#would be more than a little fitting for this dynamic :]

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE TEN◾ELEVEN TWELVE

As he drags her deeper and deeper into his world, introducing her to yet another dominant character, she quickly realizes it's all too much. Or is it?

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Fem!Dom. Bondage. Fingering. Sex toys/vibrators. Double penetration. Overstimulation. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 9.2k

ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN

The worst thing about being measured isn't the act itself, but how this woman keeps handling her as if she were a doll, talking about her as if she weren't even here. She's glad he's with her, and his presence does give her enough comfort to endure whatever the seamstress does to her next, but it's still an ordeal she really doesn't want to go through. Even if it means he'll buy her new clothes, clothes that will really fit her body, not just randomly picked shirts and skirts and underwear that came always only close to properly fitting her.

He's putting in so much effort for her, probably leaves quite a sum in this strange store, and she is grateful, but she also has never been this humiliated in her life – and that is after spending an entire weekend with a stranger who choked her on his cock, fucked her ass as if it were the most natural thing and made her lose control over her body in the most mortifying way.

It is actually this other woman that makes her feel worse than he could ever make her feel (though forcing her to walk around with his cum leaking into her underwear and that woman definitely noticing is a weird little transition between the two). While he always made sure she was okay afterwards, she is downright mean to her.

Called her an object. Actually slapped her.

She also has cold, clammy hands, and the way her measuring tape cuts into her skin and pokes at her nipples and other sensitive areas is not how she expected to be treated here. Not that she expected to be brought to a tailor in the first place. The entire day (and it's only a little after lunch, she assumes) has been far from anything she could have ever expected. Packing up her stuff, leaving her apartment for the last time presumably, letting him lead her into a new life... It is, simply said, more than overwhelming.

The ordeal continues, and she is either staring at the floor, biting her tongue to keep quiet and still, or she's looking at him, how he leans against the wall, strong arms crossed over his chest, in his fancy suit, so tall and intimidating and strangely enough the only anchor she has here. His gaze is intense, and she can only imagine what he is thinking about, fantasizing about.

Probably how he will take her next, and the thought alone makes her squirm on her feet a little, the heat seeping right between her legs where his cum is still caked into her panties, warm and wet, initially a mortifying feeling (because she knows the other woman must have seen it too), but also weirdly comforting. His mark on her, almost as obvious as the countless bruises on her neck that still throb slightly when she moves her head.

But as with most of her aches, she's ignored them enough to almost forget about them. They're part of her now, of her situation, her life. She's still trying to wrap her head around it all. She's living with him now. Staying with him, more likely. Will he keep her in his bed, locked into his bedroom when he's not there? How will this go? Will he lock her up like a pet or give her more freedom? What would she prefer?

She doesn't know, and while she is caught in her thoughts about it, she suddenly feels a soft slap to her butt cheek that startles her. “All done,” the seamstress says in a mock friendly tone, and while she stares at her, she notices him walking closer, a cold “Tsk” on his lips that makes the other woman flinch slightly.

His hand closes around her wrist as he pulls her off the platform and against him, and she looks up in relief, focusing fully on him now, even though his eyes are fixed on the tailor behind her.

“I'll have your order ready by tomorrow,” she says, and he nods while his hand moves to her lower back, warm and comforting as he pulls her a bit closer.

With how she tilts her chin up to look at him, she doesn't notice what's going on behind her, and frankly, she doesn't care about the seamstress anymore. She wants to forget about this whole thing as soon as possible.

“Raise up your arms.” His voice makes her blink, and she realizes she has just stared at him without paying any attention at all. He's stepped back a little, let go of her, and now her dress, the little pale pink one he chose for her to wear, is in his hands.

She lets out a surprised gasp, but obliges and raises her arms, still focusing on him, though a little bit more present when he pulls the dress over her head and smooths it down her body. His hands slip around her neck and into her hair as he frees it from the collar, thumbs brushing over her jaw as he looks down at her, a strange mixture of a dark hunger and a soft admiration shining in his eyes. She bites her lip, a nervous gesture she's utilized a lot lately, and he raises an eyebrow as he watches her closely. She stops immediately, taking a shuddering breath.

He cups her face, his own a stoic mask, before he straightens up again and lets go of her, exhaling loudly. Without another word, he grabs her hand, nods towards the tailor she had already erased from her mind, and pulls her out of the room, back along the narrow hallways to the door they had entered through. Instead of turning to the elevator, he walks to the left, further into the belly of the building until they reach another unassuming door.

She's never been behind the scenes of these fancy department stores before (and she assumes that's where they are – the normal places she's bought clothes at before certainly didn't have their own tailors in hidden backrooms, just bored teenagers waiting for their shift to be over), and despite the rather humiliating start, she is fascinated by it. His world is so different from hers, it makes the whole situation feel more like one of those princess makeover shows instead of the abduction movie that it is.

As she was being measured, her mind had gone all different directions, back to the beginning, crossing over that sentence that made her question everything: “You made me take you,” he had said, making it sound as if it had been all her fault. And maybe it had been. She had approached him, made the literal first move, and he had reacted. Not the way he probably should have, but does it even matter now? Abduction sounds so much more serious than what she had experienced with him. He might have taken her, but she can't remember anything of the actual taking, so maybe she did agree to it?

And maybe she even agreed to all the vile things he did to her, and maybe they had felt a little wrong to her just because she was so inexperienced, had nothing to compare his behavior to. If anything, she now knows a lot more, about sex, about her own body, about his body, about the thin line between pain and pleasure, and most of all, she knows that despite her initial reluctance, she wants this, whatever it is, with him. As long as she's allowed to stay with him, as long as he keeps giving her that precious head-empty-feeling, she will be fine with whatever he does.

Even though her stomach is tensing up, in the worst way, at the mere thought of what that may be. Even after a weekend of being used in ways she could have never imagined, he is still the most unpredictable man she has ever met. And it scares her – more than it excites her, though she's learned to come around eventually. Emphasis on come...

Inhaling deeply, she watches him as he raises his hand to rap his knuckles against the door they've stopped in front of. But then he seems to hesitate, his eyes moving down to meet hers. She feels a blush creeping up her neck at the intensity in his gaze, but it's when he suddenly crouches down in front of her that she lets out a soft yelp. His hands slip under her dress, fingers hooking around the waistband of her panties, and while she stiffens, on the verge of protesting, he pushes her underwear down her legs so swiftly she can only stumble back slightly.

As he balls up the garment in his big hand and stands up again, she stares at him in confusion, instinctively pressing her thighs together at the sudden loss of fabric between them. He puts her panties into his pants pocket, an unreadable expression on his hard face. Instead of giving her any explanation or doing anything else to her, he turns back to the door and knocks.

Her head is spinning, and to ground herself, she focuses on her surroundings again. The hallway around them is bland, as is the door, but there is a tiny sign with a symbol on it, and when she realizes what it portrays, she feels a single bead of sweat run down between her shoulder blades. It's got the shape of a freaking butt plug.

Her hand twitches against his leg on instinct, and he meets her gaze for a moment as she stares up at him with widening eyes. He only has time to give her a crooked smirk before she can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. It opens and takes his attention away from her. Slowly she follows the motion and feels her heart sink at the sight in front of her.

“Ah, what a lovely surprise,” the woman that greets them says with a strangely exotic accent that she can't place. She is... beautiful, to say the least. Dressed in a tight black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, accentuating an impressive bust as well as a narrow waist and wide hips, the woman balances on precariously high heels, shiny and bright red, her legs are long, her arms are toned, golden rings and bracelets hang from the hands she extends towards the man next to her, completely ignoring her.

He steps towards the woman whose long hair falls in heavy waves around her slim shoulders, framing a face that could belong to a model for sure. High cheekbones, full lips, long dark lashes, a smile that would disarm anyone – but it only creates a deep, dark void inside her stomach as she watches the tall woman throw her arms around the slightly taller man. Something cold grows within her like tiny little ice flowers when he puts his big hands lightly on her tiny waist, the same hands that have been on her body before...

She feels like a literal child next to the two adults, not just small, but hideous in her pastel pink sundress and old shabby sneakers, while the handsome man receives not one, but three kisses on his cheeks from the woman who moves so elegantly on those shoes slash murder weapons that she feels unsteady just looking at her.

Once their greeting ritual is over, she hooks her arm around his, throwing a blinding smile at him and slowly pulls him through the open door, whispering something she cannot understand that makes him smile back at her – all while she, the tiny girl, is left standing on the bland hallway with her heart racing and something ugly festering inside her stomach.

The strange feeling dissipates the moment he suddenly turns back and looks at her, extending his hand, and she almost trips over her own shoes as she steps forward and grabs it, too eager to follow, too eager to touch him as well. The smile on the woman's face freezes, turning cold and fake as her dark eyes follow his gesture, and she feels a shiver crash down her spine as they meet hers.

She quickly averts her eyes, squeezing his hand tightly as she catches up and almost presses into his side, trying to hide behind him to get away from the scrutinizing gaze of the other woman who's let go of his arm to hold the door. Together they leave the unassuming hallway and step into a space that doesn't feel much better.

It's a wider hallway, the walls are black, and as she brushes the knuckles of her free hand against them she notices that they feel soft like velvet, shimmering slightly in the dim, almost purple light shining from the fancy chandelier hanging high above them. She looks around curiously, sees various doors, framed by golden trim, adorned with golden details and handles. It looks expensive, exclusive, too fancy for her tastes, but it's not the luxury that twists her guts. There's a faint smell in the air, and she can't quite put her finger on it.

The woman walks past them, fixed on ignoring her, her heels thudding softly over the carpet. She turns to the second door on the left, that fake smile back on her beautiful face as she looks at the man she's clinging to like a lost child. He keeps holding her hand as they follow her into another room. The light is brighter here, the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves that hold various sizes of black boxes she cannot look into.

The door clicks shut behind them, and the smell becomes overwhelming. Like rubber, plastic, with a strangely sweet undertone, earthy like leather. Artificial, weirdly familiar. She swallows dryly. They walk to the middle of the room, there's some sort of bar, and the woman steps behind it while he pulls her to the other side, nudging her to slip onto one of the two bar stools while he remains standing behind her, one large hand on her shoulder to hold her there.

She feels him close to her, his warmth a comfort she certainly needs when she lets her eyes wander through the room once more. And slowly, very slowly, it dawns on her. He brought her to a freaking sex shop.

Apart from the unassuming boxes on the shelves, there's a wall, plush looking and red, that holds an array of objects that make her frown and shiver: things that looks like riding crops and canes, whips and paddles, some solid, some with holes, most made of leather, some with wood, expensive looking, intricate, and she forces herself not to think back to the few times she's followed her curiosity into the darker corners of the Internet.

Despite her great aversion to sex toys, she knows of them (before she was forced to experience them), seen them in use in various porn clips and gifs, she may be inexperienced, but she hasn't been living under a rock. Though her desire to pleasure herself has been majorly dulled after seeing one too many of these darker themed videos centered around helpless girls in precarious situations, unable to move, bound and gagged and then... tortured, there's no other word that comes to her innocent mind. It had been deeply disturbing.

It's only now, after spending more than 48 hours with a man who would seem to enjoy exactly those kinds of clips, that she learned that there is pleasure in pain, but she still doesn't want to get near any of the objects hanging from the wall. She can still feel the phantom pain of his hand on her butt cheeks when he'd spanked her, she can't imagine what it must feel like to be hit with a wide leather paddle or a thin wooden cane.

Shuddering deeply, she looks away quickly, but her gaze only falls onto another display, another plush wall, this time there are hand cuffs hanging from hooks, things that look like collars and leashes, leather and metal gleaming in the soft lighting. There are even masks and muzzles and blindfolds and... gags. More items she doesn't want to learn more about.

When she brings her attention back to the woman behind the bar, she notices that she's watching her with a dark smile, full lips curled, a glint in her eyes. She clears her throat and turns slightly to look up at the man behind her, and he has the same glint in his eyes. Her frown deepens as she looks from one adult to the other. (She's technically one as well, but still feels like a damn child between them.)

“I have to admit,” the woman says in her sweet, exotic voice, “I am a little surprised. You visit me so rarely, and usually not with... this kind of company,” she adds with a smile, her eyes moving away from her to him, and she feels him shifting against her, his hand curling around her shoulder, and despite the somewhat possessive touch, she feels that coldness poking at her insides again when she imagines these two alone in the same room, surrounded by sex toys. “Did you come to pick up your order?”

“No,” he replies, his deep voice vibrating against her, cutting through her dark thoughts. “I doubt you have it ready so soon.” The woman's smile turns a little sour at his mocking tone, but she keeps her facade, tilting her head slightly, shifting from one leg to the other as she leans against the bar. “I need something more immediate, to go, if you will.”

A surprised laugh escapes the older woman before her eyes land on hers, and while she looks back at her in confusion, she smirks darkly. “To go, huh? That's why you brought your little pet?”

It's like another sting inside her, being called a pet after being called an object, but she tries her best not to let them see how flustered she really is, not only by the names, but by the implications. She's in a sex shop, and whatever he wants to buy for her, she already knows she'll hate it. It's only been this morning that she woke up with a damn dildo stuffed inside her, held in place by a freaking harness. Does he really want to fill her up again? Can't he give her a break?

No. Of course he can't. She is his to use, to have, to control, he'd told her that, and she can't say no, because she somehow agreed to this. Submitted to him. And if they'd be in his penthouse and he'd ask her again to choose one of those many colorful toys he stores in his bedside table, she'd be somewhat okay with it, but it's the place, it's the woman, it's everything that happened prior, that makes her wary, that twists her stomach, that feels worse than anything he'd made her do before.

She feels the blush creeping up her neck even before the woman bends down to pick up something stored beneath the bar, and when she puts a large glass case in front of her, her heart sinks and her cheeks burn up fully. It's two rows of items lying on soft looking red velvet, and by now she can tell by the shape of them, where those are supposed to go. She feels the respective holes clenching in terrified anticipation. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she fights the shudders crashing through her body, her fingers clawing at the hem of her short dress.

He steps beside her, his hand still on her shoulder, his grip tight, demanding, as he leans closer to take a look at the display on the bar.

“The usual?” the woman asks, and she notices how he stiffens beside her, and it's that motion that distracts her from her spiraling thoughts. The two words hang in the air, making her wonder. She actually never questioned his large collection of sex toys, but it makes sense. He's a popular man, she's seen him disappear with various girls before he had finally picked her. It shouldn't surprise her that there have been others in the bed he'd taken her virginity in, others he's used those toys on. (She just hopes he's cleaned them afterwards...)

How he now looks at the woman though, it feels strange. As if she said too much, said something she shouldn't have said. It only deepens her frown. Before she can make sense of it, a deep vibration hums in the air, and she looks down at the glass case with a raised eyebrow, goosebumps crawling over her exposed arms, but it's not one of the toys, it's his phone.

He lets go of her shoulder and pulls it from his pocket, then sighs as he glances at the display. “I gotta take this,” he says, letting the device buzz in his hand while he moves his free one over the spotless glass. “That one,” he says quickly, his voice harsh and business-like, pointing to one of the larger, longer items in the case, and while she stares at him, his words and choice settling heavy in her stomach, the woman nods with a professional smile. “Prepare her for me?” he adds with a last look, and she can hear the sharp inhale and slight hesitation of the shop owner (and frankly, she feels the same. What now? What kind of service is that?).

“Of course,” the woman says despite her initial reaction, her voice calm and friendly, while her face is a mask of dark disdain as she watches him turn around and leave the room with quick steps, the phone already pressed to his ear – and the girl squirms on the stool, eager to follow him, absolutely not wanting to stay here, alone, with that woman, surrounded by freaking sex toys and horrifying bondage equipment – and the prospect of being prepared to take something up her ass again.

Her heart clenches as she fists the hem of her dress, trying to ground herself, her breath quickening when the woman taps her manicured nails on the glass case in front of her. She looks up timidly, meeting a rather sinister smile that makes her skin crawl with goosebumps.

“Well then,” the woman says and stores the display case back beneath the bar. “Let's get... ready then, hm?” She walks towards one of the shelves and picks up a medium sized black box, then nods towards a corner of the room that's partitioned off by a heavy looking curtain. “Get in there,” she adds, her tone much rougher than before.

“Yes, ma'am,” she mumbles, unable to stop the words. It's a reflex, an instinct, an inborn thing to obey when met with people like this. Demanding, dominant. She's just surprised this works with women as well.

Shuffling on her sneakers, her thighs still pressed together, she makes it past the curtain, and freezes. It's a room filled with strange benches, plush ones, leather ones, some lower to the ground, some higher up, definitely shaped to accommodate a body draped over them. There are wooden structures behind them on the wall, boards in an x-shape, and when she notices the hand cuffs dangling from them, she feels a cold shiver rushing down her spine.

“Bend over that one,” the woman tells her, her formerly flowery voice cold and demeaning now, and she follows the delicate hand pointing to one of the benches, a leather one shaped like a triangle of some sort.

Unable to stop herself, she walks to it, inhaling deeply, her whole body shaking, but somehow she does as she is told and presses her stomach against the soft leather, then bends forward, her hands gripping a metal bar on the bottom to steady herself. It's a strange position, leaving her rear completely exposed, and it's only after she's bent over, that she realizes that he took her panties from her.

A soft laugh comes from behind her, pushing even more blood into her already red face. “You came prepared, huh?” the woman mocks, and she flinches badly when she feels two hands on her hips, slowly moving up the thin fabric of her dress. “Of course you'd be. He always thinks ahead...”

Her comment distracts her from the humiliation of the situation. Always? He's brought girls here before? Then again, why is she surprised? She's established he's a popular man with unique tastes, why should she be the first to go through this treatment? Swallowing hard, she grips the metal bar tighter, resting her cheek on the cold leather beneath her, trying to breathe her fears and doubts away.

A sudden slap makes her yelp, her body convulsing against the bench. “So responsive, good,” the woman whispers, more to herself, while she flips her skirt up fully, scratching her seemingly gloved hand over her throbbing ass cheek, the sound of the rubber making her skin crawl. “So, are you familiar with having things up your pretty little bum?”

When she doesn't reply immediately, the hand is back on her rear, the smack even louder, crashing through her nerves instantly. She gasps, almost chokes on her spit, before croaking out: “Y-yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah? Like what? Dainty little metal plugs? Vibrators? Cocks?”

“M-metal ones,” she whispers breathlessly, shame burning through her body when she adds: “And... c-cock...”

It's one thing to experience those things, but talking about them with a complete stranger? And she thought being measured by a rude woman was bad. Her day seems to spiral more and more, so even the idea of being roughly fucked on a desk, unprepared and raw, sounds better than having to endure this. Actually, anything that includes him would be better right about now.

She feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she wonders where he's gone, when he comes back, if he comes back, why he's left her alone with this woman in the first place, why he lets her get so close to her body that's presumably all his...

A sudden stab of something cold rips her right out of her thoughts, her choked yelp coming almost a second too late, when she feels a thin finger pushing into her puckered hole without hesitation. She clenches around it as the woman moves something wet and cold around her insides. A whimper escapes her at the feeling, it's soothing as much as it is uncomfortable. The finger retreats, she hears the squirt of some liquid, and another cold dollop of what she assumes to be lube finds its way into her ass.

Weirdly enough this feels better than when he had his fingers inside her, dry and rough, forced and unexpected, and for a moment her body is confused by the attention, her core clenching, warmth settling low in her stomach, her thighs twitching slightly against the bench. But then the woman adds another finger, pushes deeper, and she feels her long sharp nails on her tense muscles, even through the glove.

Stiffening under the sensation, she grits her teeth, forces down her noises, doesn't want to draw too much attention to herself, wants it to be over soon. Her mind is spinning. Why is she even allowing this? She's come to terms when it came to him, wanting to please him because he gave her a new life, but this woman? Will she never be able to say no ever again? Will she let anyone do to her whatever they want? Is this what she's become?

A groan is forced out of her throat as she feels more pressure on the tight ring of muscles when the woman adds another finger, or maybe she's even using her whole hand now, she can't be sure, it feels like too much, stretching her, pushing deep, the lube squelching out of her with an obscene noise that makes her shiver deeply.

But then the strange sensation is gone, and she's left empty, her muscles clenching in confusion, her breath quicker, her heart thundering inside her chest, a single tear running down the side of her face. She hears the crinkling of paper behind her, the squirt of the lube bottle again, gloved hands rubbing over a wet surface. It's still a surprise when she feels something solid pressing against her sphincter, no matter how well she's been prepared.

As it is pushed deeper into her ass, she sees the shape of it in the glass case, sees his finger pointing at it, and she shudders deeply. It's longer than any plug she's had, not as long as his cock, but close, and luckily not as girthy, but it's made of differently sized balls pushed into a hard line, and she can feel every single bump as it slips into her, how her muscles tense around it, then give way, allowing the next to move in.

The woman is surprisingly gentle, but she still lets out quiet whines as the toy fills her up. Then it stops, resting hard and heavy inside her, and she yelps when her ass cheek is slapped once more, causing her muscles to clench around the insertion, holding it in place. She sniffles, biting her lip, trying to adjust. It feels strange, unfamiliar, but ultimately not as bad. Not that she can do anything against it anyway...

“What an obedient little pet you are,” she hears the woman's voice behind her, almost soft, as she moves her wet hands over her skin, her thumb poking at the base of the plug. “I'm almost jealous he found you first...”

Another slap clears the confusion in her head as she rocks against the bench, gasping. She feels her dress being pulled down again, then hears the sound of gloves being removed with a snap of rubber. She's still breathing a little harder when she's nudged off the bench and forced into a standing position again. Her legs are shaking, that object inside her moving with every twist and turn of her body, making her flinch.

“Thank you, ma'am,” she hears herself saying, her eyes glued to the floor, head bowed in a mixture of submission and shame, but there's something else swimming in the back of her mind as well. Gratitude, excitement at being praised, even if it wasn't by him.

The woman laughs softly. “Call me Mistress, pet,” she says, her long nail scratching along her throat as she grabs her chin and makes her look up. “You've earned it.”

She stares at her, chest rising and falling faster, her core clenching involuntarily. “Yes, Mistress,” she echoes quietly, making her opposite smile warmly.

Footsteps sound behind her, and she dares to break eye contact when she sees him pushing the curtain aside and entering the room. She blushes deeply, averting her eyes, standing stock-still while the woman lowers her hand and turns around.

“All done,” she says with a tilt to her head. He nods approvingly, stepping closer, his large hand suddenly finding her arm before he twists her around and presses her back to the bench.

She gasps, stiffening when he rips her dress up to expose her rear, then presses his finger to the base of the plug, forcing a choked groan out of her throat. “Any trouble?” he asks, rubbing over her probably reddened cheek.

“No, she's been very obedient,” the woman replies, and he huffs a grunt in response.

“Good,” he says and pushes her dress back down, before gripping her arm again and pulling her against him. She stumbles slightly, looking up at him. He meets her gaze, and a smile creeps onto his stoic face. “How do you feel?”

He's asked her the same thing when he has stuffed the dildo into her cunt, and back then she has felt full, it has been uncomfortable, strange, and having the larger plug in her butt still feels weird, with her muscles trying to adjust to the unfamiliar intruder by clenching around every bump of it, but overall she feels... okay.

“I feel fine,” she replies quietly, trying herself at a shy smile as he studies her face.

“Fine, hm?” he repeats with a dry laugh.

He looks away then (and she follows his gaze), nodding towards the woman who extends her hand to him, holding a piece of paper with a QR code on it. One hand on her shoulder, he slips the other into his pocket and retrieves his phone, quickly scanning the symbol, before the smile widens on his handsome face, almost turning diabolical.

She wonders what made him so happy, what's this all about, but then something strange makes her flinch, something from within. A yelp escapes her, and she grips onto his arm in surprise, feeling her muscles vibrating. No, not her muscles, the plug inside her. It's humming, buzzing against her flesh, a deep thrum that makes her entire body shudder. Her core clenches in response, her thighs trembling, and she leans against him helplessly.

He watches her with interest while his thumb moves along the screen, and the motion bleeds into the movement of the vibrating plug. It gets stronger, harder, throbbing inside her, coaxing little moans out of her that turn into gasps that turn into whimpers. She's clinging to him, and luckily he lets her, as her body quickly gets overwhelmed by the assault of sensations pulsing through her, all centered deep within her ass, but soon her cunt starts contracting too, clenching around nothing, and she cries out, squeezing her eyes shut.

“So responsive,” she hears the woman's voice, it's quiet and barely registers in her clouded mind, but she senses the hidden praise and it only makes everything worse.

The vibrations crescendo once more, loudly buzzing now, her whole body shaking, her nails digging into his arm, her lips parted, her shoulders hunching, her back arched, her legs feel like jello, everything moves, hums, shudders, muscles clench, convulse, contract, and she can only manage to issue a single croaked groan before she collapses against him, something warm and sticky dripping down her inner thigh.

He holds her, one strong arm around her, and slowly the thrumming gets weaker until it stops altogether, leaving her still shaking badly, the phantom sensation of having her insides vibrating clinging to her like she clings to him.

“Still fine?” he whispers, pressing her into him, his lips brushing against her damp forehead.

She's breathing harder, her heart still beating out of her chest, but she nods, a dumb little smile creeping onto her lips. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles, the words swimming out of her unchecked. Head empty, how lovely. He chuckles softly into her hair, before he slowly extracts her from himself, grabbing her shoulder to look at her. She can barely stand, but tries her best to remain upright, as she looks up at him out of hooded eyes.

He tilts his head, a curious glint in his gaze as he watches her closely. “Give me the same thing for her cunt,” he then says, the words barely make sense to her, but the woman moves behind him, replying with an amused: “Good idea.”

Her leaving footsteps are drowned by the soft yelp she issues when he suddenly picks her up and carries her towards another bench. This one is reclined, like a lounge chair, and she sinks into the soft leather, relaxing, eyelids fluttering, but as soon as he raises her legs and puts them into strange contraptions that hold them up and spread far apart, she slowly comes down from the high he's forced upon her.

He's standing between her open thighs, hands on her shins, holding her in place, his eyes wandering over her exposed lower body. She blinks in confusion, still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. The plug rests still and heavy inside her, the relaxed position pushing it a little deeper. She inhales sharply, wondering what's going on.

The woman returns, holding another black silicone toy in her newly gloved hands. There are leather straps hanging from her right forearm. A harness, she recognizes, and somehow that brings her down to earth with a force she hasn't expected. He wants to fill her even more, plug her up fully, and these things aren't normal dildos, they are vibrators, and he can control them with his phone. Oh for crying out loud!

She squirms in her seat, her legs kicking fruitlessly against his hold. He shakes his head and lets out a few “Tsk”s as he looks at her. It takes her a moment to obey the unspoken command, and it takes even more self-control to force herself to sit still. She bites her lip hard, breathing loudly through her nose as she looks from him to the woman and back, her heart beating harder again.

Once she's somewhat calm, he takes his hands from her shins, watching her closely, assessing if she'll stay calm, but then he sighs and fumbles with the thick leather bands attached to the contraptions that hold her legs up until they are bound in place, and she tests them immediately, tensing against them, but they won't budge. Her mind starts spinning as a strange kind of panic settles deep within her stomach.

He leans in then, a hand on her face. “Shh, it'll be alright, relax,” he soothes her, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “Be a good girl, okay?”

She lets out a whine and nods obediently. He's playing dirty. He always did, but this feels like betrayal (and it's not even that he doesn't trust her to stay still, that he saw the need to restrain her), it's because he isn't alone. The woman watches her curiously, a dark smile on her full lips as she twists the toy between her long fingers. “Do you want me to prepare her?” she asks sweetly, her eyes boring into hers, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

“No, I'll do it,” he replies quietly, his hands already sliding down her inner thighs. And she's glad he does. The woman she's supposed to call Mistress still feels a little suspicious to her. She wants to feel good, sure, if she has the option, but not by her hands. He is the center of her new world, she doesn't need the confusion that comes with someone else pleasuring her.

Though this doesn't seem to be about her pleasure. With how they both look at her, she feels like a rabbit forced into a corner with not one, but two predators staring down at her, like grinning hyenas, eager to play with her.

And somehow it's all wrong when she feels his fingers sliding along her outer lips. What should have been an intimate gesture, a shared moment, a mutual exploration, is now a witnessed thing, with her being on full display, strapped into that strange chair-like bench, it would be almost clinical if it weren't for the soft lighting and dark interior of the room.

She's acutely aware of the woman watching his every move, how his fingers rub over her mound, creating these highly embarrassing squelching sounds when they dip between her folds, and she can't help it, she squirms, strangled whines escaping her as she turns her head away and squeezes her eyes shut.

Footsteps round the bench and then she feels two hands, gloved and a little cold, on her jaw, holding her head, turning it back, before a soft breath brushes against her forehead. “Open your eyes, pet,” the woman whispers, and she shivers, eyes flying open on instinct, a croaked gasp slipping from her parted lips. Her wide gaze finds his, and he watches her, stern, stoic, head tilted slightly, as he continues to rub his hand over her sex.

She's stiff on the bench, breathing harder, heart thundering, held by the woman's hands and the leather bindings around her legs, but it's his dark stare that freezes her to the spot, makes her shiver involuntarily. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she forces herself to relax, to focus on him. He holds her attention as he finally dips a finger into her already clenching hole, and she lets out a muffled moan at the sensation.

For a moment he just looks at her, moving his digit in and out slowly, testing the waters, teasing her resistance, almost a little too keen to coax those lewd sounds out of her wet cunt. Her nostrils flare as she fights the shame trying to burn up inside her. To soothe her, the woman presses her fingertips against her throat, applying soft pressure, but her sharp nails still scratch along her skin occasionally. She furrows her eyebrows, almost loses the battle against all these kinds of stimulation.

Eventually she does, when he adds another finger and really pumps into her now, and she feels her hips bucking, her shoulders tensing, body shuddering intensely. Her suspended feet twitch in their restraints, her toes curl, and she parts her lips to let out a wanton cry, her eyelids fluttering. He prolongs the moment of bliss by curling his fingers and bullying that special spot inside her with hard thrusts of his hand until she thrashes her head into the woman's hands and moans loudly, eyes rolling back, vision turning white.

And it's all gone for a moment, her orgasm crashing through her like a cleansing wave, letting her forget all about the strange room with its strange contraptions, the shop full of toys and whips and gags, and it's just his strong fingers guiding her through the exploding lights behind her eyelids, her body seemingly floating... if it wasn't for the pair of hands holding her neck.

The number of hands confuses her, and she slowly drifts down again, limbs relaxing, all of her sinking back down on the soft bench, while her heart is exploding inside her chest, her breath coming and going in hard puffs to fill her lungs with air again.

“Good pet,” a soft female voice whispers into her ear. “What a display...”

“Th-thank you,” she croaks out, still dizzy from her release, not sure who she's thanking and why, but the inborn instinct loosens her tongue enough to allow the words to spill out. Pointy nails dig into her throat, and she gasps, eyes fluttering open, the added word “Mistress” flying from her quivering lips.

But when the woman behind her eases her grip, her eyes fall onto him, and his gaze is darker than usual, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched, and she lets out a strange whine, bucking up from the bench, wanting to get closer. Her hands, that have been gripping the sides of the bench in sheer panicked necessity, fly up and reach for him. She manages to slip from the woman's hands, but with her legs raised up and held in place as they are, she sits in a strange position, barely able to hold herself up, but her fingers still brush against the front of his shirt, fruitlessly trying to grab onto him.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, feeling the need to apologize, tears burning under her lashes. He watches her, standing so tall and intimating between her legs, one of his hands raised, shimmering in the light, her juices dripping past his knuckles.

She feels the woman retreating, and suddenly his wet hand is around her throat as he folds himself over her, and she gasps breathlessly, hands now gripping at his wrist, eyes wide, lips parted in a silent cry.

“Right you are,” he hisses, his voice low and dark and dangerous. “You are mine, and only mine,” he looks up when he says those last words, and she hears a shuffle behind her. When he looks back at her, she stiffens even more, holding her breath (not that she could breathe anyway with how he squeezes her throat). “So what do you say to me?”

Her mind is blank with fear (and strangely enough a bit of arousal, may it be the remnants of her orgasm or a new wave of excitement), so it takes her a moment to understand his question, causing him to apply more pressure on her neck, but once she moves her jaw, he eases it and lets her speak, or lets her try to speak.

“Th... tha... thank y-you,” she stammers, her voice hoarse and feeble, her breaths panicked and fast, so she tries again. “Th-thank y-you, s-sir.”

Her attempts calm the anger that has overtaken his handsome face and it relaxes. He exhales loudly, and nods, slowly leaning back, his hand moving to slip around her head, gently squeezing her nape as he watches her, before he leans in again and presses his forehead to hers, staring deeply into her eyes.

“You are mine,” he says again, his voice vibrating through her. “Mine to use, mine to have. Is that right, darling?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, much quicker, holding his gaze, feeling herself sinking into his eyes, his dominance, his guidance. “I am yours.”

A smile grazes his tight lips, and she could have sworn he is fighting the urge to kiss her, show her the affection he usually would if they were alone, but they are not, so he just leans away, lets go of her and straightens up. She relaxes into the bench, hands falling limply onto her stomach, fingers curling into the hem of her dress, her eyes following his every move.

He inhales deeply, his large form growing for a moment, before he breaks eye contact and turns to the woman who has retreated into the shadows (and she wishes she would stay there). She hands him the black silicone toy, already lubed, shiny in the dim lighting, its shape a little different from the plug still sitting heavy in her ass. It's a little thicker, about as long, but more rounded, imitating the shape of a cock but only just, also bends a little as he rolls it between his long fingers.

She stares at him, waiting for whatever happens next. Her mind is still buzzing from what already happened, from entering this store to being bent over and plugged and pleasured, to being strapped down and pleasured all over again, and it's not over yet. Despite the dizziness swirling within her, her body is already reacting to the sight in front of her, as he approaches her, steps between her legs again, the shining item in his large hand. Her chest rises and falls faster, heart still beating as if it wants to jump through her ribcage, palms sweaty and lips dry in anticipation.

He holds her gaze, a little glint in his eyes while hers are wide and fearful. She doesn't even know anymore why she prefers fingers over sex toys, maybe it's more natural, more personal to feel somebody's heat instead of a cold, lifeless item. A toy pushed into another toy. Does it even matter? She shouldn't fight this, she knows that, he won't like it if she did, but she can't stop the involuntarily twitch of her body, the bucking of her hips, the strain in her spine as she tries to move away from where he's pointing the dildo.

His hand is on her stomach, large and heavy, pushing her down but also grounding her, giving her that warmth she's missing, and somehow she calms a little under the touch, every deep inhale pushing back against his palm. In her raised position with her legs spread so wide open, she can see when he rubs the silicone toy between her wet folds, gathers her slick, adds it to the lube shining on the smooth material.

He prods the tip against her entrance, and she stares, holding her breath, tensing up despite herself. His hand presses harder into her stomach, coaxing a gasp out of her, the motion making her look up at him, and he looks at her, hard, but his eyes seem warmer, reassuring, calm, sure of what he's doing, telling her it's okay. And it is okay. She inhales deeply, clenching her fingers around the fabric of her dress as she tries to relax the rest of her body.

She reminds herself she's had a toy inside her before, for several hours to be exact, and it was okay, more or less. She's felt full and a little stiff, but it was okay. She has been able to sleep with it lodged inside her no problem (kindly ignoring the outcome of that endeavor). But then she realizes she is not in his penthouse, not in a bed, but in a store, in the middle of the city, and she is supposed to walk around with not one, but two toys wedged inside her holes. How the hell is that supposed to work?

“Ah!” A pained yelp breaks from her throat as her thoughts are rudely interrupted by him pushing the dildo past the initial resistance and then continuously further, without hesitation, deeper, forcing it past her tense muscles, and she whines at the sensation, at feeling so incredibly full, and even worse when she feels the toy nudging against the other one in her ass through the thin layer between.

She writhes on the bench, almost howling now by how strange it feels to be stretched this much, to be filled this much, and suddenly the woman's hands are back on her shoulders, pushing her down, holding her in place. She feels tears streaming down her face as she watches him out of hooded eyes, vision blurry, her body still fighting the intrusion, clenching, tensing up even more, her legs kicking fruitlessly in their leather bindings, but he doesn't seem to care, just pushes the toy as deep as it will go, and she sees it disappearing inside her, feels it prodding her innermost spots, or so it feels, stretching her limits.

The hand on her stomach presses down again as if wanting to feel said toy through her skin, and she is certain it has to bulge out of her with how deep it is inside her, but when he removes his hand, there's nothing, just her fluttering belly, flat and covered in a thin layer of sweat. The woman hands him the leather straps she's carried earlier, and he starts arranging them around her thighs and her waist and hips, nudging her shuddering body to accommodate his handiwork.

Her whines are breathless little gasps now, her arms shaking from how hard she clutches at her dress to ground herself. She barely dares to breathe with how full she feels, how snug the harness sits around her lower body, holding everything in place. The last buckle is closed and secured, and she stares down at the contraption, those thick black leather straps, shiny and expensive looking, straight out of one of those BDSM clips she's stumbled across before. And in stark contrast to that, there's her pastel pink sundress, wrinkled from how she's holding onto the skirt part, with its cinched waist and modest neckline and those cute little white flowers.

And the girl on the bench is confused, to put it mildly. How is this happening? How did she end up strapped to a bench in a sex shop and plugged up by a toy in each of her holes, holes that have been virginal only a few days ago, holes she wouldn't even touch herself. Surrounded by two dominant adults, who are now stepping back to marvel at the sight in front of them. Surely they must see the contradiction too, how innocent she is on the surface while her insides are stretched and bullied by those silicone things that have no right to feel this invasive and yet so...

It's growing on her, to say the least. The longer they sit within her, slowly becoming a part of her, or so she hopes, the less stressed she is about it (well, we'll talk about how she is supposed to actually walk with them later). At least she thinks so now, lying on the bench, unmoving except for the nervous flutter of her stomach, with everything resting.

And while she calms down, savoring the quiet moment, the woman and the man walk behind her, out of her line of sight, and for a few more minutes, nothing happens – until it all explodes.

She almost jerks off the bench when the first vibration crashes through her. It's a single stab of movement deep within her, the attached toy throbbing hard against her tense muscles, and in turn pushing even harder against the other toy, and she bucks her hips, cries out, kicks her legs in their restraints, her hands flying to the harness between her thighs, clawing at the straps as she whines in protest.

“Relax,” sounds his voice, loud, demanding, echoing in her ears, and instantly grounding her as she stiffens, body shuddering as it is forced to remain still. She's breathing harder, frozen in her cramped position, before a hand pushes her back onto the bench.

He reappears between her legs, one hand on her knee, rubbing soothing circles into her skin as he looks down at her, the other hand holding his phone, his thumb pressed to the screen. She watches him breathlessly, new tears burning in her eyes. The hum grows inside her as he moves his digit over the device, and she clenches around the vibrating toy, grits her teeth, forces herself to endure.

His hand moves down her leg, short fingernails scratch along her inner thigh, teasing her sensitive skin, scraping over the leather straps. She is fixated on his fingers, focusing, distracting herself, and she realizes the harness sits low on her hips, a thick leather band running from her pubic bone all around her mound until it comes back up between her ass cheeks, tight and snug, thinning. And it sits right over her clit, and all he has to do, is push it down against it, and she wails, kicks her feet helplessly, convulses uncontrollably.

He holds the pressure, moves his thumb over the screen again before the buzzing grows stronger inside her. She thrashes her head back, hips arching upwards, insides singing with these unfamiliar sensations, and he pushes further, increases the vibrations once more, drives her closer and closer to the edge (of pleasure or insanity, she isn't sure at this point).

Her noises are loud and shrill in the room, the sound dampened by the velvet walls and other equipment, her throat quickly straining under the constant stream of whines and wails and cries, as she spasms on the bench, not even registering how the woman holds her shoulders, fingernails seemingly digging into her skin through the fabric of her dress.

She is overwhelmed, more than that, is barely able to breathe, to function, to think. Everything is buzzing, humming, twitching, fireworks explode behind her eyelids, pain crashes through her, turning into waves of pleasure that pull her away, threatening to drown her. Amidst the inescapable bliss, she hears a different kind of humming, voices, soft, amused, maybe even mocking, not that she cares.

“Such a sensitive little pet.” bleeds into a deeper thrum of “Good girl.”, and the praise spirals her even higher until she fades away into unconsciousness, letting go completely.

ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE 🟥 THIRTEEN

End notes: So I wanted to introduce a female character that could fuel our poor girl's jealousy, but then Mistress stepped into my head and dominated everything. That's just how it goes sometimes. She makes another appearance, but I'm not sure if I want to keep her, maybe in the next season? We'll see.

Also sorry for the confusion I'm sure I created by writing a scene with two unnamed females, I hope it came through who did what and wasn't too redundant either.

Thank you for reading!

Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290 @untamedheart81

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾ SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[brosif40]

The absolute most menoch drawing ever seen appears in my head thanks to this song

Obsession - Joywave

the live version did it to me- but im linking the og

[monster-noises]

I fuckin.. I need I need my art to be better man..

I need it to be looser, i need more Life, more Energy, more Colour!!!!! more Stylization!!!!!!! more SHAPES!!!!!! Mood Mood and Tone and Feeling!!!!!!!!!!

and less whatever weird archaic constraints I am holding from Highschool that I can't seem to shake off

I need to Break It a little bit, I need to Bend it until it Sings again..

[multishipper-baby]

Also before I go to sleep, one more thought about the characters as animal people. Because If Onnie is a bunny and Jason is a snake... That has to be awkward.

[paradisecursed]

♔♔ eclipse duo HERE WE GO

PROMPT.

I am the one with feathered plume Who holds your heart, whose light consumes With arms stretched out, I gather sky ONE! THOUGHT! ONE! MIND! SUNFUCKER EATS THE BLIND!

credits: xxxxxxxxx

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

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[bambiesfics]

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗘𝗹𝘀’ 𝗖𝗼𝗰𝗸 — Ellie x Bimbo!reader

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie’s butch, wears a strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc. Reader’s a bimbo. Just a filthy, filthy description of how you have to cockwarm your butch girlfriend, Ellie. Slight aftercare at the end too for you, considering how much she just stretched your tiny hole.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. This heartfelt post may give you a sense of Ellie’s headspace. And this

!!! [ Please help Palestine ] !!!

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

You were restless and lonely. Ellie had spent the better part of the afternoon preoccupied with the LED modules shuffled in her laptop, attempting to receive her ServSafe certificate. The online test had been eating up all her time, and Ellie sometimes chastised you for being overly needy n’ pouty when she had her hands full with things to do. So you tried to not add to her plate by pressing for attention, or conversation today. No matter how much you wanted to chit-chat with her. You wanted to be good more than anything.

No one saw you and Ellie as a compatible match, if it wasn’t already made visually obvious, it was definitely made obvious the second you popped your pink lips open to speak, while the brunette butch brooded behind you. This was a chance to shush all those insecurities that crept over you and told you that Ellie could be with a smarter, more capable, more self-reliant girl. You wanted to be a good fit for her. So you distracted yourself by jumping through social media apps, flipping through old cosmo magazines, and touching up the corner of your acrylic toe set with some white polish you kept carefully placed in her desk. But none of that worked. You were bored with everything you’d tried. Worse, your girlfriend had been looking so handsome in her loose plaid button up and dad jeans, as she slumped in her kitchen stool. It was getting so hard to remain detached and unaffected by the pristine silence in the house when you would pass by to check up on her.

Every so often Ellie’s pretty face would cutely scrunch up whenever she was puzzled by a question, which made for very testing times. But not as testing as when Ellie did that thing where she yanked at and ruffled her scruffy wolf cut, when she was in deep concentration. It was the cutest little boyish tic. You had nearly broken your own resolve to go run to her arms and litter her cheeks in glossy kisses. Which all made it so hard to have her near, as handsome as she was, and have her not even look up at you once. Not even allowed to step in her embrace, held by her toned arms, her sweet cologne and that woodsy scented jacket.

You were moping, and that moping turned into whining, and whining turned into annoyed flashes from Ellie’s eyes every time you got too squeaky. Those flashes turned into scowls, and that led to Ellie groaning at you.

“Can I help you with something?”

Ellie’s face was unamused, and it made you straighten your spine.

“N-no.”

“Great. Thanks.” She replied, her voice was just dripping in sarcasm. But that little flash of attention you had received filled your tummy with happy butterflies, until it went right back to her laptop.

You felt a twinge in your chest at how quickly she tuned you out. Did she not wanna talk to you at all? Ask about your day? Wanna know about the influencer gossip you found online? None of it?

“Meanie” you pouted while nudging your chin into your palm and clacking your acrylics on the granite. She didn’t have to say it so mean, she was usually sweeter n’ sillier. But today Ellie was a big meanie.

Ellie huffed and held back a massive eye roll. She stuck her head deeper into her laptop, she had to pretend you weren’t there. This test was important to her. You were too, but this seriously mattered more. Ellie needed more money. She needed to find a better apartment to rent, she needed to be able to support you the way she wanted too, and she needed a position with better hours so she could visit Joel's grave more regularly. You knew all that, so Ellie knew your whining wasn’t from ignorance, it was from childishness. She hated indulging you when you were childish. It was bad manners.

But she also knew if this went on long enough you might start silently crying in your pillow because you felt like your girlfriend hated you. You were clearly feeling neglected by Ellie, and coupled with her little sarcastic quip just a moment ago, Ellie wouldn’t put it past you to start sniffling within the next few hours. You were so pathetic. Ellie often joked that if you weren’t human you would’ve been the little runt abandoned by your pack for being so weak and whiny. And Ellie would’ve been a large reptile; a komodo dragon, who felt bad enough that instead of eating your tiny ass she would’ve raised you. Ellie had a weird little obsession with pliocene history, and because you were dumb, with a brain full of makeup and miniskirts, it went over your head 99% of the time. But Ellie knew you well, and she knew that more than outright being ignored, you hated the feeling that you made Els upset with you. It was your little runt nature, to always seek the validation of the large cold-blooded reptile in charge of your care that could still decide to eat you if you pissed her off enough. This relationship was almost ironically engineered.

Ellie understood you way too well.

Ellie tugged at her hair, because GOD you were such a piece of work. An adorable one, but still, a piece of fucking work!

“Okay.” Ellie breathed out. She ran her palms down her jeans, and spread her thighs farther apart. When Ellie manspread like that, you knew what it meant. But you still wanted her to say it. “Come here baby, come take a seat on me.”

“You sure?” you said hesitantly. Your gaze nervously flickered between her lap and floor.

“Need my baby girl right here,” Ellie said. She cocked her eyebrow and grabbed her bulge tightly. Enticing you.

Your eyes flew open. Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a gaping fish. You wanted Ellie’s attention, maybe to perch on her lap while she worked, but that movement meant something else entirely.

Ellie continued on, enjoying the surprise on your face a little too much. “Since you can’t sit still, come sit on this.” Ellie pulled her zipper down slowly, and shoved her fist in the opening; to fish out her hard cock out of her boxers, and rest it on her thigh. You gulped.

Your eyes fluttered between looking at Ellie's long shaft, and at her face. You could tell from her expression that she wasn’t bluffing. She looked very amused, and very curious as to what you’d do next. “W-what about your test?” You quipped. She lifted the base of her cock, “don’t worry about that, just come take a quick seat on this until you feel better.” You went to her lap, and nervously kept looking back at the cock she expected you to sink onto as you backed up on Ellie’s thighs. Ellie whispered “Why are you nervous princess? You’ve taken this before.”

Which made your hole flutter from the teasing smugness in her voice.

You had taken Ellie’s cock before. But after some prep, after lots of kisses from her, and after your slick was coating your engorged pussy lips from intense arousal. Not by just sitting on it while she was busy attacking a server’s exam.

Your eyes were glossy, Ellie found them so sparkly. You bunched your babydoll camisole higher up your tummy, and spread your ass cheeks. It was a good thing you loved prancing around Ellie’s apartment with no panties, it made spontaneous poundings so much easier. You lined up your hole with Ellie’s cockhead. “Good, now just sink down.” She fisted the base of her dick towards your vagina to help you. You slowly sunk onto her cock, taking it inch by inch. “Nhng, Ellie! feels too big, too big!” You clamped up as another inch forcefully popped through that tight little entrance. Ellie shushed you softly, rubbing circles in your back as she fed you her cock, until she was buried only a few inches deep. You couldn’t take her all the way down, and somehow you were so full. It felt like Ellie’s cock was pressing deep into your tummy. You had to hold back from whining to her about how her cock was definitely in your stomach, probably poking around in there. She’d shushed you for that silly idea once before and teased you for being so airheaded. Not like Ellie had expected you to have any better than a ditzy girl's understanding of anatomy anyway.

But as you felt her cock stretch you open, it was starting to feel like that again, like her cock was in your womb. It felt like Ellie was taking up all the space inside of you. She stretched your plump walls around her like you were her fleshlight. A fleshlight that was stretched to mold around every vein and ridge in Ellie’s cock.

You flexed your ass cheeks, and clamped your cunt around her cock, you tested for how much give you had to bounce up and down. But you gave up almost as soon as you tried lifting off the first time. The base of her cock was just too thick. Ellie felt stuck inside you. Like a wedding band wrapped around a chubby finger. You whimpered at the way her cockhead bumped all those squishy places inside your cunt. Ellie reassured you “Shhh don’t worry about bouncing baby, I’m nearly splitting you open. Just stay right here and get used to this angle.” Ellie turned her gaze back towards her laptop, and picked up from the last module she left off at.

Meanwhile your lower lip was trembling because your girlfriend's cock was resting inside your vagina, it was poking your cervix and rubbing along your walls in ways that made your tummy feel funny. The soreness was starting to subside but the fullness didn’t, and you wanted to move around a little bit. “E-Ellie i-it’s hard to move. No room,” you pouted over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to move, baby. You’re in timeout. Just sit and get my cock nice n’ warm.” Ellie turned her gaze back to her laptop as her other fingers drew slow circles in your lower back. It was such a brazenly lazy attempt at support, but Ellie’s main goal was to distract you — not make you feel pampered.

But you’d get that after anyway.

You tried grinding her cock in you, just to put the pressure of her cockhead in other places and not directly kissing the roof of your cunt. Ellie’s eyes flickered to where you two were connected and she thumbed the sensitive skin there. Which made you pull off slightly, you mewled at the sensitization you felt from her ministrations. Your hole was throbbing everywhere.

Ellie moaned at the sight, “you’re stretched so thin here, how did I fit inside you?”

You kept up with your poor attempts to grind n’ gyrate, so Ellie’s gaze traveled up towards your hips. She palmed your squishy ass; then skirted her fingers over your asshole. Ellie sunk her thumb into your asshole, just stopping at the first knuckle where her metal ring rested and whispered in your back. “I told you to stay baby.”

“Ellie no! Don’t touch over there!” You cried from embarrassment, you got so hot when she did that.

She smiled into your back “Why you shy cause I’m thumbing you right here? After your tiny cunt just swallowed my entire length? Please” Ellie smiled into your back.

Ellie’s attention kept jumping between completing her modules and questions and groping some sensitive part of your body. She’d mutter “You’re so tiny, wish you could see how much you’re stretched around me, plugged you up good.” Just to watch the hairs on your nape rise and watch how your hole contracted around her length from her words. Ellie rolled her narrow hips in circular motions, letting you get some little relief from the fat cock bullying your hole, by giving you some friction. The friction felt amazing on her clit too, rubbing along the puffy nub in a way that made heat pool in her belly.

Soon enough Ellie was biting back her own horny grunts, pressure building in her own cunt from the press of the harness. She kept up a slow circular grind to make her little baby feel good, and not feel so stretched out. But Ellie really considered chasing a silent orgasm for herself, it felt delicious to be in you.

You were dizzy with sensations, cock bumping your spongy g-spot just right. Your neglected clit was angry and red, but you were drunk on Ellie’s grinding. You were slurring all whiny “love your fat cock s’much Ellie. S’much ahh, love your coo-ock ahnnng.” Ellie’s hands came up to grope and squeeze your fatty tits. Because FUCK YOU for nearly making her bust after saying that. She kept grinding until your sloppy hole was doing butterflies on her cock. Slick dripping past the seal where you were wrapped around her shaft. Your hole was squeezing and releasing, over and over again as your orgasm tipped you over the edge and your toes turned pointed straight. The bottom of your fingers and palms had turned pink and red from how tight your fist was.

Ellie slowed down the grinding, she was happy enough you got your orgasm. The grinding felt nice on her clit, but she was more grateful at the fact that you might get sleepy and tap out. And she’d actually get some work done for once.

Ellie pulled you off her cock, and onto her lap. She smoothed a hand down your back as you winced when she pulled out. Your cum dribbled out of your weeping little pussy, globs of stringy cum seeped into Ellie’s pants after being plugged up by her cock. It was a mess you frequently made on Ellie after sex. It was evidence of a job well done; and a satiated princess.

You sniffled as you turned in Ellie’s embrace. “You sleepy?” Ellie asked

“Mhmmm” you moaned in her shoulder.

“I got you, you little princess. C’mon hold onto my shirt” Ellie guided your trembling hand to the collar of her button up and shushed you with sweet words about how “well you took her.” Ellie rocked you softly as she went back to her test, by the time you’d knocked out she’d completed a good chunk of her modules. She rocked you until your sniffles had quieted and you were fast asleep on her lap. She tucked her cock haphazardly into her boxers. You could sink onto it again after you woke up from your short nap.

Ellie spanked your ass, and felt the recoil jiggle against her palm. She shushed you again as you stirred from the assault. She whispered “I deserve a little treat after dealing with this bratty ass all day. I’m joking… I got you baby.”

After 45 minutes of not a single distraction to pull her attention away, Ellie completed her test. A solid 93%, way above a passing grade. Good enough to get her ServSafe certificate, and definitely good enough to start serving at her restaurant, and get better pay and better tips.

Ellie kissed the top of your head,

“Did it, peach.”

“Did’itttt wedidi...” You slurred into her chest. She smelled like sweet cologne. Your dreams were so happy.

She smiled into your hair.

Mhm yeah. We both did it.

[endlessthxxghts]

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 

“I can fucking build it later.” 

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 

“Get up,” he cuts you off. 

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 

“Then bend over.” 

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 

“Baby, please move,” you pant. 

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright. 

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [1]

ghoap x reader pet!au where simon keeps johnny as a pet, but can't keep up with his high sex drive and antics. in order to satiate him, simon decides to go looking for another pet to keep the silly pup entertained. sort of an introductory work bound to become a series of one shots like my mafia!au

cw: simon is a freak, non-con photography, a little dark content, nsfw, slight bdsm dynamics, owner/pet dynamics

Simon wasn’t a photographer, not a good one anyway, but he wasn’t to blame. His large hands were better fit for shredding meat than creating art, but he figured all art was good when the muses were beautiful. 

He had been on the hunt for nearly three hours by that point, wandering throughout the city where the population was thickest. Armed with nothing but his phone, Simon captured photos of various specimens that meandered throughout the streets as they went about their lives. There were roughly twenty pictures he had saved in his gallery of unsuspecting women he figured would be Johnny’s type. Pretty blondes in flowery dresses, alluring doe eyes looking out at the streets; he stole photos of any soft and sweet thing that he figured Johnny would have fun sinking his teeth into. 

A black mask and dark clothes wasn’t the most unsuspecting thing for him to wear on such an outing, yet it was to his advantage at the same time. Several women had caught the slight glint of the camera lens on his phone as he stole eternal glimpses of them. Many of them had even opened their mouths to protest his intrusion, until they looked at him, anyway. Not many people had the bravery or fortitude needed to stand up to a creature as wild and brutish as him. Their mouths shut with such promptness he nearly chuckled at how bashful they were. 

Hunting got more difficult as the sky grew darker. Fresh meat hid behind locked doors that Simon could have easily torn down if he had so desired, but that wasn’t the time. As the lights started to illuminate the street, he dived down into the depths underneath London where tunnels spanned for miles, spider-webbing just below the skin of the city. The stench underground grew more acrid the further he pushed and Simon couldn’t help but huff at it. This was why he enjoyed living out of town, off in some secluded home nestled in the cold embrace of trees and lavish fields. 

Made it harder for his pet to wander off, too. 

The sharp clicking of heels caught his attention as he waited just beyond the yellow line on the platform. Dark eyes flickered to the newest prey that approached, and Simon found himself drinking in the sight of her. Proper clothes covered her body with a simple blouse and a pencil skirt. Dark tights covered the expanse of her legs with its sheer fabric where it was beautifully topped off by a classic pair of heels. The sway of her hips was dramatized by the steps she traversed, her pace slow and careful lest she roll an ankle walking in those heels. 

She was dressed professionally, and if Simon had to guess it was for an interview. By the look on her face, it didn’t go very well. Distracted eyes stared down at the phone in her hand as her lips pressed into a frown. Anxious fingers tapped away as she typed out a message to someone — perhaps a lover? Someone would be crazy not to snatch up a specimen such as that — as she stepped down onto the platform. 

Before she could get too close, Simon quickly dug his phone out before stealing a photo of her. He had gotten so used to the motions he didn’t even have to think about it; not that it was difficult anyway. With her attention still focused elsewhere, he found he was able to snap a few more before she finally put her phone into her bag and began to pay mind to where she walked. She continued further into the platform, well past Simon, and vanished into the crowd as if she had never been there at all. 

Cute. 

It didn’t take long for the tube to take Simon to his stop, and it was even shorter before he seated himself in his car to head back home. The drive itself was the longest part of everything. Annoying traffic, bad drivers; he didn’t feel like he could untense his body until he approached the familiar sight of home. The old and dilapidated building wasn’t much more than an heirloom passed down in the Riley family, but it had quickly become his sanctuary. Seclusion meant he was safe. Seclusion meant he could love in peace.

Warm lights poured through the sheer curtains that covered the windows and were only disturbed by a figure pacing around just beyond them. Simon’s car died off with a sputter as he pocketed his keys before approaching the door. A thick deadbolt kept the house latched tight and secure, though he was confident Johnny knew better than to attempt to dash out by that point. Especially not that day when he had the prospect of such a good treat. 

Johnny was there to greet him at the door with a toothy grin, and the damn pup nearly knocked Simon over as he bounded up to him. His hands pawed at Simon’s chest as if he couldn’t get enough of him, and he didn’t calm down until the man grabbed hold of the collar around his throat. Blue eyes widened as he looked up at his owner, lips twitching with all the words he wanted to exclaim.

“Down,” Simon warned. 

“Did ya get the pictures? Like you said you would?” Johnny questioned, his body still unable to retain his buzzing excitement. 

Instead of answering him verbally, Simon gave a sharp tug on his collar before directing him further into the house. Ancient wood floorboards creaked underneath their weight as they entered the living room. It was devoid of all decor, unless cracks in the paint could be considered art. A rusted lamp was the sole source of light in the room, and the only thing even worth looking at was the glorious stone fireplace that sat against the far wall, but it was much too warm out to light. 

Simon pulled Johnny down onto the old sofa next to him, and the man instantly burrowed into his side, eagerly waiting to see the pretty pups. The phone screen illuminated both of their faces in sync as it blossomed to life, and Johnny almost salivated at just the prospect of what he would see. It didn’t take Simon long to pull up his gallery, and he scrolled to the first photos he had taken that day before angling it so that his excited pup could see it too. Twitching fingers reached out to swipe along the screen, and Simon watched as Johnny’s eyes dilated at every piece of meat he looked at. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted on the couch, and all it took was a simple glance to see how worked up the poor pup was. A hardened bulge strained against the zipper of his jeans, and a groan reverberated in his throat as he continued to swipe through the countless choices put in front of him. 

“Si, they’re all so beautiful. Can’t I have them all?” Johnny whined. 

“Only one,” Simon countered. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny said with a pout. 

“Just one, Johnny,” Simon repeated, voice more firm. 

Sighing, he continued to swipe through Simon’s phone as his eyes glossed over beautiful legs and delicious hips. It had been so long since he had last seen a woman it was nearly impossible to hold himself back. His body craved them in a way he couldn’t put into words, and he felt like the only thing that would offer him solace would be to burst out of his skin. 

His restless buzzing suddenly ceased when he caught sight of the last group of photos in the gallery. A beautiful woman had him utterly transfixed as she appeared to have descended down a long set of concrete steps. There was something about the troubled look on her face that had his mouth watering. Like he knew he would be able to fix it. Like he could bully the worry out of her with his cock alone. 

“This one,” Johnny said, his decision definite as he held the phone up for Simon to see. “I want this one.” 

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 6: One Step Closer

Summary: You're all trying to adjust to the changes happening between you and the members of your pack.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, some Price x Gaz

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, suggestive content, handjobs, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this one and might come back when I feel better and do some changes, but for now, it's fine. Mostly just a filler chapter more than anything. Some sweet moments, some maybe steamy...Building up for some more exciting things coming in the next parts. Also I just wanted to clear something up, pretty much everyone in this universe is at least a little bisexual. That will make sense once you read the chapter.

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(Gif found on Google)

He curses the click of the door as it opens, making sure to go slowly so it doesn’t squeak as it’s prone to when it rains. His lips turn up in a smile as he catches a glimpse at the sight on the couch, no more than half a moment before Price’s honed senses cause him to wake at the change in atmosphere. 

He blinks tired eyes at Gaz, head lifting from where it had drooped to his chest in his sleep. He adjusts his hold on you, still asleep and unaware in the safety of your alpha’s arms. 

“Sleeping in your office again, sir?” Gaz says quietly, stepping closer to the couch. 

Price grunts quietly, shifting his hold on you so he can lift a hand to rub at his eyes. His voice is thick and gravelly with sleep as he answers. “Didn’t mean to.” 

Gaz hums, running a hand through Price’s hair as the air between them changes from Captain and Sergeant to alpha and beta. “Should get you both to bed.” 

“You take her.” Price murmurs. “She’ll forgive you easier for invading her space.” 

Gaz knows he’s right. He’d already been invited in once. His scent in your space would be less jarring than Price’s. Price carefully unravels your arms from around his neck, letting Gaz slip his arms under you to lift you off his lap. You stir slightly at the movement, letting out a quiet grumble. 

“Shh pretty girl.” Gaz shushes you, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Just taking you to bed.” 

Price follows behind him as he carries you through the halls to your room. You’re asleep by the time he reaches your door, Price opening it for him. Gaz slips in, carrying you to your bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable, tucking the blanket around you before leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

He spares one last glance at you fast asleep before he closes the door, turning to Price. “Your turn.” 

“You gonna carry me too?” Price asks, a playful glint shining in his eyes despite the obvious exhaustion. 

Gaz huffs out a laugh. “You wish.” He puts a hand on his back, guiding Price down to his door, closest to the entry to the barracks. 

He follows the alpha into his space, meticulously clean and tidy as usual. They both blink against the harsh overhead light, Gaz leaning against the door as Price begins emptying his pockets, getting settled in his space. 

“She knelt for me tonight.” Price says as he sits at his desk to unlace his boots. 

“She’s making headway.” Gaz replies, surprised that you asked to kneel so soon. He knows how meaningful kneeling is to both alpha and omega, how intense it can be, how much trust there is involved. 

Price hums, standing to remove his pants. “I fear Laswell was right. She’s turning out to be a good fit.” 

“She’s already got Simon worked up.” Gaz smiles, moving to the dresser to fish out clean sleep clothes. “I fear she may be taking a page out of Johnny’s book.” 

“Well, if it gets him to stop torturing himself, then I can’t say I’ll complain.” Price says, pulling his shirt over his head. “You know how he is.” 

“I know.” Gaz says, holding out the clean shirt and sweatpants. “Can’t say I blame him entirely. Not after what he’s been through.” 

Price slips on the clean clothes, stepping closer to Gaz. “He’ll warm up to our girl eventually.” 

“‘Our girl?’” Gaz’s eyebrows lift as Price steps in even closer, their noses brushing. “That’s quite the jump.” 

“She’s been our girl from the start. As soon as those papers were finalized, there was no sending her back.” Price says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Gaz’s lips. “I wouldn’t put her through that. Not after everything.” 

Gaz pulls back, Staring at Price’s face. “You know something.” 

“I wouldn’t say I know anything, but I have my suspicions.” He moves past Gaz, turning off the overhead light. “I know we all do.” 

“You think she’ll tell us?” 

“I think she will, with time. I don’t want to push her into too much too soon.” He pats Gaz on the ass. “Come on, in bed.” 

“Sir, yes sir.” Gaz smirks, Price giving him a look as the beta pulls down the covers, crawling into the bed. 

Price groans internally, trying to calm the twitch in his pants at the mental picture of you, those big puppy eyes shining playfully as you saluted him. The small spark of excitement every time you call him “sir.” How easily you relaxed for him while you knelt, giving over complete trust and control to him for an hour. 

He crawls under the covers, tossing an arm over Gaz, trying to block out all the mental images flashing through his head. 

“Forget something in your pocket, sir?” Gaz says, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Shut it, Garrick.” 

You’re jarred awake by the sound of movement in the hallway. You let out a quiet noise of indignation, letting your eyes close again. It’s too early, around the time the boys leave to go workout. You’ve been graciously given a couple days off to rest and recover, likely Price’s recommendation. You knew if it were up to Ghost, he’d force you to work through the pain. You’re glad for the break, though, and you would be even if you weren’t horribly sore. 

Your head is still spinning a bit from last night. You’re not quite sure how you made it to bed, but the faint scent of clean linen and the sea gives you an idea. You bury your face in your pillow, letting out a groan. You knelt for Price last night. You opened yourself up to that vulnerability, and he had graciously guided and supported you through it. He didn’t scruff you, even though he could have, nor was there any demand for control in his grasp, he could have easily taken it. 

He’d been a good alpha, helping you relax and destress. You feel lighter for the first time in weeks, since you found out where you were going and who your new pack was going to be. You feel lighter than you have in your entire time on this base, though that could just be the endorphins still flowing a bit from kneeling for your alpha. 

It’ll be easier to come down from it once you’re bonded, you know that. Once there’s that connection between you, and you’re around him all the time. You’ll be moving into his room, or at least you’ll spend most of your time in there. You’ll sleep in his bed with him. You wonder if he’s a cuddler, or if he prefers personal space. Would Gaz join you sometimes? You can practically feel the warmth of being sandwiched between them, battle hardened hands trailing along your bare body because you’ll be naked and well bonded with both of them. 

You bury your burning face in your pillow letting out a muffled, quiet scream at the thoughts your mind is conjuring. You feel hot, warmth pooling in your stomach. There’s no going back to sleep now, you know that. 

You get up, rushing to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and erase the thoughts in your head. It’s entirely natural, having these thoughts. You will get to that place, very soon, with Price. The others could pursue that sort of relationship with you as well, if they wanted to. It will likely happen naturally with Gaz, given his bond with Price, and after your kiss with Soap...

You’re not sure if it would happen with Ghost, or if he would allow it. You can’t help but think about yesterday, how easily he had overpowered you with just his scent. You had been scared, as it was your nature to be when an alpha was posing a direct threat to you, but the way he had looked hovering over you, the feeling of him pressed against you when he’d pinned you to the floor. How easily he got you into that position. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of him pinning you down like that, or better, pinning you against Soap, his hand on the back of your neck. 

You splash cold water on your face, holding your breath until your lower body stops pulsing in time with your heart. You let out a quiet curse, focusing on getting ready for the day before grabbing your book and heading for the rec room to try and calm yourself. 

“You’re up early, love.” 

You jump at the voice, lowering your book as you look up from your spot stretched out on the couch. Gaz is standing there, skin dewy with sweat. They must have just returned from their morning workout, heading in to shower and get ready for the day. Gaz must have noticed your scent and followed it. 

“Couldn’t get back to sleep.” You explain as he moves closer to the couch. “Gaz!” You shriek as he crawls over you, dropping his body on top of yours. “You’re all sweaty!” 

“You can shower later.” He says, resting his face against your chest, his elbows pressed into the cushions so he’s not completely squishing you with his weight. 

“You should be showering now.” You say, trying not to breathe in too much of his scent. It’s heavily tainted with the scent of sweat and musk. 

“Then we can shower together.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face further into your chest. 

Your face warms, your heart rate picking up at his teasing. The thought of being enclosed in the shower with him, such a small space, packed in together. Skin to skin, bare before each other. You might implode beneath him, warmth beginning to travel down your spine after your thoughts earlier. 

“Relax.” He murmurs with a grin, obviously picking up the quickening of your heart rate and the change in your scent. “I’m teasing.” 

He’s just as bad as Soap, but not quite as blatant with it. While Soap would tease at any open opportunity, Gaz tended to choose his moments wisely, slipping some teasing remark in when you least expected it. 

Gaz goes quiet as he lays there, his breathing steady. You mark your page before reaching up to set the book on the arm of the couch. You can’t help yourself as you run your fingers through his short cropped, damp curls, gently scratching at his scalp. He makes a quiet noise, his body getting heavier. 

“Gaz?” You murmur, earning a grunt in response. “Are you falling asleep?” 

“Can’t help it.” He murmurs. “So comfy.” 

Your cheeks warm as he nuzzles into your chest, letting out a content sigh. You fight the urge to release one of your own, feeling warm and content even pressed against the lumpy cushions of the couch. How easy it is to find comfort even in the most uncomfortable places. 

It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. 

Your heart rate kicks up again, hand stilling where it had been scratching Gaz’s scalp. You’re allowed to want. You asked yesterday and nothing bad happened. 

“Gaz?” You murmur, trying to fight the nervous twisting of your stomach. “Would you...if I wanted something, would you get it for me, even if it’s stupid?” 

Gaz shifts on top of you, knees pressing into the couch as he pushes himself higher so you’re face to face. One of his legs is between yours, holding him up so he doesn’t squish you under his weight. 

He stares down at you, blinking the haze of sleep from his dark eyes. “Babygirl, I’d take over the world for you if that’s what you wanted.” 

Your lips part in surprise at his answer. You’re not entirely sure he’s allowed to say something like that, even as a joke. The sentiment of it is not lost on you, and you find tears prickling the backs of your eyes. 

His arms shift beneath you, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what you want.” 

You stare up into those big, sweet, dark eyes. Gaz radiates a kindness and calmness like you haven’t felt in a long time. Not that the others aren’t kind, even in Ghost and his aggressiveness, you’ve felt the protective drive within him. It wasn’t based on any claim or sense of ownership, even a sense of duty couldn’t bring forward that kind of reaction. But Gaz...there’s just something so soft and gentle despite the danger he could pose. 

“Kiss me.” You blurt out, realizing you’ve been staring for far too long. 

Gaz stares down at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Just that? Here I thought you were gonna say something impossible like world domination.” 

“Well, if you’re offering...” You shrug. 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Probably shouldn’t be making those jokes.” He leans down closer. “Though, if you asked nicely...” 

You let out a quiet sound as his lips press against yours. They’re just as soft as they look, pressing against yours so gently and softly. Your arms lift to his shoulders, curling into the fabric of his shirt. He coaxes your lips to move with his, copying his movements as he tilts his head slightly. 

Warmth blooms beneath your skin as he kisses you, your head spinning. His scent invades your nose, seeping into your very being. You want to curl up in it, let it surround you like a warm blanket. You catch the whiff of something deeper, the scent of damp earth. Price. You have a sudden urge to pull his shirt collar to the side, to stare at the mark that decorates his scent gland at the base of his throat, a mirror of the one you’ll carry in a few short weeks. 

“Ye didnae tell me ye were startin’ a cuddle pile!” 

An excited voice causes you both to separate, Gaz barely managing to lift himself up enough so that you don’t get squished when Soap practically jumps on his back. 

“Bloody hell, mate,” Gaz grunts. “Tryna squish our poor omega?” 

The weight above you shifts before Soap’s head appears over Gaz’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “Mornin’ hen!” 

“For someone so small, you weigh a ton.” Gaz says with a strain to his voice as sweat breaks out across his forehead from keeping his weight and Soap's off of you.

“I'm no that small.” Soap says, an offended tone to his voice as he goes limp on top of Gaz. 

You can't help but giggle at their antics, especially as Gaz pushes himself up to a kneeling position, nearly sending Soap rolling to the floor. Your face is warm from your giggling as they both stand, playfully pushing each other. 

“Alright, enough you two.” Price's voice cuts through their playful arguing, amusement shining in his eyes as he leans on the doorframe. “Almost time for breakfast.”

“Come on.” Gaz says, taking your hands and helping you up. “Let's get some pancakes in you before you turn into one.”

“You should try courting her.” Kyle says, scrolling through his phone as he lounges on John's bed. “Like old-fashioned courting.”

“What are you on about?” John grumbles, drying his face with a towel. 

“Our little omega. You should try courting her.” Kyle repeats, looking over his phone at John. 

John tosses his towel into his hamper before approaching the bed. Kyle lets his eyes rake over his form, his strong arms and soft stomach, thick, strong thighs and the prominent bulge at the front of his briefs. 

“It would be worth a try.” Kyle continues, letting John pull the phone from his hands. “Omegas love that shit.” 

“And what prompted this thought?” John asks, laying down on his side next to Kyle, pulling the younger man closer. 

“She's getting all worked up by us now.” He says, biting back a groan as John trails a hand over his side. “She's kissed Soap and I so far. Got all worked up when I teased her about showering together this morning.” His hand trails through John's short hair as John licks at his throat. “I think she'd enjoy a little attention from her alpha.”

“What do you have in mind?” John murmurs before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Kyle's throat. 

Kyle shrugs, letting out a gasp as John bites at his throat. “Take her out for dinner? Buy her some things for her room? Give in to those alpha cravings a bit.”

John lets out a low growl, pinning Kyle on the bed beneath him. Kyle's lips lift in a smirk, fingers lifting to run through John's beard. His thumb drags across John's lower lip, gaze soft as he stares up at the alpha. 

“You won't ruin anything by doing it. There's only so much time until her heat. If I were an alpha, I'd want her to be as comfortable as possible before then. Makes the shift into bonded pack life much easier.” Kyle says. 

John leans down until their noses brush, groaning softly as Kyle digs his fingers into his shoulders. He knows Kyle is right. He should make an effort with you, at least try to ensure you're as comfortable around him as possible before he claims you. Most alphas wouldn't have waited for the first heat, wouldn't have even waited a week before claiming, before taking their omega to bed. He doesn't want to be like those alphas. He doesn't want to force you into more than you already have been, more than you will be. 

He wants things to happen as naturally as possible, but that doesn't mean he can't try. 

Kyle leans up, closing the distance between them and kissing him. He presses his beta back into the mattress, nipping harshly at his lips. Their tongues tangle together, tasting like peppermint toothpaste and something distinctly alpha and beta. 

John presses his body closer to Kyle's groaning as his half hard cock drags against Kyle's. Kyle moans into his mouth as John begins grinding against him. Their bodies move together, a familiar dance they've both memorized the steps to. 

John groans as Kyle's fingers trail down his back, blunt nails biting into the skin. Breathy moans slip from kiss-bruised plump lips as John kisses down Kyle's throat. Calloused fingers slip under the waistband of John's briefs, teasing the soft supple skin beneath. John grinds down against him harder, dragging his leaking cock against Kyle's twitching one. 

“Fuck, Cap.” Kyle groans, bucking up against his alpha. “Lemme feel you.”

John wraps his arms around Kyle, flipping them over so he's on top. Kyle makes quick work of his boxers, tugging John's briefs down roughly. He groans, licking his lips at the sight of his alpha's leaking cock. 

“Like what you see, pup?” John asks, lips lifting in a smirk. 

“Fuck yes.” Kyle breathes, settling himself on John's thighs. 

He leans down, wrapping a hand around both his and John's cocks. John groans as Kyle begins stroking them both, his cock twitching as more precum slips from his tip. He's close, the pent up frustrations from the last couple days along with the tantalizing scent of omega driving him to near insanity. 

He feels like he might pop a knot as Kyle picks up the pace, one hand braced against his chest, his hips rocking in short thrusts. His head falls back as his orgasm slams into him, hit cum spurting across his stomach. Kyle groans loudly, frantically pumping his own cock as he reaches his peak, spurting his spend across his alpha's stomach too. 

“Made quite the mess, Sergeant.” John says, trailing his fingers through the mix of cum on his stomach. 

“Would you like me to clean it up, sir?” Kyle smirks, opening his mouth to allow John's fingers to push in. 

His tongue swirls around his thick fingers, lapping them clean. Kyle shifts on top of him, bending down and trailing his tongue across John's stomach, licking up their mess. 

“Good boy.” John hums, gently cradling the back of Kyle's neck. 

The sky is dark as you make your way from your room. Gaz and Price are nowhere to be found, your cheeks warming at the thought of where they could be and what they could be up to. You take a breath to steady yourself, and your scent, before you head into the rec room. Soap and Ghost are there, Soap on the opposite end of the couch as usual, and Ghost in the chair next to the couch that faces the door. 

He sees you first, his shoulders squaring just a bit. Soap turns to the doorway, a typical grin splitting his face when he sees you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone be happy to see you, and you can’t deny that Soap’s joy is a bit contagious. He’s like an excited puppy. You can imagine if he had a tail, it would be wagging non-stop. 

“Come tae join us, hen?” He asks, holding out a hand. 

Ghost’s eyes are sharp as they stare at you, the silent warning not lost. You’re infringing on their space, infringing on his protective circle around his beta. You’re pushing a boundary and that could be dangerous. 

It could be. 

You move forward, taking Soap’s hand, letting him tug you down next to him on the couch. You ignore the eyes burning into you, boring holes into your skin as you settle in as close to Soap as you can. You almost smile in victory as Soap drapes his arm across the back of the couch, your attention turning to whatever is playing on the TV. 

Ghost and Soap continue their conversation, Soap's fingers brushing your arm every so often. You can feel every time Ghost's burning gaze turns to you, every time he glowers at you for being so close to his beta. You can't help but wonder what's going through his mind, what he's thinking, what he's imagining. 

You'll pay for this later. 

You can only imagine how he'll punish you in your training for boldly breaching such an obvious boundary. 

Soap doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. It's not like you're not allowed to be close to Soap. As a member of your new pack, he had every right to pursue a bond with you if he wanted, regardless of how Ghost felt. Even though they're bonded, Soap is still his own person. 

It's almost ironic. 

You're starting to feel the exhaustion of your early morning as the night drags on, your head getting heavier and heavier. Ghost's need to glower at you has lessened a bit, his eyes only on you whenever you shift or move. Your head has drooped onto Soap's shoulder, an idea forming in your mind. You're sure it's the exhaustion making you so bold, or perhaps your new belief that the only way you'll even stand a chance at getting through to Ghost is to push those boundaries and stand up to him.

You lift your head, shifting your body until you're laying on the couch, resting your head on Soap's thigh. You watch Ghost's hands curl into fists where they rest on his lap, his eyes burning through your head as you make yourself comfortable. Soap's hand sinks into your hair, massaging your scalp as you lay there, your lips curling into a content smile. 

You know it has to be eating at him just a little. A content beta and a preening omega, an image of what he could have if he simply got over whatever is keeping him from accepting you. 

“Tired, lass?” Soap's gentle voice pulls you from your thoughts. Your mind had started to doze a bit, trailing off with your thoughts. 

You make a quiet noise in agreement, nuzzling against his thigh. 

“Let's get ye tae bed.” He says, squeezing your arm. 

You're not expecting Ghost to follow as Soap leads you from the rec room, your fingers entwined with his. Even in your tired state you can feel the icy stare at your back, the looming presence of the alpha behind you as Soap walks you to your door. 

“Night, hen.” Soap murmurs softly. 

You're sure it's the exhaustion making you delirious as you stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. Soap hums against your lips, bending down to follow you as you go to pull away. You ignore the tickling at the back of your neck as he presses another kiss to your lips, your hand reaching for your doorknob and the security of your room. 

“Night, Soap.” You murmur, slipping into your room before Ghost makes a rash decision. 

You're going to regret it later, but you certainly don't at this moment. 

The fabric isn’t as soft as it used to be. It’s been worn too much, washed too many times. You’ve stitched the ripped seam back together, a bit sloppy but you can hardly tell thanks to the luck of finding thread the same color as the sweatshirt. You hold it in your hands, staring at the frayed edges, the loose strings. Well loved, some might call it. Garbage, others might think. 

“Finally fixing the holes?” 

The voice cutting through the silence makes you jump, your head whipping around to the door. Price is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He says. 

“It’s alright, sir.” You say, calming your racing heart. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I thought you were all at training.” 

“I had a call I had to take.” He says, entering the room now that you’ve calmed. “Was heading back out when I caught a whiff of your scent.” He lowers himself onto the couch with a quiet groan, staring softly at you. 

“I know it’s stupid, holding onto it when I could just ask for a new one.” You say, staring down at the sweatshirt in your hands. 

“But it’s more than just a sweatshirt.” He says, tone soft and understanding. 

You sink your teeth into your lip, fingers curling into the fabric in your hands. “One of the omegas at the institute gave it to me.” You say, holding the sweatshirt to your chest. “We were the same age so we were grouped together a lot and we got really close. She gave it to me when we reached selection age, since we both knew we were likely to get chosen fast and she wanted to give me something to remember her by. It’s a good thing she did too, because she did get chosen almost immediately.” You let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “I’ve held on to it ever since. It doesn't even smell like her anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.” 

Price is quiet for a few moments, his eyes on your face. You can’t look at him, your gaze on the sweatshirt in your lap. “You loved her.” He finally says, his tone not accusing or even disgusted. 

It’s understanding. Knowing.

You take a shaky breath, hands closing into nervous fists around the sweatshirt. “Institutes try everything they can to prevent omegas from bonding with each other. Makes it too hard to separate us once we come of age. Alphas don’t want a distressed, unhappy omega, they’re expecting an eager, willing addition to their pack. It’s hard though, when you spend literal years together experiencing the same thing to not form bonds with each other.”

 Price huffs quietly. “My grandfather used to tell me about the traditional pack boom after World War 2. When militaries across the world began to forbid bonding and pack formation within ranks. They were spending more time and money on preventing it from happening than anything else. It didn’t take them long to realize it was easier to allow the organic bonds to form. It made soldiers stronger, gave them purpose. It’s easier to look away than to fight what nature intends sometimes.” He smiles at you, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. “We are the last people that will judge you for it.”

You know that. You've known that from the start. The way their scents mingle, their bonds. They're a bonded pack for a reason. 

“She never knew. Or, I never told her. I don't know where she ended up or where she is now.” You shrug, letting out a sardonic huff. “It's a lonely existence sometimes, being an omega.”

“I can only imagine.” Price says, giving you a sad smile. 

“I suppose I should just get rid of it.” You say, staring at the sweatshirt. “No use holding onto something that could have never been.” 

Price squeezes your shoulder gently. “Wait here.” 

He gets up, leaving you alone in the rec room. You wait patiently for him to return, growing a bit nervous. What was he doing? Was he telling someone about your confession? Was he going to send you back because of it? You know your worries are unwarranted, but you can't stop them. 

He returns a few moments later, a sweatshirt in his hands. “Here.” He says, holding it out to you. “They're standard issue, but I've never been one for sweatshirts. It's just been sitting in my closet.”

You take the sweatshirt, soft and new in your hands. It hardly smells like him, only the light residual scent from being in his room. “Thank you, sir.” You say, rubbing the fabric against your cheek. 

He nods at your old sweatshirt. “This way you can save that one, and start picking this one apart.” 

Your face warms at his cheeky comment, your head turning down bashfully. “It means a lot, sir. Really.” 

“You'll get better use of it than I did.” He glances at his watch. “I best be getting back to the boys. We'll be back before dinner.”

“Wait-” You get up before he can leave, slowly approaching him with the sweatshirt in hand. Your face is burning as he stares down at you, eyebrows raised in waiting. “Will you...scent it?” You hold the sweatshirt out to him.

He looks surprised for a moment before he takes the fabric, rubbing his face and neck against it. He coats the sweatshirt in his scent, the smell of trees and petrichor filling your nose as you watch him. The back of your neck begins to prickle, the desire to roll in his scent getting stronger. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say as he hands the sweatshirt back to you. “I'd...I'd also like to kneel again tonight, if that's alright.”

He smiles softly down at you. “Of course. I'll come and get you when I'm ready.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your head before he takes his leave. 

You pull on Price's sweatshirt, burying your nose in his scent for a moment. A smile pulls at your lips as you grab your old sweatshirt, making for your room.

You can't wait for tonight. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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[mariasont]

Okay , so a smutty Spencer x reader fic where is very alternative with tattoos and piercings. Maybe she works with the team as an entomologist or something idk BUT she always wears her contacts and one day she comes in thick black frame glasses. Spencer goes feral, he's never seen her in glasses before and he just kinda drags her into a hall closet and just "keep the glasses on" there's a lot of fanfics about the reader going feral seeing Spencer in glasses for the first time but what if it was reversed.

Framed Fascination

A/N: omggggg i loved writing this, you just know spencer would sooo be a sucker for a woman with tats and piercings, so canon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x alt!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, glasses kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, degrading sort of, office sex

wc: 2k

When you began dating Spencer, it raised a few eyebrows. Spencer Reid--reserved, a bit awkward, and endlessly knowledgeable--had ended up with someone who they thought was his complete opposite. And to that he would always say, "while the prevailing research suggests similarity is more common in relationships, there's an interesting phenomenon where sometimes, the very things that differ between two people can create a complementary dynamic, much like how two puzzle pieces with different notches fit."

At times, you would point out your differences solely to prompt this response. But, in truth, aside from your outward styles, you shared more similarities than not. Your tattoos and piercings were the first details Spencer noticed and quickly became his favorite as you strode into the morgue on a particularly demanding case. You were immersed in explaining how arsenic disrupted the body's functions, but Spencer was lost in the visual narrative of your ink, his gaze lingering on every etched symbol and shaded figure. From that moment, he was wholly engrossed, and vowed to eventually explore all the unseen tattoos that your clothes kept from view.

Spencer may have had the whole 'nerdy boy-next-door' aesthetic down to a science, but you? You took pride in being called 'intimidating', knowing it was just a first impression. You knew that beneath that surface lay as Spencer would say, 'a cinnamon roll'. Spencer seemed to see through it from the beginning, which is why he didn't hesitate to ask you out as soon as the case closed.

In the span of eight months, your life had been transformed into its healthiest chapter with Spencer as the culprit. He filled every day with thoughtful gesture--surprise art museum dates, breakfast in bed, flowers that would mysteriously find their way to your desk, notes you'd find tucked inside your coat pockets. In fact, if you had seen it in a cheesy rom-com, he probably had done it. You had been tackling each day with a little spring in your step.

Just like today--you bounded into your office humming—you were humming as you went over paperwork. Tasked with consulting for the consumer safety department, your focus was zeroed in on the pervasive issue of phthalates creeping into beauty products. You adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the thick black frames perched on your nose--an odd sensation since you habitually opted for contacts--as your eyes dragged over the papers.

The hum of the fax machine broke the silence, and you swiveled in your chair, a smile dawning as you recognized the documents from last week's BAU case--giving you a chance to steal a moment with your boyfriend.

Paperwork in hand, you made your way to the BAU office, the click of your heels on marble floors keeping time with your quickening pulse. The bullpen was a whirlwind of activity as you greeted Morgan and Prentiss with a nod and smile, your gaze sweeping through the room until it landed on him. 

"Hi there, handsome," you greeted with a playful lilt in your voice, your fingers rapping gently against the wood of his desk.

"Hi, sweetheart--," he began, but his words trailed off as his eyes met yours. There was a pause, a momentary lapse in his ever-flowing stream of thoughts, as he took in the sight of you.

Glasses? He couldn't recall you ever wearing glasses, yet there they were, and the effect was undeniable. The sight sent a wave of unexpected thrill through him--a visceral reaction that left him speechless, his lips parting in awe. 

Spencer's throat cleared, a subtle sound amid the bullpen's activity. His gaze flickered around the room, a silent plea that his colleagues were too engrossed in their work to notice the way he practically undressed you with his eyes. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

"Since I nearly scratched my eye out trying to get my contacts in this morning," you said with a laugh, though the action of straightening your glasses was more of a nervous tic.

His stare was unyielding--intense and almost piercing. It unsettled you slightly as you studied his expression, your head tilting inquisitively as he said nothing else. 

"Well, uh, anyway I have to drop this off to Hotch," you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt the weight of Spencer's penetrating gaze. 

You lingered for a heartbeat too long, hoping for a word, a smile--anything. But nothing came. With a shaky breath, you turned away, hands trembling ever so slightly as you handed the paperwork to Hotch. You whisked yourself back to the comfort of your office. The was weird, right? I mean, sure, Spencer had never been one for being overly affectionate in public, but he at least had more to say than that.

You pushed the nagging doubts to the back of your mind, focusing on the monotony data and figures that sprawled across your reports. He was probably just having a bad day, too maybe theoretical thoughts brewing in the beautiful mind of his.

The hours crawled by, each minute punctuated by the drone of the office--uninteresting reports, pesky coworkers, and the persistent buzz of thoughts circling back to Spencer. When it was an appropriate time to take your lunch, you pushed your laptop aside with a little too much eagerness, hands diving into your bag for your food. 

But before you could do that, a soft interruption at the door caught your attention. Your head snapped up, meeting Spencer's gaze as he leaned causally against the frame of the door.

He stood there, watching as you glanced up at him, the rims of your glasses framing your eyes in a way that made an involuntary shiver down his spine, his gaze lingering on your face. You appeared tired, yes, but the image of you like this had been imprinted on his mind all day, rendering his work secondary to the thought of seeing you again. 

"Spence, hi," you greeted, a sweet smile blooming on your lips as you peered up at him. Your brows knit together slightly; his visits were rare unless case-related. "I was just about to take my lunch, wanna join?"

"No," he replied with a swift shake of his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. "Could I borrow you for a second?"

Your gaze returned to the lunch that lay before you, untouched and suddenly unappealing. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. "Sure," you replied, still trying to piece together Spencer's odd behavior today.

He tilted his head back subtly, a silent cue for you to follow him. You obliged without hesitation, following after him, your steps echoing his through the hallway. Your confusion mounted, etched into the deepening furrow of your brows with each corner turned. 

"Spencer," you said, a giggle escaping your lips. "I trust you're not taking me down some ominous hallway to meet my untimely end?"

"Actually, it is an interesting fact that the majority people meet their 'untimely end' at the hands of someone they love." 

"Great, thank you for that, I think that's my cue," you joked, pivoting away in an attempt to make a dramatic exit. But Spencer's reflexes were quick, his grasp secure on your wrist as he steered you into the nearest supply closet. The small space muffled your surprised oomph as you nearly collided with a stack of supplies.

You stumbled into the warmth of his chest, your glasses skewing comically as you steadied them with a fingertip. "Spencer! What has gotten into you?"

"You," came his growl, rough and urgent, while his hands frantically sought your legs, pinning you against the wall.

A soft moan slipped through the surprise of parted lips as his lips found yours. Your fingers tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him closer, your mouth meeting his with the same intensity. 

Your laughter mingles with the kiss as you pull back, lips brushing. "Not that I'm complaining, Agent Reid, but someone is definitely going to catch us."

His eyes meet yours, equally amused as he pins your hands over your head. He makes quick work of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, your body instantly melting into his as his teeth scrape along your sweet spot. "Don't care."

His lips trailed back to yours, his fingers fumbling to push your skirt up to your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth, finding the sudden intensity of him incredibly hot. He pressed his thumb into your clit as you dug your fingers into the nape of his neck, your head lolling back as you all but thrusted into his hand. The room swirled with heat, your glasses misting up. You reached for the pesky frames, but his fingers intercepted, pining them against your chest.

"Those stay on, sweetheart." The words tickled your ear, intimate and close, as his fingers traced through your slick folds, coaxing a contented pant from you.

"That's what's got you all worked up, Spence?" You moaned out as his fingers glided over your skin, now slick, drawing a line of warmth up your body. 

He settled his thumb on your tongue, shutting you up as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wrapped your lips around it, savoring the taste as your eyes locked with his over the foggy veil of your glasses. His gaze held a quiet pride as he smirked. 

"Drove me crazy seeing you like that this morning." He said as he ground his body into yours, his erection settling on your stomach. "Makes you look so fuckable. Couldn't focus on anything else."

Your mouth vibrated softly around his thumb, muffled as he drew it away with pop. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to release his length.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your body instinctively lowering to your knees, but his hand was there stopping you with a firm, "No time."

He pinned your shoulders to the wall with his body, his mouth crashing with yours with desperate need. Your mouth fell open into his as you felt his length press into your opening, his fingers holding your panties aside.

"You feel so good, sweetheart."

You don't think you would ever get over the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched you out just right. You let out an unrestrained moan as he proceeded to pump inside you, his movements ruthless.

His palm sealed over your lips, a sudden barrier that sent warmth spreading across your face, glasses clouding rapidly, obscuring your view. "Quiet, baby. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Letting me fuck you in the office?"

You all but sobbed against his palm, your hands fisting the material of his sweater as he continued to abuse your pussy with deep strokes.

"Sp-Spence, please baby," you managed to breathe out as he released his hold on your mouth, grinding against him in an attempt at friction with your sensitive clit.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He questioned, almost condescendingly as his fingers traced your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he pounded into you. "Need me to take care of you?"

"Please," you choked out.

"You're so good for me, baby." He said, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he pressed his thumb to the part of you that ached most. You let out a sob of relief as you ground against his movements, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to wind up as you clutched at Spencer's face.

"Spencer, shit, 'm so close," you babbled, tears welling in your eyes as each of his thrusts seemed to urge the ache.

"Go ahead, baby." He moaned as his you felt his thighs twitch against you. "Come on my cock, sweet girl."

His words were all you needed to push you off the edge, your back arching against the wall as your legs shook, threatening to collapse as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He came shortly after you, his form yielding to gravity as his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, both of you panting softly as you tried to catch your breath.

After savoring a few heartbeats of content, he gently disentangled himself from you. His fingers deftly rearranging your skirt, with a touch so soft, so different from his demeanor two minutes ago. 

"Guess I need to wear the glasses more often, huh?"

A soft laughter bubbled up from him, his fingers lightly grazing under your eyes, brushing away the stray smudges of makeup. "Please do."

[acapelladitty]

The Ghoul x Knife Kink

Hotter Than A Match Head

Pairing: The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x Female Reader

Summary: A late night fuck turns into something more when Cooper decides to bring his knife into the fray. (1.1k words)

(tw for: knife play, rough sex, nipple play, dirty talk, threats of violence, mild blood, dom/sub dynamics)

Link to AO3

Fic Masterlist

Fucking Cooper was like being trapped in a hurricane; a constant flurry of movement, of your body being manipulated, shaped, and generally thrown around with minimal care. The ferality which he so closely monitored and kept at bay only ever appeared to slip through as he ravaged your body without mercy - by hand, by teeth and by cock.

He was relentless in what he wanted and reckless in his pursuits.

But not tonight.

Tonight he was much more careful in his considerations as he pinned you to the dirty floorboards of the abandoned house you had agreed to spend the night hiding out in. The floor was cold and gritty against your back but you hardly notice it, so engrossed by both the cock which was spearing your cunt and the wicked ghoul attached to it. A man who had pinned you to the floor many minutes before and was currently rolling the edge of his hunting knife across your chest like he were mapping out an assault.

You had watched that same knife sink into countless bodies, living and dead, and the graze of the serrated edge against your collarbone was electric. It was a blade which had seen more violence than most, but the dexterity with which he wielded it was stunning to see. A skill which had led to more than one heated fantasy that Cooper had finally seen fit to make a reality.

"Don't move." Cooper threatened, his eyes ablaze with unfettered arousal as they loomed free of his sunken face. "Don't wanna accidentally slice off something that I might miss."

At the warning, he rolls the flat of the knife across your right nipple - the nub peaked and already reddened by his teeth as he had 'perked' them up earlier in your little game. Shuddering at the sensation of the cool metal, your hand grips even tighter at his forearm and the leathery skin there has very little give beneath your clawing fingers.

His knife glints in the meagre lighting, a single, shitty lamp providing illumination against the dark room, and you tighten around him; your cunt as wet and willing as ever as the thrill of his knife adds an extra layer of danger that makes you dumb as all fuck and desperate to see it used.

Writhing and groaning as he trails the edge of the blade across your skin, not deep enough to cut but with enough harshness to threaten, a cruel smile splits his ragged lips as his bright eyes refuse to leave your expression.

"It really makes you this willing, eh? Haven't seen a bitch in this kinda heat for a long time, sweetie. Maybe I'll even throw ya a bone."

Swiping the knife free of your chest, he continues to lazily thrust within your cunt - his thick cock making every rut of his hips feel like your walls were being hollowed out and punished - as he taps the knife against your stomach in a slowly descending pattern.

Your knees spreading even further, heels determined to gouge out a section of his lower back as they push into him roughly, a keening moan slips free of you as he teasingly grinds the butt of the knife against your engorged and somewhat neglected clit.

It's a fresh hell; sparking pleasure mixing with overstimulating discomfort as your most sensitive nerves are subjected to the cool leather and cruel pressure of the knife. It's a rough texture, every ridge making you flinch and whine, as the sudden onslaught has you stuttering out a slew of utterly incomprehensible pleas which simultaneously beg him for more while demanding he stop.

"It would be so easy." Cooper muses, pulling the knife away and letting it hang between his fingers as he presses his hand to the ground. "You're far too soft for this kinda life. Cut me and it don't make a difference. Hell, I'm not sure I'll even bleed. But you-" He trails off, his groin never ceasing in its movements as he continues to deliver shallow, punishing thrusts to your cunt.

"You should do it." You pant, meeting his aggression by rolling your hips against his groin to stimulate every pulsing nerve in your sex. "Cut me. Mark me as yours."

"Can't be doing that, darling." His breathing very quickly grows ragged, his cock noticeably jerking within your cunt at the lustful demand. "Cause I might never stop. By the time I was finished, you'd be painted even redder than I am."

"Cooper." A keening whimper as his hand abandoned the knife to wrap around your throat, squeezing and testing the skin there as he enjoyed the sensation of you swallowing around his fingers. "Please. Just one. Just a-an intital. You can choose where."

Punctuating each sentence with a thrust of your hips as you remained pinned beneath him, the ridges which sat along the hollow of his nose appeared to flare for a moment as he considered his options - interest alighting behind his darkened eyes.

"You're a tricky one, sweetheart. I've known seasoned whores that're less convincing than you."

It's almost a purr, his accented syllables glossing over the backhanded compliment like an old blanket, but he complies anyway as he releases your neck and snatches his knife back up, the point coming to rest on your hip.

Stilling your movements for just a moment, the feeling of his cock as it stretches you out with its unrelenting heat growing more and more intoxicating. Every passing second is a constant discomfort which makes the pleasure all the sweeter as you warm his cock for him as he works.

"Be ready." Is all the warning you get before he digs the tip of his knife forward into your unprotected hip, the sharpness of the blade splitting the skin like it were little more than butter.

As aroused as you were, it still hurt like fuck, and a stuttered cry is buried into his shoulder as you push your head up - the pain flaring with a wicked intensity before dissolving just as quickly into a dull ache. In the same instance, a tickle of dripping liquid rolls down your skin and you lie back on the floor as he discards the knife to the side with a noisy clatter.

Instantly his hand is pressing over the wound and the pain of the pressure adds to the adrenaline which is making your fingers tremble and your cunt clench, the latter making him grunt as he presses his groin as tightly against your sex as he can to fill you with every inch.

"S'only a superficial cut." Cooper groans, enjoying the determined way in your cunt was milking him with every inviting spasm. "For a scar we'll need to keep poking at you 'til the tissue is so damaged, you'll need to skin it off to get rid of me."

Pulling his blood-tinged fingers to your face, you nip at the pads of his fingers - the leathery skin rough against your lips - as you wrap your free arm around his back. Using him as leverage, you begin to roll your hips once more as you chase the release your body is now desperate for, every inch of your skin feeling sensitive and raw.

"That's the best- ah, the best fucking news I've heard all day."

Unleashing a low chuckle at the enthusiam, Cooper meets your determination with some of his own as he resumes his merciless fucking - all the while, his hand refusing to let up its pressure on the crimson 'C' which lay, freshly carved into your willing skin.

[arminsumi]

GETO FINGERING YOU 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

DETENTION

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

Note : GOD YES 🤤 srry i am late but i hope this satisfies ur craving hehe

Summary : just a bad boy giving you a hand in detention

Warnings : daddy/good girl dynamic, fingering, squirting, semi-public (in detention), finger sucking, hints to 3sum idea with his bff

Playme : detention

🍒 More from Jay : GETO works / JJK works

"S-S—Suguruuu, harder... please. Moremoremore!" you beg in a hoarse voice.

"Hmmm? Did I hit a sweet spot?" he makes a toothy smirk, dark eyes lighting up at your reaction to the stimulation.

You nod. He pumps his fingers harder, eliciting an eye-roll of pleasure from you that he savors. He knows he's doing something right when he's got you acting out like this.

It's just you and him in detention; the goody-two-shoes student and the bad boy delinquent with chipped black nails and a terrible record.

Your thighs are spread out wide on the desk as he leans his body close, reaching knuckle deep and curling his thick fingers up into a gummy spot that makes you shudder and grip his bicep.

"Ouh, Fuck! Sugu—"

"Quiet, quiet..." he hushes you immediately, his words entering your mouth as his lips graze over yours.

"You don't want to get caught being a slut for me in detention, do you?" he asks rhetorically.

He smirks to himself, thinking;

Surely she doesn't... that would put a dent in her spotless record, wouldn't it? Fucking around with someone like me... yeah her parents would just hate that, huh?

You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he hits deep strokes and massages his fingertips into your gummy walls. Your sticky juices are all over his hand because of that squirting orgasm he worked out of you earlier. Suguru mused to himself, I don't think the principle's desk appreciates getting soaked like this...

"Look at you, enjoying yourself... wonder what your parents would think if they saw you right now." Suguru grins devilishly, looking down at your pussy.

Such a snug fit... there's no way she could take my cock on the first try, I know it. I'll have to train her little hole. Maybe Satoru can help.

He's so much bigger than you. His fingers reach so much deeper than yours. They hit so much harder. And with no breaks, too. They're merciless in the pursuit of your second orgasm.

"Gonna cum and make a mess for me again? Yeah?"

"Yes! Please, pleasepleaseplease — make me cum!" you whisper frantically against him.

He chuckles when you moan, pumping his fingers faster and faster, fingering at your clit with his other hand to tip you over the edge.

He studies you intently as your orgasm builds up, oh if only he studied his textbooks as intently as this... then he wouldn't have that C grade next to his name. And maybe if he would have had the same determination in school as he does now when finding your G-spot, then he wouldn't have gotten in detention at all.

You couldn't blame him for roping you into the blame, instead you happily nodded to the principle and confessed to a stunt that you didn't even pull. And the principle half-suspected you were lying... because why would the star student be running around with the bad boy?

Suguru's dampened forehead rests against yours. He can feel the radiating heat of your cheeks in this proximity. Those dark eyes never stop staring at you, making sure you're as flustered as possible even in this pleasure-drunk state.

"Fuck... you're gushing..." he says in awe, " 'promise to lick my fingers clean after, yeah?" he rasps against you.

"Yes yes yes!" you say. He's pretty sure that you would have said yes to anything right then; you were so blissed by the way his fingers worked into your soaking hole, by the way they stretched you open just right.

"Good. Then cum all you want... quiet, quiet~"

He's got some audacity to coo you to be quiet when he's finger fucking you this loudly. The whole room fills with the squelching sound. His arm arches, and his muscles flex under his uniform shirt as he goes at it with more intensity.

"Cumminggg~" you whine in a strained voice.

"That's a good girl. Cum for me — yeahhh that's it, just cum, oh fuck — there we go, haha, squirting all over my palm again... cute."

He feels your pussy contract and squeeze like crazy around his middle and ring finger, juices wetting his hand and pants, dripping off the edge of the principle's desk to the floor...

You shake and nuzzle your face into his broad chest, letting out a broken moan — a sound that travelled straight to Suguru's cock.

"Mmm, still with me?"

"Y-yeah... fuck..."

He's pushing his fingers up deep, feeling around in slow massaging motions, savoring your tight grip. You shudder in his arms.

"Hey angel?"

You look up at him, feeling lovey-dovey because of his sweet tone.

He smiles down at you, withdrawing his fingers with a sloppy squelching little pop noise. Your hole misses him immediately, his fingers were filling you up so good.

"Mmmf." you splutter as he shoves his fingers into your mouth.

"Clean daddy's fingers, like you promised. You can do that for me, right?" he has that cocky tone just like his best friend for a second there. He can't wait to tell Satoru about how he made the popular princess squirt twice.

You nod obediently. When you start to suck his fingers, his heart flutters a bit.

"Such a tiny mouth..." he remarks, thinking about how your lips would engulf his cock instead. "Bet you couldn't handle taking all of this, hm?" he uses his free hand to bring your tinier one to palm at his bulge.

You suck harder on Suguru's fingers, and feel up the thick outline of his cock. He leans close and holds such intense eye contact that you feel entranced.

"Wanna take care of daddy's problem after detention?" he asks in a deep rasp. "I can invite Satoru to help too, if you want. What do you say, angel?"

[joonsmagicshop]

Professor Rapline

Summary: Mr. Kim is your English Literature and Poetry teacher and while he is known for being a strict teacher is he is also hot. So incredibly hot! So when he gives you an outlet for all your exam stress how can you possibly say no? Little do you realize it wont be just him you are getting pleasure from

Paring: Namjoon/Reader focused! Eventually Yoongi/Reader Hobi/Reader

Word Count: 15K

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: A/U, Professor/student relationship,slow burn, flirting, pet names, Joon calls her princess Yoongi calls her Kitten, Hobi calls her baby, dirty talk, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, cum licking, eating out, sex, so much sex, basically she gets fucked three times in one night, choking, face fucking, power dynamics, dry humping.

Authors Note: I was possessed by a horny demon when I wrote this. This idea has been stuck in my head for months and once I started writing I didn't want to stop. This is a work of fiction and I do not recommend fucking your professors.

No one warned you about Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jung Hoseok.

But then again, you doubted you would have believed them if they did.

It was the last semester before your time at University would be over for good, and honestly, you couldn’t wait. You were over the long nights studying, the assignments that had to be handed in on time or you would lose marks, and the group projects that were just as pointless as they were frustrating.

You had done everything you wanted to do, you went to the parties, kissed random strangers in bathrooms, and even hooked up with a few. You had a boyfriend for three months and decided it was better for you to be single and now you were ready to graduate and move on with your life.

Which found you sitting in the Academic Adviser’s office nervously shifting in your chair as you watched her go through your file. The office was painted a soft blue color and the heater was pumping out hot air on blast making the whole space dry and stuffy. As you wait, you unwound your scarf from your neck and placed it on your lap.

Her eyes met yours and she smiled softly at you.

“Well Miss Y/L/N it seems that you have a bright shining future that’s for sure. You have a wonderful file here and honors too, you must be proud.” She said beaming at you as you crossed your legs nervously and unzipped your coat.

You understood that it was the dead of winter outside but did it have to be so incredibly stuffy in here?

“Thank you. So I’m on track to graduate? Everything looks good?” You ask leaning forward in the chair.

“Well here’s the thing…” She trails off as she pushes her glasses back on her nose and scans the computer again.

Your heart drops.

“As I said bright and shining future for sure but you are missing just one credit. If you are unable to fit another class in this semester you would be unable to graduate.” She says with a frown as you see her eyes scan the computer to double check as your heart drops down to your boots.

There is no way.

You spent four years busting your butt, there was no way you were going to stay any longer than you had to.

“I can fit another class in! Which class do I need?” You ask in a panic as she clicks some more on the mouse and you watch her concentrate on the screen.

“Well, the good news is you just need one more elective class. The bad news is most of them are filled up…well. Except…” Her voice trails off again as you squirm in your seat, panic taking over.

“Whatever it is I’ll take it!” You respond eagerly.

“Miss Y/L/N it’s English literature and poetry with Mr. Kim.” She says in a serious tone as her eyes finally leave her monitor to look at you.

“Okay fine sign me up!” You say as you lean so far forward you are almost pushed right against her desk.

“Miss Y/L/N I understand you want to graduate on time but you must know. His class is notoriously known for being… quite difficult. I never want to slander a teacher but Mr Kim is very serious about his job and a lot of students come to me trying to drop his class.” She says staring at you with a serious look on her face.

You had no idea who Mr Kim was. The campus was so big you hardly knew where half the rooms were let alone half the teachers. But you had to graduate on time. You were not about to spend more money to have to go back to school for one elective course. There was just no way.

“That’s fine sign me up.” You say boldly as she frowns at you and types away on her computer. Well-manicured nails fly along the keyboard.

“Only if you are sure, you can always change your mind.” She says as you nod and she clicks something, you assume it’s to enroll you into his class.

"Okay, you are set. The class is on Wednesday nights at six pm. His classroom is 0994B which is in the basement.” She says as she pushes her glasses off her face to stare at you again.

“If you have any trouble at all please let me know.” She says as you nod and gather your things. You wrap your scarf around your neck and wave goodbye, leaving the stuffy office to head to the textbook shop to grab your book, having no idea what you just agreed to.

.........................

Two days later you found yourself searching the basement for the classroom you are looking for. While the University is beautiful with a rich history the basement is spooky and dark, especially in January when the nights are long and you rarely get sunlight.

Just as you approach the door you see a paper taped to it and you frown.

Basement heater is broken. Mr Kim’s class moved to 0294.

You let out a frustrated sigh and begin to ascend the stairs, hiking your messenger bag up on your shoulder as you climb.

The second floor is much nicer than the basement and you luckily find the new classroom with ease. You slip inside and take stock of the students. The lecture hall is large and set up like a theater with a podium at the front and the seats ascending upwards. You see most of the front rows are already taken with giggling girls.

You made your way to the back and plopped your things down in a seat slightly to the right of where the empty podium sat. You pulled out your phone to make sure it was on silent and as you took out your textbook and pens you couldn’t help but overhear the girls in front of you talking.

“That’s not a reason to take this class! I’m not carrying you though because you only signed up for this class because Mr. Kim is hot.” A blonde girl teased her friend as her friend shushed her and giggled.

“Come on that’s why people try and survive his class. He’s such a hardass but so nice to look at it makes up for it!” Her friend teased as both girls dissolved into giggles.

You wondered what the hell they were talking about. Mr Kim was hot? You had many English teachers throughout your years and they all were mostly the same type of person. Lanky, nerdy, either a tortured poet or a Shakespeare lover. You never pictured your teacher to be attractive at all and now thoughts of what he could look like clouded your mind.

But it didn’t take long for you to find out.

The second the door opened the entire class fell silent.

No one warned you about Mr. Kim.

But you’re sure if they did you wouldn’t believe them

Hell, you didn’t believe the girls who were sitting in front of you until you saw it with your own two eyes.

He was tall and handsome with blonde hair slicked back from his forehead and eyes narrowed as he looked through the crowd of students. When his eyes met yours you shivered but he didn’t linger as he made long strides towards the podium and set his brown briefcase down on the floor.

He took out a small laptop and set it up as you watched him in fascination. He was no doubt handsome and even though he had not spoken a word he had already commanded the class to be quiet.

It was quite impressive.

He took his time fiddling with the laptop as the class stayed deathly quiet. Once he got everything hooked up and the projector running he finally addressed the class.

“Hi I’m Mr Kim and I’ll be teaching you English lit and poetry.”

And then he smiled

When he smiled two beautiful dimples appeared on his cheeks and you knew you were undeniably screwed.

Not only was his class notorious for being difficult, but it also didn’t help he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Well, shit.

Your small crush on Mr. Kim lasted well in February. As the ground started to thaw and the days were very slowly becoming longer you spent most of your time buried in a book trying not to drown in your coursework.

While Mr. Kim was in fact the hottest man you had ever seen, the rumors were true and he was also a hardass about his subject.

By the second week, twelve people had dropped his class. He didn’t seem to mind or even acknowledge it, he just kept teaching.

By the time the first month was over twenty people had left and the class had once again been moved. This time to a small lecture hall on the same floor that was a lot more cozy and less intimidating than the original one.

You hardly noticed how many people dropped the class come March as midterm exams were approaching and you were too worried about your grades and future to worry about anyone else.

Your crush on Mr. Kim even took a backseat as you spent most of your time in the library, wistfully staring out the window at the sunny days wishing you were outside instead of in a stuffy old library going over poems written by people who had passed away ages ago.

In the last week of March, you got a break. Mr. Kim was teaching about Robert Frost and going over the poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” You were lucky enough to study that poem in high school so you sneakily took out your psychology homework and began to work on that, nodding and making occasional eye contact with Mr. Kim so he thought you were paying attention.

Lucky for you, you had finished most of the essay during Mr. Kim’s lecture. Unlucky for you class had ended five minutes ago and everyone had left the lecture hall, leaving you sitting there alone typing while Mr. Kim packed up his stuff.

You were so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice his hard gaze on you, how his eyebrow quirked when he saw how concentrated you were, and how he let out a low sigh as he made his way up the steps to approach you.

You did however notice when he was about two feet away from you and you gasped and slammed your laptop lid shut in alarm

“Miss Y/N.” He said smoothly as he took a seat in the aisle opposite yours and smiled softly at you.

You felt a blush appear on your cheeks as you hastily tried to come up with an excuse.

“Please Y/N tell me what you were working on. I know you aren’t typing that much about Robert Frost.” He teases as he stretches out his legs and you can see his slacks stretch under the pressure of his thick thighs.

“I-Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry. I…well I studied Robert Frost in high school and I have this big psychology essay that is due and I just wanted to get a head start on it.” You admit shyly as you shove your laptop in your messenger bag and gather your things.

You stand up to leave but a strong hand stops you.

“My class and Psych? I’m impressed.” He says as his hand leaves your arm but you can still feel the heat from where he touched you, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well, I… yeah I need Phych and I needed one more class to graduate so I picked yours.” You admitted as you stood there in front of him.

“And the Academic advisor let you do this? Take both?” He asks as he remains seated and gestures to the chair you vacated. Knowing he wasn’t going to kick you out of his class you graciously sat down, placing your bag on the floor.

“I…well I kind of didn’t give her a choice. I don’t want to come back for a year to take one course.” You admit.

He smiles at you, dimples present and you feel pleasure bloom in your chest.

“That’s very admirable of you. I’m sure she warned you about me and my class and you still decided to go for it? I like that.” He says.

You nod not sure of what to say.

“What do you want to be when you get out of here? What are your goals?” He asks you breaking the silence.

“I want to be a high school teacher. Educate the future generations.” You say shyly as his smile grows bigger.

You smile back at him.

“Ah. Very admirable. A girl after my own heart.” He teases and you feel yourself blush at his praise.

You both lapse into silence and you feel your heart hammer against your chest. He is staring at you softly and you slowly reach out to play with the hem of your skirt, hands desperate to do something so you don’t reach out for him.

“I’m sorry for keeping you late Sir. I should let you go.” You say as you gather your things and almost miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs when you call him sir.

You don’t waste any time and make your way down the stairs, leaving Mr. Kim still in the seat watching you go.

“Y/N?” He calls back for you as you stop and turn to face him. He looks so nonchalant sitting there, and so incredibly handsome you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid.

“I'll speak to Mr. Min about your caseload and see if he can ease off a bit. He can be kind of a hardass.” He says as he stands up and stretches and you can’t help but sneak a peak when his cream-colored sweater rises to show a flash of taunt skin.

Fuck.

“Oh, Mr. Kim you don’t have to it’s okay.” You say flushed at his generosity as he makes his way towards you to gather his things.

“It’s okay I have to talk to him about something anyway. I won’t mention your name I’ll just tell him to lay off a bit.” He assures you as you nod.

You wish him a good night and make your way out of the classroom. Your hands grip the straps of your messenger bag tightly as you hurry across campus to your car. By the time you get into your car, you are sure the flush on your face is gone, but the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering around like crazy.

April.

The dreaded month of April.

April was prep for exam season and you were once again buried in your books. Spring was finally here and when it wasn’t raining buckets you spent your time outside, spreading your books on the picnic tables as you got to work catching up on things you had to finish before exams.

After your essay for Mr. Min, his class did seem to get easier. You never asked Mr. Kim about it, instead, you pretended to be oblivious about the whole thing though you did have a feeling a conversation was had because you noticed Mr. Min staring at you more than usual as he taught.

Every free hour was spent studying or revising or writing essays so you hardly had time to think of that day with Mr. Kim. How gorgeous he looked sitting across from you, and how his cream-colored sweater fit his body perfectly and showed off his sculpted chest and broad shoulders.

You only let these thoughts run ramped late at night, when the stress of the day caught up to you and you wondered what would happen if he did lean in and kiss you. How soft his full lips would feel against yours. Would he be soft with you or would he be in control and command you just as he did that first day when he walked into the room?

Often times you would let your hand wander into your underwear and you would circle your clit. Imagining it was his strong deft fingers instead of your own. You would imagine him pinning you against the wooden podium and pulling down your pants to finger you.

How his huge body would cage you in and how he would whisper dirty things in your ear, his voice low and gruff as he would prep you to take his cock.

Most times you could cum around your fingers thinking of him. Wondering what it would be like to have someone as tall and handsome as Mr. Kim fucking you.

The weather was getting even warmer and your stress was at an all-time high. At this point, you lived off coffee and would often take it to class with you as you worked.

Mr. Kim was going over the structure of your final exam and as much as you tried you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open. You had slept a total of three hours last night and his late-night classes were getting to you.

You fought your body as much as you could. Trying to take notes, trying to focus but before you knew it your eyes were shut and you were snoozing softly on your textbook, face smushed cutely into the cover.

Unbeknown to you Mr. Kim had been keeping a close eye on you since your private conversation and he caught you sleeping the moment your head rested on the textbook. He bit back a smile as he continued to address the class.

You had slept for half an hour. You were awoken by a strong hand lightly shaking your arm and you looked up to see Mr. Kim staring down at you, his lips curved in a smile as you blushed with embarrassment.

“Oh my god Mr. Kim I’m so sorry I just- I don’t even know what to say this is so embarrassing and I missed most of what you said about the exam and oh my god I can’t believe I fell asleep in class what’s wrong with me!” You babbled on as you frantically shoved all your stuff in your bag and avoided eye contact with him.

You were sure he was beyond mad. A student falling asleep in his class is super disrespectful.

“Y/N deep breaths please, I don’t want you hyperventilating in my class.” He teases you with a smile as you freeze and turn to look at him.

“I am so sorry!” You cry out as you bury your face in your hands and stare at the floor.

“It’s okay really.” He says as his hands circle your wrist to pry your hands away from your red face.

His big hands engulf your wrists and you let out a shaky breath as your mind goes haywire at his soft touches.

He is staring at you with concern written all over his face and you look around, once again the classroom is empty except for the two of you.

“It’s not Mr. Min this time I swear! It’s just exams and revisions and I want to keep my honor roll so I have to work hard I haven’t been sleeping much because of all the work and I’m so so sorry!” You blurt out eyes shifting from his sharp eyes to his plush lips that are still drawn up into a smile.

He catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow

You were really in trouble now.

“Y/N you have big dreams and it’s amazing how much you are taking on. Honestly when you told me your plan and the courses you are taking I was and am very impressed. You should be proud of yourself.” He says lowly. You glance down to see his hands are still holding your wrists steady and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat pounding against your skin.

“Thank you.” You whisper out hearing your voice echo in the empty room.

“Being an almost University graduate can be stressful and challenging.” He starts as his thumb caresses your wrist and up into your palm.

You can’t help it, you bite your lip in anticipation as his fingers work your skin soothing you but also making your heart beat faster.

“It really is. I just want to graduate and be done.” You admit shyly as his sharp eyes are locked on yours.

“I totally understand that. I remember those days. I lived off coffee and ramen.” He admits standing up from his crouch to sit on the chair right next to yours, his thick thighs bumping against your knee as he lets go of your hands to get situated.

“Mind you I wasn’t trusted in the kitchen so my roommates did most of the ramen cooking.” He teases as you giggle.

He runs a hand through his hair and pushes it back from his forehead. The tension in the room is thick and you can’t stop staring at his lips, your mind flashing to two nights ago when you came around your fingers moaning his name.

He clasps his fingers together on the table and your eyes dart down to them. He grins when he catches you staring and you blush further.

“I guess what I want to say is it’s important to study hard but also important to take breaks when you need to. Stress can do major damage to the body.” Mr. Kim advises as you nod wordlessly at him.

“What do you do for fun? That’s not schoolwork? Do you have an outlet of some kind?” He asks softly.

You were sure it was wildly inappropriate to tell him that you orgasm to relieve stress so instead you tell him a little about yourself and your life.

How your parents live a ten-minute drive from the University so you never felt the need to stay on campus. How you like to take your dog on walks when the weather is nice and how he wears a little raincoat on days when it drizzles. You tell him about your friends and how you try to get together for movie nights but you all are so swamped with school you haven’t had time.

He listens intently and soon enough you realize you are blabbing so you shut up much to his dismay.

“You sound like you have good hobbies though maybe a balancing problem. You need to work hard but also play hard too. This is University after all that’s why people party so much to get rid of all the stress from teachers like me.” He says with a laugh as you laugh along beside him.

You explain how you did go to the parties in your first year but grew out of them and he nods along in understanding.

“I get that. And with being so close to the end I get you want to rush through and graduate to get it over with but you have to find outlets to relieve all the stress. Once you get into the workforce you’ll still have this stress and even though I’ll let it slide you fell asleep in my class the workforce won’t be so gracious.”

You nod along at his words as he adjusts himself in the seat, his knee bumping yours and sending your heart racing once more.

“I am truly sorry Mr. Kim I have never fallen asleep in a class before in my life.” You admit to him, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Ah, so I must have been boring you.” He jests which has you protesting right away.

“No not at all! I would never think that of you!”

He smiles at your words and you push your knee into his as silent reassurance.

His eyes dart down to your lips and back up again and you smirk at him.

“So what you need to do is find an outlet for all that stress and built-up frustration. Some people choose to drink, but I think you might be over that, some people choose to lift weights or run. But there are…other options you know.” He says letting his voice dip dangerously low and you stare at him in shock when he winks at you.

Is he suggesting what you think he is suggesting?

Because if he is?

How the hell do you even say no to that?!

“I-uh. I’m not sure what you mean….sir.” You say putting on your best sultry voice and watching as a slow smirk appears on his face.

So he does mean what you think he means.

Well….wow.

“You know a lot of people have….experiences in University. Great time to get to know yourself and what you want…and like.” He hints as you push your knee boldly into his and his smirk grows wider.

The tension in the room is palatable at this point and you can almost feel the want radiating off both of your bodies.

You don’t want this flirting to end so you tease him some more, seeing how far you can take it.

“Oh, I already went through all that. Too bad University boys half the time don’t know what they are doing. Such a shame I have to do it myself.”

His eyes widen and his tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. You wink back at him and feel him once again push his knee into yours with more force.

Your body is on fire when you lean in closer to him, letting his cologne cloud your senses.

“What a pity.” He almost growls out as you look up at him fluttering your eyelashes.

Boldly he unclasps his hands and places one on your knee, the same knee that is currently pressing into his under the table.

You let out a small gasp when his hand sneaks into the inside of your knee and his thumb caresses your other leg.

You wish with all your heart that today of all days you had chosen to wear a skirt instead of jeans but your skin is on fire as he traced fine lines into your jeans, eyes not leaving yours.

Neither of you speak as his hand climbs higher. The rational part of your brain is screaming for you to stop this because he is your professor, your teacher, your senior, but the horny part of your brain is begging his fingers to climb higher where he would for sure find you soaked for him.

Before you can do or say anything he squeezes your thigh and you let out a squeal of shock when his hand leaves you, before you know it he is standing up and making his way down the stairs back to the podium seemingly unbothered and unaffected by the whole thing.

You realize this is him dismissing you so you grab your things and make your way down the stairs. Trying to hide how aroused you are and how badly your pussy is aching for his touch.

When you make it to the podium, messenger bag slung over your shoulder he looks up at you and reaches out to hand you a little white card.

You see it's blank on one side but when you turn it over you see an address scrawled on the back.

His address?

“Pity University boys don’t know how to please a woman. As I said you need an outlet for all that stress. Friday night come to this address. Seven pm.”

Your eyes widen in shock

He was inviting you to his house?

“I- I don’t know what to say.” You admit still holding the card in your outstretched hand and as you stare him down.

“Show up or don’t your choice ultimately.” He says closing his laptop and packing up his things for the night.

“What if someone finds out? Or sees this card?” You ask him with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles softly.

“No one ever has before. I’m not too worried. But if you are… don’t show up. Shred the card.” He offers as he shoves stuff in his briefcase not bothering to look at you.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask hating how your voice sounds so scandalized. As if you weren’t egging him on the entire time.

“I think you know the answer to that Miss Y/N.” He says with a cock of his eyebrow as he places his briefcase down and finally locks eyes with you.

“I see the way you look at me. They all have the same look. The want. The desire. I’m just here to get a paycheck and maybe have some fun. Though I will forwarn you if you do show up you will be punished for sleeping in my class.” He adds with a smirk as you gasp.

“Balls in your court Y/N. And if you do tell anyone well you still have your final exam to write.” He says boldly.

Your mouth drops in shock.

“You're going to fail me if I don’t show up? Are you insane?” You cry out as he smiles down at you.

“If you don’t say a word regardless of whether you show up or not I won’t have to fail you. If it does get out, whether you show up or not…well.” He shrugs as an answer and you gasp at him.

You shouldn’t find this hot.

You really shouldn’t.

“Fine.” You bite back and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Have a good night Miss Y/N,” he says gesturing at the door.

Friday you tell your parents you are going to a study group. You have no idea how long this will take or what will even happen so you tell them to not wait up.

The drive is about twenty minutes from your house and you are shaking in anticipation the entire way.

Of course, you didn’t tell a single soul. You knew Mr. Kim was true to his word and you didn’t want to put your grades in the balance so you kept the note hidden in your wallet and double triple checked it before you drove over.

The sun was just starting to set casting everything in a beautiful glow as your hands tapped on the steering wheel and you turned down a side street.

The weather was warm today so you opted for a pale blue sundress with small yellow flowers on it. You dug out your best bra and underwear and tied your hair up to keep it from your face.

Your tote was on the seat next to you filled with textbooks you would never open as you finally made your way to the address and the big house.

It was a two-story white house with white shutters and a long driveway with three separate cars parked. You decided to park on the road and you pulled out the card to double-check again as the door opened and you saw Mr. Kim standing there staring at you.

You never told him you were coming but you guess he was ready anyway because when you grabbed your things and closed the car door he was smiling at you.

He looked so different than how he did in the classroom but still drop-dead gorgeous. His blonde hair was pushed back from his face in his signature style, he was wearing a black tight shirt and grey tight sweatpants that had your mouth watering.

He looked so good.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Hi.” You said softly as you made your way to the door.

He smiled at you and quickly ushed your inside as you took in your surroundings.

The living room was a good size with a big couch and a TV. Of to the side, there was a galley kitchen and you smiled when you remembered he said he was a terrible cook. You saw a staircase off the kitchen and a small bathroom off the living room.

“Mr. Kim thank you for this.” You start but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your lips.

“Please. I’m Namjoon. We don’t need the professional titles here.” He says as you kick off your shoes timidly and he puts a hand on the small of your back to bring you over to the couch.

“Namjoon.” You say his name as he smiles down at you when you both sit.

“Exactly. Or you can call me sir if you're into that.” He teases with a smirk as you blush.

“I think you are the one who would like that…sir… I saw the way you reacted when I called you that.” You tease back suddenly feeling bold as you drop your bag on the hardwood floor.

“You little tease. And getting all dolled up just for me, You shouldn’t have.” He mutters as his fingers come to play with the small straps holding the dress up.

“Yeah, you like it?” You smirk, standing up and swishing your dress around, giving him a full view of your legs.

His hands grab your hips and he pulls you down on his lap as you straddle him staring at him with lust-blown eyes.

“You absolute tease.” He grumbles as his hands come to play with the straps once more, taking his time to pull them slowly down your shoulders and letting them hang.

“What do you want?” He asks staring up at you not daring to make another move until you answer his question.

“You.”

Without warning he leans forward and captures your lips in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his shoulders for support as you kiss him back.

His lips are just as soft as you imagined and you take your time with him, letting him control the kiss as he pushes his body into yours.

You feel his half-hard cock in his sweatpants and when you grind down on it a small moan leaves his mouth.

His hands run up and down your thighs and finally settle on your waist as he kisses you harder pushing his lips into yours and nibbling on your lower lip.

You moan at the feeling and his tongue darts in your mouth to rub against your tongue.

You rake your hands through his soft hair and grab the hair at the nape of his neck as you push your body into his, letting your breasts press into his chest and making more moans fall from his mouth.

This was hands down the hottest makeout session you have had and you start to feel yourself grind against him as pleasure courses through your body.

He pulls away and grins lazily up at you as you continue to rock your core against his now fully hard cock.

“Bend over my lap I promised I’d punish you, princess.” He says as you stare down at him and continue your grind on his cock, the sensation too good to stop.

“What if I don’t want to be punished?” You tease him as he rolls his eyes at you.

His hands grab your shoulders as he pushes you down on the couch and in a flash he has your dress hiked up so your ass is on display.

You moan out when you feel his strong hands massage your bare skin.

“Lacy underwear for me? You shouldn’t have,” He jokes as his hand comes down to smack your ass.

The sting causes you to close your eyes and you moan against the cushion when he continues to spank you, ranging from hard spanks to soft little taps.

Your pussy is throbbing at this point and you are almost humping the couch with how aroused you are. Namjoon isn’t letting up though and after ten spanks he is kneading the sensitive skin and praising you.

“Mr. Kim please!”You cry out.

“What did you call me?” He asks, delivering a sharp smack to your left and right buttcheek causing you to push your face into the cushion harder and moan out.

“Namjoon! Namjoon please!” You cry as he lifts you up and once again positions you on his lap. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock and you grind down on it some more.

“What do you want princess?” He asks massaging the skin he spanked raw as you bury your face in his shoulder, turned on beyond belief.

“You. I want you.” You beg out as he smirks and you lift your head.

You don’t waste time grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. You gasp when you are met with toned tan skin, broad shoulders, and a muscular chest.

“God Namjoon your body.” You whimper as you lean down to pepper kisses along his collarbones and chest, arching your back so you can reach more skin and have your core press harder into his cock.

“I could say the same about you.” He says lowly as he pulls the straps of your dress down to free your bra to his hungry eyes.

He quickly gets your bra off and his large hands come to cup your breasts. You throw your head back and moan as his thumbs flick over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure to your already-soaked core.

“God princess I can feel how needy you are, you're soaking my pants.” He says as you look down to see a stain forming on his crotch.

“That’s so fucking hot.” He admits as his hands continue to work your nipples and you continue to grind against his cock chasing your high.

“Princess you're so fucking wet for me I bet I could just slide in huh?” He says as his hands leave your breasts to run down the expanse of your stomach to the hem of your underwear

“Please. Joon. Fuck. Please.” You beg as his hand slips inside and your eyes roll back when he gathers your wetness and begins to circle your clit agonizingly slow.

“Use your words, princess.” He teases as he continues his slow torture on your clit. You throw your head back and grip his strong shoulders for support as you grind against his skilled hand.

“Want you to fuck me. Please, sir. Please.” You whine as he removes his hand and you watch as he licks his fingers clean, sharp eyes never leaving yours.

Your pussy pulses with want and a broken moan leaves your mouth.

“Gotta prep you, princess. Not to brag but I’ve been told I have a big cock. Don’t wanna break my girl before exams.” He teases as he taps your butt so you lift yourself and kneel on the couch giving him full access to your pussy as he pulls your underwear down and completely off leaving you in just your dress with nothing underneath.

He smiles up at you as his finger dips back into your underwear and he circles your clit again. You moan out and grip his shoulders when he inserts a finger inside of you.

You were right when you told him University boys didn’t know what they were doing

You had never experienced something like his before

And it never felt so good being right.

He took his time opening you up on his fingers. Adding another one and scissoring them, making beautiful whines and moans fall from your lips. You already felt close to the edge and when he curled his fingers upwards and thrusted deeper you let go.

Your body arched forward and you cried out his name as you orgasmed around his fingers. He chuckled darkly against your skin as you rode out your high. Feeling yourself pulse around his digits as he worked you through it.

Once you came down you straddled his lap once again and pressed your face into his chest letting your breathing even out as he stroked your hair and praised you for being so good for him.

“Please Namjoon.” You whined out as you pushed yourself up so you were face to face with him.

“Tell me, Princess. Tell your Professor what you want.” He says as you scoot back and stroke his cock through his sweatpants.

“Want you to fuck me Joon.” You beg as he wraps one hand around you to lift you and the other hand tugs at his sweats pulling them down so his hard cock is flush against his stomach.

He was right, his cock was big.

Thick and veiny, the tip was bright red and leaking precum down the shaft. You carefully wrapped a hand around his cock and began to slowly jerk him off, wanting to give him the pleasure he gave you.

“Princess you are too good at that.” He whines out when you twist your wrist at the top making his cock leak more precum.

“Princess you gotta stop I gotta get a condom.” He says as you stop your movements and giggle when he reaches for his wallet you didn’t even notice was on the coffee table and retrieves a condom from it.

Your pussy throbs in anticipation and right as he is about to roll the condom on the door bursts open.

Standing there is Mr. Min your psych teacher and you scream and bury your face in Namjoons shoulder as he looks unbothered by the whole thing.

“Jesus Joon on the couch?! Really? Thought we said bedrooms only!” Another voice says and you look up in time to see another male standing in the doorway. He is beautiful with slightly wavy brown hair and wide eyes, his features are soft giving him a look of unearthly beauty.

“Sorry, it just kind of happened,” Namjoon admits as you are still frozen in shock at the fact your other teacher is here watching the whole thing and seeming so chill about it.

“Mr. Min I’m so- I- shit I don’t know what to say.” You stammer as Mr. Min’s eyes lock on Namjoon’s in a harsh stare.

“You didn’t even tell her Joon? Jesus, do we have to do everything?” He asks as he comes around the couch and you push yourself closer to Namjoon in worry of what will happen.

“Listen Kitten. Come to my room when he’s done fucking you yeah? Up the stairs last door on the right.” He says pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your back as he walks away from the couch and smacks Namjoon on the back of his head.

“No more fucking on the couch or you’re going to pay the cleaning bill.” He says as he makes his way up the stairs.

Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you are frozen in absolute shock

What the fuck is going on?

“Why do you get her first?” The other man complains as Namjoon pushes his head into your shoulder and whines in embarrassment.

“Because I’m her teacher too. She has no idea who the fuck you are!” Mr. Min calls from the top of the stairs in a teasing tone.

The other man comes around the couch and grabs your hand to shake it with a big smile on his face.

“I’m Mr. Jung but you can call me Hobi. We’ve never met but I’m the performing arts teacher. Once these two buffoons are done with you come to my room. I’m the last door on the left.” He sends you a sultry wink and before you know it he is heading up the stairs as well and you are frozen in shock.

“What the fuck.” You whisper as Namjoon is groaning into your shoulder and you look down to see his cock softening between your bodies.

“I… Shit, they are right I should have explained things before we started.” He admits as he pushes his head back to stare at you.

“I’m so confused.” You admit still in shock.

“Yoongi, Um I guess he’s Mr. Min to you, Hobi, and I were roommates at University. After we graduated we couldn’t afford housing alone so we decided to rent a big house and live together. We all work at the same place so it just made sense. Anyway, we found that there are…students who take an interest in us beyond academics and figured why the hell not? We are young and if we want them and they want us and it’s consensual…” His voice trailed off and you nodded.

“Anyway, sometimes we share our students and sometimes we keep them to ourselves. When I talked to Yoongi about how he was stressing out my students he admitted he had an eye for you, but so did I. So we agreed to share as long as I got you first. Hobi is…well he’s Hobi he’s not picky and usually is down for anything. You don’t have to do anything with them if you don’t want to. You can let me fuck you and walk out this door. It won’t affect your grade with Yoongi at all. I should have told you sooner, as soon as you got here but you in that dress…good god I had to get my hands on you.” He says running his hands up and down your hips as you whine and grind against him.

“Again you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can walk out the door right now, write your exams, and never see any of us again. Your choice princess.” He says.

You shake your head at him and slide off his lap.

You see his face fall.

And quickly turn to shock when you lower yourself down to the floor and engulf his soft cock in your warm mouth.

Namjoon grunts and grabs your hair that has started to fall out of your ponytail to keep it away from your face as you suck him down, loving the feeling of his cock starting to harder in your mouth.

You suck and bob your head as your tongue dances over the sensitive flesh.

“Fuck! Is that a yes then?” Namjoon pants above you as his hands tighten in your hair and force you to look up at him.

“Have sex with the three hottest teachers on campus? I’d be stupid to say no to that.” You tease as you jerk off his quickly hardening cock and get off your knees to get back on his lap and kiss him.

His hands tangle in your hair as he frees it from your ponytail and you kiss him wildly. Your tongues and teeth clash as you feel his now fully hard cock press into your abdomen.

“Fuck me Joon. Please.” You cry out as his hand comes down to spank your ass once more.

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you wanna rush to Yoongi?” He teases as he finally rolls the condom on his cock.

“Nah you made me wait a whole semester. If I wait any longer I’m gonna explode.” You admit as he positions his cock at your entrance and teases your folds with the tip.

“Well, I won’t make my princess wait any longer then.” He says as he inches his cock inside of you.

The sting is immediate and you bury your face in his shoulder as he pushes himself in inch by inch until he is fully sheathed inside of you, his large hands coming up to hold your hips steady and give you time to adjust to his length.

“God I made you cum and your still tight.” He grits out as it’s taking everything in him not to immediately thrust inside of you.

You take your time and slowly move your hips back and forth. His hands grip your sides harshly and he hisses every time you move.

You know he is being a gentleman and waiting for you to adjust and it makes you smile.

“Joon. Move.” You plea as he begins to thrust into you shallowly letting your body get used to the feeling of being stuffed with cock.

You let out a moan when he starts to pick up speed. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you use your legs to fuck yourself on his cock as he picks up the pace and is fucking you rather harshly.

The noise is obscene and you wonder if the other men can hear how Namjoon is fucking you. It makes your pussy clench and Namjoon lets out a hiss as he tilts his hips and pushes his cock deeper inside of you to hit your g spot.

You are moaning above him, hands holding onto his for dear life and feeling the coil of pleasure get tighter and tighter.

He must understand because one hand leaves your hip to come and circle your clit and a high whine leaves your mouth as you feel yourself get closer to the edge.

Namjoon once again picks up the pace and fucks into you harder and you capture his lips in a kiss and before you can warn him you are flying off the edge and cumming hard around his cock.

You whine against his mouth as you ride out your second high of the night and Namjoon fucks you through it. His hand leaves your clit and he continues to pound into you bringing you to the brink of overstimulation before he groans into your neck and cums hard into the condom.

You cry out when you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and his thrusts become erratic as he works himself through his own high.

You slump your body against his and let your breathing settle as he does the same.

His hands still have a vice-like grip on your hips and when he finally releases them you look down to see they are slightly red.

You grin.

“That was wow.” He says pushing his sweaty hair back from his face as you grin at him feeling euphoric.

“I agree.” You say with a smile as you climb off his lap and try to stand, only to have your legs shake and your body nearly tumbles into the couch.

Namjoon steadies you and takes the condom off his softening cock and ties it up throwing it in a garbage nearby.

You pull the straps of your dress up and search for your bra and underwear but Namjoon stops you.

“Don’t bother, save the others the trouble of taking it off again.” He says which has you gasping.

“Remember you always have a choice. You can walk out the door now or go to Yoongi.” He says as you lean against the couch and smooth everything down trying to at least look presentable.

“You know my answer Joon,” you say as you raise your eyebrows at him.

He stands up and pulls up his underwear and sweatpants. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in delight as he carries you up the stairs and to the last door on the right. He kicks it open with his foot and you find Yoongi hunched in a desk chair working on something on a laptop. His hair is messy under big headphones and he looks up with a slow smirk when Namjoon deposits you on his bed.

“Special delivery. No bra or underwear just a skimpy sundress. You’re welcome.” He teases as he winks at you and closes the door.

Now you are left alone with Yoongi having no idea what to expect.

“Did Namjoon fill you in?” He asks taking off his headphones and saving whatever he was working on.

“Yeah, he did.” You say suddenly breathless at the prospect of getting fucked…again.

“And did he take good care of you? Namjoon is the youngest of the three of us. Gotta make sure we trained him well.” Yoongi says as he rolls his chair over to sit at the foot of the bed, eyes roving over your disheveled appearance.

“Yes Sir.” You say watching Yoongi smirk at you as his hands trace small circles on your legs.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as his fingers take their time with your bare skin.

“Good. A little sore. Namjoon spanked me. But overall good.” You admit as your eyes are glued to his long fingers which are climbing slightly higher with each stroke.

“Why did he spank you kitten? Were you bad?” He mutters lowly as his hands come to your knees to part your legs.

You sit up for him and scoot your butt to the very edge of the bed and let your legs fall open. You hike your dress around your hips and give him a full view.

Yoongi’s eyes darken.

“I have this teacher called Mr. Min. He gave me so much homework I stayed up all night completing it and hardly slept. I fell asleep in Joon’s class so he had to punish me.” You tease as you watch Yoongi’s hands trail higher and higher on your skin.

His cheeks are flushed and his brown hair is falling into his eyes as he watches his hands caress your skin.

“Ah well if it were me I’d do the same thing. Naughty girls get punished.” He says giving your upper thighs a soft smack as you whine.

You start to pout but just as you stick your bottom lip out, he leans forward to kiss you.

You plant your hands on his jean-clad thighs as you lean forward to kiss him back. His lips are soft as he presses them to yours. You flutter your eyes closed and focus on the sensation of his good his lips feel against yours.

You feel your core throb with arousal and you push your lips harder into his, loving the way he grunts against you and tangles his hands in your hair.

You spend awhile just kissing and testing the waters and soon enough Yoongi pulls away and his eyes are dark, clouded with lust and you can see an obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock?” You ask as you stand up and stare at him.

“Namjoon didn’t let you suck him off?” Yoongi asks as he stands up and takes your spot on the bed. He throws you a pillow to kneel on and you take your spot between his legs palming at his bulge eagerly.

“I mean he did but hardly. Think he was too excited to fuck me.” You admit as Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh and your hands come to pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. His eyes widen when you see his cock straining against his dark boxers.

“I don’t blame him,” Yoongi mumbles as he pushes his hair back from his face to look down at you kneeling on the floor between his legs.

A sight he wants to commit to memory.

You slowly pull his jeans down and he helps you kick them off. You take in the sight of him, already looking fucked out and you hardly touched him.

“What were you working on when Joon dropped me off?” You ask as you bring your hand up to palm at his erection.

“M-Music. I make music on the side.” He admits as you push your palm into his cock and soak in the moans that are falling from his lips.

“Hard ass Mr. Min makes music on the side? That’s cool.” You tease as his eyes snap open and he stares you down dangerously.

“What did you call me?” He asks in a low voice as you hook your hands into his boxers and he lifts his hips to assist you with pulling them off.

“A hardass? Come on you knew that already.” You tease letting your hands run up and down his hard shaft, smearing the pre-cum all over it as his eyes threaten to flutter closed again.

Before he can reply you lean forward and wrap your lips around his cockhead causing him to moan and lace his fingers tightly through your hair.

You take your time sucking him, loving the feeling of your tongue lapping up his precum and loving even more that you are making big bad intimidating Min Yoongi fall apart.

You slowly take him in deeper and smirk when he grips your hair harder and bucks his cock into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to work in tandem with your mouth and you hollow out your cheeks and continue to suck him.

He throws his head back and whines as you take him deeper. By the time you get his cock down and your nose is brushing against his neatly trimmed pubes, Yoongi has his hands laced through your hair and is grunting above you.

He tastes salty on your tongue and your eyes water when your gag reflex kicks in but you do everything you can to relax your throat and swallow around him.

Rough hands tug at your hair as he pries you off his cock and you look up at him with tearful eyes, as a string of spit is still connected from your mouth to his very red cockhead which is slowly leaking more precum.

“Kitten you are far too good at that.” He complements as you smile up at him and he leans forward to grab your arms to help you up.

You stand on shaky knees as Yoongi grabs you and pushes you down on the bed. You let out a squeal of delight as he flips you onto your back. He hikes up your sundress and lets it pool around your midsection as he eyes your still-soaked core.

“You’re still all puffy for me Kitten.” He comments as one finger comes to trace at your clit and you whine and buck your hips into his hand.

“Mmm Yoongi.” You moan letting your eyes close as he teases your clit with the tip of his finger, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration and his tongue darts out to lick at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you want kitten"?” He asks plunging a finger inside of you making your body arch off the bed and your hands come to grip the sheets below.

“You. I want you Yoongi. Real bad.” You cry out as he adds another finger without warning and begins to take his time opening you up.

“You already got fucked by one man now you want another so soon. You're such a greedy kitten.” He purrs reaching up to kiss and suck at your neck.

You tangle your hands in his hair and let the sensation of his soft lips on your heated skin take over.

He takes his time plunging his fingers inside of you and stretching you out. You felt like you didn’t need stretching out after Namjoon’s cock but you weren’t about to say anything as Yoongi’s fingers felt like magic.

“Wanna come around my fingers?” He asks as his lips are still sucking at your neck and you are grinding your butt down to meet his thrusts, fucking yourself on his long fingers.

“Would rather cum on your cock.” You admit as his head snaps up and his eyes meet yours. His eyes are dark and lustful and when he pulls his fingers out he licks at them taking his time cleaning them and leaving you whining out on the bed.

“Kitten doesn’t know how to use her words.” Yoongi teases as he sees your frustration but still takes his sweet time.

You frown at him.

“Kitten did use her words you just chose to ignore them.” You fire back which causes Yoongi to pounce on you, resting his whole body weight on yours as you feel his cock press against your center.

“Did you just talk back to me?” He growls as he grabs the base of his cock and runs it through your folds.

“Sorry, Sir. Guess I’m just impatient. You like to take your sweet time.” You answer back not bothering to hide your attitude as Yoongi’s hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes bulge when he squeezes it and you let out a choked moan when he stares you down with an intensity that has your core throbbing.

His hand tightens on your neck, pressing into your pulse which has it racing against his fingertips. You flutter your eyes closed but with his free hand, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“Look at me when I speak to you. Naughty Kitten comes into the lion’s den to get fucked by three different men. Now she thinks she can sass back to a man who holds her future in his hands. I could fail you right now if I want to. I could squeeze your throat until you passed out. I could throw you up against a wall and fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a week. “

Your eyes roll in the back of your head at his words.

“Now are you going to behave or am I going to add to the spankings you already received? Hmm? Gonna drop that attitude yet or still think your hot shit around here.” He growls out as his fingers start to ease on your throat and you expand your lungs taking in as much air as you can.

“Sorry, Sir. I’ll behave.” You say softly as Yoongi smiles down at you and presses soft sweet kisses to your neck, soothing the area he just had his hand wrapped around.

He slowly gets off the bed and reaches over to the nightstand where he pulls out a foil packet. He opens it and rolls it down his hard cock, jerking himself off as he goes.

You watch him work his cock with nimble fingers and soon enough he is on top of you again positioning his cock at your entrance.

“Let me know if it’s too much.” He says softly as he slips his cockhead inside and begins to inch in slowly.

You can’t help but whine when he finally gets all the way in. His hips are flush against yours and you both breathe heavily at the sensation.

He stares down at you with hair falling into his eyes and slowly presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and sweet and the complete opposite of how he choked you earlier. You tangle your hands into his hair and give your body time to adjust.

This time it doesn’t take your body long to adjust and you start to wiggle your hips to give him the signal to move.

“You good Kitten?” He asks pulling away to stare at you.

And what a sight you were.

Hair splayed out on his pillow, eyes blown wide, and cheeks dusted with a pretty blush.

"Please.” You beg as Yoongi begins to thrust inside of you shallowly, slowly picking up the pace as he goes.

His hands are on either side of your head holding himself up as he fucks into you. You tear your eyes away from his gorgeous face to see his biceps bulging and you moan out his name.

The sound of slapping skin, grunts, and moans fill the room and you shift down to meet Yoongi’s every thrust.

But something is missing. You want more.

“Yoongi please.” You cry out when he thrusts into you harder and his cock hits that spot inside of you that has your toes curling and your lips parting in an obscene moan.

“Again Kitten use your words. Did we teach you nothing? Fuck.” He cries out as he tilts his hips to get a better angle deep inside of you.

“Choke me. Please fuck. Yoongi.” You beg as your hands come up to claw at his back.

He stops his movements. Completely stills and you whine at the loss of friction.

“You…sure?” He asks staring down at you with eyes wide. Like he couldn’t believe you had just said that.

“Please.” You beg as Yoongi smirks and slips out of you.

You let out a frustrated noise as he positions himself at the foot of the bed and taps his bare lap, signaling you to come over and ride his cock.

“Can’t hold myself up and choke you kitten. You have to decide.”

You scramble to the end of the bed and sink down on his cock. He feels so much deeper in this position and when his hand comes up to your neck you let out a moan and feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck your a vision like this with my cock stuffing your pussy and my hand around your throat.” He mutters as you use his cock and begin to ride him.

He has one hand on the bed holding himself up and the other is around your neck.

You are seeing stars, absolute stars. The pleasure from his hand around you slightly choking you and the feeling of his cock stuffing you full has you riding him harder, chasing the high you so desperately craved.

Yoongi pushes a little harder on the sides of your neck and you're a goner. You arch your back up and feel the pleasure that was building and building finally crescendo into an orgasm that punches the air out of your lungs, or maybe that was the fact Yoongi was still fucking up into you wildly and his hand was still wrapped around your throat.

“My pretty Kitten cumming with my cock stuffed inside her and my hand around her pretty neck, fuck you are so hot. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.” He blabbers as he chases his own high and is soon cumming inside of you. His hand leaves your throat to steady himself on the bed so you both don’t topple forward and hit the floor.

You let him ride out his high as you come down from yours. He buries his face in your shoulder and grunts low and dangerous as he finally stills his hips.

He slowly shifts you up and off his lap, plopping you on the bed and standing up so he can crack open a window.

The whole room reeks of cum and sex and you flop back down on his bed putting a hand on your chest to feel your heart beating rapidly.

Yoongi pulls up his boxers and fishes around in his drawers for some looser pants pulling them over his legs before he sits down beside you.

He shoots you a rare smile and you smile back at him.

“So I’m not actually going to fail your class am I?” You tease breaking the silence as he giggles and you smile at him.

“Nah that was a heat of the moment thing. You are top of my class I would have no way of failing you.” He admits and you sit up and stare at him.

“Wait really? I’m top of the class? I…wow. I didn’t expect that.” You say shyly as he messes up his hair and smirks at you.

“How? You actually show up. You hand in assignments. You work hard. There is no reason you shouldn’t be top of my class.” He says and you flush at his praises.

“Even if a teacher had to come to talk to me and tell me to lay off a little bit.” He says with a teasing tone.

“He told me he wouldn’t say specifically who!” You say with a laugh rolling your eyes to the ceiling.

“He didn’t say it was you specifically but I could tell you were working yourself to death and needed a break. Or a release.” He says wiggling his eyebrows as you smack his arm.

Before you can answer there is a knock at the door and you pull your dress down and smooth it out as Hobi appears.

“Ah just in time,” Yoongi says as he smiles up at his friend.

“I know I heard you fucking her.” He grumbles as he leans against the door frame and you take him in.

The other two you were familiar with, but Hobi was a stranger so you took your time.

Your eyes roved his lean dancer’s body and how he leaned up against the door frame and crossed his arms with ease. He looked intimidating except for the small smile on his face.

“Only if you want to Kitten. You can walk out of here now. Your choice.” Yoongi reminds you.

“I don’t want to pressure you but I’m so fucking hard right now,” Hobi admits with a bite of his lips which has you standing up on shaky legs.

In two long strides, he reaches you and holds you steady against his strong frame.

“What did you do to her? She can hardly stand.” He accuses as Yoongi smirks and grabs a sweater on the floor, throwing it over his head and making his way back over to his desk and opening his laptop.

“Have fun kitten.” He says as he winks at you and puts his headphones over his ears.

Hobi leads you out into the hall and you take a shaky breath staring up at his beautiful face.

“Only if you want to.” He says shyly and you nod.

“Words please.” He says crossing his arms and staring you down.

“Yes. I want to. Though I might be extra sore.” You say with a grimace as you feel how tired your legs are and how your ass still stings from Namjoon’s earlier spanks.

Hobi grabs your hands and leads you to his room across the hall. You enter and take in the bright walls and decor and the big bed in the middle.

You can’t help yourself as you flop down on his bed and curl up in a ball. You take in the smell of his bed sheets and you sigh as he comes to sit next to you.

“You don’t have to baby. Seriously I want this to be good for both of us.” He says massaging your back as you peek up to look at him.

“Sorry Hobi I want to. God, I want to. It’s just the last two were…intense.” You admit suddenly feeling shy when he rolls you onto your back and stares down at you.

“How about we take it slow? Let me massage you and we will see where it leads hmm?” He asks and before you can answer he rolls you onto your stomach and his long fingers begin to massage the back of your legs.

You close your eyes and rest your cheek on his bed as he gets to work. He takes his time applying pressure to your sore muscles, digging his thumbs in where he feels like you need a little more pressure being respectful the whole time, and not letting his hands trail too high up your body.

You let out a whine when he massages a particularly sore spot and you spread your legs for him wider, letting his hands dance over the skin of your inner thighs.

“God baby you’re so tight.” He mutters as his hands travel down your calves and back up again earning a broken moan from you.

“So dance teacher huh?” You ask as he continues to work your muscles this time his hand inches high on your hamstrings and you push your face into the mattress at the feeling.

“Yeah, I’ve always loved dance and music and I had some teachers change my life and the way I see dance so I decided I wanted to be just like them. I love what I do.” He says softly as his fingers dig into your flesh and you feel yourself start to relax.

“How come I’ve never seen you on campus?” You ask voice muffled by his sheets as his hands continue to work your right and left leg.

“The dance studio is the furthest away from your building. We are the complete opposite sides of campus. Can’t have us blaring our music and having fun while you are trying to study for a test.” He teases as he gives you a small smack on the ass causing you to jolt and let out a pained whine.

He lifts the skirt of your dress and stares down at the red marks Namjoon left behind. His skilled hands massage the tender flesh and you let out another satisfied moan.

“T-True. But might be nice you know, to see you guys perform, might take away some stress.” You admit as his hands still wander your butt cheeks.

“I thought that’s what we were doing here?” He teases as you crane your neck to look at him and he flashes you a toothy smile.

His hands come to your hips to flip you over to your back. You stare up at his beautiful face and lean yourself up on your elbows capturing his lips in a kiss.

His hands cradle your head and hold you steady as he kisses you back. You feel blissed out as just like the others he takes his time exploring your mouth and pushing his lips into yours.

The kisses are slow and sweet, with no urgency just two people taking their time to get to know each other.

You shift so you are kneeling on the bed and you run your fingers through his dark hair and he sighs happily against your mouth.

You let your hands explore his hair, moving down to his neck and exploring his body.

You grab the hem of his shirt and your lips part so you can pull it off of him.

You press soft kisses to his neck and collarbones and smile against his skin when he throws his head back and whines.

You take your time with his body, kissing every freckle or mole you find as he holds your hair back and allows you to explore.

You stop at the hem of his loose-fitting pants and you can already see a sizeable bulge which causes you to giggle.

"So eager.” You tease as you lean up to capture his lips again and palm at his hard cock. He whines in your mouth as you push your palm into him and make sure to grind against his cockhead.

“You have no idea what it was like. Having to sit in this room and hear Namjoon and Yoongi fuck you. Torture.” He admits as you continue to palm him through the material.

“Did you like hearing how good I was getting fucked?” You say to him as you dance your fingers along his cock which is straining against the material, when you give him a squeeze you realize he is not wearing anything underneath and you gasp.

“Had to take them off. I was so fucking hard my cock needed some room. Didn’t wanna jerk off in case I came. The noises you make. Fuck Y/N I know why Namjoon picked you.” Hobi admits as you pull his pants down and watch as his cock smacks up against his toned stomach.

You take your time circling the base of his cock with your hand and he buries his face in your shoulder and whines at your touch.

You feel yourself start to get wet but you want to take your time and focus on him, he needs this more right now.

“If I make you cum now would you be able to still fuck me?” You ask as you begin to jerk him off, applying just the right amount of pressure and smearing his precum down his aching shaft.

“I-fuck-” He says as you flick your wrist at the top and watch as he bites his lip burying his face into your shoulder harder.

“Words please.” You say with a smirk as he pulls away and stares you down.

“I can tell you have been with Joon and Yoongi. I know I’m too pent up to fuck you right now I probably wouldn’t last. So yes. Please. Make me cum and I’ll fuck you.” He says as you nod and begin to stroke him harder.

He leans up to pull you in for a searing kiss and you tighten your grip on his cock which has him moaning against your mouth.

His hands are tangled wildly in your hair and you continue to jerk his cock harder and faster until he can no longer kiss you and instead is just moaning and whining against your swollen lips.

When you run your thumb under the head of his cock his hips jerk, fucking himself into your fist.

He continues to snap his hips forward and back, using your hand as his own personal fuck toy and you let him, loving the way he throws his head back making his hair push back from his sweaty forehead and the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin.

“Gonna cum for me?” You growl as you watch his eyes flutter open and he nods.

“Cum all over my hand Hobi. Come on now. Be a good boy and cum.” You demand and he loses it.

His body convulses forward and he buries his head back into your shoulder as he cums. Ropes of hot cum coat your fist as you let him work himself through it. He is still fucking up into your tight fist and when he finally stops you release his cock and begin to lap at the cum he left behind.

“Fuckkkk.” He groans out as he watches you lick and suck the cum up, his taste exploding in your mouth as you take your time, keeping your eyes locked on his as you finish the job and completely clean yourself.

“How are you real? Holy fuck how are you real?” He whines out as you smirk at the way his jaw is dropped and his eyes are blown wide.

You smile at him as you drop down on his bed and lie on your back, your knees starting to get sore from all the kneeling you had to do.

Hobi smirks and crawls off the bed, his hands grab at your hips and he pulls you to the very edge of the bed and kneels on the floor. Your eyes widen when his hands come to your knees and he flips up the skirt of your dress and prys your legs open as he gets comfortable between them.

“Gonna eat you out.” He mutters as he places hot kisses on your thighs and you spread them open wider for him.

When his mouth finally gets to your core you are almost shaking on the mattress. He laps at your clit and begins to swirl his tongue around it making you see stars.

Your hands grip the sheets below as you bring your legs up to wrap around his back caging him in place.

He chuckles against your core and continues to suck and lick at your clit, you can hear the wetness of his tongue lapping at your wetness and it makes your pussy pulse.

His tongue runs up and down your slit and he buries his face into your core causing his strong nose to bump against your clit sending you arching off the bed and a broken moan falling from your lips

His hands hold onto your thighs keeping you steady as he licks and sucks, pressing harder and working faster as you feel your orgasm start to build in your lower stomach.

You are squirming on the sheets and his name is falling out of your mouth in a prayer as he works harder and sucks up everything you are giving him

“Ho-Hobi stop you gotta stop.” You cry out as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Not wanting to fall off too soon.

“Baby your sopping wet for me.” He says as his head pops up between your legs and you see his lips shiny with your arousal, some is even leaking down his chin, and you swear it’s the hottest sight you have ever seen.

“Want you to fuck me Hobi.” You say as you sit up and watch him get up from the floor. His cock is once again rock hard against his stomach and he smiles at you.

He grabs a condom and rolls it onto his cock, pumping himself a few times as he leans down on the bed.

“How do you want me?” He asks as you sit up and close your legs giving him room to sit next to you.

“However you want. I just don’t think I can ride you. I think my legs will literally fall off.” You say with a laugh as Hobi eyes you mischievously.

“Did you ride both Joon and Yoongi?”

You nod.

“Don’t they know there are other positions to choose from? Fuck no wonder you are tired.” He says sitting on the bed beside you and stroking your knee in a comforting way.

“Well Joon I didn’t mind but with Yoongi we had to….for…reasons.” You say blushing at the memory of his hand wrapped around your neck.

“Reasons?” He asks with a cock of his eyebrow.

“He um..was choking me. Consensually of course!” You reply as you choose to stare at the floor instead of Hobi’s surprised face.

“Kinky.” He says with a soft giggle as you face him and smile shyly.

“Okay how about this lay against the headboard feet flat on the bed, I’ll do all the work baby.” He says patting you as you follow his instructions.

You spread your legs as Hobi crawls up the bed towards you. He places his hands on the headboard to hold himself steady and is on his knees running his cock through your folds.

You let out a broken whine and his eyes snap to yours in concern.

“I’m okay just…sensitive.” You admit already knowing that having a third cock inside of you in a short span of time will only make the soreness worse.

“I’ll go easy baby.” He says as he uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips even more and he slides his cock in.

Hobi is just as big as the others and even though you have lost track of how many times you have cum you can still feel a slight stretch as he bottoms out.

You close your eyes and scrunch your face, letting your body get used to the sensation as he stills and gives you time to adjust.

“Fuck you are so wet inside. Your soaking my cock baby. So fucking wet. And all for me.” He mutters in your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He starts to thrust shallowly inside of you and you bring your knees closer to your chest giving him more access to your core as he starts to pound into you with force.

Hobi is skilled with his hips and you can see why he would be a good dancer, he alternates from wild thrusting to burying his cock deep inside of you and grinding his hips causing his cock head to brush against your g-spot.

Hobi holds your legs open almost bending you in half and giving his cock room to go deeper inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach but your eyes are too heavy to open right now so you take deep breaths and focus on the sensation.

The view you are missing is immaculate.

Hobi’s hips are thrusting deep inside of you and his head is thrown back in pleasure. His hair is sweaty and stuck to his forehead and his lips are sucked into his mouth as he works on bringing you over the edge.

You feel the coil of pleasure start to tighten and you know you are close.

Hobi is so good and once he gets into a rhythm he starts thrusting erratically making you shake on the bed and whine out his name.

Your eyes are screwed shut when you cum. Crying out his name in a broken moan that is ripped from your lungs. You want to cry from the feeling of having another orgasm as euphoria washes over you. It is too much and not enough at the same time and you feel tears slip out of your eyes when he continues to work his cock deep inside of you chasing his high.

“One more baby can you give me one more?” He asks in a desperate tone as his thrusts become erratic and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as the overstimulation is almost painful.

“Ho-Hobi please please it’s too much… fuck!” You cry when his hand comes down to circle your clit and you feel your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Want you to cum with me can you do that baby. Come on one more on my cock.” He says breathlessly as you quickly reach the edge one more time and you cry out and feel your walls pulse against his cock which twitches and cums deep inside of your pussy.

He has his cock buried all the way in and is panting above you as you both ride out your highs.

When you finally come down the soreness in your body takes over and you slump against the headboard.

He pulls out of you and tosses the condom and leaves you spread eagle on the bed. You don’t mind though you are too worried about trying to force air back into your lungs after that intense orgasm.

Faintly you hear running water and you open your eyes to see Namjoon standing there leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into his pockets.

He changed out of his clothes into soft green pj pants and a big baggy sweater, the hood was thrown over his messy hair and he stared at you affectionately.

“Come on princess we have to get you cleaned up now.” He says as he enters the room and walks over to Hobi’s window throwing it open to air out the room.

You groan and bury your face in the pillows, the last thing you want to do is stand up right now.

“Come on I got you.” He says softly as he scoops you in his arms like you weigh nothing and you bury your face in his soft sweater as he carries you towards the source of the running water.

The bathroom lights are dimmed and you see Yoongi is already there testing the water with his finger. Namjoon sets you down on shaky legs and you look around at the three men standing in the bathroom, all of them grinning at you.

Namjoon slowly slips the straps of your dress down and he lets it pool at your ankles. You step out of it as Hobi holds you up and helps you into the warm bath.

You sink into the warm water and let out a content sigh as Hobi and Yoongi leave the room, leaving you with Namoon who is still staring at you affectionately.

“Take as long as you need Princess. Towels are over there and there is a change of clothes on the vanity. It’s our stuff so it might not perfectly fit but it will do.” He says with a dimpled smile.

“Yoongi is making some food so take your time we will bring it up to you.” He says softly as he closes the door.

You inhale the lavender scent of the bubble bath and you sigh and sink deeper in the water, hoping it will ease some of the ache in your legs.

You flutter your eyes closed and aren’t sure how long you are laying there when the door cracks open and Yoongi is there with a plate of noodles that smell wonderful.

He places it on a mini folding table and leaves the room again, giving you time to eat in peace.

You spend a total of forty minutes in the bath and as you dry off and throw on the soft sweatpants and sweater someone knocks on the door and you see Namjoon standing there again.

“How do you feel princess?” He asks still leaning against the door frame as you let your hair down and throw the hood of the sweater over your messy hair.

“Relaxed. And so sleepy.” You admit as he comes behind you and hugs you, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“You did amazing tonight princess. So good for us. It’s pretty late so if you want to crash here we have a spare room. Or if you're comfortable you can sleep next to one of us. Or if you want to go home you can. Your choice.” He says as he raises his head to stare at both of your reflections in the mirror.

“Wanna sleep next to you Joon? Is that okay?” You say feeling small and safe in his arms.

He shoots you a smile as he takes your hands and leads you to his bedroom. The small bedside lamp is on and you see the duvet already rolled down. He assists you over to the bed as your legs are still shaky and he helps you get under the covers.

He crawls in on the other side and flicks off the lamp casting the room in darkness as he comes behind you to spoon you, his hands holding you flush against him.

“What time is it anyway?” You ask craning your neck to look out his window where you can see a small sliver of the moon illuminated in the sky.

“Almost eleven.” He replies as you gasp.

You didn’t think that much time had passed.

“Time flies when you're being fucked.” He teases as you smack his arm and he laughs, face buried in your neck.

“You should give me bonus marks on the exam for dealing with your terrible jokes.” You grumble as he is still chuckling behind you.

“Maybe I will.” He says as you can hear his voice drop a couple of octaves, he must be as tired as you are.

“Night Mr.Kim.” You tease pushing your butt back so it’s flush against his cock as he groans low in your ear.

“Goodnight Miss Y/N”

[bella-goths-wife]

What would have happened if Vs pet made a deal with a different overlord

So basically we know what would happen if Vs pet made a deal with alastor and obviously vox, but what would happen if they sold their soul to Velvette, Valentino, Rosie or Carmilla instead

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, SA mentions, abuse mentions, forced affection, forced cannibalism, reader is uncomfortable, violence mentions

Velvette:

Now we know that even though you’d still belong to all the Vs collectively, if you made the deal with Velvette instead of Vox there would be a large power dynamic shift in terms of your care

Let’s say that Velvette found you first and was the one to make a deal with you, you wouldn’t be working for vox as his assistant in this scenario and would instead be a model or assistant to velvette

In the usual au where vox owns your soul, he is the one who creates your rules and enforces them

He’s the one who decides whether the other two can see you

But if velvette owned your soul instead then that entire dynamic is turned upside down, she’s the one who makes your rules and she’s the one who decides whether or not she’ll let vox spend time with you

This would absolutely infuriate him, and velvette can’t help but smile at that

Your rules would be much less restrictive if velvette was the one who owned your soul

Unlike vox who sees you as a surrogate daughter figure most of the time, velvette only sees you as a delightful little pet and occasional friend

And she understands that sometimes pets need a walk or a new toy to keep them occupied until she’s ready to play with them again

So you’d be able to leave the tower by yourself more often and you’d be able to hookup with people, but there is still a strict ban on forming intimate connections or starting relationships

Velvette requires your attention almost all of the time, and you can’t give her that if your chasing after some romantic partner

She should be enough of a connection for you!

You don’t need anyone else

You’d still be shared with the other Vs unfortunately as they share everything, so you’ll still have to deal with Valentino and voxs antics

But at least velvette will draw the line if she thinks they take up to much of your time

Your her pet after all, you sold your soul to her

A downside to velvette being your souls holder is that you’d be the weakest with velvette when it comes to your abilities and fighting skills

She doesn’t want you to improve so you don’t, you only use your power for frivolous purposes and for velvettes entertainment rather than actually using like a weapon like you would with vox or alastor

She doesn’t push you to get better, so you don’t get better

You’d have twice the attitude with half the power because of how velvette taught you and how she spoils you with materialistic things

Rosie:

Rosie would absolutely adore you

She has a soft spot for strays, and she’d heard quite a bit about you from alastor before he disappeared

And she once she met you she thought one thought, what a good friend she’d be if she took your soul in exchange for care and shelter before offering the contract to alastor when he gets back from his extremely long break

So she’d give you a job in cannibal town and she’d give you an entire makeover so you’d fit in more

She’d actually spend time to get to know you and what your life was like before you died

She can’t help but miss alastor when your around, you just remind her so much of him

She’d use your ability to create background music for her gossip sessions and for her party’s, but she’d also encourage you to use it as a weapon and practice with it in your own time

So you’d be more powerful than you would be with velvette but less powerful then you’d be with Vox or alastor

A downside to being in her care is that she wouldn’t be as protective as the others

She’s a busy woman who can’t be with you at all times, so there is a slight chance you may end up hurt while being in her care

She’d do her best to prepare you in case that happens, and you like that she offers you enough freedom to come and go freely enough

Another downside to being in Rosie’s care is that you’d have to adapt to her appetite unfortunately, it’s not like you can find a non cannibal place to eat in a cannibal town

So you’d be practically forced into cannibalism

But Rosie absolutely adores you, so she’ll look the other way sometimes if you want to eat something less gorey

She calls it a nice treat :)

Rosie would consider you a companion more than anything, maybe a goddaughter but she certainly doesn’t see you as a pet or a toy

So you’d be pretty happy with Rosie

But she gets so attached to you that when alastor does return, she refuses to give him your soul no matter what he offers

But it’s okay, because she says he can visit you any time in your home in cannibal town

He hates it but oh well, your her little darling fawn now

Valentino:

Oh god

He’d be the absolute worst choice on the list

If you sold him your soul, your guaranteed a situation similar to angel dusts

Maybe less abusive, but wayyyy more obsessive

You’d be a simple actress in a few of his videos until he becomes obsessed with you, and then you become his personal assistant

And when I say personal, I mean extremely personal

As in the ‘sleeps in his bed every night because he’s afraid you’ll run away’ personal

He wouldn’t see you in a romantic light, more of just a ‘your my possession’ light

You’d be absolutely miserable and constantly in his presence while also dealing with the other Vs

He’d force you to do videos for him and instead of your rules he’d use a ‘reward’ system

Rewards like ‘hold me for a few minutes and I’ll let you be on your own for an hour’

He’d be unbearably clingy and can sometimes get abusive with you, the same way he can be abusive with angel dust

You’d also be extremely weak because he won’t let you practice or explore your abilities at all

If he’s there to protect you at all times, then why would you need to be able to use your silly abilities?

He’d at least allow you to have your friendship with angel dust, but that’s only because he’s using you both to manipulate each other

He’d definitely get you hooked on something so you’ll be relying on him at all times

This would be the worst possible situation for you

Carmilla:

Carmilla would be interested in you because of your ability and how she could use it

She’d find you living on the streets and using your ability to get by and she’d wonder if she could incorporate your skills into making a new weapon designed for people with animal like ears which would be more sensitive

So she’d exchange your soul for her giving you shelter and a job in return

You would stay with her and her daughters and you’d spend most of the day with carmilla helping her design new weapons

It would be during this time that carmilla would become more obsessive with you and start to view you as a daughter

You were so young and so vulnerable, it reminded her of her two young girls and how she’d hate it if it was them

So she’d start acting more motherly with you, but she’d do it slowly so you could get accustomed to it

So she wouldn’t go straight to giving you rules and demanding you call her mom, instead she’d just make it more obvious that she views you as one of her family and that she’d appreciate it if you felt the same for her

But once you do accept her in some form, those rules are coming fast

And you know carmilla will not tolerate back talk or breaking rules

You’d have typical teenage girl rules, stuff like a curfew and drinking rules

But she’s still take the time to respect your boundaries and acknowledge that your an adult in your own way so she can’t act too overbearing

Which is more than you can say for the Vs

You’d also be quite powerful in this scenario because she’d give you training sessions to help with your personal abilities and your fighting skills

So I’d say she’s one of the better options