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joonberriess · 2 months

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LOVIN’ YOU ౨ৎ ‧₊˚

TAGS — unprotected sex, nasty sex, late valentines gift, rough sex, romantic(?), daddy kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, possessive!jk, baby no. 2 might have been made here, spoiler: it was, jk is meannnnn, heavy dom-sub vibes, edging, fingering, oc loves being degraded for being a whore for jk, it gets super soft, love making, oc is a bratty sub in this one, heavy degradation, slut shaming(?), oc wants to CUCK jk as a joke but he gets his lick back on her lmao, PET NAMESSS, this is a spin-off from the main series of flawless!

WORD COUNT — 3.5 k

“Happy anniversary love.” Jungkook sleepily mumbles as he passes by. He leans over to land a kiss on your forehead, his hand slips from the back of your waist and over your hip settling with a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head and rest it against his bicep while brushing your teeth. We look good, you think while admiring Jungkook’s bare form. He had decided to forgo a sleeping shirt last night and chose only his slutty silk pajamas you had both bought together on a whim. You were wrapped up in a baby pink robe with a pretty little night slip underneath.

“Is Jae awake,” you softly ask while admiring your appearance in the luxurious mirror. Jungkook says something but you’re busy rinsing your mouth out so you don’t catch it, and by the time you come back up he’s brushing his own teeth with a silly little smile on his face.

“What?” You purse your lips, “What’s so funny?” He shakes his head and spits out the paste from his mouth leaving you a bit annoyed at your husband’s antics. “Hmph.”

You lay your head back on his bicep again and lift your phone up to snap a picture of the two of you. “Say cheese,” you softly giggle while zooming in on his face, bursting out into laughter as Jungkook gives you a foamy smile.

You peep the way your diamond ring and wedding band glistens under the sunlight pouring in through the open french doors, Jungkook’s own wedding band shining just as bright too. You wrap your ringed hand around him and snap a few more pictures for later. “Jungkook–you’re making a mess.” You sigh as water droplets hit your thighs from his little mouth rinsing session.

“Sorry.” Jungkook wipes his face down with a towel and nods in approval at something, “All the little old French ladies are gonna be all over me, aren’t you worried someone’s gonna take me away sweetheart?” He tenderly cups your cheeks and squeezes.

This certainly has your brow raising in question, “Aren’t you worried a French man is going to take me away? What if he whisks me off to the Eiffel Tower and proposes to me? Hm?” You play at his game, watching in satisfaction as a twinge of possessiveness and jealousy spark in his dark onyx eyes.

“Take you? Baby over my dead body,” he tugs you in and holds you against him, “wish a motherfucker would..” He grunts under his breath, the tone sends a delicious little shiver down your spine. You swear you have a second heartbeat right now, you just loved when he got like this.

His big greedy hands grab handfuls of your ass through the flimsy little thong you were wearing under your night slip. A tiny gasp slips from your lips as he abruptly smacks both cheeks making you jump just a little. “Bet you don’t like that huh?” You softly smirk. Jungkook grumbles like you already know the answer to that.

He leans down to leave a flurry of kisses all over your neck and shoulder, irritably growling when your robe gets in the way as he tugs the entire thing off. “Just the fuckin’ thought of someone putting their hands on you pisses me off sweetheart—not everyone should have the luxury of being blessed with your soft little cunt and perky ass.” He whispers darkly in your ear.

“You like that? Like hearing how much I love this slutty body? It makes me never wanna let you leave those sheets darling, especially with how good you looked for me on the bed last night.” Jungkook wraps his lips around a hickey he left last night, immediately he starts sucking on it with the intention of making it darker.

You mewl softly at his words and bite your lip, “You know I don’t want anyone else,” you flutter your lashes coyly, “ ‘s the only cock I’ll ever need daddy, no one can fuck me like you do,” you lean up to whisper low and sultry in his ear, “so show them who I belong to.”

Jungkook groans at your seductive tone and hauls you up by the back of your thighs, “Ain’t I just the luckiest bastard sweetheart? What’d I do to deserve such a pretty little thing like you?” He muses while untying the bow holding your robe together.

Your robe falls apart, unveiling your tits as if they were a piece of artwork for Jungkook’s hungry eyes to feast on. He licks his lips darkly, eyes briefly flickering up to stare into your own. “Please daddy.” You softly say while spreading your legs wider, hooking your ankles together behind his strong muscular back, tugging him closer to you.

“Why should I? Thought your little french boy’s can do it better than me?” He huskily whispers, hot breath hovering over your pebbled nipple, “Will he fuck you the way I do? Have you screaming and shaking? More importantly sweetheart,” he whispers low, “will he be able to satisfy you the way I can?” He engulfs your nipple in his mouth.

You bite your lip and lean your head back while running your fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, will he?” You breathily whisper, breath hitched when Jungkook uses a hint of teeth on your sore teat. “Maybe he can, I’ll even put on a show for you daddy—so you can see how pretty I look taking someone else’s cock.”

Jungkook’s grip tightens to the point that the pressure has you squirming, “What’s the matter daddy? Thought you wanted to see how pretty I look hanging off a cock.”

“Fuckin’ minx,” he growls pulling away from your wet nipple, “that what you want? You gonna let your daddy watch someone else stuff their dick into that whore-ish cunt of yours? Is that it sweetheart? Baby wants to be a whore?” He lands a punishing smack against your ass cheek, causing it to echo loudly in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

You arch your back and whine, “For you,” you mewl softly, “only you daddy.” You finally gave in because the tension was rising and it was proving too much to handle. Jungkook didn’t give a fuck, he could play it that game—far worse too.

“Now it’s only me huh? Where’d my little whore go hm? The one who wanted to put on a show for her daddy?” He cups your chin and squeezes your cheeks together, “Hm?”

You whine again but he doesn’t let up on your suffering, “Not so bold now, huh sweetheart? Cat got your tongue baby?” He leans in, mocking your little whines in his own husky voice which immediately has you slicking up. “Why the pout?” He smirks like he isn’t the one responsible for this sweet torture.

“Because..”

“Because,” he mocks with a pout while squeezing your chin and such, waiting for a coherent answer. “Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re a mess.”

You bite your lip at his mean tone and arch into his touch, desperately wiggling and bucking your hips just to feel— you’ll take anything at this point. Jungkook stops you with his hand and holds you still, “Look at you, humping me like a little bitch in heat.” He cruelly chuckles.

“Jungkook,” you softly sob, they’re not real tears anyways but still it’s not fair that he’s not giving you the fucking you deserve. At least a good dick sucking session would suffice but you can’t even have that. ;(

“Say it,” he reaches down to cup you through your thong, “say you’re mine sweet girl,” he purrs.

Your lips part in a small ‘o’ as his fingers breach your soaked thong, he dips them in teasingly with his fingertips brushing against your poor clit. “ ‘m yours, only yours.” You whimper softly, “Please..? Want your fingers daddy,” you wiggle around again.

Your devious husband doesn’t even warn you before he’s plunging his fingers into your sopping cunt. A breathless cry escapes and you toss your head back from the sudden burst of hot pleasure in your loins, “Mm..!”

Jungkook doesn’t even let you compose yourself before he’s curling his ring and index finger up to brush against your g-spot. He has no problem really, he knows your little cunt like the back of his hand, he’ll have you dripping in no time. “Like this? Or like this?” He suddenly stops and shifts away from your sensitive spot.

While it felt heavenly, nothing compared to Jungkook finger-fucking you into oblivion while hitting your g-spot over and over again. You find yourself panting hotly while scrambling to get a grip on his arm, “Yes..! Like that, please,” you softly cry out. You desperately roll your hips up, your pussy greedily swallowing up every inch of those thick fingers of his.

“That feel good?” He coos while tilting your face with his free hand, “Look at me sweetheart, I wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers for me like a good girl.”

You whimper when he says “good girl” it has your stomach fluttering all over again as you arch into his touch. He switches up his pace and fucks his fingers in deeper and deeper until he’s knuckle-deep inside that sopping cunt. Endless copious amounts of slick dribble down your pussy to your ass, making a real mess on that white marble counter..

“J-Jungkook..!” You breath out while digging your nails into his wrist, the pleasure was beginning to rise higher and higher, only making that little knot in your stomach tighten with each stroke.

Your husband doesn’t seem to mind you falling apart like that, in fact he speeds his pace up and rapidly fucks his fingers into your cunt. You’re literally letting out dribbles of squirt each time he fucks them back in, the pressure in your lower belly and the air around you turns hot. You find yourself shaking under his rough ministrations.

“C-Coming,” you gasp loudly, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of you.

Right as your pussy reaches that sweet abyss, Jungkook suddenly yanks his fingers out leaving your pussy gaping around nothing. You sob in frustration and let your head hit the mirror with a dull thud, “ ‘s not fair!”

Jungkook wipes his digits over your pussy before holding them up to your lips, “Suck.” He leaves no room for argument as you obediently take his fingers into your mouth and lick them clean. He watches with a dark expression, “Good girl, that’s enough. Next time you wanna play like that make sure you can handle the heat sweetheart. Cute.” He smirks evilly as he pats your cheek and heads out of the bathroom.

You bite back a groan of frustration, the edging is so going to be worth it in the long run though.. You lick your lips and hop off the counter on shaky legs, your orgasm may have been ruined but you still had a few things in your head that you wanted to try out on your dear husband.

“What’s wrong my love?” Jungkook asks from behind you as he gently massages your aching feet, “Is it the heels? You should’ve taken my shoes baby.” He softly mumbles.

It was nighttime by now and after a whole day of shopping and sight-seeing you were honestly ready to just hit the hay. Everytime he applied pressure on your sore tired feet, you couldn’t help the pained moan you’d let out. You were currently lying face down on the bed with your feet kicked back on Jungkook’s lap, just enjoying that foot rub.

“I’m okay, I was having too much fun to notice.” You softly reply while tilting your head to look back at him, “.. Jungkookie, I kind of had something on my mind—well it’s been in there for a good while now.” You softly admit.

“Okay,” he softly replies, ready and attentive.

You fully turn around and crawl over to sit on his lap, “What if we have another baby?” You toy with his necklace and pout, “It’s just that… Jae’s getting older and the house feels a little lonely now that he hangs out with friends and stuff..”

“So my sweetheart wants a baby?” He says with a soft look in his eye.

You timidly nod and wrap your arms around his neck, “Think about it, another mini-us running around the house like Jae used to,” you chuckle, “you remember when he was a devious devil…always getting into your office even though I told him not to,” you say fondly.

He chuckles endearingly, “Of course I remember baby, those were the best years of my life—raising him and coming home to you.”

“Soooo, that’s why I think it’d be a great idea to have another baby!” You giggle happily while smooching over his lips, “Cos you’re not gettin’ any younger, old man.” You stick your tongue out teasingly.

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, “You’ve been hanging out with Jae too much, but no, unfortunately you’re stuck with this old man.” He snorts despite not really being THAT old like his own son made him out to be.

“You’re MY old man though,” you kiss his nose gently, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You cheekily grin.

He brings you in for a tender kiss, laying gentle pecks over your lips until you’re whining for him to stop. “I love you sweetheart.” He murmurs softly while stroking your hair, “I’m glad you decided to stick around, don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I mean, did I really have a CHOICE?” You roll your eyes with a smile, “I’m kidding love, you know I would do it all over again for you. Nothing in the world could ever change that.” You softly say and bring him closer.

Jungkook doesn’t protest when your lips meet, he wraps his arms around your back as his eyes slip shut. The kiss itself feels magical and you can’t help but wrap your arms tighter around him in a loving embrace. You break from the kiss to catch your breath, there’s a small string of saliva that connects your lips.

“C’mere.” Jungkook mumbles and brings you back in for another sweet kiss. He slowly falls back onto the bed and brings you with him, never parting from the messy spit-slick kiss.

You and Jungkook don’t last long just kissing because you find yourself tugging on his clothes and helping him strip vice-versa. The two of you find yourselves under the warm silky sheets, and a rose-scented aroma that fills the entire room after Jungkook decides to light the candle on a whim.

The sheer intimacy of it all, you’re not in a rush this time—this time is something meaningful. You can’t really find it in yourself to come out of that little romantic bubble right now, everything just wants to make you cry. It literally makes your heart hurt over how sweet and loving Jungkook is…what did you do to deserve him?

“Hi.” You softly say when Jungkook and you come face to face after kissing for what seemed like hours.

“Hi beautiful.” He nuzzles your nose gently and presses his forehead against yours.

You blush shyly and look away, “Yah, just shut up and give me my baby already.. All that talk and no action,” you giggle, “pussy isn’t gonna breed itself.” Jungkook’s mouth drops open at what you say and it sends you reeling into explosive laughter.

“Where did my sweetheart go huh? ‘S like a little devil just popped in to say hi,” he recovers from the initial shock with a low chuckle, “you’re gonna send me to an early grave.” He groans.

You lean down to whisper in his ear, “C’mon, I know you wanna fuck me till I catch—till I’m full and round with our baby again.” You purr cupping his jawline, “Turns you on doesn’t it? Knowing damn well that’s your baby you put in me.”

He swallows harshly and nods, “Love it sweetheart, I’ll die a happy man knowing that I got to put my kids in you before any other bastard could.” He growls.

“Then get to it,” you softly coo, “or I’ll find someone else to do the job for you.”

That turns him on like a switch, he flips the two of you over and pins your arms above your head with a dark look. “Yeah? Guess I gotta show you what you’d be missing then baby,” he takes a hold of his cock and slaps the wet tip over your pussy, “gonna make sure you’re filled by the end of the night.”

You moan softly at his words and spread your legs wider, “I want it—every last drop of it daddy, want you to breed me.” You pout softly while pursing your lips for a kiss.

He kisses you like a princess but fucks you like a whore, which is what you LOVED about him. You reach down to stroke his hard cock, running your thumb over the leaky tip and over every vein on his shaft. He looks like he’s in bliss as he bites his bottom lip and watches you with hooded eyes.

“Want it in me,” you softly say while rubbing his cock through your soft squishy folds, “can I please?”

“Fuck—anything you want babydoll.”

You give him the most precious smile ever and then push his cock towards your greedy hole. You easily take the head with ease as it pops in slowly. The two of you hiss low at the pressure as Jungkook slips inch after inch into your pussy.

“More, please,” you breathlessly sigh while laying your head back on the soft pillow.

Jungkook doesn’t even think he has the strength to say no to begin with. He holds himself up over you while slowly bumping his hips into yours. His cock is utterly drenched with your slick, the slide is messy and loud whenever he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he hisses and drops down to his elbows as he cages you in, “you feel so fucking good sweetheart.”

His balls are pressed snug, showing you that he really is taking this breeding thing seriously—more than ever now because you both have a mutual goal in mind. “It’s okay daddy,” you softly say, “I can take it.”

Jungkook pauses to look at you, damn near cursing when he sees that expression you got on your face. He hooks your thighs over his arms and folds you into a mating press with your hips tilted up, “There you go sweetheart, jus’ relax ‘n take it for me sweetheart.”

He whispers more praises under his breath while rocking into you gently. His pace doesn’t seem to stay the same because gradually he begins speeding up. Much like yesterday he really lets hell rain on your poor cunt.

You whimper and cry out while holding on with your toes curled from the pleasure. He doesn’t even bother with teasing or anything because he hits that sweet spot inside of you relentlessly. Each time he drives his cock in there’s a lewd wet smack, and the noises only get louder from there.

“T-There..! Don’t stop, please,” you whimper and grit your teeth, “feels so good..”

Jungkook huffs quietly and leans down to kiss over your bruised neck, “Yeah baby? You gonna let me fill that pussy up till you’re dripping? Gonna let me use it till I’m done?”

“Yes!” You gasp, “Anything for you,”

“For me?” He coos as he cups your chin and tilts your face to him, “Cute.” He smirks softly and continues fucking into you relentlessly.

The smacking sounds get louder and the bed creaks from force. You quite literally are seeing stars as he rocks your entire world, you can’t even form a coherent sentence let alone see through your starry vision.

“Jungkook..!” You whimper through your moans, “ ‘m gonna cum, please,” you sob as the tension begins rising, “can I, please daddy?” You whine out while gritting your teeth.

He stops to let your legs fall from his grip as he changes the pace and grabs onto your soft hips. He uses it as leverage to fuck into your cunt with repeated wet smacks. “Go on,” he grunts, “cum for me.” He spits between the two of you, right where your pussy opens up beautifully for him as he slides his thumb over your slippery clit.

Your mouth falls open when he rubs side to side in tandem with his thrusts. Your back arches and the air gets knocked out of you as you cum with intense waves of pleasure. “Jungkook,” you mewl desperately while pawing at him.

He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit until you go silent and your weak hands push at his wrist again. He growls low and rubs the sensitive bud faster until you’re drenching his lap and the sheets slick. His eyes briefly flicker up to see that you’re in bliss right now.

You feel the telltale signs of his orgasm as his cock throbs painfully inside of you. It only takes a few more pumps until Jungkook’s pressing his hips tight against you and milking every drop of his cum. His ragged moans and breathing have you getting wet all over again.

“Mm..” You tiredly let your hands flop on the bed, “I’m so sleepy..” You softly say.

Jungkook quietly grunts, “Just rest, I got you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings:

“Look at the jugs on her,” one of the guys says at the busty blonde that has just been introduced for the first time in the film. A few others follow suit, whooping at the gorgeous, petite female main character popping up on screen as the movie really gets going. “That’s a woman you could lose yourself in. Fuck, I wish I could find a girl like her; I’d be a happy man for life. To have that waiting at home for me, I’d never even be tempted to stray.”

This is usually how movie night on base goes: people piling into the rec center ready to watch the latest movie from the personal collection from one of the members, but mostly it just devolves into a testosterone fest of horny boys itching to have something to focus their sexual frustrations on by ogling at the new pretty little thing on screen. Usually it doesn’t bother you, you’re used to being around all that chaos, but tonight just feels different.

Simon isn’t one for this type of gathering, but he comes to keep an on the crowd and be nearer to you and as he watches out of the corner of his eye from his place standing towards the back, he notices how your body language changes as the guys continue to raucously talk about the leading lady and how beautiful she is. It’s almost imperceptible the way you shift in your seat while you pick at the skin of your lower lip with your teeth, your shoulders slumping down as you cross your arms, but he catches it outright. He knows you and he knows this isn’t normal.

Something is bothering you.

The longer you sit there the worse it gets. Their lustful words just cut different tonight; maybe it’s exhaustion from being overworked or perhaps you’re just having an off day, but the longer they hoot and holler over the girl plastered before your eyes, the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

It’s about halfway through the movie when you slowly get up from your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself by leaving too quickly and exit the rec without looking back. Simon is instantly concerned and wants to rush after you, but one of the newer recruits that seems to be the ringleader in all this turns to him as if to drag him into the depraved fun.

“Whatcha think; gotta admit she’s a fine thing, ain’t she Lieutenant?” he asks, nodding back at the screen. “Come on, even you gotta admit she’s perfect. Couldn’t hope to find anyone better.”

The look that Simon gives the young man through his mask, that stone cold glare that could make even the bravest man shiver, instantly shuts him up and has him facing forward again to join his brothers in arms in their jokes. His brow furrows angrily behind the fabric as he looks over the crowd of boys once more before heading out, leaving quietly like a specter on his way to find where you had gotten to.

Simon checks all the usual places, but you are nowhere to be found: the little area outside the rec where you usually join him for a smoke break, the mess hall, even your barracks are empty. Then he hears movement in the communal bathroom and knows he’s finally found you.

It looks like you’ve been rushing to get done before anyone can catch you. Your hair is damp from the shower and it drips down to leave dark stains onto your t-shirt as you stand staring at yourself in the mirror behind the sink. Simon watches quietly from his obscured place by the door as you look yourself over, scrutinizing each detail from head to toe before you give up with a sigh and a diversion of your eyes, focusing on your toothbrush instead as you pick it up and turn on the faucet. So absorbed in what you are doing, you don’t hear the lock click closed or the pair of heavy boots that cross the length of the room until there is a presence upon you.

“God, you’re so beautiful baby,” you hear that deep, gravelly voice sound from behind you while a bulky arm wraps itself around your waist from behind as Simon presses up against your back. You look back up into the mirror in front of you and are instantly met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes as he slowly removes his balaclava. “Just standin’ there fresh outta the shower and ya look like a fantasy.”

Setting the mask on the sink he joins his other arm around you and leans his face in, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck before he presses his lips against your jugular. His lips catch the feeling of your pulse quickening through the vein at his touch. Rough hands begin to splay across your clothed stomach, running across and down to your hips with gentle caresses that make you pause. Your eyes stare into the mirror to take in your combined form as he drapes himself over you, hot lips peppering your skin with no sign of letting up.

You chuckle dismissively, trying to play off his words as a joke. Your head still isn’t in the right place and even though you enjoy the feeling of his touch, disastrous thoughts still circle throughout to cloud your mind so that you second guess even his affections.

“Oh, come off it,” you return as you grab the toothpaste off the countertop. “I do not.”

There is no hesitation in his reply. “I’m serious,” he breathes that husky whisper against your skin as his lips continue down to your shoulder as his fingers pull the t-shirt away from your collar bone to reveal more skin for him to adorn with his mouth.

You roll your eyes in the mirror so that as he looks up briefly he catches the movement. “Yeah, sure,” you again dismiss him. “Whatever you say.”

Before you can even unscrew the cap to the toothpaste, Simon reaches past you to turn off the tap and take your things out of your hands before he rotates you around so that you face him. Your backside presses into the edge of the sink as you rest up against it, mouth scrunched to one side as he gazes back at you with intent. There is a subtle frown on his lips and an anxious look in his copper eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. “Somethin’ happen? Cause I did see ya leave in a hurry back there.”

You divert your eyes, ashamed of your lack of confidence that has come forward tonight. “I don’t know, it’s nothing,” you shrug, but he isn’t buying any of it.

His large hand rests itself up under your chin, pulling your head back up to look into his face. “I think ya do know,” he says. “Will ya tell me?”

Clearing your throat, you give yourself a moment to figure out how best to proceed. “It’s just,” you say hesitantly, “I guess sometimes I just wish I looked like that, you know? I know I’m usually not this self-conscious, but tonight I guess I just hit a rough patch with my insecurities and something about the shit they were saying just got to me I guess. You see the way the guys talk about girls like in that movie, like she’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. She’s so perfect and… I…”

You gesture with your head down the length of your body to emphasize your point that you are nothing like the actress: your breasts are on the smaller side, your thighs are incredibly thick, and your stomach is not completely flat. Simon follows your hand, looking you up and down before his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m not. I know it’s fucking stupid and I shouldn’t care about all that, it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes it’s just hard to ignore. I’m not the standard when it comes to beauty, but sometimes I just want to feel like I’m the most irresistible person in the room.”

It seems like he wants to say something, you can see his mouth shifting, but instead his gaze drifts down to your lips and he pulls your chin forward to close the distance between your mouths. Instantly he overtakes your mouth with his own, tenderly capturing your lips over and over with a gentle desperation that makes him shudder against you as he moves in closer.

“Who the fuck said ya ain’t perfect?” he asks, his voice breathy against your lips. “Gimme that bastard’s name. You tell me right now so I can go ring their fuckin’ neck. Cause that is a goddamn lie.”

“No one said anything like that, it’s just the way I feel,” you answer honestly. “And you’re only saying that because you like me.”

Immediately Simon pulls you into another long kiss as if he is trying to take those insecure words right out of your mouth before you can say anything else. Breaking the kiss, Simon licks his flushed lips and shakes his head. “Really? Ya don’t think your body can drive someone wild? Then what’s this, hmm?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand forward so that he can place the palm over top of the soft bulge growing in his boxers. “See whatcha do to me, sweetheart? Ya think that’s lyin’?”

Your hand rubs over the swell and his hips unconsciously buck slightly against your hand as he hums in approval of your touch. It is instantaneous the way you have him begging for even a simple touch from you; no other has ever held that kind of power over him, not anyone that he would give it to so freely like he does you. The warm pressure from your hand causes the pulsing to intensify as he grows harder and you find your heart beat starting to match its throbbing.

“Ya don’t think I catch the men lookin’ at ya from time to time?” he asks as he leans his head forward until it rests against your own, hands moving up under the hem of your shirt to play with the toasty skin of your abdomen as he talks. “Ya don’t think I see that their eyes glaze over as they linger on your body a bit too long for my fuckin’ likin’? Just cause they won’t say it out loud doesn’t make it any less true that you have something about ya that would drive any man wild.”

His words are like a balm to your mind and the longer he speaks the more you find yourself falling under their spell. Rough fingers are pushing up higher into your shirt, pulling it up over your waist as he runs his palms across the area while his hips press into yours. He’s not forceful or harsh, his advances are only full of adoration in that type of intense devotion that only Simon Riley is capable of when it comes to savoring the best damn thing he has ever had.

“Don’t let what ya heard back there hurt ya,” he says softly. “Yeah, ya don’t look like that bird on the screen, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t an absolute beauty. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen and I ain’t just sayin’ it, baby. But ya don’t just have ta take my word for it. Let me show ya that no one can hold a candle to what ya got.”

Simon pulls you over to one of the empty showers and gets it going, fiddling with the taps to make sure the water is going nice and warm before he turns his undivided attention back to you. Instantly his mouth is back on yours as one by one each piece of your clothing is removed and set aside in tandem with his own until you both stand before the other bare.

“I’ve already showered,” you mutter out between pauses as merely just a statement of fact rather than a reason to deny him.

Simon murmurs his disagreement into your mouth. “Don’t care,” he replies through a break in his kiss, continuing to take off your clothes as he dizzyingly tries to get at your body. “Can’t be havin’ those fuckin’ negative thoughts in that head of yours. Wanna take care of ya, make ya feel like the true beauty ya are.”

More kissing, so much that your lips are burning and raw from the friction. His mouth must be aflame too, but he doesn’t let up; he can’t, he’s captured in the wake of your allure and there is no getting out.

“What if someone comes in?” The last of your questions spills out quick.

He chuckles at your needless worry. “Already locked the door sweetheart.”

Stretching his hand out, he checks the temperature to be sure it’s right before dragging you inside the steamy oasis. The curtain is barely pulled closed before he has you pinned at the back wall, his stocky torso rubbing against your voluptuous naked body as he steals the breath from your lungs, kissing you so thoroughly that there is no distinction between faces anymore.

The change in temperature has your nipples hardening, the blossoms spiking forward at attention, and Simon can feel them poking against his chest the longer he has your mouth locked in that dance of back and forth. The moment he is aware of their presence his mouth is salivating to get at them.

You might think they are not perfect enough, but to him they are exactly what he wants.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, removing his mouth so quickly that a trial of spit still connects your lips a moment, he tilts his head downward. Being on the smaller side, he can fit your breast almost entirely in his mouth and he does, filling the cavity with as much of your tit as he can without choking.

You can hardly remember anymore why the stupid comments had you so upset in the first place when you have a man like Simon who will dote on you like you are royalty. His is the only opinion you have come to care about and it is clear that there is nothing he will ever want more than you.

He moans deep and guttural into your breast as he sucks while letting the end of his tongue flick around the nipple, circling the sensitive tissue until you are writhing against him as he holds you steady to the wall so that he can work. There is another breast after all that requires his attention and he intends to show it the same amount of affection as the other. Switching sides, he gets to work, keeping the first breast warm by cupping it in his hand.

It’s minutes of you quivering and whimpering before he emerges panting with his lips swollen and red, satisfied with his work so far. Giving his lips a break, Simon gently strokes your cheek with his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, swaying your bodies from side to side in easy movements. “Stay with me luv,” he says softly as he watches you take heavy breaths, “I ain’t done just yet.”

Those lips are on the move again to decorate your body, over your sternum and waist, until he has to kneel before you to get any further. He’s on his knees, all 6’4” of him bent to you as he places kisses across your belly while the heated water runs over his dirty blonde hair and down his back, rippling across the muscles in his shoulders as he holds your hips squeezed securely between his broad hands.

“You’re perfect just the way ya are, baby,” he groans against your moist skin, letting his lips linger wherever he puts them. “Just like this: real, curves for fuckin’ days, so much skin I get drunk tryin’ to get at it all. And the best goddamn part is that it’s all mine.”

More kisses he places along all the areas you think unworthy of adoration, but that he finds absolutely exquisite. “Mine, all mine.”

His words devolve into incoherent babble as he nestles his face into your abdomen to leave burning trails of his desire with his lips that even the warm water cannot wash away from your skin. Your body writhes in his double-handed grasp as your head falls back to rest against the wall as every inch of tender flesh prickles with the overstimulating sensation of being doted upon.

Lips keep trailing further downward from your stomach to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs.

“Ya think I get on my knees for any girl?” he asks from his place at the bottom of the shower as he stares up into your face with half-lidded eyes that darken the more he plays with you. “You’re the only one who can bring me to fuckin’ kneel, baby. You and your gorgeous body. I’m at it’s goddamn mercy.”

Placing his hand on your calf, he nods and you know exactly what he wants: that juicy cunt smothering his features, your bulky thighs crush against his ears. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and he leans in, smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip.

There is little oxygen to be had between the heat from the water and the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft, breathy gasps and moans as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up to breathe. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, if there is even a whisper of a negative thought left in your brain it is overshadowed completely now by the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured to the brink of insanity.

You buck wild and untamed, panting heavily as the warmth in your belly begins gathering quicker than you could have thought, the coil pulling tightly as minute by aching minute Simon draws your body to the edge of its release. He is relentless in his endeavor, putting your needs above anything else- even breathing. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you soon are spilling over the edge and he has to hold onto you tight so that you don’t slip and fall.

Simon stays locked to your pussy until the very last second, keeping his movements going even as you try to pry him off from the sensitivity that is almost too much to handle. It isn’t until you finally stop writhing that he emerges from between your legs with a smile that has your stomach doing somersaults as he wipes his mouth clean of your cum.

“Second course,” he growls before you even have a chance to fully come down from your high.

Oh you have got him down bad tonight.

He carefully flips you round to face the wall and uses his feet to make you spread your legs as wide as you can get them. A hefty hand runs itself over the curve of your ass, following the line down all the way to the underside before he grabs it in his hand and gives the meat a firm squeeze.

“Those little boys just don’t know how to handle this much woman; all these fuckin’ curves are too much pleasure for a bastard that don’t know the treasure he’s got. But I know what a fuckin’ feast ya are,” he groans as he aligns your hips and enters you from behind with a forceful grunt that reverberates off the enclosed space of the shower.

You push palms flat against the wall to steady yourself. “They don’t know how ta treat ya right, how ta love a body that just keeps givin’ and givin’. But I don’t have that problem, sweetheart.”

Simon’s devout words are like liquid fire and as his cock stretches you wide, the euphoria of his talk runs through you to make you burn. Your body is his religion and goddamn does he always worship it right. All those cares, all that self-loathing and doubt entirely evaporate from your mind as he pushes your shoulders forward to make you arch your back so that he can pound into your pussy hard and deep from behind, making your plump ass bounce off his pelvis with a recoil that draws his gaze.

“Fuck,” he breathes, so obsessed with the way you look around him that he is trying to ingrain the image in his mind.

His aching exclamation thrills you, making your heart skip a beat as his thrusts continue to rock through you. To be craved in such a way, to be thought of like the woman in the movie, that is what he is giving you now and it is euphoric. His intensity is orgasmic and your body responds in kind as he grabs you to move you closer.

“Don’t concern yourself with the bullshit ideas of some puny little boys when ya got a man who will always make sure you feel like a fuckin’ princess when you’re in his arms,” he says in a whisper at your ear as he pulls you back to leans against his chest. “Cause ya are, sweetheart. Your my fuckin’ goddess of a woman.”

The way he says it makes you ache all over and you can feel it twinge in your clit. “Say it again,” you beg, needing to hear him make those sweet combinations of sounds once more until your body vibrates with pleasure.

His hand comes up to cup around your breast so that he can massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to mewl at the sensation. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful baby, so goddamn perfect just like this, and I love every last fuckin’ inch of ya. My princess.”

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you full on all of his passion for your body. You will never be able to make everyone see you for the gorgeous being that you truly are, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Simon is more than enough to keep you feeling like the most beautiful girl in the whole world; you are safe with him.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arms that are filled with your waist clamp down tighter to secure you to him so that he can shove his cock even harder into your now dripping core. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out.

“Come for me again,” he practically demands as he watches you falling apart once more. “Come on, pretty girl, one more for me. One more together.”

Your limbs are tingling with each snap of his hips against your ass. It’s close, right there, you can almost feel it again as the coil wounds itself tight once more in the pit of your stomach. You clench down on him, making him falter before recovering and continuing on. A few more pumps of him deep in your core and it is right there at the precipice.

“Let go for me,” he whispers into your ear as you clench once more around him and something about the way he says it sets you off. You come for the second time, the orgasm rocketing through you until you can feel it like fire shooting through your veins as you shake with the intensity of it all.

Quickly he pulls out just in time as he too pops off and comes between your thighs as you clamp them together around his cock. The ejaculate runs down your legs as he milks every last bit out of the tip until his body hangs limp and his head falls down to rest the forehead against your shoulder. Still he holds you close, murmuring soft praises against your neck about how fucking amazing that was and how there is no one else that will ever look more beautiful all flushed and exhausted.

Holding onto you, Simon takes a few steps back forcing you to come along until you are both submerged under the showerhead to let that soothing water run over your bodies until you can both come back down from your high. There are no words yet, none that need to be said out loud, all he needs to do is keep you wrapped in his arms a little longer.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water rushing filling the silent space for a while, until a noise breaks you both out of the moment. There is a banging on the door from the outside, repeated knocking loudly and clearly; you’ve been in here for too long, but Simon doesn’t seem to be bothered. There is no attempt to leave the steamy oasis yet and soon the sound subsides and you are both left in the silence once again.

“They’ll just have to fuckin’ wait,” he says against the side of your head in a hushed whisper, lips tempting your earlobe. “They can consider it a punishment for making ya upset. Besides, I’m still busy and you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Note

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint. A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none.

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any.

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute.

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need?

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir.

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven.

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago.

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus.

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy.

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away.

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home.

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard.

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube.

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her?

And god, how he would fuck her…

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob.

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of.

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things?

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all.

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job.

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up.

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb.

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for…

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically.

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present.

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear."

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways.

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying.

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too.

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty.

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening?

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress.

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin.

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries.

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams.

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin.

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined.

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds.

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for.

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child...

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...?

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft.

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go.

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove.

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…"

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness.

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had.

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely.

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog.

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck.

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content.

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity.

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women.

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one.

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in.

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs.

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him.

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?"

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy.

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes.

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets.

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his.

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise.

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness.

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #tw: dark content #könig smut

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tojirights · 2 months

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Honestly think you're one of the best writers for Alastor in this fandom! Your stuff is always brilliant and the characterisation is perfect!

Had the idea last night: Alastor and reader going multiple rounds, and reader still wanting more and being full of energy but Alastor being absolutely out of it and completely shattered, so he uses his tentacles instead, because what kind of gentleman keeps his lady wanting?

Just an excuse to request tentacle sex with everyone's favourite "deer".

a/n: im gonna be so real with you, im not really sure if the tentacles are like, real apendages or if they're part of his shadow soooo i wrote them as the latter. hope it makes sense!! thank you love :') y'all are too nice 🩷

if there was one thing you weren’t expecting to still have in hell, it was your damn hormonal cycle. you didn’t necessarily have a period, but by god, you swore you still ovulated. it felt even worse than before, the primal need threatened to burn a hole through you. you always felt like a bother to alastor during this week of the month, begging and pleading for him to fuck you for hours. but, alastor never turned you away.

today though, you were especially needy. alastor had already made you cum a handful of times and had cum twice himself. he was exhausted. yet, there you were at the edge of his bed, eyes still filled with lust. “my goodess…” alastor chuckles, shaking his head. “i’m not sure i have much left in the tank, darling.” he cups your cheek, watching tears well up in your eyes. “i-i’m sorry-” he shushes you before you can continue. “did i say anything about stopping? i’d never dream of leaving my lady hanging when she needs me.”

“but…” you frown, watching alastor’s smile turn to smirk. “i have a few tricks up my sleeve, my dear. lay back.” your eyes widen as there’s a flash of green light, followed by five tentacle-like appendages sprout from alastor’s back. “w-what?” adrenaline surges through you as well as a mix of excitement and nerves. “you’re gonna… use those?” you gulp, watching the tentacles slither towards you. “why of course!” alastor snickers, seeing your apprehension. “don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours." he coos, watching with hungry yet tired eyes.

the shadow apendages wrap around your thighs, cold to the touch but not unpleasant. as they slowly spread your legs, another slides between them. it's almost embarrassing the way your legs shake with anticipation, the cool tip of the tentacles swiping up your slit. "o-oh, that's..." you sigh in relief when you're suddenly being filled. "how's that darling?" alastor hums, watching as you open wider around him. "that's... oh god alastor..." you pant, every slow thrust of his tentacle-like shadow making your head dizzy.

the foreign feeling of being stretched so wide has you already teetering on the edge. without warning, alastor curls the apendage while picking up pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. "gonna-" you mewl, hips arching off the bed with every thrust. "k-keep going please. 'm gonna cum." every whine makes alastor almost wish his cock was back inside of you, knowing just how hard you're clamping down on his shadow.

but the sight of you writhing, gripping the sheets like you're life depended on it was something he's grateful to be seeing from afar. the buildup to your orgasm comes strong, the coil in your stomach snapping from the tension and- "oooh, you really liked that, hm?" alastor's voice is heavy with arousal, pulling you back to reality after cumming. your vision slowly returns, heavy breathing filling your ears. you barely register the soaking mess you've made on the bed. "oh my god. did i..?" your face goes red, embarrasmemt setting in once again. "yes, my sweet. you did, and made quite the mess for us to clean up."

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x you smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #alastor imagines #hazbin alastor smut #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin alastor x reader

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hedgehog-moss · 7 months

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Pampérigouste escaped today and I almost didn't make a post about it because it's just more of the same isn't it? do people who read this blog really want to hear about yet another Pampe escape? Then I thought, that's like asking if people who read detective novels really want to hear about yet another mysterious murder. Probably yes. Also Pampe would have been offended to have such a successful escape go unreported.

I would like to say that my new fence is still fully Pampe-proof. She has not escaped a single time through breaking or outsmarting the fence, so now she does it by outsmarting me. Which doesn't happen all that often, because we are intellectual equals. But I let my guard down this morning—I'd just peeled some greenhouse carrots to make purée and I went into the pasture to distribute the peelings even though it was raining (see how I got punished for my selflessness?), and I left the gate open because I was right in front of it, obstructing it with my body.

Pampe dropped her carrot peelings and acted like she couldn't find them even though they were right under her feet, so I took pity on her and crouched down to gather them and offer them to her again (see how I'm getting punished for my compassion??) and she took advantage of this diversion. In the span of 0.2 seconds she slithered around me and she was out. It was a little bit beautiful. I don't know if you remember this photo of Pampe & Pyrgus, but it's a perfect illustration of what happened:

I sighed and ignored her and finished distributing the peelings to the other animals, and then went to the barn to get muesli to lure my nuisance back to her pasture. After escaping she initially ran towards the woods, but since I ignored her the whole time, she emerged from the woods when I returned, like, wait, did you notice I escaped? Behind your back, just earlier? Did you notice how I won and you lost?

It shouldn't have been difficult to get her back into the pasture with the help of her favourite snack; unfortunately Pampoldine is still a big baby who was distraught that her mum had left her behind yet again (she should be used to it, honestly, it's been like this since she was an infant), she started making these little panicky noises that Pampe has never paid any attention to—

—so when I propped the gate open with a branch to get Pampe back inside, Poldine hurried out instead. I wasn't expecting this, I thought it was clear that I had the situation under control and her mum would be back in 5 seconds. You could have just waited 5 seconds, Poldine.

Pampelune had no interest in escaping, but she's the matriarch and where her herd goes, she goes, so once the other two were out she barrelled past me as well. I opened the gate to bring 1 llama in and instead 2 llamas went out. Pirlouit besides me was like

For some reason the llamas galloped towards the road, instead of just hanging out in the woods where there's stuff to eat. Maybe because Pampe hadn't gone out in a long time and she wanted to be admired for her feat. Her wish was granted—2 cars stopped to say hi as I was miserably trotting after my llamas on the road in the rain. One of them was the post office lady who once herded my animals out of a pasture with her car, and she was like hop in, it'll be like old times!!!

The two people who stopped their car were enchanted with the encounter and they both told me that they missed the days when Pampe Sightings on this road were a regular thing. No one sides with my fence in the Pampe v. Fence conflict. I love the post office lady though, she had a Niagara song playing in her car when I got in and a minute later I muttered "I'll sell her to the butcher" and she started singing "Pampe ♪ Je vais devoir te vendre au boucher ♫" to the tune of that song. It fit the tune really well, too.

After we managed to get the llamas off the main road and back in the woods, she was like, godspeed, I wish I could continue chasing them with you but I have to go make lunch for my kids. I told her that now that the llamas were no longer on the road I'd just let them roam, they'll come home before night, no way I'm going to chase after them in the woods in this dog weather. So I went home and grumpily resumed peeling carrots and potatoes for my mash.

I sat in front of the window to do it so I could keep an eye on Pirlouit, who was wandering around the pasture like a cursed soul, drenched with rain, lonely and llamaforsaken. Sometimes he brayed to try and guide his friends back home, wherever they were, but he never brayed while I was filming. His braying is a poignant display of emotion and is not for public consumption.

I figured, if the llamas come back Pirou will spot them and perk up his immense ears, and I'll know to go out and open the gate. Instead at some point I looked up from my potatoes and saw my donkey finally at peace, grazing rather than pacing restlessly, and I went to look outside and his friends were back! And so was his appetite.

I had new peelings + some muesli to offer, but of course Pampe could tell this offering was a crude and blatant trap and refused to fall for it. Meanwhile her innocent daughter was like yay, snacks :) and followed me in the pasture, a llama entirely devoid of wiles.

After I got Poldine back inside I went like WELL since NOBODY else wants that delicious MUESLI I guess these deserving chickens can have it—and Pampe was here in the blink of an eye to shoo the hens away from her muesli.

She was grudgingly smiling about it, too. Like, point for you.

I love this pic where my chicken looks like she's herding the animals back in their pasture all by herself.

Everyone is home! Pampe and Pandolf are walking away in search of new adventures, Poldine follows her mum because of her abandonment issues, and Pirlouit is also following everyone very closely, like, I'm not getting left behind again.

I finally managed to cook my mashed carrots & potatoes (+ herbs from the greenhouse) and it's so nice to make food with nothing but ingredients you grew yourself! (To be completely honest I only managed to grow 3 carrots in the past few months but that's because I neglected them in pursuit of more flashy summer vegetables)

I also had an apple-plum compote for dessert made with my own fruit <3 Okay, the cheese course in between was store-bought. One of my friends really wants me to get goats and be self-sufficient in cheese and when I told her I would be constantly chasing my goats over hill and dale because they have a reputation to be insufferable escape artists she was like, what difference will it make to your life...

#crawling along #llama drama

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ookaookaooka · 1 year

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I’m hardly the first person to compare them but Terry Pratchett and J K Rowling really are polar opposites in terms of the way their writing treats weird characters. In Rowling’s writing, any weirdness is there to be laughed at (for example: Professor Trelawney, the fake seer who doesn’t know she’s an actual seer). In Pratchett’s writing, though, the characters’ weirdness is taken 100% seriously and the humor arises organically from the situation itself and is never at the characters’ expense (for example: in Making Money, the man who was born a clown and was never told so until he was 13 years old). In Rowling’s writing, the main characters poke constant fun at Professor Trelawney, making joke predictions and fudging homework and talking about how divination isn’t a legitimate field of study. Even after she gets fired and more or less drops the act, the joke changes to “look at this sad drunk lady” and the main characters express little sympathy. The narrative is saying she’s there to make one real prediction and otherwise she’s only there for comic relief. This sort of thing happens over and over in Rowling’s writing, where any quirkiness is there to be laughed at and the misfortunes of characters we’re not supposed to like are supposed to be funny, and it sends a message of conformity under threat of ridicule. In Pratchett’s writing, the clown man’s story is treated as a great tragedy: imagine growing up not knowing why you are the way you are, and then finding out the truth as a teenager! And knowing that your own mother kept the truth from you! This man was so deeply traumatized by this he denied himself any humor or fun for decades, and when he has a crisis and runs off to become a clown again, he is given support and medical treatment and is welcomed back to his job at the bank and accepted for who he is. The fact that this whole situation is hilarious is secondary. And again, this sort of thing happens over and over again in Pratchett’s writing, where characters’ quirkiness is embraced and often seen as irreplaceable by the end of the book, and it sends a message that our quirks are valuable and weirdness should be acceptable. It just strikes me as a much… kinder approach to people, you know?

#terry pratchett #j k rowling #sorry for the wall of text tumblr wouldn’t let me add a line break that wasn’t a mile long

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ladykailolu · 5 months

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I swear, everytime I see that meme image from the King of Queens I INSTANTLY think of Beanix. Don't believe me? Observe:

Tell me that they don't have the same energy.

#kevin james #the king of queens #meme #beanix wright #phoenix wright #beanix #ace attorney #lady k says things

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targaryen-dynasty · 28 days

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ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

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szaphonic · 1 year

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msnd: might suck nyour dick

#on my way to my callback ladies wish me luck !#i say into the void reaching my three followers #feeling SO much better than i did on the actual audition day #so taking this as a good sign bc if that steaming pile of shit dumpster fire could get me a callback then i hav every right 2 b delusional #this new fangled tumblr tag limit fuckinw my vibe #not to worry gals #listening to selena to get into character is hard work studying #NO MATTER #it’s three hours jesus fucking christ #DONT CARE #it’s gna be good and even if it isn’t good #nope can’t imagine it not being anything other than good #time 2 reprise my role !#bc one thing abt leila k is when it’s shakespeare shes gna EAT DOWN #lei.txt

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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greenandsorrow · 9 months

Text

"Boytoy"

WARNINGS; 18+, shameless smut, ken x fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, praise k!nk, size k!nk, virgin!ken, switch!reader, sub!ken, dom!ken, the plot doesn't connect with the movie, kinda slow burn, grammar mistakes

Part 1

"you're a doll, you are flawless"

~flawless, the neighborhood~

Y/n has finally graduated from high school. Not only that, but thanks to her hard work, she's been admitted to a prestigious university only two hours away from her parents' house.

Still, even though the distance between her childhood home and her new school is not that important, y/n is currently packing and will soon be moving into her new, small studio apartment.

It's late in the morning and she's going through her old toys, preserved in cardboard boxes at the back of her closet. Her y/h/c hair's on a bun and she's wearing sweatpants.

Earlier the same morning, with her mom's priceless help, she had managed to go through her desk, bookshelf and drawers, organising, packing or simply putting away all the stuff that has been collected in her bedroom the last eighteen years.

"A dozen Barbie dolls and only one Ken.", she thinks aloud as she's tackling the last box, filled with childhood memories.

Ken is staring at her from the bottom of the box and y/n almost feels guilty at how much she used to ignore him during her childhood play time.

In one impulsive motion she picks him up, while observing his perfect abs, blonde hair contradicting the tan colour of his skin and his cute set of beach wear (stripped shorts and open flannel in pink and blue pastels).

"Poor guy, I've been unfair to you, haven't I?", she chuckles mostly to herself.

At around six in the afternoon y/n's done with packing. She's actually driving to her new place as we speak. What's more, she unconsciously threw Ken in her backpack and is now carrying him along with her. Not that he would complain if he knew.

Y/n's Ken doll has been a part of her toy collection since she was six (she stopped playing with dolls at nine). Unlike her beloved Barbie dolls, Ken's never been y/n's favourite. He's always been just.... there. He was simply included in a Barbie set that her parents gifted her with, at her sixth birthday.

Back at Barbieland, Ken has been facing the consequences of his owner's ignorance for as long as he can remember. While all of y/n's Barbies are confident and spending their days living happily ever after (the aftermath of y/n's love and attention), Ken has always been the black sheep. He isn't exactly bursting with confidence. Neither does he own a Dream house. He's also never invited to the parties the Barbies are often having and to say the least, Ken is lonely. He wishes he could say that he enjoys being by himself most of the time, but without even another Ken, his existence seems pointless.

Ken used to cherish the sporadic attention he would get during y/n's early years in life. An outfit change, a walk at the beach or a small talk with one of the Barbies, guided by his owner was all he needed to feel somehow included (or that's what he always tried to convince himself).

Ken, with his limited knowledge regarding the real world, had concluded that the lack of what little attention he was receiving, was due to the fact that the little girl whose possession he was in, had now turned into a young lady. And having the Barbies as an example of how a lady is, he wasn't surprised that the girl had no use for him whatsoever.

Y/n wakes up in the morning, feeling groggy and disoriented. She wishes she could blame that on the environment change, but the truth is, last night she had a rather strange dream.

Y/n's pov:

She had reached her destination at about eight in the evening. After discussing some final details with her unexpectedly sweet landlady, she called her mom to inform her that she's alright and has settled in. Y/n had also managed to unpack most of her things, including her Ken doll that was laying on her desk when she changed into her matching pyjama set and got comfy in the warmth of her brand new, king sized bed.

After such a long day, y/n was equally drained both physically and mentally. The prospect of living alone, without the comfort of her parents' presence, was already enough to trouble her poor brain. On top of that, classes started tomorrow, leaving y/n no time to adjust to her new living conditions. And don't get me started on the actual unpacking and settling in process! All these heavy boxes, suitcases and IKEA furniture had gotten the best of y/n. Obviously, as soon as she found a comfortable position to sleep in, she immediately drifted off.

Y/n's sleep was disturbed by a shuffling sound, coming from the other side of the room. Normally, under any other circumstances, she would be terrified to spot the dark figure of a tall, strong looking man, staring at her in the middle of the night, after probably having broken into her apartment. However that was not the case. In her state of sleepiness and dizziness, her focus fading in and out of consciousness, her brain fuzzy and not entirely awake, y/n didn't feel any amount of fear but translated the image in front of her as part of a dream.

And what was this image in front of her, you may ask. Well, her previously unwanted Ken doll, was now at the feet of her bed, standing six foot tall, looking down at her with an adorably confused expression carved on his otherwise perfect features.

Ken's pov:

Ken was incredibly lucky that y/n thought she was dreaming, because not only didn't she scream at him to get the hell out, but she actually smiled at him. A small, uncertain and sleepy smile, no less a genuine smile. Even in his own state of confusion, Ken felt his insides melt at the sight of this small woman in front of him, smiling at him, actually noticing him.

He advanced closer to the head of the bed, so that he could take a better look at the girl who was sitting there. Ken sat at the edge of the bed and immediately recognised the person in question. She was clearly y/n. The girl who used to play with him and the Barbies was looking at him with intense interest and a glint in her y/e/c eyes that he had never seen before.

He took in her features. Ken had somehow expected to come face to face with a child, but obviously y/n was no longer a little girl but a beautiful woman. Sure, living in Barbieland Ken had learnt that all women were beautiful, however his old "owner" wasn't pretty in the sense a Barbie was pretty. Studying her features, Ken noticed y/n's hair wasn't neatly done like the Barbies', her skin dimpled and crised when she smiled, her teeth weren't the perfect shade of white or identical to one another, the apples of her cheeks were pinkish with sleep and her eyes held a warmth and complexity that made his stomach flutter. Ken was entranced by the simple image of this young lady, without any makeup or pretty clothes. He even felt like he had some kind of power over her, since she was so much smaller than him. He caught himself thinking that he could fit her whole face in the palm of his hand. The sudden urge to be the one to protect her and have the exclusivity of seeing her so unkempt and "naked" washed over him.

"Oh my!! You're actually Ken!", it was y/n that broke the silence, with her thrilled remark about the person who seemed lost in thought in front of her.

Ken was abruptly brought back to reality. How could something like this even happen? It should be practically impossible. One moment he was taking a nap at the beach and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in a dark room he concluded belonged to y/n. He might not be the brightest guy (the Kens weren't supposed to be smarter than the Barbies anyway) but he realised something very wrong was happening. The dolls living in Barbieland weren't supposed to be able to come to the real world.

"Y/n! Hey! I never thought I'd meet you in person."

She simply giggled at that. Her giggle was spontaneous and made Ken blush, since he was so unfamiliar with women reacting to him in such a way. Her expression was so girly, almost shy, making Ken bolder than he felt. He climbed all the way onto the bed so that they were basically sitting next to each other.

Y/n felt her face growing warmer and not because of the sleepiness. "That's a very realistic dream", she thought to herself. But exactly because she had convinced herself that Ken was part of her imagination she was also about to act bolder than her usual self.

She turned her body so that she was facing him and not just sitting next to him. Y/n then extended an arm in order to brush away some stray hairs that had fallen in his face. That simple motion was enough to make Ken's heart beat as loud as a hammer and he believed y/n could actually hear it from where she was sitting, so close to him. To his utter surprise, she didn't retrieve her hand after making sure his (ridiculously soft) hair was back in place.

Maybe y/n would be intimidated by Ken's perfect posture and dreamy eyes, by his chiseled jawline and veiny hands or by the fact that his pupils were dilated more than was necessary for the dark around them (there were fairy lights all around the room) if she were to meet him face to face in real life. But y/n was in a dream (or so she thought). Her dream, her rules and she showed no sign of intimidation.

With the hand that had just brushed Ken's hair, she proceeded to cup his face, while caressing his perfectly carved cheek bone with the pad of her thumb. Ken closed his eyes at the sensation, since no one had ever showed him tenderness like that. His reaction to her touch only encouraged y/n to continue exploring this life sized Ken doll.

With nimble fingers that made Ken's breath hitch multiple times, she started caressing him, beginning with his collarbones and slowly making a trail over his toned chest to his lower abs. His skin was soft and warm to the touch and y/n's mind was quick to put together multiple ungodly thoughts.

Ken's hands had reached and grabbed the bedsheets as soon as y/n's teasing ones had started going over his abs, torturously slow. Of course he didn't know why he felt the way he did, she was just touching him (as a doll he never had been subjected to anything remotely sexual before this very moment), but he could feel a weird anticipation gathering at the pit of his stomach (and lower). Oddly enough, he didn't move, he didn't even speak, scared that he would destroy this peculiar situation he'd found himself in. He told himself that "You're a doll and this human girl is simply... playing with you?". It didn't sound right but it certainly felt good.

When she reached at his lower abdomen, just below his belly button, y/n drew her hands back. He had felt so real to the touch she started to question her previous belief that she was merely dreaming.

Ken saw her expression change from lustful (he didn't know that's what it was called), to a placated one. She searched his face for an answer, without realising how her doe eyes had captured every bit of Ken's attention.

"Y/n", he whispered under a shaky inhale, leaning towards her like a moth hypnotized by the flame.

"I'm sorry Ken, I really am."

"About what?!", he asked, generally confused.

"When I was little I-"

"Can I kiss you, please?" he knew that much. He had never given a real kiss back in Barbieland but at least he was familiar with the concept.

Y/n was lost for words. A sudden realization that this felt too real to be any short of wet dream had dawned on her (if that was the case she would have woken up by now). When she didn't answer right away, Ken turned his hot gaze on her parted lips. They were swollen from sleep and rozy but not in the manufactured way the Barbies' lips look in the morning. He had to fight back the urge to attack her mouth with his own, since he was still waiting for her consent.

Y/n finally gave the smallest nod, indicating shyness and reluctance, though her gaze was once again intense, making Ken's breath get caught in his throat.

He leaned in, gently but no less eagerly and was pleasantly surprised (not for the last time) when y/n, leaning towards him as well, connected their lips in a soft, slow and lingering kiss.

Y/n's hot breath on his mouth made Ken gasp and draw himself even closer to *his* girl, while his right hand, moving on its own, reached for her already messy hair, tagging at it softly.

Y/n was equally surprised by the kiss. Ken's lips were unbelievably soft and his body emitted a warmth that sent shivers down her spine. She rubbed her thighs together (a motion in which Ken was oblivious to for the time being) as she reached for his neck, taking the lead. She drew him even closer to her, their chests colliding. Ken gasped -again- at the sensation of her round breasts pressing against his mascular body and he reacted by snaking both arms around her narrow waist.

When y/n took Ken's bottom lip between her teeth, tagging at it softly, he let out the smallest moan. In return he drew back, only to smash his lips on her own once more, with a passion and an urgency that made y/n weak in his strong arms. Her tongue asked for access he happily gave and he found himself backing his hips against her as their tongues swirled around one another for the first time.

When they parted, they were both breathless and panting heavily. Ken looked at y/n with an adoration that made her short circuit. He had never felt that important to anyone, but the tight grip she had on his biceps was proof that she wanted him. Really wanted him, needed him, even. Ken was important to her, at least at that moment.

This blissful state of his was short lived, due to y/n standing up and turning on the big light on the ceiling.

After taking a moment so that his vision could readjust to the light, Ken's eyes found y/n again. She was standing now and he took a mental note to never forget how tiny and young, how vulnerable she looked in her gray pyjama set with her tousled hair all over, like a miniature lioness. To be honest, Ken didn't have the right words to describe what he was seeing, but the warmth in his chest (and an unexplainable discomfort in his breeches) was enough for him.

"Oh shit-

Oh my gosh....I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

Y/n looked shocked and Ken grew hot with embarrassment because of it.

"I'm just as confused as you are, y/n", at least he was able to say something. Because now the light was on, he could see her feminine figure and wanted nothing more than to squish her round thighs and then-

"I mean... you're actually Ken...like... HOW?!"

"Please don't be angry at me, I can't explain how or why, but instead of waking up in Barbieland I woke up here", he said with an apologetic look on his face, while standing up like a child that just got scolded.

Y/n took a deep breath in, deciding he was too damn hot to actually be angry at him. It also wasn't his fault and at the end of the day she liked the idea of having a "boytoy" so eager and sweet. She really hadn't done Ken justice as a child but thought she could pay him back now.

You see, y/n's father is working for Mattel and she knows some things the average person doesn't. For one thing, she's aware that Barbieland exists and that on some very rare occasions the dolls come to the real world.

"It's alright Ken. I know it's not your fault"

Hearing her voice was not only soothing to him, but his name on her mouth made him lightheaded.

"but you have to get back. I don't know what it could mean to my world that you're here."

At the sound of that final statement, Ken visibly frowned and felt a weight settling in his chest. He had just come to this world and on top of that he and y/n had shared enough kisses to be considered boyfriend and girlfriend according to Barbieland standards.

He reminded himself, as always, he's just Ken. He's always second, even if for a moment he felt like a ten, lost in y/n's tender but also hot touch.

"I understand, y/n. I'll leave then and get back to Barbieland", not that he knew how.

She too felt she didn't want him to leave just yet, the tension was so thick she could almost see it all around them. Nevertheless, it was past midnight and she had three morning classes tomorrow, so she let Ken go without uttering another word.

To say the least, Ken was heartbroken. In one night he had experienced so many new sensations and emotions and he knew he wouldn't be able to get y/n out of his head no matter how hard he'd try. He ended up dozing off while sitting on her doorstep, looking at the stars and imagining y/n's small hands caressing him lower and lower until...

notes~~

Hello beautiful people! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my Ken smut fic :)

It's meant to be just spice but I wanted to add some context too. This is also my first time posting anything on Tumblr! I have many ideas regarding many different fandoms, but I also feel like most of these ideas have been done and that my fanfics are gonna be unoriginal.🥹

Byeeee<3

banners from; @cafekitsune

my masterlist

UPDATE!! THIS STORY HAS BEEN FINISHED, LOOK AT MY MASTERLIST FOR THE FOLLOWING PARTS!

TIPS; CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

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whyse7vn · 2 months

Text

PALENTINES -

[ ot7 x reader ]

SINGLE LADIES 😁🔥

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: gave my gf an hour long whimpering audio for valentines day

namjoon: you make me sick

jimin: this definitely counts as harassment

jk: yoongi got me a plastic fork

yoongi: yw

y/n: the audio was 5 minutes long????

tae: ok but i sent it to you 20 times

do the math????

jin: you sat there and whimpered into ur phone for 5 minutes that’s crazy

don’t you feel any shame??

tae: why would i feel shame?

it’s called being in love jin

you should try it sometime

jimin: it’s called harassment

hobi: ew man

jk: free asmr :D

jin: it’s gonna be free tae from jail soon

tae: no it won’t

jimin: ur right when you get locked up no one’s gonna want you free

hobi: KEEP TAE IN JAIL 🗣️💯

jk: personally i would want tae free

jimin: personally ur not real so it doesn’t matter what you want

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: ew how the hell did you flip it

i hate that

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: HOW DID YOU DO THAT

jk: :ᗡ

hobi: STOP GO AWAY I HATE IT

namjoon: yoongi got jungkook a present this year?

yoongi: not by choice

y/n: it was by choice

hobi: it was a plastic fork

yoongi: a plastic fork not given by choice

y/n: yoongi

yoongi: no

y/n: please

yoongi: no

y/n: pretty please :3

yoongi: it was by choice

y/n: see told you!

yoongi: don’t understand why we have to buy each other shit on this holiday anyways

i like ONE of you not all of you

tae: am i the one you like be honest

yoongi: bye

y/n: it’s our silly little tradition don’t be a loser yoongi

yoongi: whatever

jin: ok anyways who ordered me a fucking marching band???

jk: idk but did you like it??

y/n: gonna take a wild guess and say it was jungkook

namjoon: i thought you have his card how did he order that??

y/n: he has apple pay now i can’t stop him 😕

hobi: wait no fair

jin did NOT deserve a marching band all he got me was his butter photocard???

jimin: he got me that too….

jk: OMG ME TOO >_<

tae: i don’t feel special anymore

namjoon: really jin?

y/n: mine was signed!!

yoongi: cheap

jin: you literally got kook a plastic fork?

yoongi: he loves it

jungkook tell him you love it

jk: i love it

yoongi: see

jin: whatever don’t care

jimin: namjoon got me a fucking book

jin: lol that’s crazy cuz you can’t read

jk: i’m sorry to hear you can’t read jimin hope you can soon :/

namjoon: i put a lot of thought into the book i got you

jin: that’s cute but he can’t read so

jk: i wish i was a book

tae: if you’re a book does that make you a tree?

jk: guys

y/n: no jungkook

jk: oh ok

jimin: i CAN read btw

yoongi: don’t care

jin: sounds like fake news

jk: omg wow ur a fast learner jimin you can read now!!!

jimin: ur talking way too much today

you should stop

jk: is he talking to me????

hobi: y/n got me a holiday to australia

i’m not gonna go cuz like bugs

but that was really nice

y/n: you’re welcome!!!!

tae: k but i got sex

y/n deleted this message!

tae: 😕

silencing me like they did MLK

jimin: what

jk: milk

hobi: did you just compare urself to mlk?

jin: yeah never say that again

tae: why not?? it’s true

yoongi: you are nothing like mlk

jk: tae ur not milk

namjoon: taehyung do not compare yourself to martin luther king ever again please and thank you

jk: or milk

y/n: and in black history month too…

tae: you don’t understand me or him

y/n: yeah ok

back to gifts

joon got me some really pretty flowers

jimin: boringggggggg he does that every year

jk: namjoon got me wood

hobi: ?

namjoon: statue

it’s a wooden statue thing

not just wood

tae: joon giving other boys wood for valentines ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

u wanna know who i gave MY wood too

y/n deleted this message!

namjoon: tae shut up

jin: saw that

tae: i’m just like mlk i’m telling you man

y/n: stop

tae: sorry

jimin: hobi got me shoes

hobi: i did

jk: hobi got me cheese

hobi: expensive cheese

y/n: i took yoongi to those cute photo booth things

yoongi: they didn’t need to know that

y/n: yes they did

we are sharing what we got each other

read the room yoongi

jimin: yeah yoongi read the room

tae: how tf u read a room??!

a room not a book ☠️☠️

u guys dumb as hell

jin: you not knowing what reading a room means makes a lot of sense actually

jk: send photobooth pics ^0^

bet u looked so cute

not you yoongi

y/n

her

not yoongi

i’m talking to y/n NOT you yoongi btw

yoongi: shut up

and no

you’ll never see those photos

jk: ☹️

hobi: so what did yoongi get y/n??

yoongi: don’t worry

tae: personally i’m worried

jk: me 2 guys yoongi is really scary

what if he killed her

y/n: ?

jin: i want to blow jungkook up

jk: i’m no ballon 😭

jimin: probably fucked for valentines let’s be real

tae: well that’s obviously NOT true lmao 😜 ☠️

yoongi: why is that “obviously” not true

we could of

tae: you didn’t

yoongi: and you know how?

tae: cuz i just know

yoongi: yeah ok

we could of for all you know

on the actual day too

tae: you weren’t even with her on valentine’s day

yoongi: and you were?

y/n: he wasn’t

tae: ok

but i could of been

yoongi: but clearly you weren’t

tae: neither were you

namjoon: both of you stop

tae: idk why yoongi acts all high a mighty

especially when it comes to her

y/n: ok that’s crazy

how about you don’t talk about me like i’m not here!

yoongi: idk why taehyung acts like he has a chance lmao

jk: guys

tae: that’s actually crazy

you’d be fucking surprised yoongi!!!!

yoongi: what’s that supposed to mean?

tae: what do you think it means?

tell me yoongi

guess

i’ll tell you if you’re right or not

yoongi: shut the fuck up

tae: or what?

hobi: why this kinda sexualllll

jimin: like 😭😭😭😭

y/n: LMAO STOP

jin: arguing over pussy that belongs to neither of them is crazy i’m just saying

jk: pussy \ ^0^ /

namjoon: how about we all stop arguing and move back to talking about the gifts we got eachother !!

hobi: jungkook got me a ballon

jk: yeah

do you love it

hobi: sure

jk: ^_^

jimin: personally i think hobi’s lying to you kook

jk: WHAT

jimin: i think he hates his ballon actually

jk: hobi pls say he’s lying

hobi: he’s lying

you see it may seem that way because on the outside im a very chill and nonchalant man

y/n: that is not true actually!

hobi: but on inside i am actually very chalant

EXTREMELY chalant no joke

so basically inside im going fucking crazy over the ballon jungkook gave me but it just doesn’t seem like that cuz im a chill guy

jk: but inside ur chalant

hobi: exactly

jk: jimin why would you lie to me

jimin: ur easy to lie to

jk: no im not

jimin: namjoon died in a car crash 24 hours ago

jk: NO NAMJOON OHHMYGOD NAMJOON NO

namjoon: i am not dead

jk: oh

y/n: how did you fall for that

namjoon cant even drive

jk: oh yeah

lol namjoon cant drive guys

namjoon: ok we all know

hobi: so what did you guys actually do on valentine’s day

jk: minecraft but then it got too scary so i played valorant instead

jimin: idk what any of that means but ok

i personally watched movies with joon

namjoon: yeah

i dropped by kook’s and y/n’s place first tho to give my gifts and stuff

hobi: where was my movie invite?????

jimin: we did call you

you were like high as hell

hobi: oh

wow

how real of me

jin: i cooked steak

jimin: for urself?

typical

jin: kys

for me and y/n actually

y/n: …

jin: my fault

yoongi: what

tae: oh

jk: SHE SAID SHE WAS BUSY

TTAHSTNOT FAIIROGJKFNKLDVLKFNKLFHKLNNDKVHNFKVNKLGNGR UFHDFHDKJ GHDKLNGFKLNGFG FHJDJHHGR DHGGRHBDNBF JGHKJGHGR

hobi: ????????????????????

namjoon: cool

jimin: jin???? out of everyone JIN??????

why would you fuck jin

jk: WHATR OHMYGOF WHAT?????? SHUT UP

jimin: on valentine’s day too…..

even fucking ME would make more sense than jin right now

jin: tf is that supposed to mean?

jimin: i said what i said lmao

tae: she cant of fucked jin

cuz she’s fucking me

yoongi: LMAOOOO

u really think your special dont you

thats crazy

jk: WHYIS EVERYONEFUCKING MY GIRLFRIENDOHMGYOJFDJFDKJDSDB

hobi: i dont get it even if she was fucking tae why couldn’t she fucked jin too?

y/n: i am like right here you know

tae: because me and her are serious

yoongi: serious???

you are just a rebound

tae: yoongi i think you’re just upset she didn’t come to you first after the whole jaehyun thing

yoongi: i’m glad she didn’t actually because now i know for sure i’m not rebound

you are

tae: shut the fuck up

yoongi: why? you getting upset?

idk why you’re acting like the victim here when you’re using her for the same thing

hobi: woah??

jimin: cap taehyung bitchless

yoongi: it’s time you stop using y/n to get over jennie and grow some fucking balls

jin: hold on

jimin: WAITTTTTTTT

hobi: SHUT FUCKING DOWN FR????

jk: imgonnapassout

y/n: oh

namjoon: yoongi

tae: i am not using y/n to get over jennie and you know that

hobi: wait ur fr??? taejennie was fr??

LIKE ACTUALLY?? OHMYGIDTHISISREAL??

yoongi: i know that? thats crazy how could i know that??

you didn’t even tell us about jennie

for over 3 months you were with her and you didn’t tell us

and then those photos of you and her were leaked and you were all depressed for ”no reason”

and now all of a sudden your obsession with y/n?

yeah you’re not using her you’re right i’m just fucking stupid aren’t i?

jimin: holy shit man

tae: i am not using her

yoongi: so why is yeontan with jennie right now?

y/n: tae you told me he was with you parents?

tae: yeah

but

i didn’t tell you that because im using you or anything i just said that because i didn’t want to cause any problems

y/n: you lied to me

for no reason

if you told me the truth it would of been fine

tae: i know

y/n: so when i came over

were you planing on sleeping with me anyways?

were you mad at yourself for calling jennie and leaving yeontan with her?

did you use me to help forget about it?

tae: did you use me to help get over jaehyun?

y/n: no

i can tell you that in full confidence no

now answer my question

tae: you know i would never do that to you

y/n: its a yes or no question taehyung

tae: i would never do that to you

yoongi: yes or no you asshole

tae: shut the fuck up

yoongi: answer her question

tae: leave me the fuck alone

tae left “SINGLE LADIES😁🔥”

jk: wow

y/n: didn’t sleep with jin btw

jk: ohthankgod

y/n: did sleep with tae once

we are NOT serious

jk: double ohthankgod

wait

y/n: and now i am going to sleep

jungkook come cuddle

gn all

jk: ON MY WAY OHMYGOD IM ON MY WAY

jimin: good night …

hobi: nite!!

yoongi: gn

jin: goodnight

namjoon: gn

DOWNBAD😭🫵🏻 #2 (minus tae)

6 participants - 5 online

———————————

namjoon: yoongi that wasn’t fair

yoongi: i know

but she deserved to know

and he wasn’t gonna tell her any time soon

hobi: YOU AND NAMJOON KNEW THIS TAEJENNIE WAS REAL THIS WHOLE TIME????

yoongi: i just found out

namjoon knew longer

namjoon: not that long

jimin: ok but how do you know tae is using her fr?

yoongi: it’s not hard to connect the dots

jin: still you could be wrong

yoongi: well he didn’t deny it did he?

jimin: to me it looked like he didn’t know if he was using her or not

yoongi: well he needs to figure that out soon it’s not fair to her

or him ig

but mainly her.

—

hate this don’t care about anything bring back yellow….

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks

439 notes · View notes

littlelioncub43 · 1 year

Text

Let's Exchange The Experience

Summary: Eddie's been acting strange lately. Slowly but surely pulling away, no matter what you try. But one phone call may just bring him right back to you.

Pairing: Mechanic! Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6,468 (She's a doozy ok, don't hurt yourself)

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), slight angst, drug use, smoking, kinda high sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), idiots in love, said idiots screaming while fucking, fluff, happy endings.

A/N: Ok! Part 3! Here she is! Honestly, I'll let this one speak for itself. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: HER.

Kisses 💋

—K

P.S. Reblog and comment something nice or else I'll cry.

Part II Series Masterlist

You listen to the electronic ringing through the receiver, twirling the curled phone cord as you chew your lip. The nerves of possibly being rejected again was burning in your chest. You have no idea what it was, but Eddie had been acting weird. More weird than normal. It started off as small things at first; his hands shook when he would hand you something or move your hair out of your face, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours for longer than 10 seconds (if even that), or his smile would fall a few seconds faster than normal. You assumed there was something going on, but you also assumed he would tell you about it when he was ready.

Then it was bigger things, like not letting you sit in his lap during game night with the gang or cuddle during movie nights (which were slowly but surely becoming less and less frequent in the last few weeks). You were starting to fear he’d start avoiding you completely. Your leg bouncing ceased as soon as you heard the ringing stop.

“Eddie?” You hopefully call into the phone. You hear someone shuffling on the other line before you hear the voice you had hoped for.

“Hey, Princess,” Eddie mumbles happily into the receiver, a smile was evident in his voice but his words were far too relaxed to be normal. “Been thinkin’ about you.”

“Are you high?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your tummy. His rumbling, throaty laughter is enough of an answer for you to know that he is, in fact, high.

“Maaaaaybe,” he coyly drawls into the phone. High or not, it was nice to hear him sound so calm. “You wanna come over? Wayne is working a double tonight, and I got a little baggie with your name written all over it.”

Chewing your lip once more, you think it over. It had been a while since you last smoked and work had been stressing you out, not to mention whatever was going on with Eddie.

“Come on, Sweets, it’ll be good for you. You know it will,” he coos, really pulling out all the stops, he knew you couldn’t say no to him when he spoke like that. You give a dramatic sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Well, I guess I could,” you hear him chuckling, “I’ll have to reschedule dinner with the Queen and the peace summit with Russia for another day.”

“Gorbachev can wait a day or two, Princess,” he says, “I, on other hand, cannot.”

You laugh softly, a sound that Eddie swears he can live off of, and shake your head.

“I’ll be over in 10 minutes, Munson.”

“I’ll keep a joint warm for you, babe, don’t you worry,” he sasses before you hang up the phone. The stupid grin you wear doesn’t leave your face as you head out the door. It stayed put as you drive the short but chilly distance to his trailer, only when you get to the door does it falter ever so slightly. You don’t get a chance to knock, the door creaks open slowly, revealing Eddie’s red rimmed eye peering at you through the crack in the door.

“Can I help you, Madame?” He says in a goofy British accent. You nearly break into a laugh but manage to hold it in.

“Uh, yes. I’m looking for a Lord Munson. This is the Munson Estate, correct?” You match his silliness and put your hands behind your back snootily.

“It is, Madame, but I’m afraid you’ll have to state your name and business, otherwise I’ll be forced to set the dogs on ya,” he says, keeping the door ajar. You shake your head with a laugh.

“Come on, Eddie, let me in. It’s cold,” you whine softly. Snow coated the ground and an icy wind swept in from the north, your blue jeans and winter coat did very little to fight off the cold.

“Oh, right, sorry, Princess,” he immediately pulls you inside, the warmth of the trailer immediately soothing your cold hands. You take your coat off, breathing in the familiar aroma of weed and Eddie’s house. It was comforting scent that you hadn’t smelled in months, work made sure to keep you too busy to smoke as much as you used to. After kicking off your shoes, you turn to find Eddie making you a cup of tea, something you always wanted when you got too cold.

“I recall you saying something about keeping a joint warm for me?” You ask as you grab a handful of chips, popping some in your mouth as Eddie brings you your tea, focusing extra hard on not spilling a drop.

“I did! It’s right— wait, where did I put it?” He frowns and spins to search for it, muttering softly to himself as he retraces his steps before finding the neatly rolled joint waiting for you both in the ashtray on the coffee table. He grabs it and holds it up triumphantly, plopping down to the couch.

“Ha ha! Found it!” He pops it into his lips and lights it as you relax on to the couch beside him, stealing a few puffs off before handing it to you. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you chirp and pluck it from him. God, you needed this. Taking a deep breath, you let the thick smoke fill your lungs, eyes shut as you embrace the coming calm. Slowly, you blow the air from your pursed lips and up into the air, the action has Eddie’s full attention on you. Fuck, your lips are gorgeous. You hum and blink your eyes open. “God, I needed that.”

Eddie smiles and leans back into the couch, snagging the remote from the cushions and turning the TV on. Old reruns of Gilligan’s Island play on while you two pass the joint back and forth. You don’t say much, and for the first time in a while, it’s a comfortable silence. Soon, you find yourself leaning on Eddie, your limbs pleasantly tingly and light, made of feathers and lead all at once. You notice him shifting a lot beside you, his calmness slipping for a moment. A heavy yawn pulls from the base of Eddie’s chest as he stretches his arms above his head, one holding the shared joint comfortably between his fingers and the other coming to rest along the back of the couch behind you. You think nothing of it and choose to focus on the TV, Gilligan found radioactive vegetables and suddenly the entire island has super powers.

The warmth of Eddie’s arm sliding from the cushions to rest on your shoulders pulls your attention away from the screen once more. Eddie draws is a small breath, hiding the small gasp in the butt of the joint, but the longer his arm stays slung around you, the more he relaxes. With the buzz currently strumming through you, you decide to rest your head on his shoulder and reach for the shared blunt. Eddie hands it over, relishing in the heat as you snuggle in a little closer like you always do and sigh comfortably. His high was slowly starting to come down, which meant the nerves were starting to come back. Swallowing softly, he wills himself to relax (counterintuitive, I know). You look over at your best friend, his jaw was clenched as he breathes deeply through his nose, his leg starting to bounce as he fidgets with the hole in his jeans.

“You ok, Eds? You look tense,” you ask softly, it was killing you, you had to ask. When he looks back at you, he sees the genuine worry in your eyes. His heart soars when he realizes how close your face is to his, he can smell your shampoo, and God, you were just so perfect. He has to do something. Now or never.

“Y-Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat, “I just wanted t-to apologize for being weird these last few weeks.”

“Oh,” you sigh, relief washing over you, “it’s ok, Eds. I figured something was up, but I’m…” you trail off, suddenly noticing how close your faces are too, “I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“Me too, Sweets,” he says in a slow, deep voice, the sound sends a shiver through you, one you couldn’t exactly hide from him. His lips part as you stare at each other, his pupils dilating as the moments tick by.

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie takes the forgotten blunt from your hands and sets it aside in the ashtray. The brush of his hands on yours sears your skin in a way you’re all too familiar with. His hand comes back to caress your knee, his touch was gentle and careful, mindful of any boundaries that you might have. Carefully, you move with him, sliding into his lap, your movements unhurried and careful. Eddie takes a deep breath and welcomes you against his body, it was familiar yet different, you’d sat in his lap a million times before but this time just felt different. The arm that was slung around your shoulders slowly drapes itself further around your middle as you both are drawn to each other like magnets, his hold slowly capturing you like a python.

“Eddie,” you whisper, your own hand coming to his forearm, tracing those goddamn bats once more while the other rests against his shoulder. The second you touch him, Eddie is certain there is no going back for him. This was it.

“Be my girl,” he says in that low timber, his tone is bordering on begging. He’s scarily serious, a heat blazing behind his eyes. Your noses brush together, foreheads touching, your eyes stay fixed on his as you drink in his words, words you’ve dreamt of hearing for years. “Be my girl.”

“I am your girl,” you whisper without a second thought. It was the easiest answer you’ve ever given him. Eddie’s breathing catches in his throat at your words, his hands tightening around you before one slides up your back to cradle your head against his.

“You’re mine?” His voice was timid now, almost not believing you. You mould your body to him even more, cradling his head like he is yours.

“Yes,” you say simply, like it was the most obvious and true thing in the world— and it was. Eddie’s eyes slide shut with a sigh, relief washing over him as well as a tidal wave of happiness. You pull his head against yours a little firmer, basking in the quiet hush that took over the trailer ever since your conversation started.

“Kiss me.” You whisper, your words have Eddie’s eyes snapping open, almost as if he didn’t hear you correctly, so you repeat yourself. “Kiss me, Eddie.”

There were 3 things that you were absolutely certain: One, Eddie Munson had the softest lips in the entire universe. Two, there was no way you were ever going to forget this moment for as long as you live. And three, you were undoubtedly, unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with him.

Nothing in this world has ever felt so right.

The tender yet passionate press of his lips on yours had your head spinning, your hand in his hair tightened to help ground you. Eddie’s hold on you tightened as well, the kiss slowly but surely deepening. The first swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip evokes a deep groan from the pit of his chest, your own answering whimper vibrates against his mouth. He welcomes your tongue into his mouth with his own, playing with your tongue happily, taking his time to taste you as thoroughly as he possibly can. You lure his wet muscle deeper into your mouth, the action alone has Eddie panting like he ran a mile. The buzzing high from the weed is quickly replaced with the electric want strumming through you both.

Soon, breathing becomes a necessity and Eddie reluctantly breaks the kiss. Gasping for air, you can’t help but steal a few more pecks in between heaving breath, each kiss ending with a satisfyingly wet smack. The quick pecks soon turn back into full kisses, tongues drawn back to each other with need. When you shift forward, you feel it; hot and hard at the front of his jeans. Eddie detaches from your lips to gasp, his eyes fluttering as you rest your weight against his hard on.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he gasps, staring at you with those big doe eyes. He dives in again, not being able to stand to not be kissing you for every long. You hum before breaking away from him once more, your foreheads resting against each other as you breathe in sync.

“I… I love you. I love you so much,” he professes between deep breaths, the heft of sincerity is clear in his tone, “you’re… you’re everything.”

“I love you, too,” you respond and pepper his face with kisses, drawing a happy grin across Eddie’s face. “Been in love with you for so long, Eddie, so long.”

Eddie groans at that, tucking his face away into the crook of your neck, letting himself finally feast on the delicate skin like he’s always wanted. You shiver when you feel his lips sweep across your throat, messy kisses trailing along the column of your neck. It has you positively trembling, the throbbing wetness between your thighs was nearly unbearable. Sweet moans fall from your lips as he sucks a hickey into the soft skin of your throat, your hips naturally moving against his to ease the throbbing between your legs.

“Eddie,” you moan out into the living room, the sinful sound reverberating off the walls of the cluttered trailer and filling Eddie’s ears. He curses under his breath, hips lifting up to meet yours eagerly. You fall into a slow yet heated rhythm together, both of you writhing in perfect time. Eddie kisses his way back up to your mouth.

“Princess, fuck, that feels so good,” he growls, his cock pulses and strains against the seam of his zipper. Each roll of your hips was quickly turning his brain to mush, all he knew was that this was the best thing in the fucking world and nothing could possibly top it.

“Take me to bed, Eddie, please.”

Ok, he was wrong.

“Yes. I—You—Yes,” is all he can get out before he’s rising from his spot with you scooped up in his arms. You yelp at the sudden movements, clinging to Eddie’s surprisingly strong body as he marches you both towards the back of the trailer. Eddie continues to mouth at your neck and lips, switching between the two eagerly while maneuvering you both through the house perfectly. He slams his door open blindly before kicking it shut with enough vigor to shake the frame.

“Dreamt about this so many times, Sweets, you have no fucking idea,” he groans as he lowers you to his bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of you beneath him. The throbbing of his cock is nearly painful when he sees the sight before him: you on your back, your lips swollen and plump from his kisses, hickeys and lovebites that he left blossoming along your gorgeous neck, your hair messy from his hands.

“Oh, fuck, you have no idea,” he rips his t shirt off and tosses it to the side without a thought before diving back down to you, his mouth attached to the skin of your throat, “you’re so fucking beautiful, y’know that right? Make me so fucking crazy all the damn time.”

He was rambling, he knew it, but really couldn’t control himself at this point. The only thing on his mind was showing you just how much he loved you in any way you’d let him. Your hands eagerly explored the newly exposed skin of his torso and chest, your fingers tracing over the tattoos you’ve memorized a million times over. A pleased grin pulls at your lips when you see him shiver as your hands ghost over his heated skin. Slowly raking your hands across his chest, you cup his jaw in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“You’re gorgeous, Eddie Munson,” you purr to him, letting every ounce of emotion you feel for him pour into your words. You see his eyes glaze over as he searches yours, looking for any lies or truths in you, and finding more of the latter than anything else. His face turns an adorable shade of pink, one that you have every intention of seeing again.

Before he can say anything, you steal another kiss, distracting him for a moment. The feeling of your hands sliding down his body once more has Eddie pulling at your top, silently asking if he can remove it. You nod and he tears the fabric away from your body as quick as he possibly can to return his mouth to yours, Eddie was certain he’d never get enough of your kisses.

The moment your hands return to his body they start sliding south, teasing the buckle of his belt. A shuddering gasp breaks Eddie’s lips from yours, his jaw drops when you cup the front of his pants. Even through the layer of denim separating you you’re able to feel his length against your palm. From what you can feel, he was thick, and hard, and just begging to be played with. With your bottom lip caught in your teeth, you rub at the bulge eagerly.

“A-Ah, haaaaaah fuck,” Eddie moans, no shame evident in his voice. He grips the bare flesh of your sides as you touch him, trying to ground himself with his mouth over your bra-covered chest. God, if it was this good through his jeans, he was certain he was going to die when you actually touch him.

“Eddie,” you moan as he mouths at your nipple through the thin material of your black bra, the sound of his name has his hips surging into your hand. He switches from one breast to the other, giving sloppy kisses and teasing bites to the soft flesh. With trembling hands, you start undoing his belt as fast as you can but whine when the belt doesn’t come undone. “Wanna feel you, baby, please?” You ask oh, so sweetly.

“Fuck, ok, ok, yeah,” he mumbles as he rises to his knees, his own shaking hands unfasten the belt much faster than you could hope for. You hear the clinking of his belt and the hum of his zipper being pulled down, your face heating up with excitement, your hips wiggling on their own accord. Eddie kicks off his jeans and socks, leaving him in his favorite checkered boxers. You barely get a glance at the tent in his boxers before he’s playing with the button and zipper of your own pants. “Can I take these off, Sweets?”

“Yes, please,” you confirm with quick nods, and that’s all he needed before tearing off your trousers and throwing them behind him without a thought.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes as he hovers above you, his calloused hand tracing the slope of your outer thigh and hip, his thumb rubbing over the elastic band of your black panties (thank God you wore a somewhat matching set—basics for the fucking win). Your face heats up at his words again.

“You said that already, Eds,” you tease with a bashful smile, and Eddie can’t help but smirk at your reaction, you were so cute when you got all flustered.

“It needs to be said again, Princess,” his voice dropped back to that husky tone. He was looking a little too smug for your liking. Deciding that revenge was in order, you unclip your bra, letting it slip down your arms before you discard it with the rest of your clothes. The look on Eddie’s face, was exactly what you hoped: jaw dropped wide, his eyes wide and laser focused on your naked chest. He was stunned speechless.

“I—Fucking hell!” He curses under his breath before eagerly attacking your chest. Loud moans fill the room as he latches his annoying skilled mouth to your nipple, sucking and lapping at it like his life depended on it while his other hand cupped and kneaded the flesh of your other breast just as passionately. His own pitiful moans matched yours, eyes sliding shut as he relishes in the feeling of you in his hands and mouth.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out when he pinches your hardened bud between two rough fingers and rolls it, your back arching into his face and hands for more while your hands pulled at his hair and scratched at his back. Eddie shivers when he feels the bite of your nails along his skin. Your eyes flutter when you feel his kisses getting lower and lower, now leaving a trail down your belly while his hands caressed your hips, playing with the bands of your soaked underwear. Settling in on his stomach between your legs, Eddie gently spreads your legs, holding your thighs in his large hands tenderly. A whine escapes you when he kisses along your inner thighs, making sure to leave imprints of his teeth and mouth on the juicy meat.

He was about to ask for permission to remove your underwear but you lift your hips for him before he can speak. With a pleased smirk, Eddie peels your panties away from your core, going slowly so he can watch the strings of your arousal stick to the gusset of your panties. Eddie can swear that he’s never been harder in his entire life. It takes every ounce of self control within him to not blow his load at the sight of your bare pussy, wet and waiting for him to touch. A loud appreciative groan bubbles from the back of his throat, your confidence skyrocketing at the sound of it. The small smirk you wear is quick to disappear when his tongue licks a fat stripe up the cut of you, collecting as much of your arousal as he possibly can.

“O-Ohh fuck!” You whimper and lift your head to watch him, Eddie moans as your sweetness coats his tongue for the first time. He knew immediately that he was never going to be satisfied, he would always crave your heady flavor. The feeling of his tongue lapping at your folds rids your mind of any coherent thought, all you could feel was the heat of pleasure coursing through you in perfect time with his wiggling tongue. You grip the long curly locks of his hair for help, head tipping back against the pillow, thighs trembling as his warm mouth surrounds your clit, sucking harshly just to hear you moan for him. He eats you like he would never be fed again, his movements viciously reverent, equal parts desperate and passionate.

Eddie casts a glance up at you, smiling through the hazy lust that coats his mind. You’re a mess with your sweaty skin shining in the light from his bedside lamp, your hair wild from where you’ve pulled on it, your eyes were screwed shut and your gorgeous mouth was hung ajar to let him hear every single noise you made. He’s got you right where he wants you; writhing and whining above him with his head between your thighs.

The firm grip he has on your thighs tightens the more you twist and writhe in his hold. The sting at his scalp spurs him on, your high pitched cries of his name and curses fuel his desire. He circles a thick finger at your quivering entrance before easing it into your heat, the tightness of your cunt around his finger has his hips driving down into the mattress on their own accord.

“E-Eddie! M’gonna cum!” You cry out, not caring if any of the nosy neighbors can hear you. If anything you wanted them to hear you, because Eddie Munson is a fucking God at giving head.

There’s a building tension in the pit of your gut, fire consuming your every nerve as he works you closer and closer to your high. He maintains the pace of his mouth and finger, carefully adding another finger in with the other, stretching you out as best he can. Your legs shake around his head, his free hand holding your thighs open for him, your back arching suddenly as you draw tight. He can feel your walls pulsing and fluttering around his fingers, his cock flexing desperately with need as you finally cum for him.

Melodious. Perfect. Beautiful.

That’s how Eddie would describe the sound and feeling of you coming for him. The sinful cry of his name is the only thing on your lips as you cum. Stars burst behind your eyelids as you fall over the edge, your breathing shallow and erratic as Eddie slows the speed of his fingers and mouth, now giving your clit gentle kisses. Only when you push at his head with a whining plead does Eddie release you with a gasp.

“You taste so fucking good, so fucking good,” is all he can say through his own heaving breaths, petting your outer thigh while you come down. You feel his lips press soothing kisses to your heated skin, making you grin and giggle breathily. Eddie matches your smile, your release coating his lips still, and if it were up to him, they would stay that way forever.

“Come here,” you pull at him as he quickly crawls up your body. Your lips attack his the instant they are in reach, the tangy sweetness of yourself on his tongue does nothing to deter you from practically devouring him. Eddie’s brain short-circuits when you play with the waistband of his boxers. “Take these off for me, baby.”

He did not need to be told twice.

He scrambles to get them off and down his legs, his frantic movements making you giggle and sit up on your elbows. Eddie grins when his boxers are finally kicked to the floor, his skin flushed pink already. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him; he was thick and long, his red tip leaking beads of pearly precum and glistening in the lamp light. You moan softly at the sight, biting your lip as Eddie takes his place on top of you again. He can’t say that this was the reaction he expected, but it was definitely better than he had hoped for.

Before either of you can speak, you’re pulling him in to a heated kiss and flipping him on to his back. Eddie moans in surprise when his back lands on his bed, but then a pleased purr rumbles into your mouth when you settle into his lap. A pleased sigh flutters from you when his bare skin glides across yours for the first time. No clothes, no barriers to keep you separated. It felt right.

“F-Fucking hell,” Eddie curses in a soft voice when your dripping cunt settles against his bare cock, the feeling was only what he could describe as divine. Then you rocked against him. “Oh! Oh, fuck yes!”

You whimper when his hands clutch your hips, his bruising grip helping you to grind a little faster on him.

“Yeah, yeah, a little faster, rub your pussy on me, Princess, just like that,” he breathes out, his eyes glued to the space between you to watch as his cock get drenched in your juices. “Holy fucking shit, baby, that’s so—that’s so hot.”

“Eddie, please,” you moan, the desperation was getting to you, “need you inside me, need to fuck you.”

“God,” he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow beneath him, shutting his eyes to keep from blowing his load immediately. He realizes his mistake the moment your mouth starts to bite at his neck, your plush lips sucking at his pulse to leave matching hickeys that he’ll admire later. “Fuck, ok, Princess—“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you’re rising to your knees with a pretty hand wrapped around the base of his cock to guide him into you.

The moment his mushroom tip catches your quivering entrance, Eddie is sure that time stopped. You slowly ease him into you, letting gravity pull you on to his dick. So, this is what it heaven is like, you think to yourself before the pleasure renders you thoughtless. You listen to the long moan Eddie releases and naturally match it. Inch after inch, he fills you, stretching your little hole beyond what you’ve thought possible. The wetness you left behind on his shaft and the mix of his spit between your legs ease your descent, allowing him to slip further and further into you until he finally bottoms out. Eddie is speechless, his jaw open wide as he pants, eyes shut tight, his legs were already shaking. Nothing has ever felt this fucking good in his life.

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking big,” you moan in a thin voice, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of Eddie, your best friend, finally being inside you. “Feel so good, Eddie, so fucking full.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathes out quickly, trying to regain composure, and finally opens his eyes. He sees you perched on top of him like he’s always dreamed about: your back arched ever so slightly to accommodate him inside you, your eyes looked dazed and fucked out already, plush lips wet with your spit and ajar as you gasp for breath, sweat gave your skin a dewey ethereal glow.

“Oh God, you—fuck!” He curses again, his brain failing him and leaving him with no thoughts except ‘fuck.’ And he had every intention of doing just that.

With your hands braced on his chest, you give an experimental grind of your hips. Rolling in a circle, you let your hips move sensually, easing yourself into the sensations. The tuft of hair at the base of him rubs into your clit, the sensitive nub getting just the right amount of stimulation that has you speeding up. Drawing your hips up, you finally start to bounce on him. Soon the precise pace that you found is lost to a frenzy, want and lust taking over your bodies until neither of you can fight it.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, Eddie!” You cry out as you lose yourself, Eddie’s firm grip helping you ride him. He gives you a shout of your name in response of his own, his hips lifting to meet yours. He watches the way your face contorts each time he thrusts into you, addicted to the cute scrunch of your nose when he bottoms out.

“So good, that’s it, good fucking girl, taking me so fucking well,” he rambles in a gruff voice that is eerily similar to his morning voice. The throaty rasp has you clenching around him, pulling deeper groans from the man beneath you. “Such a tight little pussy, Princess, feels so good around me, never wanna fucking leave, wanna keep fucking you forever.”

He knows it’s silly but that’s how he feels. He can tell you like it too, judging from the way you claw at his pecks and throw yourself on his dick even harder. Tipping your head back, you let yourself feel. The blinding, searing euphoria coursing through your veins, Eddie’s brutal grip on your hips, his flush, heated skin sticking to yours, the pleasurable scratch of his body hair, the comfortable softness of his mattress beneath you both.

Eddie watches as your eyes slide shut, he can see each wave of pleasure crash down on you, the way your face can’t hide how good you feel, how your moans are forced out of you each time he slams you down on his cock, the hypnotizing bounce of your tits in front of him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Sitting up, he braces a hand behind him on the bed and wraps an arm around your waist, holding you in place while he takes control. With his knees bent, Eddie is able to drive up into you harder than before. You claw at his shoulder and lean back a little, adding a small grind to his thrusts to send you both into a tizzy.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck! Eddie!” You moan at the top of your lungs, one hand grabbing a handful of Eddie’s hair and pulling harshly. That nearly does him in.

“O-Oh!” He whimpers, his cock flexing deep inside you as his pace falters for a moment before returning to the punishing rhythm. The feeling of your pussy juices leaking down his bare shaft and dripping down his balls leaves him delirious. It’s then that he realizes he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck! Princess, you gotta get off! M’Gonna cum! G-Get off! Gonna cum!” He sounds broken, he looks like it too, with his face crumpling with debilitating pleasure. He desperate to keep going right up until he has to pull out, his arm around you getting ready to lift you off of him.

“No, inside! Want it inside, Eddie, please!” You whine and lean in, kissing sloppily at his open mouth. Your begging is painful to listen to, but it erases any coherent thought in his head. The hand holding him up meets your clit to start rubbing furious circles on it, the rough callous of the pads of his fingers has you seizing up in his grasp. You needed to cum before he did. With his sweaty forehead resting on yours, he watches as you finally fall apart. “Cum inside me! Cum inside me! Eddie!”

You practically scream for him when you reach your peak, your entire body trembling and tensing around him. Eddie watches as you surrender to your high, he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. The unbridled scream of his name paired with your pleas for him to finish inside you is more than enough for Eddie.

“I-I love you, love you so fucking much!” He grits out through his teeth as he finally comes. Nothing in this world can describe the feeling of his cum finally filling you. The sounds of his loud moans, wanton and bordering on screams, were the most erotic sounds you could ever think of. You cling to him, and he to you, as you both shiver and tremble, riding out your highs together.

Eddie can barely think, nothing mattered to him except what he held in his arms at the moment. He could hear the ringing in his ears as well as your mixed moans, feel the heaving of your chests and the hammering of your hearts as they beat rapidly. Peeling open his heavy eyelids, he’s met with your own weighted stare. The fucked out expression on your face paired with the knowledge that he was the one to put it there, sent his heart soaring for the skies. He brings both hands to your back, rubbing the dewey skin with a shaking touch. He cradles you to him with a grin so bright you swear it could light up the sky.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, your arms slung around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s sweet and tender, a bit sloppy from your exhaustion but still absolutely perfect. Eddie strokes as much of your skin as he can reach, trailing his hands from your thighs and up your back as many times as he can.

“I love you,” you hear him mumble against your lips before kissing you again with the ghost of a smile, “I love you,” kiss, “I love you,” kiss.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, you feel your face heat up, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“Fuck, me too,” Eddie grumbles with a smirk, clearly proud of himself, “I don’t think I can walk after that,” he chuckles, “fucking hell, when you begged me to cum inside you? Fuck, I nearly passed out.”

You chuckle with him and hide your face in the crook of his neck, letting him hold you a little closer. Eddie grins like an idiot, you were always so cute when you got bashful, and it was funny to see the contrast between the sweet angel hiding her face and the sex goddess who rode him within an inch of his life. His light laughter died off as he lowered his head to whisper to you.

“I came inside you.” You could hear the worry in his voice, so you caress the meat of his arm before pulling back to give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m on the pill. We’re safe,” you say gently. In an instant, any and all worries left his body immediately. The cute little wrinkle between his lightly furrowed eyebrows disappeared with a sigh and was replaced by his million-dollar smile.

“We’re safe,” he repeats and you nod, “so that means I can do that again?”

“If you want to,” you bite your lip when Eddie gives you a mischievous look.

“‘If I want to?’ Princess, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for the last 5 years,” he scoffs and shakes his head, “‘If I want to.’”

You giggle at his rambling and play with a strand of his messy hair. A few moments pass in silence as you both bask in the after glow.

“When did you… did you realize that you love me?” You ask gently, peeking up to see Eddie watching you with loving eyes— like he always was.

“Since you told me my bat tattoo was cool in sophomore year,” he whispers back to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while he smiles at the memory. “You were the only one who actually liked them. I couldn’t look at them without thinking of you, after that. Still can’t.”

“Oh,” you were nearly crying. How sweet can he possibly be, you were going to die.

“What about you?”

“When you beat up Derek Steinberg for starting those rumors about me. You did it without even hesitating and then you-you made sure that I was ok. You were so kind and so selfless and— no one ever cared about me like that before.”

“Well, it seems we’ve had it down bad for each other for a long time,” he chuckles, lightening up the mood a little. “We’ve got some time to make up, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod with a smile.

“Dates, dinners, parties… I think it’s time we did some of those.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

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