with Mommy’s Good Pup engraved on it in cursive letters. 

“Like... is this too much?” you ask, lashes fluttering with nerves and excitement as you show off the collar. His collar. 

Johnny gulps audibly. Bright eyes widening comically as you reveal your surprise―or one of them at least. His cheeks flush a soft pink as his heart begins to pound blood through his veins, most of it rushing south and into his head simultaneously, nearly making him dizzy. He practically stares at the collar dangling from your fingers. The engraving on the tag causing his cock to twitch in his briefs and the softest gasp to hitch in his throat. 

So, you did pick up on the hints he has been dropping for the past weeks. 

“No, it’s... it’s perfect,” he manages to stammer, unable to tears his gaze away from the collar. “Ye could never have somethin’ like this be too much, luv.” 

Licking his lips nervously, like a dog licking its chaps, he reaches out with sweaty palms to take the gift from your delicate grasp.  

The black leather is soft and supple, obviously top-quality, the tag cool against his skin. It’s not too heavy, just enough to be a comforting pressure around his neck when fastened around it. A shudder runs down his spine as he runs his thumb over the engraving, tracing the letters that would soon rest against his skin.  

He clears his throat before speaking: “So, ye’ve picked up on my hints, hm? And–” he clears his throat again and finally glances up at you again, his voice soft and strangely vulnerable, a hint of fear and excitement swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Ye dinnae think it’s... weird, do ye?” 

A part of him is still unreasonably terrified of your reaction, even though you’ve already bought the collar, making the first huge step into the direction of this new kink he’s all too excited to finally explore with someone he trusts and loves more than he ever thought possible. 

However, another part of him is utterly elated and eager to finally have you put the collar on him, to have you claim him the way he has been dreaming to be claimed and loved since first laying eyes on you. 

You can almost see the insecure and doubtful thoughts play in his head like a horror movie before you take the collar back to unbuckle it swiftly. “No, not weird at all, baby.” You assure him with a small shrug. “I just wish you would’ve felt comfortable enough with me to just... tell me or talk about it, y’know? That’s what the John MacTavish I know and love usually does.” 

His chest deflates as he exhales the deep breath he was holding, nodding eagerly. “I... I jus’ wasn’t brave enough,” he admits softly, his Scottish accent thicker than usual. “Ye ken I’m usually pretty open, but... this was different. It felt like something special and weird, something I wanted to keep just for me. Until I met ye.” 

Your soft hum of acknowledgment and understanding makes him relax into the cushion, though his cock begins to throb and harden as you bring up the collar to his thick neck, your eyes locking with his in question. 

“May I collar you now, baby? Make you my sweet pup officially?” you ask playfully, already fitting the leather around his neck, but waiting for his permission to fasten it. 

The words Mommy’s Good Pup glint up at Johnny, making his heart race and his cock twitch again, nestled under your crotch. He feels the anticipation building inside him, the need to give himself over to you completely slowly bordering on overwhelming. This is what he’s been dreaming of and it’s finally becoming a reality. 

“Aye,” he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ye can collar me, love. I’m all yers.” 

Your own heart beats rapidly as you buckle up and secure the collar around his neck, listening to his words and seeing his pulse in his neck throb so deliciously. 

“I know you are, baby, and I love that, but there’s some stuff we need to clear up before we do this, okay?” you remark thoughtfully while flicking the little name tag with your fingertip with a soft giggle before rubbing your palms up and down his buff chest. “What exactly is this about? Do you want to be used? Need more attention and loving? A little bit of degradation or more praise? Talk to me, Johnny. I wanna understand this new... experiment.” 

Johnny's breath catches in his throat as you secure the collar around his neck, the leather moulding perfectly to his golden tanned skin. He can feel the weight of it, a tangible reminder of who he belongs to officially now―in a way he’s never quite belonged to anyone before.  

His pulse races beneath your fingertips as you flick the name tag, the jingle echoing in his ears like a promise of things to come. 

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tries to find the words to express the swirling thoughts and desires in his head. Your supple palms feel like brands against his chest, even through the fabric of his tank top, your touch igniting a fire deep within him, like searing napalm spreading through his veins. He wants to lean into you, feel your warmth and affection wash over him. 

“It’s... it’s about givin’ myself over to ye completely,” he starts to explain, his voice now low and heavy with emotion. “I want to be used for yer pleasure, to be the instrument of yer own desire. Want to make ye feel good and worship yer bonnie body like ye deserve.” 

He reaches up to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones gently. “I need yer attention when I’m home. Yer focus, yer love. I want to be the centre of yer world, even if only fer a moment. And... and I want to be pushed, to be tested. I want to be praised for bein’ a good boy, but... I also want to be punished when am bein’ bad.” 

A fierce blush stains his cheeks now, but he keeps holding your lovely gaze, determined to be honest with you. “I want to be degraded; to be told ‘m jus’ a dumb animal, a set of holes f’ye to use. But I also want to be cherished, to be held an’ kissed an’ told that ye love me. I want it all, hen. I want everythin’ you can give me.” 

You hum and nod along, leaning into his touch as he lists of his deepest desires, needs, and wants while you continue to rub his chest, feeling his muscular thighs tense as you straddle him, cock twitching and swelling to live as you sit on his crotch. His boxer briefs doing little to nothing to hide his growing arousal. 

“Mhm, yeah,” you rasp, pinching and rolling his nipples through his shirt with half-lidded eyes, thoroughly enjoying the flush on his cheeks. “That sounds very lovely to me, baby. Thank you for telling me.” 

You keep toying with his peaking nipples as he begins to squirm and breathe harder. “But my good boy needs to tell me about his safe word again before we start doing anything, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?” 

Johnny gasps as your fingers find his nipples, the sensitive buds hardening under your teasing touch. His hips buck up slightly, seeking more friction, more contact. The growing bulge in his briefs throbs and twitches against your clothed core, his cock aching to be freed. 

“Y-yeah, of course,” he pants, his cheeks burning hotter under your intense gaze and the shift of your tone to something more dominant, soft yet demanding. “My safe word... is Loch Ness. If it’s too much, I’ll say Loch Ness.” 

His hands drop from your beautiful face to cover your hands with his own, pressing them more firmly against his chest. His heart races beneath your palms, a staccato beat that matches the pounding of his cock against the confines of his underwear. 

“Please, Mommy... I want to be so good fer ye. I want to give ye everythin’ you need,” he nearly whimpers, his voice raw with desire. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yers.” 

“Loch Ness,” you repeat evenly with a few nods, allowing him to guide your hands for a moment as you start grinding your hips to stimulate his bulge when he bucks his hips with a soft grunt. “So... let’s say, whenever you’re in the mood to play, you will put on the pretty collar I’ve bought you, okay? And vice versa. I’ll ask permission to put it on you when Mommy would like to play with her sweet pup. Sound good?” 

Johnny shudders as you grind your hips against his, the friction of your rough jeans sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. His cock throbs harder, a damp patch forming on his boxers as his arousal grows. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he rolls his own hips up to meet yours, letting out a shaky breath. 

He has officially ascended and found heaven; there is no other explanation for this. 

“Yes, Mommy,” he gasps. “Whenever I want to play, I’ll put on my collar fer ye. And whenever ye want to play, ye can ask to put it on me. I’ll always be ready for ye, though.” 

He leans in to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I want to be ready for you all the time. I want to be a good boy, always eager and attentive. Yer good pup, Mommy.” 

“Good,” you reply with a soft gasp, observing as his eyes begin to gloss over while he submits to you so willingly, letting go of any stress or troubles from his work as his brain melts out of his ears metaphorically. “Good fucking boy, Johnny.” You coo at him, one hand clutching his shoulder while the other grips the sofa’s backrest for leverage as you begin to dry-hump his cock more fervently. 

“My sweet boy, hm? Are you gonna cum in your undies for Mommy now? Gonna show me how desperate you are for me?” 

The bag crinkles and slides off his lap with your movements, but neither of you cares. Johnny lets out a low moan as you hump his crotch, his fingers digging into your hips as he bites his lower lip, determined to follow your wish and command as he focuses on the feeling on top of you and the pressure around his neck while the tag jingles cutely against the collar. 

The pressure and friction are enough delicious torture to push him closer to the edge embarrassingly fast; his hips bucking erratically, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him so freely.

“Oh fuck... Christ,” he pants harshly through gritted teeth. “I’m so feckin’ desperate for ye, Mommy. I f-feel... ‘m gonna... Fuck–!” His cock jerks and pulses rhythmically, tip leaking more precum and staining his boxers.  

Johnny’s been wanting and craving you since returning home late last night; too late to disturb your peaceful sleep for a welcome home quickie, which has only left him even more pent up after hitting the gym today. 

“Please, let me... I–I need... ‘m gonna cum. P-Please, let me cum!” He admits shamefully, face burning hot with humiliation and arousal while you give him a first taste of exactly what he asked for―and it’s almost too thrilling and too much already, if it weren’t for the way you moan along with him in pleasure. 

With a strangled cry and his eyes squeezing shut, Johnny comes undone. Cock pulsing and jerking as it erupts in his boxer briefs so hard, his cum soaks and spurts right through the fabric, painting his boxers and your jeans white. His bulky mass shudders and convulses, hands gripping you possessively as he gets lost in the throes of an intense, shameful climax. 

Meanwhile, you watch and feel him come with a smile. Your own soft moans overshadowed by his as he makes a mess between you two. 

Cupping his face with both hands, you hold him steady as he continues to pant and shudder, your breaths mingling briefly before you capture his lips in a deep, filthy kiss; tongue delving past his lips to claim his mouth and get a first real taste of his submission while Johnny whimpers into the kiss, his body still trembling and quaking with aftershocks. 

“Oh, fuck,” you groan after pulling back slightly. “My good fucking boy. Came so fucking much for me, hm? All for Mommy, sweet pup.” 

Your praise washes over him like warm milk and honey, wrapping him up in a blissful feeling of home. When you pull back, he chases after your lips with a soft whine, hands roaming your flanks, desperate to keep you close. 

“A-Aye,” he stammers weakly. “All f’ye. I couldn’t–couldn’t hold back, not when ye’r doin’ all this f’me. I’m so sorry, I jus’ couldnae control it. It’s embarrassing.” 

In unison, you both peer down at the mess he’s made with his massive load of cum, a mix of shame and pride warring in his expression while your foreheads rest against one another. 

You click your tongue in reprimand, shaking your head with a soft smirk as you nuzzle your nose against his.  

“No, not embarrassing, baby. Never embarrassing. I love it when you cum quickly, when I make you feel so good and horny that you can’t help yourself but cum for me. Okay?” You’re practically cooing at him as you start caressing his muscular torso again, rubbing your palms along his arms and shoulders. 

Johnny shudders at your gentle touch, his skin tingling with goosebumps and his cock giving a feeble twitch of renewed interest. Your reassuring words make his heart swell with happiness and love, and he leans into your caress, craving more of your touch as he soaks it all up with greed. 

“Really, Mommy?” he asked softly, a hint of wonder in his voice. “Ye dinnae think it’s gross or pathetic? Am glad I could make ye feel good, but... I wanted to last longer for ye. I wanted to worship ye properly before I lost control.” 

He peers up at you with a mix of affection and determination, his hands sliding down to your hips again while the smell of you and his drying cum fills his nostrils. “Can I make it up to ye, Mommy? Can I worship yer gorgeous curves properly, now that I’ve calmed down a bit?” 

You keep caressing him sweetly, feeling his skin break out in goosebumps beneath your palms while his bright blue eyes sparkle with wonder and adoration, causing your own chest to heave and blossom with warmth, butterflies going rampant in your stomach. 

But you shake your head. “No, Johnny. It’s not gross or pathetic. I like exploring this kink with you. I love that you want to do this with me. You’re mine, baby. My sweet Johnny, and I’m yours. All yours.” You lean in to kiss the tip of his nose, his scruffy cheek, his lips―each sweet kiss serving to underline your statements, your claim on each other. 

“How about we stay in today, hm? Order some food later and just... keep playing a bit, hm? What do you say?” 

A blissful and cheeky smile spreads across his face as he nuzzles into your touch, savouring the closeness. Before he answers, he turns his face to capture your lips in another deep kiss, groaning contentedly into your mouth. 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that, Mommy,” he murmurs roughly, his hands sliding around to cup your plush rear, giving you a squeeze and pulling you harder against his lap despite the mess. “Stayin’ in, orderin’ food, playin’ with my beautiful Mistress... sounds like a bloody perfect day.” 

He pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes while his hands tug on your shirt to pull it from the waistband of your jeans before they slide under the stretchy fabric to explore the supple skin of your back until you arch into his touch, ass grinding over his softened prick again. 

“Aye, let’s stay in, order a feast, and see where the day takes us. I want to spend every moment I can worshippin’, pleasin’, and lovin’ ye, hen.” 

Your eyelids flutter closed with a soft sigh as you let him caress and explore your body for a moment, listening to his words before your eyes flutter open again. 

The black collar you’ve bought him looks so good around his throat, along with the little dog name tag, that you can’t help but touch it again before you glance at the bag still resting and half-spilled beside you on the couch cushion. 

“I've bought more than this collar, y’know,” you say, biting your cheek to keep yourself from grinning too wickedly. “But before we continue, I want you to get naked for me... and I want you to stay naked for the rest of the day, except for the pretty collar... and the butt plug I’ve bought for you.” 

Butt plug. 

That makes his breath hitch even sharper while your fingers trail along his collar, his hands still underneath your shirt. Nervousness and excitement flash in his bright eyes as he swallows thicky, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. 

“Butt plug?” he repeats softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “I cannae believe ye’d spoil me so.” He slowly pulls his hands away from your body, more than reluctantly. 

Johnny has shoved quite a few fingers up his own arse while exploring himself in the past, has taken your fingers on multiple occasions now, and even that small pink love egg vibrator that he usually uses on your clit―but he’s never taken a butt plug.  

“Not just any butt plug,” you announce, already reaching over to pull it out of the bag. “It has a tail, too!” 

And when you present it to him, Johnny’s eyes nearly roll back into his skull as a feverish wave of desire and arousal overcomes him while he mentally thanks any god that is responsible for bringing you into his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving with deep breaths as he watches your fingers curl around the stainless-steel plug―with a beige fluffy tail attached to it. “Didn’t think white would suit you, so I picked beige.” 

You sound so giddy and eager, it’s maddening, and Johnny can feel his cock slowly pulse and throb back to life despite his release mere moments ago. 

“Oh, aye?” His voice sounds breathless as he reaches for the hem of his tank top to follow your other instructions, more than eager to get naked for you. He pulls the soft blue fabric over his head and drops it next to him haphazardly. “I don’t care much about the bloody colour as long as ye find it pretty, love.” 

Your soft chuckle is music to his ears, and he must force himself to nudge you off his lap, so he can tug his ruined boxer briefs down next while you sit back on your haunches next to him. Standing up, he shimmies out of the sticky, uncomfortable fabric; muscles rippling with his movements as his soft cock is exposed, his naked body now fully on display for you, except for the black collar around his neck. 

The dog tag jingles softly as he sits back down on the couch, his muscular thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable, his expression a mix of vulnerability and excited anticipation as he meets your eyes again. 

“Like this, Mommy?” he rasps. “Is this what ye wanted to see?” And he spreads his legs more, needing and yearning for all your attention on him while his impressive cock and balls rest between his thighs, framed by dark, unruly pubes that connect to a thick happy trail. “Am all yers, ready to wear whatever ye bought me, ready to be yers in every way.” 

“Fucking perfect, sweet pup,” you purr hoarsely after watching him undress for you, and you reach out to caress and rub his chest once more, feeling his coarse dark chest hair under your fingertips before you lightly tug on his rosy nipple with a pleased smile, eliciting a gasp from him. “I want to put the tail plug inside you,” you remark, feeling his heartbeat thud against your palm while his fat, spent cock throbs between his meaty thighs. “Can I?” 

If Johnny had a tail, it would certainly be wagging right now, but alas―he can merely nod eagerly to show you how much he’d enjoy that, eyes sparkling with glee and trust as he scrambles on the couch to get in position for you. 

Scooting toward the edge of the couch cushion, and without hesitation, he lifts his legs and spreads them wider, putting his whole business and tight, puckered hole on lewd display for you. The musky scent of his sweat and arousal fill the air even thicker now as Johnny reaches down to hold himself open, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh of his ass. 

“Please, Mommy,” he whines needily, his hips lifting slightly as if offering himself to you. “Put it inside me. Claim me, own me, make me yer good boy.” 

“Aw, my sweet boy.” You rub his taut belly teasingly. “So fucking needy, hm? Fuck, I love that.” Pulling back, you get up from the couch and grab the sex toy. 

It’s not too big for him, you made sure of that when you bought it, measuring it with your fingers to compare the thickness, knowing that he’s taken three of your fingers in the past before. 

“Stay here and keep presenting that pretty asshole for me, yeah? I’ll clean this and get the lube.” You announce, caressing the fluffy tail along his arm playfully before leaving the living room. 

Johnny keeps shuddering and trembling even as you leave the room while your sweet praise rings in his ears like the echo of a gunshot, making him feel cherished and desired.  

The plug you’ve bought isn’t ginormous, but it’s certainly bigger that anything he’s taken up his arse before―and the thought of that furry tail wagging from his ass sends a thrill through him that nearly makes him feel drunk with desire and need. 

While you’re gone, he focuses on keeping his ass raised and spread, his puckered hole clenching and fluttering as the cool air from the AC brushes over his flushed skin. He can feel his flaccid cock starting to swell and lengthen again, the knowledge of what is about happen arousing him immensely once more. 

The sheer thought of having the toy stretch him and have his insides moulded to its shape enough to have him moan quietly, knowing he’ll be feeling that delicious ache for days as a reminder of your touch and claim on him. 

After a few minutes, you return, wearing nothing but a short black silk robe, holding the trusty bottle of lube and the tailed butt plug in your hands. 

Seeing that Johnny is still in the same position on the couch—keeping his legs up, hands under his bent knees while his ass rests on the edge of the couch seat, presenting his puckered asshole for you—pleases you more than you could’ve ever imagined. 

His face is flushed, his cock fully hard again despite having cum just a few minutes ago. It’s a sight to behold and one that makes your pussy even wetter as you approach him on bare feet, dimming the lights on your way over to him for a more sensual atmosphere. 

“Such a good boy, Johnny,” you praise him with a smile. “Doing so well for me, baby.” 

Getting down on your knees in front of him, you put the toy and lube down before you start massaging and groping his plump ass and the back of his meaty thighs while you watch his fat prick twitch and leak onto his stomach. 

“You’re okay, yeah? Talk to me.” 

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat at your return, azure eyes widening at the sight of you in the short silk robe. The black fabric clings to your curves, secured with a belt around your waist like a present for him, hinting at the delights hidden beneath.  

“Y-Yeah,” he answers with genuine awe at your sweetness, though he doesn’t know anything else but love and care from you. “I’m okay, ‘m more than okay. I feel amazin’, being here for ye like this.” 

And his hips buck slightly, cock jumping as you start groping and caressing him again. 

“Fuck, luv,” he groans, his head lolling back as he pushes his ass more firmly into your touch. “Yer hands feel s’good, Mommy. I love how ye touch me, how ye make me feel. So safe and loved.” When he gazes down at you with hooded eyes, his pupils are blown wide with lust. “I’m ready for the toy, Mommy. I want to feel it stretchin’ me open, claimin’ me inside and out as yours.” 

Hearing his confirmation that he’s okay eases your own hidden insecurities and helps you relax as you watch and study his every reaction. 

“That’s good, baby.” You smile up at him, eyes meeting as he holds his legs open for you, still caressing his ass and legs. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, that you can finally experience this wish of yours with me. I’m enjoying this a lot, too.” 

Your eyes flicker to his flushed, twitching cock, and you lick your lips as observe the milky bead of precum drip onto his stomach while his balls keep throbbing. 

“Hm, but before I put the plug inside, I want you to cum again, okay? I’ll help you a bit more with that this time, I promise.” And with that, you spread his ass cheeks a little wider as you lean in to lick and suck on his plump balls. 

Johnny lets out a loud, strangled moan as soon as your warm, wet tongue starts lapping at his sensitive balls, your sweet lips latching around his flesh. The sensation sends electric jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, making his spent cock bob against his stomach, sticky pre smearing across his lower stomach. His hands tighten on the backs of his knees, fingers sinking into the flesh as he tries his best to hold himself open for you. 

“Oh fuck!” he cries out, his voice breaking on a gasp. “That f-feels incredible–”  

His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his sac more firmly against your suckling mouth. The combination of your lips and tongue on him like this, and the filthy sight of you on your knees before him, is rapidly pushing him towards another intense climax. 

“Please, M-Mommy,” he pants harshly, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his brow. “Keep goin’, just like that. I'm gettin’ close again, s-so fuckin’ fast. Fuck! I want to cum f’ye, want ta give ye another load.” 

Listening to his wrecked voice, his moans and whimpers, makes your pussy drip and slick steadily while your cheeks grow even hotter with arousal as you taste his very essence on your tastebuds. 

Knowing that he’s already close again by the way his shaft twitches and his balls twitch on your tongue, you pull back to start peppering kisses around his sac and hairy thighs, going lower until you reach his sensitive taint. 

Leaning in, you lap and tease the area before going even lower—until you finally reach his puckered hole. And while you dig your fingers into his firm, trembling thighs, you spit on it obscenely before leaning in with a needy moan, and you start licking his hole, giving him his first proper rim job from. 

And Johnny lets out a guttural, animalistic moan as your tongue makes contact with his ass. The sensation unlike anything he has ever felt before, electric and overwhelming in its intensity. His body convulses, back arching off the couch as he fists his hands in the cushions. 

“AH, FUCK!” he roars, his voice echoing off the living room walls. “Holy shite–shite, shite... that feels... FUCK! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” 

He’s so incredibly hard, his cockhead flaring an angry purple as it weeps a steady stream of precum onto his flushed skin. He’s whining and moaning so loud, you’re almost afraid the neighbours might hear, but his sounds are too sweet, his taste so good that you can’t really care. 

His balls draw up so tight they ache, his orgasm building to a crescendo while your nifty tongue delves deeper, probing and teasing his fluttering hole, pushing him closer and closer to a second orgasm. 

“Mommy, I’m... I’m gonna... FUCK!” Johnny yipped, his body going rigid as his climax slams into him like a bomb blast. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum spurt from his tip, painting his chest and stomach with streak after streak of his release. His asshole clenched and spasmed around your invading tongue, milking it, as if trying to coax you inside while Johnny’s eyes rolled back in his head, lost in the sensations of another mind-blowing orgasm. 

“Mommy... Mommy!” he chants breathlessly, his hips bucking erratically as he rides out the waves of his release, his speech slurring: “Fuck... s’good... so fuckin’ good.” 

You can feel your own slick arousal coat and stick to the inside of your thighs as you continue licking his rim and up his taint again while you reach for the tailed plug resting next to your knees while he’s too distracted―still coming, babbling, and shaking with aftershocks. 

Your clit throbs and pulses hotly between your folds, but you keep ignoring your own needs for now as you pop the cap of the bottle of lube open, and smearing a generous glob on the sex toy before you pull back from his ass to tease his fluttering hole with the smooth, round tip of the plug. 

“Atta boy,” you coo hoarsely, kissing and nipping his inner thigh as you slowly push the toy inside. “Relax for me, baby. You’re doing so good. So good for your Mommy.” 

Johnny’s cock continues to twitch, dribbling the last weak spurts of his release onto his stomach, coating his body hair. His bulky chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, sweat matting the short strands of his hair to his forehead, the feeling of the cool air on his slick skin and sore muscles making him shiver. 

When he feels the smooth tip of the plug teasing his slick hole, Johnny lets out a breathless moan. “Oh... oh, f-fuck.” His hips twitch slightly as you push the plug in a little further. “That feels... s-strange. But good. Oh, really fuckin’ good.” 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces his body to relax, his muscles going pliant under your teasing ministrations as you suck a lovebite into his inner thigh. “I’m ready, Mommy,” he murmurs, gazing down at you with hazy, trusting eyes like the loyal puppy he is. 

“Shhhh, my sweet pup.” You shush him, still massaging his meaty thigh with one hand while pushing the thick plug deeper inside his ass; twisting and rolling it teasingly while his puckered hole clenches around it, sucking it deeper inside. 

“Just relax and feel this, yeah? I’m gonna make you turn all dumb for me tonight. Gonna turn you into my dump, sweet pup, Johnny.” 

Johnny whines and whimpers in return, his cheeks flushing as deeply as his swollen prick at your promising words, his shaft still hard as you push and tease the fat plug deeper into his asshole, fulfilling his deepest desire to serve and act as your dumb, loyal, and utterly submissive pet. 

And to think Johnny initially planned to put the collar on you.

[angelqueef]

the moment tumblr showed the notif that you added something to forbidden fruit i swear to GOD i giggled and kicked my feet. as always 10/10 job love the new lore we’re getting between reader and simon and can’t wait to see more! you made the smut so fucking sweet too. can’t sing your praises enough lovely!!! remember to drink some water and take care of yourself!! thank you for updating🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻💗✨

u are the absolute sweetest thank you so much😭hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself too :p

[angelqueef]

forbidden fruit, pt. 4 | stoner!simon x reader

cw:: 18+, angst if you squint, daddy kink (pa, daddy), age gap (40s, 20s) budding romance, drug use (marijuana), oral f!receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum swapping, just nastiness overall, simon lowkey ooc when he's high, definitely not proofread

inspired by this ask -- forgot to link it!

pt. 1, pt.2, pt.3, moodboard

“god dammit,” you huff, nearly breaking down your front door with a swift kick. you might’ve gone overboard with groceries today, hands and forearms full with brown paper bags and thin totes. a new farmers market opened right near your apartment and there was a summer discount at the wholesale store, how could you resist? you stared at the piles of food that laid on your kitchen counter. there was no way you could finish all of this in the next two weeks without it going bad. your eyes drift to the wine, the whole chicken, the gold potatoes…an idea strikes. you wouldn’t mind making dinner for two, especially if your guest is the old, buff pothead who so unabashedly fingered you in the park last week. you reach for your phone and send simon an invite, decorated with emoticons and cute cat gifs, of course.

you’re chipping the hot pink polish off your nails, pacing the cold tile. your heart is thrumming. it’s been way too long since you’ve had a man at your place. you look down at yourself, body clad in overalls and feet covered in mismatch socks you’ve had since your youth. you squeak, running to your room to find something much cuter.

within 30 minutes he’s standing at your door, holding a bouquet of pale pink, barely bloomed tulips in hand and a black backpack on his meaty shoulder.

“flowers?” you gasp, taking the bouquet into your arms like it’s a baby. “you shouldn’t have.”

“don’t mention it.” he offers a half smile. he’s also nervous, unbeknownst to you. underneath that stoney face and armor of muscles, his chest aches. he can’t believe he has the chance to see the place you come back to after your little meetings. it’s so intimate, so real.

you gulp, you smile, you invite him in—unable to contain yourself from bouncing on your feet when you lead him to the kitchen. you ramble about your day, he listens, grunting every now and again to acknowledge you.

“what’re we makin’ today, doll?” he peers at the ingredients on the granite.

“i was thinking…roast chicken and mashed potatoes?”you’re nervous, unsure he’d like the idea. he hums. “sounds good. let me carve the chicken, hm?”

“oh,” you chirp, “y-you don’t have to. you’re the guest. i wouldn’t make you-,” before you can finish, he’s already searching the drawers for a knife. he cleans the fat and gristle off the chicken and you go to prepare roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes. simon watches you struggle to pound the thick mixture, he comes up behind you and grabs your hand, forearm flexing as he guides you. his chin rests on your shoulder, his body pressing against you.

“looked like you needed some help, luvie.” his lips brush the case of your ear and you almost squeak, chills spreading over your skin at the baritone of his voice. “thank you.”

you both work, easing in and out of conversation, and before you know it, the food is done. you make your way to the dining table to eat. you’re setting the table, talking about how the silverware set is a thirty year old hand-me-down from your aunt. and while your back is turned, he slips a hot fuchsia-pink glass bong out of his bag. he places it on the counter, whistling and clicking his tongue at you, like you’re a puppy. like he knows you’ll come to him. against your better judgment you actually turn around and walk to him. you gasp, reaching out to touch the spokes and dips that decorate the glass.

“for me?”

“why not?”

“my god, it’s beautiful,” you whisper, truly moved at the gesture. “thank you so much.”

“figured we could try it after dinner, hm?”

“absolutely.”

you sit and you eat. nodding at the flavors mingling, chuckling at conversation. he hand feeds you, like last time, and somehow it all tastes better. you wash your mouths with the merlot, giggling and warming up from the drink. you shiver at the dryness.

somehow you end up on his lap, hands intertwined and nose pressing into his neck as he tells you an old war story. he usually keeps his old battles to himself, it’s not something he likes to remember. but when you ask in your sweet wine-drunk voice, the words can’t help but flow out of him.

“-and, uh, we was in these rocky trenches. me, johnny, gaz. there was a truck full of kids that was about five meters down. they were usin’ ‘em to package drugs, the bastards.”

“jesus. so you had to shoot at the truck, or what?”

“yea, we had to stop the truck from reaching the checkpoint. the trenches were just west of it. it was quiet out there, you know, except for the truck on the ground. all of a sudden we hear this hissing sound behind us,”

you sit up and face him, “you were stuck in there with a snake?”

he hums, “a whole nest of ‘em.”

“oh my god!”

“yea, we were lucky, though. one got johnny on the ankle after the bloke decided to kick it, but it was hardly venomous. we had to make peace with ‘em for the six hours we were there.”

you stare at him in awe, “you’re amazing, simon.”

“hardly, luv. just doin’ what i was told.”

simon keeps his face forward, stoic. but you see the old storm that brews beneath his amber eyes. like he’s on the verge of crying, slamming his fist, throwing a glass. but he doesn’t, he’s incredibly still, save for the thumb rubbing up and down your thigh. he knows how easy it would be to succumb to it all, and you’re not afraid, you have no reason to be.

your sweet and fluffy whisper lulls him from his mind, “i, uh, i think i’m ready to give the bong a try now.”

“mm. thought you’d never ask,” he replies, facing you. his nose and lips are pressed on your neck. he inhales your scent and lets your pulse pump against his mouth. he’s anchoring on you.

“my room, then?”

“lead the way, we’ll clean up later.”

you stand, wobbly from wine. his heavy hands steady you. your bodies walk in tandem after you reach for the water pipe. the door to your bedroom is pushed open, and you’re greeted with a view of pure pink. the sun is setting through the window, shining through your sheer rose curtains.

simon pauses, “guess i did right pickin’ the color.”

“i forgot it gets like this. i’m so used to it. i can move the curtains if you want,” you murmur, a little bashful.

“‘s your room, luvie. if you like it, i do.”

“okay,” you giggle.

˚ ✦　.　. ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ *. ★ .˚ . . . ✦ ˚ .　　　

one milky hit of the bong and you’re almost too high. you’re giggling at nothing, and simon’s voice is sending more chills down your spine than usual.

“tapped out after one hit, are ya?” his low, red eyes make contact with yours.

“nuh uh, jus’ need a little break.”

“c’mere, we’ll share one.”

“m’kay,” you lift up while he lights it and pulls, you expect him to take half and leave you the rest, but he inhales the whole thing. you frown, confused, and before you have a chance to ask he’s tilting your chin up, thumb pressed on your bottom lip to open your mouth. he blows the smoke down your throat and seals it with a searing kiss.

he pulls away to get a good look, “that alright?”

you nod, eyes bleary and glazed over.

“atta girl.”

you share a few more hits, sharing deep kisses between each. it’s not long after that you confess that you’re done, any more you’ll get sick. so he puts the bong away and lays you down, following suit.

“y’so beautiful, you know that? from the first time i saw you by that pond. prettiest thing i ever seen,” he confesses, the back of his hand trailing up and down your cheek.

you hide your eyes, “oh, thank you, you’re uh, not too bad yourself.”

he laughs, peppering your face all over with kisses. he slows down when he gets to your jaw, tongue darting out and teeth nibbling the base of your earlobe.

“want you to be mine, please,” he murmurs, the gravel of his voice tightening the knot in your stomach, sending heat between your legs.

“okay,” you sigh, holding him tight. he dives into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and suckling the skin. you throw a leg over his hip, pressing yourself against his bulge.

“fuck, doll. can feel how warm you are from here,” he bucks into you, grabs a fistful of your ass, the kisses on your shoulder become deeper, more desperate.

you moan and grind against him, hot waves pleasure hitting from your clit to your tummy to the nape of your neck. you’re a mess.

simon’s lowered the top half of your dress, revealing your breasts and nipples, now stiff under the air. he stares for a while in a trance, hand swiping the bud over and over, back and forth. his lips make contact with the fat of your breast and he looks up at you with hooded, lust filled eyes. you gaze back, jaw slack as you squeak.

he lifts the garment off you completely, dipping back down to return to his ministrations.

“look at this body, baby, jesus. can’t believe i gotcha all to m’self. gonna make you feel s’good, ‘kay?” the kisses he leaves down your body are sloppy, wet, rough. like he’s expecting the skin to kiss back or swallow him whole.

“o-kay.”

you haven’t seen him like this before, so starving and unabashedly desperate. he typically seems so rigid and so in control. he’s never been so high in front of you. he’s so far gone that he’s lost resolve.

“okay, who?”

“okay, da-addy,” you hiccup.

simon gives down to lap at your clit through your panties and huffs in your scent.

“what are y-.”

“smell good.”

you don’t protest anymore, you can’t when he rips your underwear off and dips his inside you, nose rubbing your sensitive bud. your hand grips his cropped blonde locks, and it doesn’t take long for your first orgasm to rip through you, thighs tightening against his head, back arching off the bed.

he doesn’t stop, sucking up every ounce of slick that pours from your cunt. it glimmers under the pink haze of the room. he stares, near cross eyed, and makes a sudden realization. the way it catches the light, how it’s blush tinted, the sweet, tangy flavor.

“glitter.”

you peak up at him, “huh?”

“your cum looks like glitter, luvie,” he dips too fingers inside you and brings them up to your face, “look.”

your eyes follow the movement of his fingers, the way your juices stretch and pull between them.

“oh,” you chuckle shyly, “i s’pose it does.”

“taste some of it, baby,” he sticks his fingers in your mouth, and you immediately wrap your tongue around them. you suckle on the rough pads and taste yourself, eyes relaxing like you’ve been sedated.

“there you go, good girl,” simon praises. he lines himself up with your hole while he’s got you occupied, “gonna fill you up now.”

you whine and nod, teeth grazing his fingers. the tip of his stiff cock rubs up and down your slit, painfully slow. he pushes into you, working himself in inch by inch. he’s whispering strings of curses, “fuck, y’feel so good. y’clenchin’ me. bet you wanted this for a while, huh?”

you pull his fingers out of your mouth with a pop, “uh huh,” nodding furiously, brows knitted, “wanted this since the first time i saw you.”

“first time you saw me, huh?” he thrusts into your hole completely now, earning a squeak from you, “thought you was scared o’me.”

“‘was but, s-still..”

“you just wanted to protect yourself huh, sweet thing? daddy’s all big n’ scary, ain’t he?” his voice is shallow from the work he’s doing on you, grunting between words. you can do nothing but moan—no, you don’t think he’s scary. not anymore, at least.

“use your words, luvie.”

“no, y’not scary, pa. were jus’ a stranger,” your plump lips leave the softest of kisses up his neck and against the cage of his ear.

simon’s heart swells in his chest, he knew how people saw him—how they averted their eyes, turned their kids away, apologized and quivered for merely grazing his shoulder. but you, you just saw him as nothing more than a man you didn’t know. still endlessly kind and generous.

his hips stutter, thrusts becoming less uniform and more needy, tip hitting your sweet spot with little effort. he hides his whines by biting the patch of skin where your neck and shoulder meet.

“such,” thrust, “a good,” thrust, “little,” thrust, “girl,” he hisses in your ear. you moan at each pulse and praise. tears fall from your eyes. he’s so close to you, so deep, it’s too much, but you can’t help but want him even closer. you’d only be satisfied if it was possible for your bodies to merge.

“i know, luvie, i know. feels too good f’me too, d-don’t know if i can pull out.”

you arms and legs tight around his big form, “n-no. don’t pull out,” your voice breaks, “please.”

simon freezes at this. he knows this wouldn’t be the most responsible decision, but the way you’re clinging to him, the sweet sound of your begs and moans, the tears that fall from your eyes—how could he resist?

“your house, your rules, then,” he bucks into you again with an unfathomable pace, wet cunt making the lewdest sounds. he slips a thumb in his mouth starts to circle your over sensitive bud.

“daddy!” you cry as you arch off the bed, “i think—i think i’m gonna-.”

“cum? yeah, me too, baby. go ahead, i’m r-right behind ya.”

your body shakes and convulses as if those were the magic words. ropes upon ropes of cum fill your womb. simon falls on top of you, body weight nearly taking the air from your lungs. your wet lips press on the vein that pulse through his temple.

“did so good,” he murmurs.

“thank you, thank you,” you repeat like a prayer, leaving kisses on his sweat slick skin.

he pulls out of you without warning and you hiss, feeling the cum spill out of you and the cool air hit your hole. he reaches down and gathers the cum on his fingers, licking them to taste both of you combined. he groans at the flavor before leaning down to kiss you, cum and spit mingling in your mouths as you suck and lick on each other’s tongues.

you smile, reveling in the nastiness of it all. you reach for the bong that sits on the bedside table.

“so, round two?”

˚ ✦　.　. ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ *. ★ .˚ . . . ✦ ˚ .　　　

a/n: i’m sooo sorry for the delay usually i get stuff out every week or so but summer depression is in full swing 😭hopefully i’ll get more motivation. pls leave comments would love feedback :3 (also if anyone knows how to get consistent divider formatting for both computer and phone pls lmk, sometimes the dividers look centered on my phone but not on my laptop...i'm still kinda new to tumblr so)

taglist: @lillybunni @404-isfound @your-internet-tenshi

[angelqueef]

sorry if this seems a lil gross but whenever i re-read forbidden fruit this interaction keeps playing in my head and i had to share. yk those memes (idk if that’s the right description) on like instagram and shit where people say their cum is pink glitter?? lowkey i feel like that’s part of the forbidden fruit aesthetic and simon deadass will say that about reader. had to share. okay love you bye~~

haha definitely seen some tweets like this. u just gave me a new idea, i’ve been blanking on what to write lately…new part coming soon ;) thanks baby💓

[angelqueef]

birthday cake | cowboy!yandere!john price x innocent!reader

˚ ✦　.　. ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ *. ★ .˚ . . . ✦ ˚ .　　　

cw: lovey dovey mushy, age gap (20s, 50s), dumbification, infantilization, unprotected (morning) sex, daddy kink (pa, papa), creampie, overstim, belly kink if you squint, bondage, food play (whipped cream)(nasty), spit, squirting, breeding, aftercare, john is controlling/toxic and super icky, female genitalia mentioned, 18+

needy, john babyin’ you

you’re deep in slumber, folded and cuddled under blankets and comforters. breaths slow and steady.

john stands at the foot of the bed, tray of food in hand. a plate piled high with waffles (crispy just how you like them), fruit, bacon, grits, over easy eggs. he stares at your form, soaking in the way your lashes touch your sun-kissed cheeks, your curves are still accentuated under the mass of fluffy cotton fabric, your breath is calm, warm, steady.

his heart lurches at the sight—he’s so damn lucky. lucky to wake up every day with you under him. lucky to have a pretty lil’ wife to take care of (you don’t know you’re married—a detail he’ll discuss with you later). lucky to have you here with him, always and forever.

he places the tray down and checks his watch. 11:30. he usually wakes you up at ten sharp, he has a set schedule for you to make sure you stay healthy and get a good night’s rest, no more or less than eight hours. but today is your day, so fixes himself behind you, nosing the nape of your neck and inhaling your scent.

you feel the weight of him and the way his beard scratches your skin oh so sweetly, it’s the first thing to stir you. you arch to get your morning stretch in, unconsciously pressing back against him.

john chuckles, “is my angel up yet?”

“mm,” is all you can muster.

“it’s someone’s birthday, y’know.”

you whip your head to turn to him, like all pieces of your mind have come together at once. you’re fully awake now.

“it’s my birthday,” you sigh with a smile, voice still thick and syrupy with sleep.

“that’s right, smart girl, it’s your birthday. look what i got ya,” john lifts so you can see the tray of food on the bedside table.

you gasp, “breakfast in bed? you made all this?”

“anythin’ for my sweet darlin’,” he presses his lips to yours, tongue worming its way into your mouth. you nibble and suck, wrapping yourself around his thick shoulders and waist.

he pulls back with a doting grin, “aight miss thing, let’s get some food in ya. we got a long day today.”

“long day? what’re we doin’?”

“you’ll see.”

you scoot back against the headboard as the tray is placed in front of you. scents of sweet and savory filling your nose. your mouth waters.

“mmm. looks so good, thank you, pa,” you grab your fork and start working it in the stack of waffles. john grabs your wrist.

“you forgettin’, baby?”

oh. you’re still getting used to the fact that john loves to hand feed you. he hasn’t explained why, but you figure he can be the same amount of needy he teases you for being. he has an insatiable desire for control. you’re his little something to guide and train, to give him purpose.

and you don’t mind one bit. after years of independence and only taking care of yourself, it’s nice to give the reigns to someone else, especially him.

“sorry, papa.”

“don’t apologize, angel. jus’ like doin’ it for ya,” he takes the fork from your hand and cuts the waffle for you, pouring extra syrup on your bite.

you open, lips parting in the perfect “o”. he gets half hard at the sight.

you moan as you chew, eyes rolling back, nodding. you’re not being sensual on purpose, but god. john can’t wait to see you make a similar face as he pins you under him.

“good?”

“so good. jesus.”

john hums proudly and feeds you another bite. scoop of homemade whipped cream on a strawberry, bacon dragged through syrup (he made you lick his fingers), hot sauce dropped on tender eggs and creamy grits. bite after bite, swallow after swallow, you savor it all.

the plate is almost empty at this point, you’re rubbing your belly and almost nodding off.

“‘m full.”

“c’mon, honey,” he coos, voice soft and high, “just one more bite. want you to finish it all for your papa. can you do that?”

“don’ know,” your eyeing the small pile of food that sits on the fork, breathing deep as you prepare to fit it in your mouth.

“i know you want to, for me, angel. go on now.”

he’s torturing you. even on your birthday he never fails to remind you that you’re his. he has you on this leash, this warm, sweet, firm leash that you can’t get out of.

john’s hand is heavy on the back of your neck as he guides you forward, nodding and gazing into your eyes in encouragement. you brace yourself, taking the bite of food, chewing all sluggish and blinking slow. prideful, he clears everything from your lap and is on top of you in less than a second. he’s lifting your sleep shirt up and leaving open mouthed kisses your now rounded belly.

“such a good baby f’me,” kiss, “ya did so well,” kiss, “finishin’ all your food,” kiss.

you moan, your tummy’s always been sensitive, ticklish. he smiles at this, snaking his hand up your shirt more, groping the fat of your breast. he pulls it off your head, cold air hitting your nipples and exposing your naked body to him.

“love seeing ya like this. i keep ya full and happy, don’ i?” he’s slipping your pert nipple into his warm mouth, getting it hard on his tongue.

you gasp and nod, “yes, daddy. take such good care of me,” you’re running a hand through his cropped brown hair.

your nipple falls out of his mouth with a pop and his eyes bore deep into yours, “n’ ya don’t wanna leave, do ya?”

his lids are heavy, pupils are blown wide, a deep black taking over blue. he’s drunk on you and the question is knowing but pleading all the same. the answer is clear, but he needs to hear you whine it softly with your sugary voice.

so you do, “oh, never. never, ever, pa.”

never, ever. he replays this in his mind, letting a moan slip when he crashes his mouth into yours, barely letting your lips part before his tongue is down your throat again. he savors every part of the breakfast on your tongue, getting harder at the taste. you ate everything he made for you. he’s the only one who nourishes you, takes care of you. no one else.

“fuck,” he whispers, a tan, calloused hand is rubbing from your tits to your bloated tummy. patting and squeezing, “good girl.”

he makes his way down your body and eats you out like a man starved—he didn’t have a meal of his own, after all. he’s practically making out with your cunt, and your puffy lips are kissing back, wetting his face. he thumbs your clit with little circles, it’s all making you buck and hump against him.

“pa…”

“hm? what’s wrong w’my birthday girl?”

“wanna take a break,” you whine.

john tuts, “nuh uh, not yet. just give me one, angel.”

your voice cracks with a sob. between overeating and being overeaten, you feel your mind cloud over with euphoria, you’re slipping in that space where nothing exists except for john. it happens so fast, you’re drowning and you can barely breathe. the only thing that’s keeping you aware of your body are his thick fingers scissoring in and out of you.

you babble and moan strings of words that make no sense. you’re begging for nothing, repeating all the names you’ve given him like a mantra.

john loves getting you like this. your eyes are glossed over and full of love, your head nods off to the side, your lips are parted. you’re a gorgeous ball of putty in his hands.

you’re feeling heat pile up inside you, body twitching uncontrollably under his touch. only he can make you feel like this, and you both know it.

he feels you clench around him. he smirks, “go ahead, cum for me.”

five words alone open the flood gates and your falling apart against him, whining and jerking and everything in between. broken moans echo throughout the room.

“oh, there she is,” he climbs up to your fucked out face, kissing all the sweet spots on your lips and neck, “such a perfect girl for me. you ready for your surprise now?”

“s-surprise?”

“i got somethin’ special for you. now, we’ve never done anything like this before, so if you’re havin’ worries or if you’re uncomfortable, just say the word and we’ll stop, alright?”

he’s said too many words for you to understand, but you answer anyways with a nod, “m’kay.”

he hums a laugh, knowing you’d say yes no matter what. ever since you two met, you’ve always been under his thumb, quick to do whatever he wants without question.

reaching under the bed, he pulls out a long, red rope, looped and twisted together tightly. you gasp.

john gasps too, mocking, “oh, i know, sweetpea. it’s so big n’ scary, huh?”

nodding, your hand reaches out to feel the firm jute fibers under your fingertips, “‘s alright, i’ll take care of you. just gonna rig ya up to the posts. y’ready?”

you’re biting your lips and rubbing your wrists, all antsy. doe eyes stuck on the rope. you want to say yes, god you do, but you’re terrified. john has always been the dominant one in bed but you’ve never done anything like this.

he notices, hand reaching up to cup your face, bringing you back to shore, “hey, hey. i gotchu, i know it’s new. let me take the reigns a bit, okay? wanna take care of my sweet thing on her birthday.”

your hazy eyes search his, calming down at his baby blues. you want to make him happy, proud.

“okay, daddy.”

“atta girl!” he gives you a wet, hot smooch on your pout.

john’s stretching your limbs out, slow and deliberate. he kisses up and down each arm and leg to satiate you, keep you pliant, even making sure to nibble on your fingers and toes. he’s been explaining how the ropes work, how they’ll feel, what kind of knots he’ll be doing, but when you’re in this state it all goes in one ear and out the other.

your breath hitches when you feel the rope slide around your right ankle, bringing you to reality. you twitch slightly.

john taps your calf, “keep still, baby.”

you squeak and nod, wringing your eyes shut.

when you open them, all four limbs have been fastened to the bed. john kneels over you, palm on his hard on. when did he take his pajama pants off?

“go ahead and move f’me, angel,” he commands. you obey, pulling and lifting your arms and legs. you can barely lift them off the bed, only able to get an inch or two off the mattress.

john lets out a low groan at the sight, precum dribbling from him and wetting the grey of his boxers, “god, you look so sexy. should keep you like this more often.”

his eyes are dark, ravenous, like he’s coming up with a long term plan to keep you tied up and open for him. you open your mouth to speak, but he’s leaning over to the bedside table and grabbing the bowl of whipped cream. his lips quirk a hungry grin, “bout time the birthday girl gets some frosting, hm?”

without warning, he spoons dollops of cream on each nipple, lining more down your stomach and stopping right above your clit. you whimper at the cold feeling, arching uncontrollably. john reaches down and grabs your hips, “keep still.”

“‘m sorry, pa. it’s cold,” you pout.

he hushes you with a kiss, “you can handle it,” he says, tone low and intimidating. his teeth nibble on your ear lobe.

john’s lips work down your neck, tongue darting out to taste your sweet skin. he licks cream off each nipple, reveling in the flavors mixing. he eats each scoop off your tummy, tongue swirling in your navel. it tickles and you let out a noise that’s between a laugh and a moan.

“that tickle, baby?” he smirks, tone all fluffy and gentle again.

“mhm,” you nod, peering down at him. there’s two dollops left.

“you want some?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. he’d give it to your either way. you bite your lip and he takes that as a yes, dipping down to your over sensitive clit and licking all the way up to right below your belly button, taking both dollops in his mouth in the process.

he reaches up to you, mouth full of cream. he squeezes your cheeks to part your lips. white liquid spills off his tongue and it hits the back of your throat—warm, thick, sweet.

“swallow,” he directs, closing your mouth shut. you obey, again, you have no choice, and stick your tongue out to prove your compliance.

“fuck, good job. always so good for me. how’d i get blessed with such a sweet angel?” he suckles your tongue, head bobbing. he’s got you distracted, pacified, and he’s lining himself up with your hole, tip collecting your wetness and using it as lube.

he pushes into you quickly and you shriek, retracting your tongue from his mouth, “daddy!”

“good lord, baby. you’re so tight f’me. that cream got y’all worked up, huh?”

your voice cracks a sob, you want to paw at him, grab him and bury yourself into the crook of his neck like you always do. you’re radiating heat in frustration.

john’s finger circles your swollen, abused bud, “poor little thing. all mad because she can’t cuddle her daddy,” he’s loving this a little too much. he thrusts in and out of you, tip nearly kissing your womb.

you moan and weep around him, the pleasure is overwhelming and you have no anchor. nothing to ground yourself with.

“pa- papa, i can’t. no more, it’s too-,” an orgasm is ripped out of you without any buildup, and you’re squirting all over his cock, making him slip in and out quicker than before.

“oh my goodness, baby. you’ve never squirted for me before. look at all that. so messy. my messy girl,” he’s thrusting into you harder now and his hand presses on your tummy to feel himself pump inside you.

“didn’t mean to, pa. couldn’t help it. so much, too much,” you babble. john quiets you.

“hush up, sweetpea. this couldn’t make your pa happier. keep letting go f’me.”

you cum again at his words and he works harder, moaning as sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. he silences your cries with sloppy kisses, bruising your lips and the skin on your neck.

“fuck, angel. gonna cum. gonna get you pregnant, make my baby a mama. gonna keep you here. never let you go,” he’s babbling about now, barely making sense. some words aren’t even audible.

you shiver at the thought, visions of you round and swollen with his baby flash before your eyes and you moan, “wan’ it pa, want your baby. please. wanna be a mama for you.”

he breaks right there, ropes of his spend spilling inside you. his thrusts slow and his burly body collapses on top of you, wet lips pressed to your ear.

“such a good angel.”

˚ ✦　.　. ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ *. ★ .˚ . . . ✦ ˚ .　

john’s undone the ropes now, kissing and massaging the parts of your skin that are hot and raw. apologies spilling from him between each smooch.

“you were so perfect for me, y’know that?” he asks, lifting your spent body into his arms. you’re sore, bruised, sticky. you nod, too tired for words.

he kisses your forehead, “imma run us a bath,” he carries you to the bathroom and lets you use the toilet while he runs the bath, steam filling the room. he ties your hair up and sits you in the tub once it’s full, working himself behind you.

you hiss at the heat as it soothes your skin and muscles, eyes closing. you lean back on john.

“how’s my birthday girl feelin’?” he murmurs, soaping up a rag and rubbing it over your body, ridding your skin of sweat and cream.

“mm. good. sore. tired,” you respond, barely above a whisper.

he hums, pressing his lips to your temple, “did such a good job. i bet it was scary huh? havin’ no control, not able to hold me. but you were strong, so strong.”

“thank you, daddy,” you tilt your head up to kiss along his jaw, “for making me feel good. and for the best birthday.”

“you’re welcome, sweetpea. anything for you. gotta keep my girl happy,” he wraps his arms around you, possessive and loving.

he breaks the silence, “i was serious before. about makin’ you a mama, y’know,” his arms tighten like a snake catching its prey, your breath slows and you stiffen under him. somehow, it’s comfortable. you don’t know any better.

“i got no intentions of lettin’ you go. the world’s too tough on you. too scary. i should just get you full and keep you here, hm?” he nibbles on your neck, tongue reaching out to soothe the bruises love bites he gave you. god, he’s got to protect you, keep you under his palm. there’s a need in him that reaches so deep and only you can fix it, be his little baby that he takes care of. it takes everything in him not to keep you tied up and locked in the bedroom for good. his love is smothering, and you could drown any second. but his goal is to protect you, even from himself.

you nod, but there’s a small part of you that’s afraid. not of the world but of him, of staying in his house for good with no say in the matter. even so, his tone is so sugary and full of cotton, it’s hypnotic. he only sounds like this with you, is only this soft with you, is only this loving. if you dared leave, there’s a possibility all of this would disappear. you’d have to be on your own, independent with no one to look after you.

his hand snakes up to your throat now, resting heavy and firm, “wanna hear you say it,” he coos.

you gulp, “want you to keep me, daddy.”

he groans, hand tightening around your neck. you squeak, “good girl. papa loves you.”

“love you too,” you say, unable to move or escape. just how he likes you.

˚ ✦　.　. ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ *. ★ .˚ . . . ✦ ˚ .　

a/n: ok this might be my longest post…it was initially supposed to be a birthday gift to myself but life got busy and suddenly 3 weeks went by. so if ur bday is coming up or already happened this is for u. shout out to the geminis i luh u… also i was being self indulgent and wrote a cowboy version of yandere!john price. as a southern girl it’s my right

[angelqueef]

forbidden fruit, pt. 3 | stoner!simon x stoner!reader

cw: dom/sub dynamics, age gap (reader, 20s, ghost, 40s), daddy kink, drug use (marijuana), making out, heavy petting, fingering, exhibitionism/public sex, praise/degradation, reader is lowkey a ditz, intox if you squint, semi proofread 18+

pt. 1, pt. 2, moodboard

it’s been about a week since you gave the strange man you smoked with your phone number. you’ve been kicking yourself every day since, feeling embarrassed and stupid about the whole interaction. how could you let a man you’d never met so close? are you that desperate? and why end it so awkwardly? it’s fucking you up. half of you prays you’ll never run into him again, the other half is waiting for him to call.

you’re heading home from a long day in the office, your boss demanding that you work overtime in order to perfect the program for his next presentation. your wrist throbs and cramps from all the typing, sketching, and note taking. your eyes are heavy and not in the way you want. all you want to do is roll a fat one and make a big meal before you had to do it all over again tomorrow.

simon sat staring at his phone, this is his third attempt today at sending you a text—he bought too much weed (not on accident, but you don’t need to know that), and figured he’d share it with you. he’s a confident man, but after seeing you scurry off that evening he knows he needs to play his cards right, warm you up. he conjures up something safe and polite. kind, but not overbearing.

you feel your phone buzz as you walk through the front door, but you neglect it as you beeline towards your bedroom. you know you’re running low on your stash but you hope it’ll be just enough for tonight.

the jar, displayed on your desk with stickers and bows, sits nearly empty. save for a couple small nuggets and stems you picked over in the past. you groan in annoyance, you’re too lazy to call your usual plug. maybe you should just sleep it off for tonight.

you strip, plopping on your bed and finally checking your phone, going through all notifications you missed at work. you see a text from an unknown number at the top of the list.

: Evening, it’s Simon. we met last week. Accidentally bought too much yesterday…was wondering if you’re free for a smoke.

you shoot up, heart thumping wildly as you read the message over and over. was your annoyance so loud that the universe heard, and decided to bless you with a once in a lifetime opportunity? you can’t believe it. you’re scared, excited, relieved. you know you probably shouldn’t go smoke a strange man’s weed, you think you would’ve learned your lesson from the last time. but you were desperate and exhausted. plus, he seemed nice enough from the time you met him and you could redeem yourself from previous embarrassment (you’re not just making excuses to see him, honest!).

hi! yes, i’m free. thanks for thinking of me :p should we meet at the same spot?

simon’s eyes flick to his lit up phone screen, nose flaring as he read your message. his heart skips a beat in disbelief. a pretty thing like you, so kind and sweet towards a gruff man like him. his chest (and cock) swell at the concept of you.

simon: Yea, that works luv. I’ll be there in 20.

you’re shocked he responds so quickly. you launch off your bed and head to your closet, finding an outfit that screams “i’m totally comfortable and effortless but also cute and a little bit slutty”. you settle on an oversized tee that you cut the collar off of (courtesy of your ex), cinched and tied at the waist, with a pair of little denim shorts. you douse yourself in perfume oil, refresh your makeup, and rush out the door.

it takes everything in you not to jog to the smoke spot, eager to see the handsome and elusive simon. you’re nearly shaking from nerves and you’re distracted, almost getting hit by cars and bikers as you make your way to the park.

you walk down the hill and see him sitting on the bench, gulping at his hulking figure. he decided to forgo his hoodie today, only wearing a white t-shirt, and it shows everything. the fabric is taut against the expanse of his delts and biceps, stretching and pulling as he moves. even from behind you can tell he’s focused, working. he turns to you before you have the chance to make yourself known.

“oh, hey, sweetheart,” he doesn’t bother with subtlety, eyes raking over your figure, “was just finishin’ rolling up. y’make it here okay?”

you giggle at the name, covering it with a cough, “yeah, kinda. almost got hit by a couple cars though,” you say with a bashful smile.

simon returns it with a quirk of his lips, but his heart aches and burns at the thought of you putting yourself in danger.

“maybe i should walk with you next time. wouldn’t wan’ya gettin’ hurt.”

“oh,” there’s that giggle again, “i think i fare fine on my own-,”

simon interrupts you with a glare. it’s not scary, but it’s dominant, caring. like he’s saying, “listen to me, just accept it. i want to protect you.”

you flinch, “but, uh, i wouldn’t mind having someone to walk with every now and again.”

he hums, “good. works out perfectly, then.”

your look down to hide your smile as you sit down on the bench next to him. you look at the grocery bag that sits between you. it’s packed with pastries, snacks, and a plastic bowl filled with strawberries. you gasp.

“you brought snacks! and strawberries!”

“‘course i did luv. couldn’t help but notice you nibble on ‘em last time.”

“yea, they make the smoke taste better. kinda like a chaser, you know?”

“mm,” you’re so cute. his jaw clenches, “haveta try it.”

he's grown softer in retirement, more open and comfortable. his shoulders and tummy have relaxed and so has his mind. if you had met him years before, he wouldn't have dared to entertain a chipper girl like you. but after meeting you that day--sweet, soft and glowing--his old bones suddenly feel purpose again.

you watch him roll up his third blunt, working swiftly and neatly. it’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen. he doesn’t drop anything, nothing falls out. it’s almost robotic. his eyes flick up to you and he chuckles.

“military taught me. we’d be on missions and outta cigs. had to find some tobacco n’ roll ‘em myself.”

“wow. you’re, like, an expert.”

“can you roll?”

“yeah, but not like that. i just do joints mainly.”

“i’ll teach you, one day.”

one day. he says it with promise, like he knows that you’ll see each other more than this. you’re heart thumps at the thought.

“go ahead and spark up, luv,” simon’s head tilts to the two other blunts that sit on his lap.

“oh, okay,” you reach for one, fingers grazing his thigh. he shivers.

he holds the lighter to the blunt as it hangs out of your mouth. you’re staring at each other as you inhale. you blow out, sighing with a smile, “it’s so smooth.”

“told you i got good stuff.”

you inhale again, looking at the sunset. it’s about the same time it was when you left last time. it’ll be dark soon.

“sorry for inviting you out so late,” hello? is he reading your mind? “busy day.”

“s’alright. i had work today anyways.”

“y’must be tired,” simon doesn’t ask questions, he’ll let you open up. patience is a virtue.

“a little,” a lot.

the two of you sit in silence, passing the blunt back and forth. your eyes are red and heavy, you feel like you’re lagging. but it’s good, you’ve never been more relaxed.

your stomach pangs with a sudden hunger and you turn to the grocery bag like a little bird that stumbled across a pile of bread crumbs. in your mind it's bottomless, you dig through the array of snacks: hot cheetos, cream cheese danishes, tea sandwiches, dark chocolate bars, salted nuts, and of course, the strawberries. your heart swells with a quickness. this can't be real.

"did god send you here or something?" you ask with a newfound suspicion.

"wha'?"

"like, you pop up out of nowhere in my smoke spot, where, mind you, no one ever goes to. then, i have a shitty day at work and go home to an empty stash, and you text me out of nowhere asking if i wanna smoke. now you have my favorite snacks? who the hell sent you?"

simon quirks his head at you, eyes searching for a semblance of a joke. no, you're completely serious. he breaks out into a cackle, one straight from the gut. he doesn't remember the last time someone got this reaction out of him: a true, core shaking belly laugh. he's impressed.

this makes you laugh as well, the sight of the brooding man heave and turn red from glee, shocking you. you were serious, but your wariness melts and is replaced with joy.

"divine timing, i guess," he answers, handing the blunt to you once more. he watches you hold it between your pink, plump lips as you open the pack of strawberries and rip open a danish. this action alone solidifies that you're the sexiest woman he's ever seen.

you pause, "wait, this would be easier if we spread out somewhere. let's go to the tree. you bring a blanket?"

there’s a small part of you that’s still sober, and she’s kicking you for being so blabby. so straightforward.

simon doesn’t mind though, not one bit, “yeah," he reaches under the bench and pulls out the rolled up fabric. damn, he's prepared.

it takes everything for the both of you to stand and make your way to the tree, giggling at your sluggishness in the process. you settle down in the new spot. the sun is gone by now, replaced with the glow of street lights, and the sky has turned a rich blue. it's the perfect hour. you breathe, becoming present in the moment. you realize that this strange man doesn't feel so strange anymore, and you're quite comfortable. weird.

"you still here w'me?" simon's low voice pulls you back to him, he's holding the danish to you. instead of grabbing it, you take a bite, glossy eyes locking with his. he swallows, cock throbbing underneath his slacks.

you moan, "so good."

"yeah?"

you nod and reach for a strawberry, pushing it past your lips. the juice stains them, he can’t take his eyes off.

you crawl closer to him, reaching to take more bites of the danish. he happily feeds you.

“c’mere,” he beckons, you’re not sure how you could get any closer, you’re damn near in his lap, thighs against on his.

“y’so soft,” he says, wrapping a thick arm around your waist and hoisting you on top of him. the feeling is familiar, too comfortable. you should be nervous, scared, even.

“shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, squirming.

“who says?”

“no one…but,” you look down, bashful, “i barely know you, you could be dangerous,” every action contradicts your statements. your mouth is full of pastry and berries and your head is leaning back on his shoulder.

he turns to you, teeth grazing your neck and ear, “i am, sweetheart,” you shiver, “but i can be gentle, for you. ‘s that what you want?”

your breath hitches and you unconsciously grind on him, “yes, sir.”

“good girl,” he feeds you more danish, hand reaching down to cup your sex, it’s pulsing. he smirks, leaning forward to reach your lips. they lock, moving against each other in perfect rhythm. you moan as his tongue slips in your mouth, licking against your teeth and worming its way to your muscle, lapping and wrapping around it.

“simon,” you whine, hand wrapped around his throat, grinding into his lap.

he plays with the waistband of your shorts, “tell me what you want, sweet thing. use your words.”

“fingers…please…”

“please, who?”

you pause, looking into his amber eyes. this is a vulnerability you’ve not gotten used to, you’ve never given any man a name, never submitted fully. you inhale sharply.

“can’t.”

“can’t what, doll?”

“i…can’t say it,” you hide into the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, your heavy pants wetting the skin.

he reaches his hand down into your shorts, grazing your clit over panties, “yes you can, be good f’me. use your words. you’re a smart girl.”

you whine, the pleasure is too much. you’re moving in slow motion and so is he, dopamine exacerbating the moment.

“d-daddy,” you say, mixed between a whimper and a murmur.

“there you go. was that so hard?” his gravelly voice makes your body vibrate. he pushes your underwear to the side and plays with your clit, you arch and buck against him.

you shake your head rapidly, grabbing his wrist.

“ah ah. hands to yourself, doll. wanna feel you,” he rubs your wet, sensitive lips. squeezing them and thumbing your poor clit. he slowly burrows a thick finger inside. heat radiates between you two.

“sir…please..’s too much,” you whine, gummy walls clenching and sucking him in. he groans too.

“such a dumb slut, we barely met a week ago and you’ve already let me inside. i know i gotta keep you, too sweet for your own good,” his thumb swirls on your clit.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry. y’feel too good. i don’- don’ wanna get in trouble,” god, aren’t you the sweetest? already soft and pliable in his hands, wanting to be good for the big man you barely know. simon’s hard now, and you’re humping your ass against him. up down, up down.

“y’not in trouble, sweetheart. i want you to feel good. you’re safe w’me,” he reassures, pulling down your shorts, knowing you won’t, can’t, say no.

“what if someone sees?” you cry. a sudden paranoia takes you, you’re whipping your head around and peaking behind the tree.

“nuh uh. don’t worry,” he shushes and coos. his hand, sticky from the danish, works under your shirt. no bra.

you’re acting so sweet, so dumb. but he knows what you are. he plays with the fat of your breast, flicking the hard bud of your nipple.

“just keep being a sweet slut f’me,” he degrades, gruff voice molded into a saccharine, condescending tone.

his fingers reach up into that spot, scissoring and rubbing deep inside you. you choke on a sob and he silences you by shoving his tongue in your mouth once more.

you grind and buck, climbing that mountain of pleasure. your mouth is pressed against his thick neck in attempt to hide your moans and pleas. simon continues his ministrations, other hand lifting your jaw and pushing a strawberry past your fat lips to help muffle you. the sweet, tart flavor acts as an aphrodisiac, pacifying you. it keeps you dumb, quiet. full of pleasure.

“shhh, there you are. y’ready to cum?” the question is more like a command, like he’s telling you to orgasm. like you didn’t realize you needed to until he gave you permission.

you nod, swallowing the morsel, “please, papa, let me cum.”

“go ahead. don’t be shy,” he covers your mouth with his warm palm. you come apart against him, flashes of pink and white blur your vision. your eyes roll back, mouth opening against his hand and licking the sweat and remnants of glaze that remained.

“fuck, so good f’me, doll,” he’s the one that bucks against you this time, almost cumming in his jeans. another time, he swears to himself.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat like a mantra, riding out your orgasm.

he removes his hand to kiss you, deep and slow. one long enough to leave you thinking about it for the next week.

he pulls from you with a sigh, breathless, “same time next wednesday?”

you scoff, sweaty forehead leaning on his chest. you spend the next couple minutes catching your breath, inhaling his scent.

you could get used to this.

———————————————————————————

a/n: whew lord, this one’s a bit long. appreciate if you stick around long enough for the end(i kinda rushed it). i started forbidden fruit with a blurb that takes place months, or even years into their relationship, but i’ve been enjoying writing their dynamic when it was fresh, before it budded fully. hope you enjoy!

taglist: @lillybunni, @404-isfound

[angelqueef]

in the middle of writing a hefty chapter…put my phone down for two seconds…pick it back up and tumblr refreshes. should i end it now or??

[angelqueef]

Midnight Sun | cw: 18+ mdni, smut no plot, lovey dovey (bcause price loves you), mating press, spit, dumbification, cunnilingus, shameless!John, age gap (mid/late 20s reader, 50s Price)

John who comes home from a night with his buddies, cigarette between his lips while slipping off his clothes and boots, and gently asks,

“Let me love on you honey, yeah? Missed you so much.”

Through sleep hazed eyes, you oblige.

Shamless!John is a die hard lover at his core. Even though he just saw you 5 hours ago, pecked your lips and then your cheeks so much that they were wet that he’d be home soon enough. he’ll come home with his battery low on you. Has to let you know he loves you, even though it’s 3 am, soon the sun will rise and the birds will tweet and someone will start mowing their lawn at 7 am— he’s engraining his love into you. That this is something that will last even if he has to crawl to the finish line.

And no, he’s not drunk. Not even tipsy. He had a shot hours ago, he still needs to be inside your snug cunt, with your legs above his shoulders, smooshing you into that mattress he swore was fucking up his back, have you wrapped in his arms, chest to chest, close as possible, you were only seeing each other because of moon creeping through the window of the bedroom.

“Price,” you whined out, clawing at his back. He was slowly rocking his fat cock into you. Making sure you felt ridge and vein of his dick being sucked by your pink walls, closer than close, his strawberry red tip gracing over your g spot as he settled at the hilt of your heat. John was moving painfully slow. You always wanted it quick, mean— but John clicked his tongue.

You knew better.

Knew that he would take his time so late at night with you, brush your scarf off and get a handful of your hair, keep you steady. “Look so pretty baby, couldnt help but think about you, all. fuckin. night.”

The man knew just how to give it to you to make you have hearts in your eyes— rough, slow and deep. In that order. You let out a fat sob, right as he slammed into your sweet spot.

“Shoooo- nggh- good Price,” your keened, your lashes had clumped together, something was wet— besides your dripping pussy- your face. Fat tears spilling out of your eye ducks and to the pillow.

“Yeah, feel so good honey, all for me. Always for me, right?”

“Theeeerrre she is,” he’s managed to work himself deeper inside you, right at your cervix, his tip oozing precum, “Been wanting to kiss her for ages, see what happens when you wait lovely?”

You almost pass out, stars in your eyes, but the older man gets your head in the crook of his elbow, smooshing your face together to wake you up. “Open,” he never had to tell you twice, not when he had you fucked dumb like this. Your mouth is slack but it’s wide open, he spits inside once before sticking two of his fingers inside. Letting you suck on them till theirs drool falling out your mouth, your muffled moans right in John’s ears. He takes them out, sucking them himself and grunting, “So fuckin good baby.”

He groans at the state of you, swiveling his hips faster, harsher, “Love you so much gorgeous, always gonna love ya. Even when you’re all dizzy and wanting Ike this,”

You can only nod, moaning out his name while he pounds into your puffy pussy. His mouth find yours, sloppily kissing you in between your shared moans and groans. “Come on pretty, suck it,” he sticks his tongue out out of his mouth, letting you suck on it. Intertwining your tongues together with loud smacks with every kiss. pulling away with a bite of your lip and then joining your lips together again.

“Love you,” you manage to get out, crying as you grip onto him for dear life.

“Yeah? Want you to cum, sweetheart. hck- Fuck baby thaaats it.” You pulse around his length, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. John’s breath hitched, rutting into you till his cum coats your velvety walls. Hugging onto his large cock for everything he has.

You both are breathless, you’re boneless, all the more tired than you already were. John leaves tender kisses all over you, finding your dazed eyes.

“Fuck, did so good for me beautiful, God, I love you.” He mutters, letting you go for the first time tonight, just to see the state of you. Disheveled, a little sweaty, fluids all over your pussy.

“Oh honey,” he coos, looking at the state of your sore, oozing, cum filled pussy. Glops of your mixed cum falling out your hold. “Think I gotta clean you up, can’t leave you like this.”

You can’t help but squirm, you clenching around nothing as his hands caress all over you, “Price- hngh- too much.”

He lifts your legs again though, his blue eyes hooded as he looks up at you, the older man gives your calf a kiss. “Just a little taste baby.” And he’s already at your messy folds. Giving her a kiss to have your messy slick all over his lips.

Messy eater this man was, he groans at the sweet taste of it. He licks one good strip around the pink of your pussy before sucking. Swallowing everything that’s falling from your cunt, rubbing his face in it and getting your slick in his beard. You keened, toes curling, back arching off the end.

“Have to stay still doll, how else are we gonna get her clean?” He chuckles, flicking your clit with his tongue, then flattening it as he makes his was down to your hole.

Your hips jerk as he eats you, his tongue working in and out of your sopping heat. Loud schelching as he works his tongue through your folds.

You croak, “Price- please! Augh!”

He nods against you, “Mmmph- that’s it gorgeous. Come on, let me feel it.” He gives your cunt a nice slap, your slick flying further into his beard, and then some more harsh smacks before you unravel on his mouth.

Its different, your legs are trembling in his hands as he pushes your thighs back to your head, making sure you don’t move while he devours you whole. Slurping up all your juices. You gasp, water flying out of you, “Fuck me- John!” Your heart almost leaves your chest, eyes meeting your skull. John rocks your hips down onto his awaiting mouth, licking you up so you’re shining clean.

The older man leaves you withering, your pussy glistening and sparkling as he comes up from between your legs.

Completely knocking you back to sleep.

a/n: also a request I threw in here. Lord have mercy.

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[angelqueef]

how bf!gaz would take care of you if you were anxious on vacation | mdni

cw: pure cottony sweet fluff, anxious!reader, depictions of panic/anxiety attack, gaz is sweet angel baby, 18+, not proofread

he’d brought you to a four star hotel in a city you’ve never been to—the sheets are crisp and cold and so is the water, you have fresh coffee and snacks at your disposal, a beautiful view below the balcony—you should be happy, grateful. and you were, jumping into his arms and squealing at the new comfortability when the two of you arrived in the afternoon…but now it’s 3am, your stomach is turning and your heart is pounding. you’re not much of a traveler, and with the room pitch black, you feel the walls closing in. you’re freezing but breaking into sweats at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of the past, present and future. you’re tense, and kyle can tell.

typically, you’d be on him, face burrowed into his neck, thigh wedged between his, ball of your foot against his shin. but tonight, you were far (less than two feet) away from him in fetal position. your shoulders stiff, constantly inhaling and sighing to regulate your breath.

you and kyle have only been together for a couple months. you’ve been open about being prone to anxiety attacks and the like, he’s just never experienced it first hand. you intended to keep it that way, fearful of what would happen if you slipped up.

he passed out as soon as you got back to the room, exhausted from your activities in the day and drinks in the evening. he didn’t bother getting ready for bed, leaving you awake long after his soft snores began. but his skin feels bare without you there, a soft frown etching its way between his brows. even in sleep, he knows something is wrong.

you cover your mouth as tears fall, trying with all your might to calm down. but you can’t and you’re scared. he can’t see you like this, it’s all too new. you’d been so perfect this whole time, you’d done your best to filter out the gunk, sift through the sand. surely, he’ll think you’re crazy, a lost cause. surely, he’ll touch you gingerly with fear. surely, he’ll judge you. surely-

“baby?” his groggy voice freezes you. you don’t dare to move, you’re a deer caught in headlights. a dog caught gnawing on something she shouldn’t. you don’t know if you should turn to him or pretend to sleep.

before you can decide, his hand is snaking over your waist, beckoning you to face him. you take your hand from your mouth with a whimper, “‘m sorry,” is all you can muster.

he knows you’re embarrassed, scared. but it’s okay. he’ll come to you.

“for what, honey? you’re okay. ’s jus’ me,” he soothes, voice still soft and full of sleep. he puts his lips to your shoulder in an attempt to satiate you.

your lips wobble, he’s being so gentle. you don’t understand how or why you’re lucky enough to be in this situation. it feels so raw. too much.

the floodgates open and your voice breaks, “you brought me all the way here. you’ve been so good to me, and i haven’t been scared or nothin’. and i’m so grateful. believe me, i am. so why do i feel like this? i don’- i can’t breathe, i feel so sick, i don’t get what’s wrong. i don’t know what i did. you don’t deserve this.”

tears are flowing now, and you’re letting out sobs you tried with all your might to dam up, body convulsing. kyle rubs his hand all over you, moving under your shirt for contact, nosing the nape of your neck to stable you. he won’t let it show, but he’s worried. he’s never seen you so sick. you put up a good front, but he sees the walls you build, how rigid they keep you. he’s been working hard to worm his way inside and knock them down with his bare hands.

“can you turn to me, sweet girl?”

you’re breath hitches, “i’m scared.”

“of what?”

“what if you don’t like me anymore?”

he lets out a laugh, mouth pressing against your skin to mute the sound. the vibrations tickle, and against your will you crack a downward—albeit embarrassed—smile.

“did i say something funny?” you turn to him, nervous.

“why would i not like you?” his lips quirk a smile, brown eyes are staring at your glossy face—left eye, right eye, lips, over and over.

oh. you don’t have an answer actually, which makes more tears fall. you cover your face. it all felt so stupid, so senseless.

he nuzzles the back of your hands, “c’mon, lemme see that face. talk t’me.”

you can’t help but obey, “i don’t know, ky. it’s so quiet and dark. this is all s-so new- and- and i don’t know what to do. i’m trying to be good- i was being good, and now it’s all gone and i- you can’t see me like this-.”

“shh, shh. breathe, baby,” he’s inhaling and exhaling slowly, nodding to get you to follow him.

you nod with him, in through your nose, out through your mouth, even holding your breath a bit in between.

he pecks each cheek, tongue darting out ever so slightly to clean your tears. you squirm, he chuckles.

“never asked you to be good. never asked you to be anything else but yourself, ‘kay?”

“but-.”

he interrupts you with a kiss that’s so deep, gentle, romantic. like he’s poured all his feelings for you into one lip-lock. he’s caging you in now, elbow resting by your neck, fingers pressed to your scalp. you close your eyes and breathe a real breath, nausea ebbing and heart slowing to a consistent beat.

“never asked you to be anything but mine, y’understand?”

“yes,” you sigh.

“good,” he peppers your face with kisses, “feel better?”

“a little.”

“what else can i do, baby? let me know.”

you hum, “massage, maybe?”

he nearly breaks right then and there. your eyebrows are turned up, eyes wide and pleading, bitten lip sticking out in a soft pout. jesus. how could anyone say no to that?

“anything for you.”

he turns you over on your tummy with a softness you’ve never felt from a man. your head sinks into the pillow, body already melting. he kisses down your spine, coming up to whisper nothings in your ear so sweet your throat is thick with spit and your teeth rot:

“so soft f’me,” / “keep breathing, honey,” / “prettiest thing i ever laid my eyes on,” / “y’must be so tired, poor baby,”

you’re mumbling thank you’s and sighing under his touch. his hands and knuckles untying the thick knots that formed in your shoulders.

“you don’t have to worry about being perfect around me, y’know? you already are. there’s nothin’ you gotta do except be here w’me.”

you stiffen at his words. there’s chills forming at the sound of his gravelly voice. you didn’t know your attempts at perfection were so obvious. he notices and presses into you harder, “i know, i know. you’re a little scared, huh? s’okay. i’m not changin’ my mind. you’re stuck here, with me.”

a tear of relief falls from your left eye into your right. you blink, holding back a sob.

“let it out, baby. i got you.”

you let yourself go, finally allowing kyle to see the you you’ve been hiding for the first time. you’ve been reduced to a puddle under him and he doesn’t miss a beat, continuing his task of working through every lump under your skin.

he waits until your sobs have quieted to soft hiccups and sniffs, “how we feelin’ now?”

you can do nothing but nod, dancing on the line between sleep and consciousness.

he smiles, thick forearms tired and lids heavy. he huffs and lifts himself out of the bed, dragging his body to the kitchenette. you whine at the loss of contact.

“you need water.”

he returns almost as quickly as he leaves, lifting your head up so you can reach the straw that floats in the glass of ice water, cheeks squished and forcing a pout.

“drink, you’re dehydrated, baby.”

you sip, then you gulp, sitting up and grabbing the glass yourself. water dribbles down your chin, you’re almost pouring it all over yourself.

kyle tuts, “slow down, don’t want you to choke.”

“sorry,” you swallow, licking your lips.

“nuh uh. no sorries. you’re doin’ just fine,” he takes the now empty glass from your hand and puts it on the bedside table. his tired body plops on the bed beside you, hoisting you on top of him with ease. he wipes your wet face with his shirt, not caring to get snot and spit on the collar.

you���re immediately pawing at his chest and shoulders. with cold, damp lips, you leave lazy, open mouthed kisses on his neck. he lets out a noise, not exactly a moan, but some noise of pleasure.

“did so good for me, baby. don’t you ever hide from me like that again, ‘kay? my heart can’t take it,” he whispers.

he feels you nod against him, exhausted. and he’s proud. proud he was able to settle you down, proud you were able to unravel for him.

you lull each other to sleep with lethargic rubs and touches, finally able to rest fully.

———————————————————————————

a/n: i’m out of town rn and feeling very overwhelmed and anxious so i needed to lose myself in a gaz fantasy ;( i feel like under all that charm and charisma he’d be such a soft/sweet/understanding boyfriend…hope u like! sorry if this is too self indulgent

[angelqueef]

The Accountant (2016)

[angelqueef]

It’s easy to forget that Suguru has depression.

He hides it so well. Not because he’s ashamed, it's just because he’s used to that dreaded feeling. He’s learned how to move around it, how to hold it carefully behind his glimmering violet eyes while he smooths your hair and calls you his love. He knows how to laugh, to kiss you silly, to make everything feel light and safe and whole. He makes you feel adored, every single day.

But even someone like Suguru gets tired.

Sometimes it shows in the smallest ways. Like how his laughter dies a little too quickly. How his smiles stretch wide but don’t quite reach his eyes. Or how, after you’ve been playing around - his hair loose, cheeks pink, pinning you down with that boyish look in his eyes - he suddenly goes quiet. Still. Retreats inward in the space of a breath.

You know better now. You didn’t, at first. You used to think he just needed space. That maybe he was worn out. But the more you watch, the more you see it: the way his eyes go distant, as if he’s slipping underwater. The way his body stills, acting like it takes too much effort just to exist.

He rolls onto his back, head tilted to the side, long black strands of hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink. He stares up at the ceiling, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. And he doesn’t say anything - not even when you look at him.

But that’s when you go to him.

You climb on top of him gently, settle your body across his chest, tuck your cheek into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t ask you to, but his arms still come up to hold you. One hand splaying across your back, the other weaving through your hair. And you feel him breathe again, slower this time. It’s easier with you there.

Because you’ve learned what kindness looks like in these moments.

It’s brushing your fingers through his hair when he’s too quiet. It’s joining him in the shower, hugging him from behind, pressing soft kisses to the broad planes of his back even when he doesn’t say a word. It’s making Soba for dinner without asking what he wants, just setting the bowl down and watching the flicker of relief pass over his face. How his shoulders relax, the tightness in his brow softens. It's curling into him at night even when the air is heavy and the heat clings to your skin, just to remind him you're not going anywhere.

He doesn't always say thank you. But you feel it in the way his hand finds yours beneath the covers. The way he tugs you just a little closer, kisses your forehead, and exhales, like maybe he can finally let go of something.

And you don’t expect him to bounce back right away. You don’t wait for the moment he becomes bright again. You just love him. Through the quiet. Through the stillness. Through the weight he carries.

Because soon, he’ll be Suguru again, cheeky and soft, tugging you into his lap, calling you all those sweet names like nothing in the world ever hurt him.

But until then, you’ll be soft enough for both of you.