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coryosbaby · 5 months

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— ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

cowboy! Coriolanus snow x fem! Reader

synopsis: you meet a handsome, mysterious cowboy at a carnival.

content warning . western au, dumb choices, handjobs, cunnilingus, age gap if u squint ig

When you first lock eyes with him, it’s at a county fair.

How cliché it is, but in a small southern town of Kentucky it’s not that uncommon to meet your lover at such an event. Everyone from your town knows each other, knows every name, face, and house. It’s a wonder that anyone has any privacy at all.

But the man you’re looking at, you’ve never seen him around these parts before. His brown curls are hidden— you know he has brown curls because of the way the brunette locks peek out from underneath his cowboy hat. He’s wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and the usual pants you see on every other man. But he wears all of this so exceptionally well that you can’t take your eyes off of him.

And he’s looking at you.

You shiver as you watch him watch you. Your momma stands beside you and gossips with her church going friends, and you hope she doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving this perfect stranger. She’d pound your hide for sure. You smooth down your dress, your eyes wondering to the man’s muscle-ey arms. He must be very fit underneath that outfit.

He moves, walking towards a ring toss game and winks at you. Heat creeps down from your fingers to your toes, your bloomers become drenched with arousal. You want to talk to him— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Your momma is busy, anyway, so what harm could it really do? You say goodbye to her and tell her you’re going to go play a few games. You’re not exactly lying about that. Your heel clad feet make their way across the dirt as you subtly take your place beside the man. He smells like soap and cigars, and you’re thankful that he isn’t like the smelly men that plague your location. He turns to look at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you wanna play?”

His voice has a soft southern drawl, not as vibrant as yours but still there. He must be from somewhere more up north.

“I’m not that good at these games,” you sheepishly reply. “But I’d like to watch you, sir, if that’s okay.”

“Sir, huh?” He seems amused, and his big hands toss a ring that lands around an old milk bottle. “I’m not that old, y’know.”

You nervously fumble on the balls of your feet.

“I jus’ turned twenty.”

He looks at you again, taking in the sight of your lipstick smeared lips.

“Thought you’d be younger,” he teases, and you smirk.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” he laughs, throwing another ring and once again, landing it onto the milk bottle. You wonder what else his hands can do besides play carnival games. “I’m twenty five, sweet thing.”

A slight age gap, but nothing you can’t handle. He tosses the last ring towards the bottles, and it lands again. The man who’s monitoring the tent lets out a loud whistle.

“First winner of the night,” he says. “Which stuffed animal d’ya want?”

At the mention of the wall of prizes, your eyes dart to all of them. They land on a brown bear with a pink bow wrapped up around its neck, and you frown when you realize that you weren’t the one to win the game.

But to your surprise, the man beside you smiles with his shiny white teeth and points at the bear.

“That one, right there, for this pretty lady.”

Excitement floods through you as the man grabs the bear from the shelf. He hands it to you and you squeal, hugging the bear to your chest.

“Thank you, sir!”

You’re talking to the one beside you, not the vendor, and he chuckles.

"Coriolanus,” he says, and it rolls off of his tongue like honey. “My name is Coriolanus Snow.”

You smile at him as you reveal your name. His hands are cold against your skin when they brush against your shoulder.

“Well, [y/n],” he starts. “Do you wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

It’s against your better judgement to go off from your family for the comfort of a stranger. But this man— Coriolanus— he’s different. Your undergarments are soaked, too, you know they are.

“My momma told me I shouldn’t be alone with strangers,” you chastise. “Promise not to hurt me, Mr. Coriolanus?”

He leans in close to you, something dark drawling in his voice.

“I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

—

You didn’t tell your family where you went. They were probably going to be occupied for the rest of the night, anyway. Your feet pad against the ground as Coriolanus leads you out to his pickup truck. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a lot better than the vehicles you’re used to. He opens the door for you— a gentleman— and you climb into the passengers seat with little struggle. You lean back in the seat and place the stuffed bear in between the both of you as Coriolanus takes his place beside you. The ride to this mysterious destination is shorter than you expect. He turns into the woods— a little creepy, but you have a switchblade in your corset so it’s fine. When you arrive in front of an opening in front of a lake, your eyes light up.

“You can swim, right?” Coriolanus asks you.

“Of course.” You reply, opening the car door. You skip over to the edge of the water, dipping your hand in to get a feel of the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re so distracted by the scenery that you hardly notice the sound of Coriolanus’ belt buckle until you turn around. He’s unzips his fly and begins to unbutton your shirt. A humored smile spreads across your lips.

“Skinny dipping? Really?”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he shrugs, pulling his pants down past his thighs. “Unless you’re a coward.”

You gasp, lifting yourself back up and putting your hands on your hips.

“I am not a coward, Coriolanus Snow. I’m just a lady.”

“A lady who snuck off from her momma to be with a boy she barely knows?”

He has a point with that, and you let out a frustrated noise. You try not to blush as he slips his shirt off, left in nothing but his underwear. He takes his hat off, too, and his hair is just as perfect as you imagined. You finally give in, beginning to unbotton the top of your dress.

“You’ll have to help with my corset, I hope you know. This thing is such a hassle to unlace.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He seems smug when you pull your dress over your head, your bloomers and corset being revealed to him. You pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and turn around so he can undo the laces on your corset, and his fingers strategically remove the strings in a matter of a few minutes.

“Seems like you’ve done this a lot, Coriolanus.”

He hums. “I guess you could say that I don’t lack experience.”

You scoff, turning around and sliding the corset off of your shoulders. Coriolanus gapes at your now bare chest, your hardened nipples on full display and your chest full and inviting.

“Neither do I.”

You move towards the water, and like a puppy dog Coriolanus trails in after you. The water goes up to your chest by the time you’re done moving, and Coriolanus pulls your half nude body close to him. You giggle, feeling like a giddy child, feeling free. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and another. It’s like you’ve known him your whole life. His lips brush over yours, not quite touching but just enough to give you the impression of his desire.

“Can I?” He asks, sweet and gentle. You nod, your head spinning, and his mouth molds to yours perfectly. His hands wrap tightly around your waist to hold you to him, and your arms come up to grasp the locks of his hair. He breathes heavy, pushing his hips against you, and you laugh against his lips when you feel his hardness press against you.

“You’re a filthy man, Coriolanus snow.”

He rolls his eyes, his palm coming down to rub over your breast. You gasp against his mouth, your mound pressing against his bulge, and he chuckles.

“Me?” He chastises.

“Mmm..”

Your hand reaches down, not shy to a man’s body as you move past his waistband. Your hand grips his cock, your tongue coming out to lick your lips when you feel how thick he is.

“Big boy, aren’t you?” You say with a throaty breath. He groans, his face burying itself in your neck as you begin to stroke him.

Your hands are like magic, your skill magnified tenthfold because it’s been a while since Coriolanus has been touched by a woman’s hands. His hips buck against you, precum dripping out of his swollen cockhead, and when your thumb brushes over the underside of his cock he lets out a deep, gravelly moan.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathes out, his grip on your waist the only thing keeping him up. “So good, darlin’, Fuck.”

You whine against him, his praise making your knees buckle. The water around you is still cold but it’s warming now because of your adjustment and your shared body heat. You can feel a few rocks poke at the bottom of your feet, but you can’t think about that right now. Coriolanus’ pleasure is like your own, and with the way he’s feeling… you don’t know how you’re still standing.

You reach past his cock for a moment to feel up his balls, soft in your palm, and the sound he makes is so guttural it’s almost as if you have killed him. His cock kicks, you can feel it and hear the water below you splash as your hand moves faster and gets him closer. He keeps spilling precious moans from his mouth, and you think you could spend everyday with him like this, even though you’ve only known him for a few hours.

“Gonna cum…” he whimpers out, his legs shaking. “Gonna cum all over your hand, baby.”

And you’re perfectly fine with that. You bite down on his earlobe, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Cum for me, Coriolanus. Cum.”

It’s an automatic command that has the boy thrusting one final time against you before he spills inside his underwear. Thick ropes of cum squirt against your hand, sticky and hot. You let him ride out his high before you press a wet kiss to his neck. He sighs against you, and he knows his body would be nearly limp if he wasn’t so fit. After that sigh he lets out a laugh, serotonin flooding his brain as you pull your hand out of his underwear. You smile at him.

“How was that?” You ask him. He tilts his head, biting teasingly against your cheek.

“So amazing that I need you up on that shoreline, darlin’. I needa touch you, too.”

You bite your lip, nervous as you reply.

“You don’t gotta do that. I know some men don’t like to.”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“No man hates eating pussy. What kind of boys have you been hangin’ around?”

You stutter, trying to come up with a response but Coriolanus just shushes you and guides you back to the shoreline with his hands. His back muscles ripple as you watch him from behind, and you wonder what a wanderer is doing with muscles like that.

When you both get back to shore he tells you to stand and wait. He comes back soon with a blanket in his hands and spreads it out on the shore. You lay down on it, trying to calm your beating heart. Coriolanus takes a spot in front of you, sitting on his knees in between your legs. He smiles at you, his thumbs moving to the waistband of your bloomers. You nod to him, and with callused hands he pulls them down past your ankles. He throws them in the sand, the smell of your pussy hitting his nostrils and making him groan. His nose scrapes against your inner thighs, his hands holding your legs open as he begins to mouth closer and closer to your pussy.

“Coryo,” you whine, the nickname making his cock twitch. “Please? Y-You don’t have to, but I.. I really, really want you to.”

“Want me to do what, honey?” He says, his mouth hovering over your dripping slit. “Eat this pretty little pussy? Is that what you want?”

You cry out, nodding your head, begging for it now, and finally Coriolanus licks a long, wet stripe up your juicy cunt with his tongue. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His tongue moves up and down before probing your hole, slipping just the tip in as his nose rubs against your clit. You desperately hump against his face, riding his strong nose and squeezing around his wet tongue. You’ve never been eaten out before, never in your life. Not even with the handful of men you’ve lain with— none have ever wanted to do this or try to. You’re practically in heaven right now.

“Nghhh..” you moan, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You jump when his finger brushes up against your entrance, slipping it inside next to his tongue and scissoring, and fuck, you never knew this could be so good. Your legs try to close around Coriolanus’ head but he grabs one of them with his free hand and pushes it down. Your legs hitch up, a sob spilling from your throat, and the man below you can’t stop humming and making precious sounds. Slurping noises echo throughout the empty, wooded area, and you can’t help but fantasize about being caught. How hot it would be, someone walking in on this, on this hot cowboy devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, your fingers gripping his curls like your life depends on it as he drives you closer and closer to the edge like no other man has.

Coriolanus slips another finger inside you, removing his tongue from inside you and making his way up to your puffy clit. He captures it in between his teeth, suckling with everything he has, and without warning your body is seizing up and you’re cumming, a sob escaping you, your hands yanking on his hair, your legs shaking. Coriolanus drinks up your spend, his chin dripping with your release as he pulls away and wipes his mouth on his wrist. You look down at him, and a grin spreads wide on his face. You grin back at him, the post orgasm clarity overtaking you as gets up and digs in his pants pocket. He lays down beside you, taking out a cigar and a match as he lights it up. He takes a long drag and a silence overtakes the lakeside, the only sound the light summer breeze and the crickets in the woods. You turn on your side, the moonlight reflecting off of Coriolanus’ jawline. He turns to look at you too, passing the cigar off to you. You take it, trying not to cough or embarrass yourself because this is your first time ever touching one of these things. When you clumsily inhale and exhale, you give it back to him with curiosity on your face.

“What’s a man like you doin’ around here anyway?” You ask him. “You some kind of outlaw?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing your thigh as he looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“If I was, would you tell on me?”

He knows you wouldn’t, but he teases you anyway. You shake your head.

“I wouldn’t. It ain’t my business.”

He sighs.

“Maybe I am. And I think that’s why I need to tell you to stay away from me from now on.” He explains. His finger grips your wrist, tickling you. “I’m bad news, sweetheart.”

“I can handle it, cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back again and closes them. He changes the subject.

“Do you need me to take you home?”

You shrug, grabbing the cigar from him.

“It can wait a few more hours. My momma’s gonna be livid when she sees me.”

And it’s true. Because when Coriolanus drops you off in his pick up truck with a promise to see you again (after your persuading), you show up at your front door barefoot, the teddy bear in your hands, and without a corset— Coriolanus had taken it from you as a souvenir, and he said he didn’t intend to give it back. In return, you had taken his hat and perched it on your head as a reminder of his touch. You give him a small thumbs up when you watch him get the hell out of dodge.

Your momma is furious when she opens that door, but you don’t regret this night one bit.

#Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #dom Coriolanus snow #cowboy! Coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #Tom blyth #Billy the kid #Coriolanus snow fanfic

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authorhjk1 · 4 months

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Christmas present

Shin Ryujin X Shin Yuna X Male Reader

You watch the four women enter the lobby of the hotel. They all wear expensive outfits, showing that they just came back from a very important event.

Putting down your phone, you sigh as you watch them walk towards you. Your girlfriend is a few steps ahead of the rest.

You often wonder how you were able to land a woman like her. Especially considering your occupation.

Her black dress is showing off more of her legs than you can drool over. It fits tightly around her body. Her heels make her taller than she exactly is, which makes her members look even smaller. Although she still has a long way to go to match your hight. Her red hair is draped over her right shoulder

Shin Yuna reaches your table, glancing at your food. She steals one of your fries, before you cup her cheek with your hand.

"Hi, babygirl."

Your favorite pet name of hers.

"Hi, daddy."

She whispers, before pecking your lips.

Your cool facade almost crumbles. She always does this. Teasing you in public, while even her members are around.

You glance over her shoulders to look at her members.

Yeji, Ryujin and Chaeryeong stand behind her. While Yeji and Chaeryeong smile at you, Ryujin has a disgusted look on her face. Yuna made her promise to not tell the other girls. Although the older one is against the two of you, she finally gave way, saying that Yuna should learn from her mistakes.

"Congratulations, girls."

You smile at all of them.

"Thank you, (y/n)."

Yeji suggests that they go up and change. Yuna however stays with you.

"Haven't had dessert yet?"

You shake your head, but you know where this is heading.

Yuna walks around the table, leaning down. You smell her perfume.

"I'm sure we can find something in your room for you to eat."

"Yeah?"

You reach up and hold her chin with your hand. Pulling her down, you are face to face with your girlfriend.

"Can't wait to have a taste of that sweet pussy."

Yuna blushes in your hand.

She does tease you in public, but always finds away to talk her way around it. You are the one saying all the bad words. Considering your occupation, it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"Wha-What are you waiting for then?"

You love the way you make her stutter like this. Yuna avoids your eyes quickly.

You get off your chair, pulling her towards you. With your hand around her waist, the two of you walk towards the elevator.

A couple of minutes later, your face is buried between Yuna's legs. Her heels are lying next to the door, your jacket hanging from the doorknob. She got rid off your shirt as well, leaving small bites on your shoulders while you carried her to your bed.

Now kneeling in front of it, you enjoy the taste of your girlfriends pussy. Her dress is bunched up around her waist, giving you access to her core.

"Oh god, daddy."

Yuna sighs, her nails digging into your scalp as you drive her towards her orgasm.

Her moans and whines become louder. You dig your tongue into her pussy, while your thumb rubs her clit. The sweet taste of her juices makes you keep going. Her thighs close around your head as Yuna squirms on the mattress.

She is unable to lift her head to watch you. She can't do much more than moan, trying to be as quiet as possible. Yuna's hips buck towards your face, needing more and more of your tongue.

Making Yuna cum before you fuck her has become a habit by now. A necessity almost. You grow harder at the thought. Yuna isn't the tightest you've ever had, but you don't want to use lube everytime you fuck her. Partially because it would ruin you financially. Sex plays a big role in your relationship.

"Daddy! Gonna cum!"

Yuna can't hold back a shriek as she finally reaches her orgasm. She rolls around on the sheets, your head still in between her thighs. Her face is flushed and her ankles are locked behind your neck.

You slurp up some of your girlfriend's cum, enjoying her sweet taste. If she wasn't this wet, you wouldn't be able to fuck her properly.

Standing up, you get on the mattress as well, waiting for Yuna to come back to reality. It sometimes feels like she gets knocked out by her orgasms for a couple of seconds.

A moment later her hands are on your body. In one swift motion, Yuna pulls your boxers off of you, while you raise your hips slightly.

The sight of your cock makes Yuna's heart jump. You are the biggest she's had. And you are way above average. But Yuna would think you would be lying, if you told her you meet guys who have a bigger dick than you.

Stacking both her hands on top of each other as she holds your shaft, Yuna eyes your cock in awe. There is still enough space for her mouth left. She hungrily starts at your tip. Her tongue doing all kinds of motions and movements, coaxing you to full hardness.

"Fuck, Yuna."

You look at her, lying on the bed, with your cock in her mouth. Only through sheer dumb luck you were able to book a room in the same hotel as hers. You accepted an offer to shoot somewhere around here, which means you can have some more time with Yuna. The other members don't even know what you do for a living. Except for Yuna and Ryujin.

You take a fistful of her red hair, pulling her further onto your cock. She hasn't managed to take your entire length into her mouth since you first started dating. But that doesn't mean Yuna doesn't stop trying.

You hear another beautiful gag of hers as she forces her throat to open up. More of your cock slowly disappears into her greedy mouth. Yuna's eyes stare at you, silently asking if she is doing a good job. You nod, guiding her head further down.

Yuna's body shivers as she reaches the halfway mark. Your cock is fully filling her mouth and throat. And yet, Yuna keeps trying to fit in more. The walls of her throat tighten around you, her gag reflex, which she is trying to get rid of, is massaging your cock.

"Need your pussy, babygirl."

You sigh as you slowly pull her up by her hair.

Yuna smiles around your cock, lifting her head off your crotch, but not without letting her tongue glide along it's length.

"You want me to ride you?"

It's a tough question. The both of you like this position, but it's not as easy as it sounds. Yuna just can't take all of your cock that easily. On bad days, you are only able to push halfway inside of her. On good days she is able to take three quarters of your cock.

But you nod anyways, unable to resist the thought of her body on top of yours.

When she hovers above your cock, the two of you stare into each other's eyes. Yuna's big orbs glisten with affection and lust. She would've fallen in love with you, even if your cock was around average. The fact that it's this big has made her into a submissive slut for you.

That reminds you of something.

"It's in the drawer."

Yuna's smile widens, knowing what you mean. It was a birthday present to you from her. Well, it was part of a present. Yuna herself, lying on your bed with only purple lingerie on while waiting for you to come home, was the best part of the gift.

You hold her thighs, her pussy lips grazing the tip of your cock as she reaches for the knob on the drawer. She fishes out a small object. You wait for her to put it on herself, before she puts her hair back.

"What do you think?"

She poses as if she was modeling for a diamond necklace. You chuckle, looking at her choker.

"Beautiful."

It's purple, matching the lingerie she was wearing that day. Sparkling letters are decorating the thin fabric. "Size queen"

Yuna really is one. She never thought of herself that way, until she met you. Since the first time she saw your cock, she started to become addicted. No matter where or when, she always needed you to fuck her. She was never this horny before.

Without you knowing, Yuna spend a lot of time researching online. She wants to find a way to fit your whole cock into her pussy. You are just slightly too big for her, which she has to accept for now. But she never stops trying.

With her new choker on, Yuna plants her thighs on the bed next to yours. You take a hold of them, enjoying the soft skin.

"I want it deep, daddy."

She always does.

Your girlfriend slowly sinks onto your cock. Her loud, drawn out moan echoes through your room. You see how her pussy lips wrap tightly around your thick cock. Her walls are so tight, you have to close your eyes, waiting for her to open up more.

Every time you penetrate her for the first time, it's always a small struggle before you are able to enjoy her pussy.

"Fuck, daddy. My insides."

Yuna moans, feeling your cock pressing against her organs.

She is slowly sliding down your cock, reaching her limit at the half. For now.

Your girlfriend stops her movements, breathing heavily. You can almost feel her pussy adjusting to your size, getting used to being stretched out like this.

Quickies with Yuna aren't usually possible. It takes some time before you are able to properly fuck her. But once you do, she makes sure to make your cock feel as good as she can.

"Fuck, daddy."

Yuna sighs as she slowly starts to lift herself up again, her thighs flexing underneath your hands.

Places like dressing rooms or public bathrooms aren't safe enough for Yuna to make her pussy accept your cock properly. You usually only eat her pussy and she gives you blowjobs. But when she is really craving your cock, you do fuck her in public. Slowly. Not deep. It's more pleasure for her than it is for you. Her size kink acting up, when she gets wet, knowing that you are too big for her pussy.

After a couple up and downs, Yuna is able to ride you at a steady pace. Still slow, but fast enough to make you groan occasionally.

Her head has rolled back by now, showing off the choker around her throat. Your girlfriend's pussy is tightly wrapped around your cock, her warmth taking over your body.

"So big."

Yuna sighs, feeling how your cock stretches her out. You are still only halfway inside of her, but she is already in the clouds. Her hair is swinging wildly behind her as she picks up the pace.

From earlier experiences, you know that she sometimes loses herself too much. If that happens, she sinks onto your cock too quickly, making her groan in pain. Wanting to prevent that, you hold her tiny waist, guiding her hips up and down.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Yuna's chanting only means one thing. You feel her pussy becoming tighter and wetter. Her juices dribble down the length of your cock that isn't inside of her.

"Gonna cum!"

After riding you for, what feels like way too short, Yuna climaxes around your cock. Her body gives up on her and you feel hear head sinking onto your shoulder.

"You're so tight."

You whisper into her ear as Yuna's body shakes, feeling your cock slowly moving inside of her. You raise your hips slowly, before sinking back down. Thrusting into Yuna from underneath, while her body recovers.

"Holy shit, daddy."

Your girlfriend sighs, finally able to relax after that stressful day. Her feet hurt because of the dancing and her heels, she was tired and powerless. But now, she is full of energy, her body relived of its former pain.

"Where do you want my cum?"

You ask her, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching. As you lazily thrust up into her snug pussy, you hear Yuna thinking out loud.

"You could cum in my pussy, but I didn't wear any panties. The girls might see your cum running down my thighs. Not that I would mind though."

Yeji, Lia and Chaeryeong don't know that you have sex with Yuna. They still think she is an innocent maknae and you are just her normal boyfriend.

The thought of her members finding out this way makes you want to fill her up this instant.

"But then again, your cum always tastes so good."

You sigh, unable to bear this pleasure much longer. This lazy thrusting is getting to your head. Sometimes, it can be more enjoyable than a rough fucking. The combination of this and Yuna's words drive you further towards the unstoppable.

"Maybe I want to swallow your load."

Yuna slowly gets up, resting her hands on your shoulders.

"How often did you cum today?"

"Three times."

You manage to push your words past your teeth, trying to hold it in, until Yuna made a decision.

"There is not much cum left, then. I should be able to swallow all."

The thought of cuming in her mouth gets you a little too excited. Your next thrust is harder than expected.

"Fuck!"

Yuna shakes. Out of pain and pleasure.

"Sorry."

You mumble.

Your girlfriend is back to taking heavy breaths.

"It's fine. It felt good, too."

Your hands wander around her waist, squeezing her ass cheeks.

"I'm close."

"I want to swallow. I have been sitting through this whole day during AAA, waiting for that cum of yours."

Yuna slowly gets off your cock, leaving it covered in her slick. Like she did earlier, she gets comfortable between your legs, lying on her stomach as she starts to give you head.

Your fingers comb through her hair, enjoying her mouth around your cock.

"Fuck, Yuna."

Your climax edges closer as your girlfriend slowly starts to force your cock down her throat. Once again, it's a tight fit, which makes it so much more enjoyable.

"I'm gonna cum. Gonna cum in that dirty mouth of yours."

Yuna nods excitedly, your cock still inside of her.

"Fuck!"

You groan loudly, pushing her head onto your cock as a reflex. Yuna's wide eyes stare up at you as she feels you pumping her mouth and throat full with your cum. As you unload inside of her, Yuna tries to breath through her nose.

She almost chokes and coughs as your cum starts to leak out of her nose. You've done this once or twice before. But not with Yuna. The surprised look on her face indicates that she might have been unaware that this is actually possible.

Globes of your cum leave her nostrils, while her throat is coated with your thick semen.

In your eyes, Shin Yuna has never looked better.

"What do you mean, you caught her?"

You look down at Yuna, who's head is resting on your chest. It took a while to clean her nose completely.

"I saw her watching you."

"Watching me?"

"Yeah."

"But she hates what I do. And she hates that we are together."

The thought of Ryujin watching your videos is crazy to you. Most people might call your occupation a little unusual. And even Yuna needed a little time to get used to it. But now, she is completely fine with the fact that you are a pornstar.

You fuck a lot of women on camera, but Yuna doesn't seem to mind anymore. You are happy that she is fine with it, you didn't get into the industry because of fun. You grew up poor and in a bad environment. Now, you are reasonably wealthy and in a relationship with a famous Korean singer. You made it quite far.

So obviously, you are surprised to hear Yuna say that Ryujin watched your videos. She found out what you do for a living while you and Yuna talked about it. Since that day, she keeps telling Yuna to break up with you.

"Do you know what kind of video?"

Yuna nods her head.

"It's a video of you, fucking your stepmom."

You frown.

"That's what Ryujin is into?"

Yuna shrugs her shoulder.

"Dunno. But it is weird. Why would she watch your stuff, if she hates you so much? I'm sure she could've found more with that kind of theme."

"Yeah. You think she just wanted to see what I do? Like confirm that I do this work?"

Your girlfriend shakes her head.

"I've caught her yesterday as well."

She looks up at you.

"Unnie was watching a video of you, fucking some cheap Japanese slut. It sounded like you broke her spine or something."

You chuckle, trying to remember who that could've been. You have a couple of those scenes.

"But that's not the important part."

You raise an eyebrow.

Yuna whispers, despite the fact that the two of you are alone.

"She touched herself."

"What?"

Yuna nods, obviously still surprised.

"She was lying on her bed with her eyes closed. Her hand was in between her legs and she got herself off to you."

"Ryujin?"

"Yes."

You still can't believe this. Ryujin always hated you. This is just weird.

"Was there something else?"

Yuna ponders for a moment.

"She was moaning really loud. She kept saying 'Fuck this slut. Ruin her pussy. Make her cum on that big cock.' She even came in the end."

"Really?"

Yuna nods as you feel your cock hardening. It's not intentional. But the fact that Ryujin touched herself to you fucking another woman doesn't leave you cold.

Your girlfriend must have felt your cock pressing against her from underneath the sheets.

"Do you want a second round?"

You can't help but groan as you feel her hand wrap around your cock.

"Thinking about Ryujin touching herself to my boyfriend makes me so wet, daddy."

With that, Yuna sneaks underneath the sheets, her lips wrapped around your dick shortly after.

In hindsight, you should've known that this wasn't the end of this conversation.

With Christmas right around the corner and your girlfriend's busy schedule, the text you got from Yuna was not very surprising.

"Come to the dorm tonight. I got your present ready."

You are now standing in front of the mirror in your apartment, looking at the two gifts you bought her. The one in your left is a book from her favorite author. She told you about it a couple of months ago, so you thought it could make a great present.

The one in your right hand is a little bit different. Knowing Yuna's measurements, you bought her a set of lace lingerie. She seems to like those, your birthday present being enough proof of that. This one is red though, fitted for the Christmas season.

You wonder if you should give her only one of them, or both. After a couple of moments, you decide on both. The fact that Yuna is asking you to come over this late can only mean two things. One, her schedule was full until now, or two, she wanted to fuck.

Being in a relationship with her for quite a while, you are able to take an educated guess that it's number two.

When the door to Itzy's dorm opens, you see Yuna standing in front of you. Her outfit definitely does not match the current season. But you would never complain about that.

Her red hair looks good on her. You can proudly say that she was torn between blonde and red and asked you to make the decision for her. You picked the right one.

She is wearing light blue jeans and a sweater with a smaller one underneath. An odd fashion choice in your opinion, but who are you to judge? Especially when she shows off that damn body of hers? Her midriff is completely exposed and her waist is as small as it gets.

You expected Yuna to be dressed in either something sexy, or just lingerie. You weren't wrong, it seems.

"Merry Christmas, daddy."

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss her lips.

"Merry Christmas, babygirl."

You put your gifts onto the small table near the door, before letting your hands glide over the skin on her waist. You can never get enough of this perfect body.

"You are so hot."

You kiss Yuna passionately. She returns the kiss, her hands going through your hair as she pulls you a little towards her.

After the two of you are done, you give her your presents. Being the goofball she is, Yuna immediately opens them, ripping the paper off carelessly.

"Oh thanks! That's great!"

She opened the book first and is now giving you a tight hug as a thank you.

"Open the other one."

"You have two for me?"

Yuna smiles from ear to ear, ready to unwrap the second one.

In that moment, you hear something strange coming from one of the rooms.

"What is that?"

Yuna stops opening your present halfway.

"Hm?"

"What is this sound?"

There it is again. As if someone is crying.

Yuna stays silent, trying to hear it as well.

"Oh, that. That's your present, daddy."

"My present?"

Yuna nods excitedly, before walking towards the door, not without taking your hand.

"Merry Christmas, daddy."

With that, she opens the door.

You don't recognize the person at first. You are actually too stunned to take in all of this

The woman on the bed is barely wearing anything. Only a big red ribbon is decorating and covering her chest. Her lower half is completely naked as she kneels on the bed. You see the small vibrator that's tied to her clit, buzzing slightly.

Her hands are tied behind her back with a red rope and her eyes are covered by a red blindfold.

She whines occasionally. She must have been in this position for quite a while already. You see the small red marks on her wrists where the rope is cutting into her skin.

You finally recognize her. Shin Ryujin.

"Yuna, what-"

She places a finger on your lips.

"She shouldn't know that you are here. I want to surprise her."

Your girlfriend walks towards a small bag, which could've been Santa's by the way it's decorated. It looks like an old jute sack, small bells hanging all around it.

The small bells make a little noise, when Yuna reaches inside. Ryujin turns her head in her direction immediately.

You watch Yuna taking out a pair of red earmuffs and walking towards Ryujin. The older girl flinches, when she feels Yuna's touch. Once the maknae put the earmuffs on her, she walks back to you.

"Your present."

She smiles widely as if she gave you the best Christmas present in the world.

"Yuna, what the fuck?"

She chuckles.

"You don't like it?"

"Does she even..."

"Does she want this? Of course she does. Trust me."

Yuna winks at you.

In that moment, another moan escapes Ryujin's lips.

"Y-Yuna are you still there?"

The younger one ignores her.

"Do you like it?"

"I..."

You don't know what to say. Do you like it? Is there a proper answer to that question?

"Well-"

"Y-Yuna?"

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes.

"She can be a bit loud sometimes. She is even louder when she watches your videos."

Yuna walks back towards the bag, taking out another toy. A red ball gag. She puts it on Ryujin, who is a little startled when she feels something touching her.

Ryujin's moans are now silenced, the poor girl unable to do anything.

"What do you want to do to her first, daddy?"

"I..."

You are still too baffled to talk properly. Your mind is still trying to comprehend what is going on. How did Yuna get Ryujin in this position? Is Ryujin even okay with this?

As if she read your mind, Yuna gives you a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry, daddy. She watched that video of yours from last Christmas. Do you remember that?"

You slowly nod. Last Christmas?

You remember shooting a great movie in America. You were playing some guy coming home to his step family for the holidays. Your two step sisters and your stepmother were more than welcoming. Let's just leave it at that.

You still vividly remember the scene were you tied up your "stepmother" and fucked her next to the Christmas tree.

Is that the video Ryujin watched? That's like almost a three hour movie.

"Do you really have consent from her?"

It's not like this isn't hot as hell, but you don't wanna get arrested.

Yuna rolls your eyes.

"Don't worry, daddy. Just look at how wet she is."

You take a closer look, realizing that Yuna is right.

The sheets Ryujin is kneeling on are completely soaked with her juices. It's not even a small puddle anymore. Calling it an ocean would be more appropriate.

"Here."

Yuna hands you a small remote with four buttons on it.

"I've been edging her for an hour now. I'm surprised she is still able to moan like this."

You can't believe your ears.

Taking the remote out of Yuna's hands, you press one of the buttons. Ryujin throws her head back at the sudden increase of vibrations. Her clit has been overstimulated for way too long. It was never enough to mke her cum, but it kept her in a constant state of arousal.

Now that you have turned it up a notch, Ryujin is hopefully waiting for release.

To her disappointment, it's still not enough. But it almost breaks her, if she could, she would fall face first into the mattress.

But you see that the rope that's tied around her hands is leading towards the big shelf at the wall behind her. Yuna secured it there, making Ryujin stay in this position.

"This really is hot."

You can't help but think about all the dirty things you could do to Ryujin.

"Right?"

Yuna gets on her tiptoes to kiss your lips.

"Have fun, daddy."

She invitingly motions towards Ryujin.

Standing next to the bed, you place your hand on Ryujin's thigh. She jerks away at first, but she let's you touch her. Not that she has much of a choice anyway.

The young woman can feel that this isn't Yuna this time. Your hand is bigger and your skin rougher. She thinks if this could be you. Or just some random stranger Yuna picked up on the streets.

Your hand glides along her thigh as you enjoy the smoothness of her skin. Closing in on her core, you start to feel the first hint of Ryujin's cum.

She tries to move a little towards you. She doesn't care who's hand it is as long as it makes her finally orgasm.

Your fingertips dance along her uper thigh. Because of the ball gag on her mouth, you are barely able to hear Ryujin's deep moan.

"You are such a needy slut."

You never expected to be able to say this to Ryujin's face. Even if she can't hear and see you.

Yuna joins you, standing next to the bed as well.

"She really is, daddy. I think she has become addicted to your cock since she first saw it. She masturbates like three times a day."

You squeeze Ryujin's thigh in response. It's so hot, thinking that Ryujin has touched herself to you. Even when she openly dislikes you.

"We should teach her a lesson, daddy."

"We should."

Using the remote, you suddenly activate the highest setting of the vibrator. Ryujin's body immediately reacts. She throws her head back, her thighs quivering. Her hole body shakes and a muffled scream escapes her mouth.

You turn the vibrator off completely. Just a second before Ryujin reaches her climax. She almost cums untouched, before her body slowly calms down.

"Wow. That's so hot."

Yuna sighs, letting a finger of hers graze against Ryujin's glistening wet labia. The older girl flinches, but Yuna slowly pushes inside.

You suddenly turn it up to max level again.

One, two, three seconds. You turn it off again.

"Fuck!"

This time, you hear Ryujin's scream.

She almost cums again, but you deny her orgasm. Yuna's finger inside her cunt isn't enough to make her cum without the vibrator.

"She is so tight, daddy. Do you think she can take your cock?"

You shrug your shoulders.

"We will make it fit."

Yuna's eyes glisten with evil lust. This turns her on just as much as being fucked herself.

"I think unnie is already wet enough. What do you think?"

"Let me try."

Yuna removes her finger.

Within a second, you turn on the vibrator and turn it off again.

Ryujin screams once more. Her body only held up by the rope now.

She shrieks in pain, when she suddenly feels you hit her pussy. Not too hard of course, you don't want to hurt her. It's more the surprise that makes her shudder.

As you pull your hand back, her slick juices stick to your palm.

Another slap.

Ryujin moans this time.

You feel her body tense up as she waits for another slap.

It comes just a couple of moments later.

Another moan.

When you remove your hand, the strings of her girl cum stick to your palm, connecting your hand with her pussy.

This is probably one of the hottest things you've ever seen. And coming from you, it does say something.

"I think she is wet enough."

Yuna smiles from ear to ear.

"I want her mouth first, though."

Yuna chuckles, already starting to remove Ryujin's gag. Once her mouth is empty again, Ryujin speaks up, her voice weaker than before.

"Y-Yuna? Who is he?"

She still can't hear anything, so Yuna just ignores her, walking over to the bag in the corner.

Meanwhile, you get your pants off, letting them fall to the ground. Since Ryujin is already in perfect position, you get onto the bed as well, standing right above her.

She can feel that someone just got onto the bed. Nervously, she wonders what's going on.

"Who are you?"

Without answering, you let your tip graze her pretty lips.

"(Y/n)? Is that you? I swear to God I-"

You shut her up by pushing forward. Her lips close around your cock.

You thrust into Ryujin's mouth, immediately making her choke. She feels how her mouth and throat are being filled by your cock.

As you slowly start fucking Ryujin's face, you see Yuna walking back towards you.

Your girlfriend is holding something in her hand.

"Let's see how well she can take this."

It seems like Yuna has gone all out on the Christmas themed sex toys. She is holding a red and white dildo, shaped like a candy cane.

It's not nearly as big as you are, but if Yuna told the truth, Ryujin needs to be warmed up first.

You keep pushing into the older girl's mouth, while the younger one gets on the bed next to you.

Ryujin moans around your cock as she feels Yuna push her toy into her pussy. After a couple of moments, you feel Ryujin's tongue lick your tip, everytime you almost pull out. She seems to really enjoy this as she actively starts to suck you off.

Meanwhile, Yuna slowly fucks Ryujin's pussy with her candy cane dildo.

"This looks so good, daddy. Now I whish I had a cock."

You laugh at her as you have your way with Ryujin's mouth. By now, you've already placed your hands on the sides of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her.

The woman on her knees keeps moaning around your cock, in awe at how big it is. It barely fits into her mouth girth wise. And she doesn't even know how long it is. She gets a little scared, thinking about the fact that you might want to fuck her pussy. Is she even gonna be able go take it?

You keep thrusting in and out of Ryujin's mouth, her lips tightly wrapped around your cock.

"Do you need a hand, daddy?"

Yuna seems to have read your mind once again.

Before you can even nod, she has already removed the dildo. But not completely. It's tip still resting inside Ryujin. Everytime she moves just a little, it makes her squirm.

Yuna stand behind her unnie, wanting to make it easier for you to fuck her face. Forcing Ryujin's mouth open, Yuna hooks one of her fingers on either side into Ryujin's cheeks. This way, the older girl's mouth is open and she is unable to close it.

You now start to truly fuck her face. With an increasing pace, you use Ryujin's mouth and throat. The way her gag reflex massages your cock feels so good to you. Almost too good. Her eyes are still covered and she still can't hear anything. Wanting Ryujin to hear how dirty she sounds, you remove her earmuffs.

You silently look at Yuna and she gets the hint.

"Check out how dirty you sound, unnie. You are a real whore, aren't you?"

Ryujin tries to defend herself, but nothing more than gags escape her mouth.

Spit starts to leak out, coating her chin and adding to the wetness between her thighs.

"What do you think, unnie? Is he gonna fit in your pussy?"

You feel Ryujin trying to shake her head, but your hands keep it in place.

"Maybe we have to get you even wetter. What do you say?"

All three of you know, that Ryujin is unable to respond. Without warning, Yuna let's go of Ryujin's cheeks.

You feel the older girl's lips wrap tightly around your cock once more as your girlfriend skips back towards the bag.

"Don't peek."

Whatever she took, Yuna is hiding it. She even gets out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Ryujin doesn't even know that Yuna has left. Her own gagging is too loud to hear much else. You keep bruising her throat, not giving her a moment of rest.

A couple of moments later, Yuna comes back. She is now wearing the red lingerie you bought her. It's matching the color of her hair and is partially see through. You can see her nipples, while her tiny waist is decorated with a small golden chain. Just like strings from a thong.

"What do you think?"

You are in awe, stopping your relentless pounding into Ryujin's mouth to admire your girlfriend.

Only now you can see what she is holding in her hand. A strap on.

"You like my idea?"

You nod, still concealing your identity to Ryujin.

The young woman doesn't know what Yuna is talking about.

Your girlfriend starts to loosen the rope a little, making Ryujin fall forward. She is now hanging in midair, your cock now further down her throat. You didn't expect it to even be possible. Even Ryujin seems surprised, you are now so deep that it even suppresses her gag reflex. Your cock to big and heavy for her throat.

"Are you ready, unnie?"

Yuna doesn't wait for a response.

She slowly pushes into Ryujin's tight opening. Never in your right mid you thought this was possible. Spitroasting Ryujin together with your girlfriend.

The two of you quickly figure out a great rhythm. While you push forward, you make Ryujin take more of Yuna's strap on. When Yuna pushes forward, she makes Ryujin choke on your cock.

The two of you use both of her holes as you please, while Ryujin is unable to do or say something. Except for the occasional moan, her body is incapable of doing just about everything.

"Put this on her."

At one point, Yuna hands you something mettalic. It takes you a second, before you realize that she has given you a pair of nipple clamps, which are connected by a small chain.

You push the red ribbon off Ryujin's chest admiring her tits. They are slightly bigger than Yuna's. You give them both a squeeze, making Ryujin moand louder around your cock.

She shrieks in pain, when you suddenly put the nipple clamps on. Ryujin never expected Yuna to have something like this. It hurts and yet it makes her feel even better.

She feels her orgasm slowly approaching. Almost painfully slow. How much longer does she have to hold out? Her body is going to give up on her sooner or later.

The sight of Ryujin like this almost makes you cum. She is still kneeling on the bed, but her upper body is almost parallel to the mattress. Her throat is stuffed to the fullest with your cock. Yuna's strap on keeps pushing her onto you. The chain between the nipple clamps swings hypnotically.

You manage to motion to Yuna that you are close.

"Take her pussy, then. I bet unnie would love to feel your cock in her pussy before you cum."

Ryujin stiffens, having her doubts about Yuna's words. Are you really going to fit in her?

You pull out of her mouth, finally enabling her to talk again. Her throat and mouth are too sore though.

Yuna pulls out of Ryujin's pussy as well.

The two of you switch holes.

As Yuna thrusts her strap on into Ryujin's mouth, you align your cock with her pussy. Before you push in, you want her to know that it's you who is gonna fuck her.

"You are so wet for my cock, Ryujin."

You feel her tensing up and Yuna laughs.

"Who did you think it was, unnie? He is your daddy too now."

She shakes her head in protest.

But Ryujin is defenseless.

You push inside of her, conquering her pussy. Yuna bites her lip seeing you push inside her bandmate.

"Fuck, daddy. That looks so hot. Stretch her out real good."

You intend to do just that. Ryujin's tight pussy is unwilling to let you in, but you force yourself past her line of defense.

Because Yuna's dildo is still in her mouth, Ryujin is also unable to tell you to stop.

Once again, Yuna and you start to spitroast her. This time though, Ryujin flinches everytime you push further inside of her. Yuna was right, she really is fucking tight. But all of her juices makes it easier for you to glide in and out.

Now that Ryujin has found out its you, she tries to hold back her orgasm. She can't cum from your cock in her pussy. Never. To her, you are just some disgusting guy, who fucks hundreds of girls on camera for money. She hoped that Yuna would eventually wake up and see you as the bad person you truly are.

But she never expected this to happen. To being fucked by your big cock. And yes, Ryujin did watch your videos. But she only did it to get herself off. Is there something wrong with it? Surely not. Watching porn isn't as disgusting as making it.

Luckily, Yuna is already a step ahead of her. Unbeknownst to Ryujin, Yuna has set up a camera. You've seen it right as you came in, the two of you able to communicate without talking. You are gonna blurr Ryujin's and Yuna's faces and put this up on a couple of sites. Yuna ensured that the audio isn't very good, which means no one should be able to find out that it's Ryujin and Yuna.

The thought of filming a dirty video with two insanely famous idols makes you want to deliver your best performance.

Ryujin's pussy is slowly getting stretched like never before. You keep pushing further and further, making her take as much as Yuna does. Around four quarters of your cock.

When you hit the mark, Ryujin finally cums. She held herself back until now, the disgust she has for you finally washed away by the waves of her orgasm. She climax around your cock, moaning and shaking.

"Good girl."

Yuna pats her head. Enjoying the fact that she can completely dominate the older woman.

Your thrusting has become faster by now. Your orgasm slowly approaches as well. Ryujin's pussy is just so tight. You wonder how many guys had her before. It can't be a lot, considering that she is an idol and a modest girl. But she definitely is not a virgin.

You come up with ideas for the title of the video, trying to prevent yourself from cuming, although you almost achieve the opposite.

'Christmas bondage'

'Spitroasting her roommate'

'Forcing the tight Korean girl to take my cock'

There are more in the back of your mind, but you have to take a break. This is just making you cum faster.

Ryujin's moans has become louder again as Yuna also starts to rub Ryujin's clit. The stimulation is too much for her. She cums for a second time around your cock.

Her pussy squeezes you with all its might, trying to make you blow your load inside of her.

"I'm almost there."

You manage to hiss out. Yuna grins at you.

"Yes, daddy. Cum for your new play toy."

She pulls the strap on out of Ryujin's mouth.

"Where do you want it, unnie?"

By now, even Ryujin knows that there is no use to denying that she doesn't like this. But she has to safe face.

"I don't want it anywhere."

"Come on, unnie. Don't be a chill kill."

Yuna looks at you.

"I know you will, cum like a thunder."

(Author's note: Sorry I had to.)

Ryujin shakes her head.

"Do you want him to fill you up? It always pust me in a better mood. Or do you wanna swallow? His cum tastes amazing."

Ryujin shakes her head again.

You keep pounding into her, squeezing her delicious ass cheeks with your hands.

After breaking her, you wonder what could be as humiliating and degrading to Ryujin as possible. Of course you don't want to overdo it. But this might be your one and only chance.

"Or how about your tits?"

Yuna carelessly pulls at the chain.

It makes Ryujin scream. It makes her release an orgasm she didn't know she was holding in. Her walls hugg your cock tighter than ever before. Her juices force themselves past your cock as she starts squirting. All of her body was sensitive. But her nipples are her weak spot. She even didn't know that herself.

Ryujin cums uncontrollably. It almost could've been funny. If it weren't for the fact that you are still inside of her.

Because her orgasm triggers yours as well. You never thought that Ryujin could become this tight. Luckily, you already picked a spot.

While Ryujin still moans loudly, you pull out of her tight cunt.

"Fuck."

You groan as you lean forward, cuming all over Ryujin's dark hair. Ropes of your cum hit her silk like hair as you climax.

Ryujin can feel your cum. Embarrassment, disgust, anger start to grow in her stomach at first.

But when she hears you groan behind her, your cum staining and completely ruining her hair, Ryujin's feelings change. She somehow feels proud that she made you cum. As if she is just a good of a fuck as those cheap pornstars.

As she realizes this, she can't help but feel a little disgusted by herself.

After just having come back down from one of the most intense orgasms she's ever had, Ryujin's energy is completely drained.

But she can't help but turn her head in your direction.

"Do you have plans for new years?"

You are surprised at her question, but you choose to wait.

It's silent for a moment, before Ryujin finally loses all of her remaining dignity.

"Do you have any plans, d-daddy?"

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

Hi, everyone!

I hope you are satisfied with this one.

I wish all of you Merry Christmas or something else if you don't celebrate Christmas.

See you next Friday!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #itzy x reader #itzy #shin yuna #yuna #yuna itzy #yuna smut #ryujin #ryujin smut #ryujin itzy #christmas #itzy smut

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luveline · 4 months

Note

your bombshell!reader x spencer is feeding me so well, i'm obsessed!! SJSJS since we've seen reader jealous, is it possible to have a fic where it's spencer that's jealous?

thank u!! fem!reader

Your outfit today is simple. Pencil skirt, dark stockings, hair pristine. The thing that catches Spencer's attention, holds it between two squeezing palms, is the shirt and blazer ensemble you've styled. It's cut to fit, sleek and dark and hard to look away from.

You brush past the back of Hotch's chair with a sigh, clearly unaware of the attention you're garnering from across the way. “What's wrong with him?” you ask.

“The same thing as usual,” Hotch says.

“It's not like we've ever instantly solved a case. Gideon knows this takes time.”

Elle pokes her tongue into her cheek, eyes flared wide. She says a lot without saying anything, flicking through the police files in front of her dispassionately.

“How come you stayed?”

It takes Spencer a moment to realise you're talking to him. “What?”

“You didn't go with Gideon?” You hold your chin in your hand. “Not getting along anymore?”

Spencer isn't not getting along with his mentor. He would've accompanied Gideon to meet with a past mass murderer, only you're here, and so he'd found unrelated reasons to stay.

“We're fine,” Spencer says, not wanting to say more and give himself away.

“Well, he took Morgan.” You pout, your voice dripping to a wistful whine. “What am I gonna do now without him? None of you guys ever wanna play with me.”

Hotch smiles to himself. Spencer's stomach ties itself in knots, a tight noose that grows tighter still when you notice his expression and lean in toward your superior. “What's that smile for, Hotchner?”

“Don't you have emails to look through?”

You hold your cheek in your hand lightly, fingertips digging into the soft of your cheek. Your smile is like a kick to the chest, achingly sweet on such a pretty face. “No…” Your pinky digs into the corner of your mouth. “I don't remember that being on my agenda today.”

“Consider it an addition.”

Is Hotch flirting back? Spencer isn't sure why that strikes him so hard. Maybe because Hotch would actually have a chance with you if he wanted it; your flirting with Hotch is more real than if it were with Spencer, because Spencer is a twenty-something know-it-all who still dresses like his mom buys his clothes.

“It's a lot of emails, boss,” you say.

“You have time. Start with the ones sent by Hughes and work your way down.” Hotch slides the login information across the desk into your reach.

You look at it unhappily. Look up at him.

Just being looked at by you is a full body experience. Whenever you look at him, he begs himself to play it cool as Hotch is now, to treat it as the affectionate playfulness of a friend rather than serious flirting. He'd have a better chance of being taken seriously by you if he didn't blush whenever you so much as breathed in the same room.

He wishes he could respond calmly like Hotch. (He wishes you'd flirt with him and him alone. He buries that deep.)

Envy eats at his hands. Pins and needles he tries to shake away. His movements draw your attention, and your smile worsens, which is to say sweetens, like seeing him again is a treat for the eyes.

“You'll help me, won't you, baby?” you ask.

He goes a little blind.

Hotch and Elle watch the encounter with similar parts pity and amusement.

“You can read through them so quickly, I could really use your…” —you drag your fingertips down your face until your nails are at your jaw— “expertise.”

“Reid has his own tasks–”

“I can help,” Spencer interrupts.

You drop your hand from your face altogether. “Thank you. Have I mentioned how much I missed you while I was away?”

“Only five times,” Elle says under her breath.

“They try so very hard to keep us apart. It's not fair.”

Because unlike Reid, you don't have multiple degrees. You're still learning, and you can't be here permanently, but your talent, your knack for profiling, is unignorable. You're guaranteed a place on the team as soon as you can prove yourself to Strauss. Without a Gideon to vouch for you, that could take a while, and yet you're never jealous of Spencer skipping a few hurdles to get here.

If anything, you admire him. “They don't understand our bond, that's all. And together we're hard to beat. Isn't that right, Spence?”

Perhaps Spencer shouldn't be jealous. You don't call Hotch by anything so saccharine, after all.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

otaku553 · 25 days

Text

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

#one piece #cat burglar nami #nico robin

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rubra-wav · 28 days

Note

(Wearing their clothes anon) Sorry! For Lucifer, Vox, Velvette, Carmilla, Rosie, Angel, Alastor and Pentious

Various! Hazbin x reader stealing their clothes

A/N I ended up only doing them SFW because I just couldn't see most of them being into that. I will probably make a part 2 for Vox, though, because he'd DEFINITELY be into that.

How do you even manage to be smaller then Lucifer, he's like 5'2" LMAO (I am literally an inch taller than him IRL)

CW: SFW, gn!reader, Masc reader for Angel, somewhat suggestive in parts, very slight reference to violence in some, established romantic relationship

Lucifer

- If you came out of your room dressed in his usual outfit, he'd absolutely squeal upon seeing you.

- He would like it very much and thinks you look absolutely adorable in his getup.

- At home, he'd probably just wanna cuddle up to you and play with your (his technically) long sleeves while you watched something or doomscrolled for a while.

- In public he'd be a blushing mess though. (Assuming you'd be wearing his shirt and jacket - he'd likely ask you to change if you were wearing his whole outfit)

- He'd feel an odd sense of embarrassment but also particularly pride about it in public.

- He's so used to being short that if he was out showing you off it'd kind of be a middle finger to people who called him short in a way.

- And also because it's you in his clothes. Basically cementing yourself as being his partner.

- One of the people who would be NSFW about it.

Vox

- He'd love it.

- Especially if it was ridiculously huge on you - like his suit jacket or his button ups in particular.

- In general a partner who's smaller then him would make him feel much more powerful then one he has to look up to, but in his clothes?

- I'm trying to keep it SFW here but yeah 🤨

- If you were wearing his pants and they were super huge on you he'd probably be annoyed though, they'd be getting messed up due to dragging on the ground which is something that'd bother him.

- In public (assuming your relationship is known of. Would be an absolute no to wearing his clothes out if you weren't known about) he would be beaming with pride about it.

- Like Lucifer, it'd cement you as being his partner.

- He'd probably be protective possessive of you in his clothes. If someone tries to even talk to you while you're in his clothes, he would likely be fuming.

- Vox's hands would also likely be on you at all times if you were out with him and wearing his clothes.

Velvette

- If it was anything that was dragging on the floor or getting even slightly crinkled if you wore it she would throw an absolute fit about it.

- She's way too particular about her clothes being treated properly.

- If you're treating her clothes well or if it's something she cares about less? She would probably think you looked very postable like that - which is a good thing in her terms of course.

- Would absolutely want to put photos of you online wearing her stuff. Especially if you both ended up doing an outfit swap with each other due to it.

- Couple stuff gets a ton of likes, and she wants to show you off like the fine arm candy you are to be her partner!

- Probably would not want you wearing her clothes out, though. You would be wearing clothes that fit you or looked perfect for your body type - not hers.

- Most you would get would possibly be her jacket out in public, but even that's unlikely, considering she always picks out every article of clothing and accessory perfectly for her outfits.

Carmilla

- Carmilla would likely see you wearing her clothes and just chuckle, asking you what you thought you were doing exactly.

- She wouldn't feel much of which way about it, just that you were incredibly cute trying to strut around like she usually would in her shirt.

- May try to dance with you since you "so obviously want to be in her shoes"

- slowly guiding you through steps with her through the tango, carefully leading with a look of pure delight on her face.

- Would kiss you on the forehead afterwards.

- Out in public she wouldn't want you to wear her clothes at all however.

- She's the main weapons dealer in hell, a lot of people want her head on a plate for that.

- She would just not feel comfortable having you possibly be mistaken as her or targeted by those people over that.

Rosie

- She wouldn't feel any which way about it either.

- But, she would of course tell you you look absolutely darling.

- Rosie would absolutely be one to pat you on the head about stuff. This included.

- If it's not one of her good dresses or skirts you're wearing.

- She's nowhere near as outright rude about it as Velvette or Vox, but she will firmly ask that you don't wear her good dresses so they don't drag on the ground.

- Outside of clothes, she does like to give you her hat though because it's comically large on your head and it's really cute to her.

- There is absolutely a photo of you with her hat on your head, it falling into your eyes as you smile at the camera.

- In public she wouldn't mind if you wear her clothes out, but she would be scared you would trip over as her skirts are very long.

Angel

- Angel is another one who would love to see you wearing his clothes, not for underlying lewd reasons (surprisingly), but because he thinks you look awesome in his outfits.

- It brings him joy in a way he can't quite describe to see you in his stuff.

- He knows his getups are cool, and to have you, his partner, in his really cool outfits? He loves it.

- Also finds it funny too to see you so small in comparison to clothes and tripping over yourself trying to parade around in some of them.

- Out in public he would probably be encouraging you to wear his stuff because he just likes seeing you wearing his clothes.

- Provided you stay close to him out in public though.

- He's got some insane fanboys and if they saw his boyfriend in his clothes? Shit would hit the fan.

- Without him he wouldn't let you wear his stuff out. Just would put you in danger.

Alastor

- If you were wearing his clothes, it would be because he allowed you to. Ie. Leant you his coat if you were cold.

- In the case of him letting you borrow his stuff, he'd likely just laugh at how oversized it was on you.

- He'd likely say you look darling in it as well, similarly to Rosie but inherently teasing rather than loving like her.

- He sees people smaller then him and likes to pick on them for it a bit.

- Also would probably try hold it over your head as his 'kindness' to you later

- If you showed up in his clothes (not an imitation but his clothes) without permission, though, he'd be incredibly unhappy about that.

- This man seems like the type to hate people touching his possessions without permission, so you showing up in his stuff wouldn't be cute or even him laughing at you - he'd be pretty angry about it and straight up tell you to change.

Sir Pentious

- He'd get all googly eyed about it.

- Would see you swimming in his coat because it's made to fit him as someone with a snake tail instead of legs and just wanna sweep you in close to him.

- He has pretty low self-esteem about himself so seeing you wearing his clothes is pretty much you telling him even more that you don't actually think he's a loser who's kind of gross like a lot of other people in the series think he is.

- Thinks it's just the sweetest thing and likely wants you to wear his clothes often after the first time he sees you in them.

- Somewhat flustered by you wearing them around others and in public because he thinks you two doing PDA/openly expressing you are a couple is somewhat scandalous, but he also does like it very much.

- Would probably try bullshit about him not liking it that much, but it's obvious as it gets.

Some fluff for today 🙏

My requests are still shut rn but they should be opening soon. I'm gonna be trying to finally get chapter 2 of why So blue out tomorrow or the day after. Likely the day after bc it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm doing stuff 🫶

Masterlist

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controld3vil · 20 days

Text

atreides and bene gesserit

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic), austin butler x actor!reader

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: as clueless as you were about your sister's role, it brought you much surprise and joy to see her on the same carpet as you.

notes: reader uses fem pronouns as she's playing a role as a bene gesserit. reader is also described as wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit. and i really enjoyed lea seydoux's performance and hope to see more of it !! this is also COMPLETELY separate from the first two posts ive made since the readers r playing different characters yeah?

When Denise Villeneuve asked you about the role of Lady Margot Fenring, you were genuinely shocked about his decision. You appreciated his works but have never gotten close to any of his sets before. You have worked with directors who've admired Villeneuve for his imaginative mind. And now, you witnessed his creativity in person for the first time.

The role was small and not as significant as the other main leads. Regardless, your character was just as enigmatic and complex as any other in the Dune franchise. Even though your time was short, it was a fun experience to learn and observe from. You weren't able to meet the entire cast after production, but with the NYC premiere, you were able to link up again.

You heard your name being called out. "Hello! How are you?" The well-known comedian and presenter by the name of Amelia Dimonberg was now beside you. In her jet-black corset dress, her style is chic and elegant. She hands you a microphone with the film's title plastered on it. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you!" you sweetly recuperate, diverting your shoulders to the sight, cutely. You give a little pose before complimenting her own outfit. "You as well!"

"Do you have a memorable day on set that sticks out to you?" Amelia questions, subtly leaning toward your direction. And now you noticed her detailed eye makeup which enhances her outfit altogether.

"Well- I've had, like, only a few days," You let out a quick sigh. Truly it was nothing to be embarrassed about but you could not help but feel shy about it.

"Mmhmm! So all of them?"

"Yeah, all of them!" With ease, your shyness turns into giddy laughter as all you remember from your times on set. Recalling those tiny moments brought a small smile to your face. "Every day counted for me and that was enough."

"Oh absolutely!" Amelia chides, nodding in agreement. She quickly then moves onto the next question, "How long do you think you could last in the actual desert?"

"Oo that's a tough question," Lifting your fingers to rest on your chin as you try to contemplate an answer. "Ideally no- I feel like I could never recover from the heat."

"Yes yes, the heat's very intense,"

"Yeah- no I don't think I'd ever leave my house for that-" You shake your head nonchalantly, acknowledging how most of your scenes already were indoors. You could imagine how you would do in the desert of Abu Dhabi. It makes you appreciate the cast and crew even more for their effort to make filming more comforting and tolerable.

"Where would be your dream location to hang out? I'm assuming your home then since you prefer to say inside?" The blonde interviewer quickly catches on, eyebrows raising intrigued by your response.

Instead, you hummed bashfully, "Actually I think an oasis would be nice." The camera catches onto Amelia's face, fully fixated on you. "Which fits perfectly if I were to live in the desert actually!"

"Mm yeah, smart choice!" She responds more cheerily. "You can maybe go for a swim, you know-"

"Right right," You give her an playful look, "And you don't have to go thirsty!"'

"Absolutely, the best of both worlds," Amelia chirps, doing the same expression. "So this film centers a lot around dreams. Do you have vivid dreams of yourself?"

"Yes! I've uh- I've had many dreams of myself. I mean, this one, for example-" You turn to the camera, waving with the most adorable smile on your face. "'I'm living my dream right now!"

"You're living your dream right now!"

In another section of the premiere, you were walking down the carpet for press interviews and photography. The set where the premiere was taking place was gorgeously made in the shades of black and orange, the perfect theme of the film. The entire venue was outdoors, allowing you to feel the cold air and be more at ease in the crowded space. There were more paparazzi than you had expected, and you suddenly became aware that you were alone. Without any friend or acquaintance to accompany by, you searched aimlessly for a familiar face.

Then there was a holler. And then multiple more came after, it made you confused really. Your head swerves to the sound of the person you so try to look for and immediately you're struck in awe.

"Anya?!" In an instant, you're seen running towards your sister in the far back of the premiere wall. People were reluctantly used to fast-paced relocations around the carpet. Therefore most did not mind your hasty stumbles through the crowd. It was almost comical how apparent your demeanor changed when you heard her, in fact, videos and pictures caught all of it.

"Hi!" She beams in her white dress robe. Her makeup was glowing, making her skin seem angelic, and sheer without impurities. Her outfit covers her like a nun, covering her head and body in almost transparent cloth. Yet it flows around her so elegantly, almost like she was an angel from the stars. She squeezes your figure firmly, only after releasing to gush about your appearance.

You adored a beige sleeveless jumpsuit. The color is complimented with tiny designs of sparkle. Its seams captured your figure perfectly, as you also wore a gold chain and bulky rings. From the lighting, it looks as though your outfit is shining. And to be completely honest, you prefer comfort over the judging looks of fashion critics. Therefore you wanted to wear something that you could still move comfortably in. Thus you were able to run over to your sister with ease.

Through the other lens and camera, they could pick up some of her words after. "You look so gorgeous! How are you here?!" Anya's expression changes into a perplexed one as she gets a hold of your shoulders, shaking them back and forth.

"I was invited obviously, "You said, mimicking her voice while holding onto her arms on yours. "You didn't tell me you were a part of Dune!" Viewers from afar could tell you were pushing an act, reacting as though you were petrified about how Anya managed to be here in the first place.

"I didn't know you were either!" She giggled, closing in on your right ear. Your sister whispers to you slowly, trying to withdraw from the camera and recordings. "Villeneuve had mentioned something but honestly I just thought it was a joke."

It was your turn to guff. Your mouth opens wide flabbergasted, looking sarcastically offended. "Why would you think he's joking?!"

Anya scoffs lightly, wanting to go further with the joke. "I don't know- I just didn't take his word seriously,"

"Why? Because you didn't think I'd make it into the film?" You accused, eyes widening with a hand over your heart. "You're so cruel."

"So cruel," She smirks up at you, then moves back to be by your side. You see her face forward the flashing cameras, as you do the same. "Come! Let's take some pictures!"

"Your outfit looks beautiful by the way!" Anya Taylor muses, eyeing down at the fine details on your jumpsuit. "It's very... you!"

You give her a nod, before flattening some of the creases, "I thought this color was so exquisite, so I thought it would be perfect for the premiere." You lift your head to look at your sister, before realizing behind her, the upcoming stars of the film were getting ready to take cast photos. "Oh Anya- I think you should go!"

Your sister turns and then gazes back at you with a soft smile. "You should come with me!"

The thunder of cameramen and journalist blurred your focus for a moment. "Are you sure-"

Again the sound of your name is hurdled but this time from someone you haven't seen in a long time. Jessica Ferguson, who too wears a black body suit with veils and bold makeup. She waves her hand almost too eagerly to have you come closer alongside your sister. "Come, join us!"

Videos were filmed of the people gesturing to the cast of Dune in a line. Little by little, the row of people is filled and organized to be in the center of the camera's focus. Some actors had to move spots, due to lack of space or better color semblance on the other side of the row. You stood next to Jessica and Florence Pugh was beside your right, as you tried to stand closer for the picture.

Anya Taylor was on the opposite side, with Austin Butler and beside him, Timothee Chalamet. A noticeable clip taken all over was when the French actor went to greet the English actress, warmly, clasping her hand with both hands as a proper salute as on-screen siblings.

You did not mind the lack of attention. You were happy for Anya for achieving a great role. One with a welcoming cast and crew. It was then your eyes scanned down the row, from Zendaya to Stellan Skarsgard. Then to Austin, whom you've been familiar with since day one. Only him to find your gaze seconds later. You give a little nod and smile before averting your direction to Anya who is already staring at you with gleaming eyes.

You were going back and forth with Jessica and Florence on your travels for a while. From plans reception to favorite desserts, all you three wanted to talk about was food. Paparazzi caught onto your banter quickly and snapped a few photos. You even went out of your way to do silly poses. Followed by Jessica and Florence, then did the same, sticking their tongues out in a rock star kind of fashion. You throw out piece signs, giving a dramatic frown as another flash happens.

Catch-ups were definitely refreshing and fun. Thus why you nearly jump when Austin appeared behind you.

"Oh my gosh, hey!" You stuttered, giving him a quick hug to calm your nerves. "You scared me!"

"Sorry sorry! I just wanted to surprise you!" He leans his head slightly, allowing better eye contact. You felt a few taps on your shoulder and noticed Jessica and Florence scurrying away, with their thumbs up, all goofy and excited.

Your eyes make it back to his. "I would've said hi back at the cast photo, but you were so far away," Shrugging you dismiss your failure as a mild missed opportunity.

But Austin shakes his head in an averted manner. "No- Don't worry about it." You could already sense interviewers and others with microphones closing on you two. You were out in the open, and it's bound to happen. "I wanted to- you know, say hi to you in a less chaotic place."

"I tried looking for you but there's just so many people," You give your costar an exhausted look. It was then a keen young man approached the pair of you. It was the People magazine, as you became aware of the logo alongside their camera and microphone.

"Hey, would you two mind a short interview for People's magazine?"

Truly, this was what premieres were about. The cast and crew meet with fans to show what they have worked so hard for. You brought you no better satisfaction than to praise everyone's efforts. The interviewer then proceeded to have a quick introduction of you and Austin beside you. You both had separate microphones in each hand. Once the video started rolling, you peered at the camera and gave the audience a grin.

"So how are you guys doing? Met all of your lovely cast members yet?"

"Oh absolutely," You emphasized every syllable, nodding. Austin only glances at you in amusement. "It's crazy how many people are here I was so overwhelmed!"

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded," The male actor adds, lowering his microphone slightly.

"Hopefully it will die down!" The interviewer beams. "So what was it like getting to know each other in this film? How was the first day on set like?"

"Oh, well it went very smoothly," You start, staring up at Austin in approval. "Even though my time was short on set, I feel like we had a pretty good rhythm starting out."

"I was about to say! The scenes with Feyd and Lady Margot were really something!"

"Why thank you, we appreciate it," Austin nervously laughs, scratching his ear.

The interviewer takes the lead to discuss your preparation for the role and how it was working with Villeneuve. As new characters, you and Austin both talked about your views on both of your characters. Both are very different yet mysterious to the viewers. Additionally, you two were introduced in a similar scene of the pit fight. The People's Magazine interviewer was compelled to compliment Austin on his opening scene. You knew he had practiced the choreographed fights vigorously. And of which you were lucky to witness on the days that you were present.

"It was completely freeing and different than what I was used to doing," Austin probes, leaning toward your direction. "Were you there for the pit fight?"

"I think I was," You turn, similarly. "I remember watching from afar and thinking wow." Immediately you could sense him eagerly looking down at you with a sly smile. "He was- Austin did amazing with the fight choreography, I was impressed!"

"Was this the first time seeing him in full costume too?"

"Oh yes!" You bonked your hand on your forehead, "He was and I just- couldn't believe it was him!"

Suddenly Austin jumps in, "She was startled when I first came up to her in full costume."

"You came out of nowhere, by the way!" You rebutted, giving him a side glance.

"I didn't mean to," As he tries to reassure his actions, "I wanted to give a good first impression!" It was humorous how playful you two were together despite having dissimilar filming schedules. Though most of your scenes involved Butler, your friendship only became more apparent weeks after working together. It was off and on for months at a time due to being busy in other countries simultaneously.

Eventually, you were able to link up again weeks before the premiere. After waiting a long time to meet up, you almost felt relieved that you hadn't seen your costar in a while.

"And Austin, how was filming with her?! From a character's standpoint, what kind of dynamic do you see playing out?" The People's Magazine interviewer perks up, having the camera transition from his face to Austin's.

"Well I'd say, she's great. You know I've got to meet a lot of amazing people in this film. And," He says your name sincerely, "She's- she's one of those people. I can't say much for Lady Margot and Feyd's relationship- you know there's a lot of that's still not uncovered. We don't really know what's happening but kind of have an idea of something. And to have such a great actress like her, it makes everything feel authentic and- feel the tension." It felt as if you were in a daze, eyes completely focused on his words with such admiration and grace. Before you knew it, you were smiling as if you had won the best possible prize in the world. His compliments to you meant more than you had anticipated really.

Unbeknownst to you, the cameraman had caught your lovestruck expression before directing attention back to the interviewer. "And how about you, Miss Margot?"

"I'd say it's the same," Now looking at the interviewer, only momentarily back at your costar. "Austin's- he's great at all the stunts and acting like a scary dude. Every scene with him was fun to do. Like he's all serious in character but once they yell cut! he's so nice and funny!" Your bubbly laugh breaks as you can feel your face growing hot.

"Well I appreciate you liking my humor," Austin pokes fun at you, fanning a little air towards you.

You mutter a soft thank you! before continuing, "And he's dedicated you know? I remember one scene, a little spoiler, where Feyd is about to be tested by Lady Margot, and I just couldn't do it! I couldn't keep a straight face!"

"Really?!"

"She just kept breaking, I don't know why," The actor shrugs, his attention closely drawn to you. "We had a few takes on a few days."

"We did! We did!" You gave a big frown, "You just have a really distracting face."

"Do I?" Austin asks, between the lines of teasing and coolly.

By the time, other premieres had occurred, people were still focused on your interactions with Austin Butler. Your chemistry on and off screen on the carpet was hilarious. And with how polarizing your characters were, it made many clips of your shared encounters gain attention.

A few short videos were recorded after the People Magazine interview of you and Austin, bashfully talking behind the stage. The two of you went back and forth whispering in each other's ears about what was unknown to the viewer. Through a bird's eye view, the video also catches you hugging your arms before zooming in on Austin's placing an arm around your figure.

Another clip that had been reposted many times was when you both took duo pictures together. As you comfortably shift your weight on one leg, as you turn to have your side face the flashing paparazzi. Whilst the Elvis actor stands beside you at a pleasant distance, doing the same pose to the other side. There was one instance where you lifted your head to make eye contact with your eyes instantly brightening. As Austin's smile widened, only to blow air in your face.

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bi-writes · 22 days

Text

the lamb experiment

a body is given. and it cannot be taken back.

pairing: ghost (+ tf141) x curvy!fem!reader word count: 6.3k summary: the 141 are not known for their pliancy. in an effort to take back control, they send a lamb to slaughter.

cw: (18+) mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!tf141, military criticism, unhealthy power dynamics, graphic descriptions of violence + gore + torture + murder, themes of dubcon (but reader is consenting), piv, cumplay, fear play, size kink, praise kink, curvy!reader with hair long enough to hold

You don't think you've ever been the object of anyone's affections, not really. Although you are blessed with many gifts, even physically, you do not see yourself that way when you look in the mirror. How you feel inside betrays you when you look in one, and instead of staring too long, you always turn away.

This time, you stare. Because her ass looks nice, and her skin looks soft, and her face isn't disagreeable.

This reflection almost terrifies you. In front of you lies a woman you do not know.

She looks good. Your clothes are a size too snug, and it squeezes all the parts of you that normally you attempt to hide. Your thighs, the cinch of your waist, every curve you cover up with your uniform normally is on display, and instead of your hair in a standard bun, it lays free. You are anything but the soldier you always see, and just when you think about running, there is a knock at the bathroom door.

You open it, straightening out your outfit, and you look down shyly when you see the face on the other side of the door.

"It's...a little tight," you say, tugging at the waistband of your pants, but the woman tuts, crossing her arms over her chest as she steps back to look you up and down.

"It's as it should be," she responds, very matter-of-fact. "Now follow me. Need to debrief before your flight."

Her name is Laswell. You have not been graced with any other name, and you suspect it is because she wants you to call her Laswell and nothing else. She is blunt and intelligent, and there is no room for anything but the truth with her. If you answer her with a lie, she waits until she hears what she knows is expected.

When you sit, she spreads a few files out in front of you. Four manila folders, three packed with documents and pictures, one with documents only. You reach for one, eyeing the labeled name.

MacTavish.

You open it, and you're overwhelmed with the information. You see a man with pretty blue eyes and a military history that would put your old squadron to shame. Flicking through the pages, there are numerous confirmed kills, no small list of disarmed explosives, reports written by others and himself that even at a quick glance exude something impressive, utmost intelligence and extensive knowledge. You take note of his unique hairstyle; shaved sides of his head and tuffs of dark waves that run down the middle. You acknowledge how much you like when it gets a little long, falling in curls over his forehead.

The next file is equally as large. You flip it over, and you tilt your head to the side when you see a picture of him. He isn't posing, but his stature is one of confidence, and he's gorgeous. A strong facial structure, dark eyes. He keeps his hair short, and his skin is dark, and as your eyes roam lower, you notice the strong muscles of his forearms as he grips a rifle. His skill sheet is no less impressive than his sergeant counterpart. He has been in so many dangerous situations, and he comes out with nothing but scratches; and he seems to be deadlier with nothing but his hands than any small firearm could be.

Kyle. It's fitting.

You look away from his pretty face to their commanding officer. There is a picture of him with the other two sergeants, and you notice how he stands taller than them, but just as broad, and you think military fatigues suit him well. He wears his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and you can see the expanse of his strong arms and his large hands, and you take note of his carefully sculpted beard and the hat he wears. When you flip through the history, you are overwhelmed with the amount of ops he carries under his belt. This man is a war machine. You suspect there is a number on his head somewhere, in some distant country, and it makes you shift in your seat when you realize this isn't someone easy to kill.

He does the killing. And that's all that matters to the Crown.

John. That is the one that has to matter most.

"He's the one who calls the shots." Laswell's voice cuts through your heavy thoughts. She takes the last folder and opens it for you, and immediately you notice the lack of photos here. "But this is the glue."

Ghost. That is the name that sits on the official documents, but there is a dirty sticky note pasted next to it with Laswell's chicken scratch.

Simon Riley.

"His name is redacted," she says simply. "And so is his face."

"He has no face?" You ask, and when you realize how you worded it, you think it a stupid sentence, but Laswell only stares.

"Not one that matters," she responds. You look back down at the documents. He is tall, and you observe that he's most skilled with a sniper rifle, although he doesn't lack confidence or efficacy in any other form of combat. Hand-to-hand, smaller firearms, rifles, he uses them all with a terrifying accuracy, and you pull the papers closer to you as you read more.

"The glue," you murmur, not quite understanding. "And what am I supposed to be?"

"The solvent. The hammer. Whatever the fuck I need you to be."

The thing that breaks it apart. The thing that tears. The thing that makes them bleed.

And so you lie. It is what you do, what you are taught. Laswell is good at it, and you are a fish to water with it. You lie until it comes as easy as breathing, you learn to pretend until it is all you know, and when you create your second life, it is easy because it is the only one Laswell tells you to know.

You are a soldier, and you do as you're told. When your orders are to forget who you were and become something else, you do it, because that is how it works. And you know what you are in Laswell's eyes--you are a weapon, and you gave your body to the state, and she can do what she pleases with it.

And you know, really, what she expects you to do.

It isn't spoken of. She never says it out loud. But when you study the files she gives you, you notice there are more details that what is necessary. You learn more about them, in ways that feel intimate, that feel secret.

That John's favorite color is red. That MacTavish likes a traditional meal. That Kyle has a sweet tooth and likes jazz. That Ghost downs two fingers of Kentucky bourbon to unwind.

They are things to help make them agreeable, you think, but agreeable in what way is up to you.

But red looks good in lace. You've been told the stomach is the way to the heart. Chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. And alcohol is the perfect enabler--and armed with this information, you will divide and conquer.

Break and tear apart. Separate. Sever the bond. That is your mission, that is what you've been told to do, and you will do it because that is what a good soldier does, and this is all you are.

Laswell's pet. Her pretty little soldier. The hammer to her nail, the bone for her dogs, the string that will mend the ones snapped by her own puppets.

She wants control, and she isn't stupid, and neither are you. When you look in the mirror again, you understand why she picked you. No matter how far her men stray, they cannot change what they are at their core.

Men.

And men are fickle.

You suspect, you hope, even these ones are. They are not gentle, and Laswell makes sure that you learn well why it is they need supervision. She shows you pictures, videos, eyewitness statements of their spiral into violence.

It's not that they weren't war criminals before, but they were her war criminals. Unsanctioned ops, sure, but they toed a line that was drawn for them. But then the red tape became too much, even if there wasn't very much of it for them.

They began to ignore orders. When they were told to stay put, a sergeant would slip off, and under the guise of protecting them, all four would end up in a firefight. And when this became a frequent excuse, they stopped coming up with them. They simply showed up in manila folders like the ones you held, enemy casualties sometimes in the hundreds, and they did not appear even when required.

Debriefing? Their connection was bad. A hearing in front of their superiors? They're on a mark, and they cannot move. And then it was just silence. The occasional response to real crisis, and then back underground, until all Laswell could get from them were limbs taken off the enemies they weren't allowed to kill just yet.

They knew how to disappear. They knew how to hide. They knew how to stay put, come back up overground, and then scurry back underneath where no one would find them.

But that wouldn't do. Not for the CIA, not for SAS, not for either of their governments who soon realized they had let loose a group of soldiers-turned-mercenaries who hold valuable secrets that could put their politicians at the forefront of Congressional hearings, NATO violations, and then in the right mess of breaking off relations with a numerous amount of countries they already held fragile relationships with.

The 141 is a liability. They need to be the ones pulling the reigns again, no matter the cost--and they tell Laswell to do it, and to spare no expense and to pull back the curtain on what she believes might be crossing even the lines she has drawn before, to go beyond it.

She draws this line around you. A circle, a fence, wrapping around you as she molds you into what she needs you to be. She is honest. Not always kind, but honest, and because she is, you want to succeed.

Finally, you can be of use. Finally, there is something that will give you purpose. Even if it hurts, even if it kills you, you want to give her what she needs, because it isn't fair.

You have already given them everything, and you have nothing to show for it. So you paint your face, and you zip up the tight pants, you lie and you learn and you listen, and when she tells you that they will not be gentle, all you reply is, "I won't be either."

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

You are wearing red when John sees you for the first time. It is in your hair, a bright red scarf that keeps it out of your face, and you know he looks right at you and not through you when your eyes meet.

When he eyes the open door of your room later that evening, you pretend not to notice his gaze when he drinks in the sight of you in red lingerie.

It is the first morning you are with them that Johnny wakes to the smell of something in the rec room. You stand there, at the stove, stirring a wooden spoon in a warm pot, and when he steps in, you turn to see him, and you smile. You exchange no words, but when you hold a tasting spoon out to him with a soft potato and a spoonful of wonderful broth, he can't help the way he closes his eyes. There's a beautiful woman cooking stovies in the rec room, and when he opens his eyes, you are looking right back at him.

And then it's the music that plays in the evening that catches Kyle's attention. They are trailing back to their rooms after drills, and he catches sight of you in your room, and he can hear Ella Fitzgerald, and when you look over your shoulder, he is there, and he doesn't shy away.

And then--fuck--it is so easy.

Wherever you go, they follow. Unconsciously, you suspect, but they do, and you live the lie, and it feels fucking euphoric. You know you've won when you run your knuckles down John's cheek for the first time, and he keens, nuzzling the side of his face into your hand and chasing after your touch.

They are animals. You watch them when you join them on ops, rifle in front of you as you follow them, and you keep a neutral face as you observe them wreak havoc. They kill and they maim, and they sleep like the dead at night, as if the heinous ways they kill do not bother them at all. John points, and Kyle pulls the trigger. John nods his head, and Johnny detonates, nothing but a dull reflection in those blue eyes. John clicks his teeth, and Ghost sweeps.

He sweeps, and he kills, and if it wasn't so fucking terrifying, you would have admired the way he did it. The elegance that he took on an entire room of moving targets, how he never let himself be pinned down in one spot. Whenever someone gets too close, he goes hand-to-hand, and it's fucking brutal the way he finishes them off. He keeps throwing knives in his boot, and they sink into eye sockets as if running through tender meat. He puts blades through their mouths and doesn't let them go until the light leaves their eyes.

You hate that it makes you warm. That there is something deep in your belly, that twists there, that tells you that you like it. When he turns around and meets your eyes, wringing the blade out of someone's neck and letting them drop on the floor at your feet, you don't flinch. You simply kick them to the side and step over them, and Ghost watches as you lick over your teeth as you pass by him.

Insatiable. Fucking hungry. He eyes the sway of your hips, and when he finds his next target, he uses his hands again just because he needs to feel flesh under his gloved hands, needs to tear it apart. And when he feels you watching him again, he grunts as he stands to his full height. He's a fucking bear, and you leave him with a hint of a smile before you turn the corner.

You are not sure if you are pretending that day.

They ravage, and then they go back to their beds, and they wash the blood from their clothes with ease--and the worst part of it all is that you do it, too. You come out of the same places that they do, and your face is splattered with their targets. Your jeans have flecks of brain matter, your hands are dirty with someone's singed flesh. When you finally stand in the light back at their base, all John does is sit you in front of the bathroom mirror and wipe at your face with a warm towel.

He tells you how good you've done. How special you are. How he has never seen a woman keep up with them so easily, fit into their pack like she was meant to be.

He says that you belong, but he doesn't say to who. You wonder, for a second, if he means that you belong to them all.

When you report back to Laswell, you tell her this. What you don't tell her is what you've had to do to gain this status. You don't tell her about the blood you spill. You don't tell her about the bodies you see or the men that lose their faces or how worked up the boys get after an op and how it takes them hours between your legs to lose the adrenaline.

You don't tell her this because this is for you. It's all for you.

They tell you things you aren't supposed to know. When you're in their beds, they talk, and you listen. Kyle tells you about the man they are keeping in the cellar. That he's been there for 29 days, and he hasn't said a word, but that Ghost will be next to speak to him, and he will talk then.

Kyle tells you that it is a mercy that Ghost hasn't visited him yet, but they are done playing nice. When he says this, you have the image of Ghost standing over a man who pulled a gun on you in your head, and you remember watching him with a sickening relief as he pressed his thumbs into the man's eye sockets and pushed they were nothing but squished matter. You squeeze your legs together; and this time, you don't feel bad about it.

Johnny begs for you, his bonnie lass, to keep close to him on the next op because you strayed too far today. He fucks you to make you say yes, his lips on your ear as he tells you to promise him that you'll do as he says, and that if you promise, he'll let you come. So you promise, and he fucks you boneless, and the next day, you are glued to his hip when you raid a foreign embassy for nothing but answers.

You know they know. They don't say it out loud, but you know that they all know where you go at night. One night, you are kneeling under John's desk, kissing the pearly tip of him before taking him down your throat for what feels like hours. The next, you are letting Kyle bend you over his desk, rattling it against the wall as he tells you how pretty you are. And in the morning, you are pressed against the shower wall, Johnny holding your wide hips in his hands as he fucks into you, begging you, bonnie, please--give it to me, tha's it, right there, ye can do it, good girl--

Good girl. That's what you are. You're a good girl, and you do as you're told. You smile, and you keen, and you give them big, soft eyes, and you let them have the illusion of control. Maybe they think they're pressuring you. Maybe they think they scare you. Maybe they think this is why you get on your knees for them or let them pool your pants at your ankles or allow them to have you whenever they want, but the reality is that you want it, and you need it, and this is working.

They don't even realize you've fucked them into submission because they're too busy showing off.

A domino effect. You expect them all to fall once you have the captain, but there is one chess piece that does not move willingly.

Ghost.

He is an unmovable object. He stands still and rigid, and he is a statue that refuses to be pushed or pulled in any direction but one he deems. Even in the middle of the nights, when you notice he is awake, he never joins you when you drink his favorite bourbon outside. He doesn't ask for a cigarette when you smoke one, even though you never actually take a puff of it. He passes by you, and he doesn't look at you, and you are invisible.

You want to be content with what you've accomplished, but it isn't enough.

This is the glue. He is the glue, and without him, everything falls apart, and you cannot fail. There isn't room for it. And maybe you feel bad for preying on the parts of Ghost that you think he prefers to keep hidden, but you need to catch him before he gets too far away.

A kitchen accident. A knife that plunges too deep, that draws blood and makes you cry. You are in the bathroom, tears coming down your face, blood in the sink, and your hands are shaking as you try and patch yourself up. You are loud enough to draw the attention of the lieutenant whose door is only just across the hall, and when he sees you there, he doesn't leave you.

One moment there is nothing, and the next, he is behind you, a pervasive warmth at your back, and you whimper when a gloved hand wraps around your injured hand. Wordlessly, he turns the faucet on, running your hand under the water, and you hiccup, looking away and breathing deeply.

He wraps your hand in his room. You sit on his bed, and he works to cover the wound, and you know he has done this before. Soothed another's tears, quieted soft cries, covered up cuts and bruises and things that will scar.

He kneels in front of you, and when he stands to his full height, you tip your head back to look up at him. You think you will meet a soft gaze, but he glares, and he seems angry. When you open your mouth to speak, he tsks, and your tip trembles as you close it.

"Y'can fool the others," he says lowly, finally. "But not me."

You frown, confused. When you sniffle, he snarls.

"I know why y'r here," he murmurs. "Isn't the first time Laswell has sent one of her little...toys."

You clench your jaw. For a moment, something envious rattles you. You aren't like anyone else. You are certain no one has accomplished what you have, that no one has gotten this close to rock the fucking boat or pet the beast. He doesn't get to demean the progress you've made like this, even if he's figured you out, because you aren't going anywhere.

Not until you get everything you need.

"Excuse me?"

"Y'r a spy. You're CIA's whore, and I don't like y'here, puttin' y'r bloody nose where it don't belong," he kneels, his voice low and gruff, and he reaches over and grips your chin hard. "Y'may have fooled them. In their fuckin' beds...in their heads--" He draws you closer, and you swallow. "But y'r not in mine."

You meet his eyes. They are dark, and they are meant to scare you, but the feeling that runs through you isn't one that terrifies you. He is a magnet--and you can feel the field of his presence, and it has you. This is supposed to be your show. They are men, and they are stupid, and you hate them, and Ghost should be eating out of the palm of your fucking manicured hand, but there he is, spitting against his mask, and it is you that aches to see what is underneath the cotton.

"So, little lamb..." Ghost rumbles, and it is with his entire chest that he speaks. "Wot is it you're here to do, eh?"

You shake your head, "N-Nothing. She...all she told me was that this was a joint operation...CIA and SAS--"

"Y'r on the piss, I know that," he hisses, clicking his teeth. "Joint operation," he laughs, but it is without humor. "Is that we're calling this now? Being barracks bunny for the 141?"

"Fuck you," you snap, shoving his hand off. "You're a fucking bastard, and if you think--"

"If I think wot, eh?" He stands, and you choke as he grips you by your throat, lifting you off of his bed and forcing you against the wall. You grip his wrist, but it is useless, because he's a brute, and you are nothing to him. He holds you there on your toes, and you grip him tighter, but he doesn't budge. Even digging your nails into him doesn't make him flinch. If anything, he seems amused. "Wot kind of trainin' she make y'do, eh? Did ya have to practice? Who'd y'shag to get y'r stripes?"

"Eat shit," you spit, and he snickers. There is fire in your eyes, venom on your tongue, you are a fighter, and when the world is so quiet, fighting feels good, and he knows this feeling well. He understands what it means to be nothing and then something, what it means to worthless and then useful in the eyes of government and government alone.

Because you are useful, but only to Laswell, and only as this, whatever this is. Whatever you are. Pet, prize, toy--it doesn't matter what the name is today, but it will stick tomorrow, and you wonder, sickeningly, if that is your destiny.

To be unknown. To be used. To be the property of what you do not know. To be given, to be taken, to not know and to be content with not knowing.

To accept it because it is still better than whatever you were before.

He sees this. He looks into your eyes, he breathes in, and he hums, and when his grip loosens just enough, you put your toes on the ground, and you lean in, and there you are.

One and the same. Bitten, chewed, spit out, two people who are products of their suffering and the culmination of their sheer fucking will to live, even if the living is miserable.

Maybe that is what it is. Maybe it's what's broken that will put you together. Ghost is the glue, you are the solvent, and you will make it so.

Because I can't fail, I can't do it, I won't go back, I can't go back--

"I'm here for me," you whisper. "I'm here for me, and no one else--" You gasp, and it isn't a lie, not really. You are here for you, this is for you, even if it is at the downfall of someone else. If you need to step on necks to get ahead, you will.

Ghost is the last piece. The last one you need to move. He is stuck, but now you know what it is you need to do, you know how to set the game into motion.

"Ghost," you breathe, and it's soft, it's quiet. You meet his eyes, and you lean close, and he feels your breath on the front of his mask. "It's not what you think."

"You're a lamb."

"I don't wanna be a lamb."

"It doesn't matter what y'want, y'are a lamb," he growls, and you whine, and he hums, and you can see the crinkle of his eyes, and you know he must be smiling. "Tha's wot y'are, and y'can't run away from tha'."

You blink, and he stares, and there is understanding. You are prey, and you belong, but you don't know where. But then you remember you are a soldier, and it isn't your job to know. Your job is to lie still and let them have you.

And to not tell my handler how much I like it.

"It's what they made me," you whisper, and when there are tears in the corner of your eyes, he is gentle. He smooths his hand down your throat, rubbing a thumb over your trembling lip, and you know that he understands you. "It's not what I wanted."

"It's never what we want," he murmurs. "Never."

You hold your breath when he cups your face with a big gloved hand. Dark eyes on soft ones, and you wonder what it would be like to have him. He doesn't keen the way John does, doesn't kneel the way Johnny kneels, doesn't follow and listen without objection the way that Kyle does. No, he's a brick wall, and you need to be what knocks him over. You need to shake the foundation, split it in two.

You need to sever the fucking bond and do your fucking job.

"So when can I have what I want?" You ask him softly. "When...when is it my turn?"

He tilts his head to the side, curious, and you slide your hands up his forearms, over the muscle of his biceps. He is everything you cannot have.

And he is everything that you suddenly realize you want.

Forbidden. Unrelenting. The oxygen to a raging fire. He isn't the glue, he's the catalyst to whatever the fuck you bring to the experiment, and even though you know this will be disaster, you want it. You want it so badly.

Destruction tastes so good. Control is victory. Sex is power, and you want him, you want this, you want him to have you, to own you, to make you see what he sees, because it will be familiar because you are the same.

"Y'r a soldier," he says lowly. "Not about what we want. 's about what they want."

"Fuck what they want," you groan, looking away, and then a few tears slip down your face. "Fuck what they do with us. If I die for them, they only tick some fucking statistic. It means nothing. So why can't I do what I want with the time I get before...before I'm just...before I'm nothing again?"

And there it is. The mirror you hold up. The common ground. The level playing field. The two paths that cross, this is it, I have it, I have it, I fucking have it, I have him, he's mine--

He kisses you. You don't get to see his face, but his lips are there, a precious amount of skin that you're blessed with seeing until your eyes are closing.

His bed is warm. He fills it well, the breadth of him almost too much for its size, but it doesn't matter because he fucks so well. He eats your cunt because he's hungry, your thighs on his shoulders shaking as he laps at your wet folds.

He does this different. John is soft and slow, Kyle takes his time, and Johnny is always eager and sloppy. But Ghost watches. He slides his tongue in soft motions, watching, and when your thighs twitch and shake, he does the motion again. He flattens his tongue and drags it, and when you whine and arch your back, he revels in the way you move. He drinks what you spill, he fucks you with his tongue, and this is different because this isn't just attraction.

There is something about him. Something underneath the layers he covers himself with, under the mask, something that you can see that others cannot even though he doesn't take those layers off.

You know this is true when he's inside of you. His mask hasn't come off, but his mouth is on your ear, and he groans, and he talks, and you feel like he spoils you this way. Ghost never talks. You wonder often if maybe he has a limited amount of words, and he never says more than he has to lest he runs out of them. His eyes speak, and it's more than enough, but now, he talks, and it is a gift, and now you know.

He cradles your head as he fucks you, and he kisses you until you can't breathe, and then when he talks, it takes everything in you not to beg for more.

"Such a nice cunt...'s so nice..."

"Fuck--y'feel me, luv? Right there--" And he presses his palm down on your stomach, and you cry when he grabs your face and forces you to look at him, because he's cruel and he's mean, but his cock feels so good--

And you think it can't get better, and you think he can't go any deeper, and then your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and he's leaning over you, and you think you're forgetting your name.

You forget yourself. You forget the reason you're here. It's so hard to think when you're not yourself, when your mind is in the stars, when everything feels far away and so close all at the same time. There is a place for him inside of you now, and you know that even though he will ruin you, even though he already has, you will never be rid of him.

You've severed the bond. You've made your own.

When he kisses you again, and when he grinds his hips down so nice that your clit aches, you know suddenly what it feels like to have real control. The feeling that Laswell chases, the feeling she wants so fucking badly that she's made your body a weapon, your cunt a tool, your brain the hivemind that will make her every wish come true, you understand now.

You will make the sky blue, the birds sing, but you did not realize the power you held until you had Simon "Ghost" Riley buried so deep in you, that you aren't sure you're even really here anymore.

You gnaw on his arm, your tongue tracing the tattoos there. You taste sweat, and you swallow it, and you go numb thinking about having more of him inside of you. You want to bite and eat and take as much of him that he will let you--no.

You will bite and eat and take as much of him that you want, because he's yours, and you get whatever you want.

Your fingers grasp the cotton of his mask, and your grip is enough to pull his lips off of you, and when your eyes meet, the gaze is different. He's desperate. For once, there is something disorderly there, and he pants, and he wants something from you, and finally you have something to give him.

You fuck it out of him. You lay him on his back and let him look at you, and you fuck him because it feels good, because you want it, too, because it's all that matters. You cry into his mouth, sob, "please--! please, please, please--"

And he tugs on your hair in response, guiding your hips as he loses his composure, "'ve got you...y'r mine...'s olright, yeah--nggghhh, fuck, luv, th's it..."

You do want it. You do need it. You need them, but you want Ghost the most, because he is the piece that does not move. He is not willing to do anything except for the sake of his pack. Ghost is impenetrable, even your pretty cunt isn't enough to change his mind, but that isn't what this is.

This is mercy. Ghost, he is the product of all of his misery. You, you are the result of every man to ever betray you, the outcome of your unwavering desire for revenge. You are the same, somehow, and he knows this, and that is why can't help himself. That is why Ghost is underneath you, that is why he bares his mouth to you and lets you lick into it and allows you to taste the forbidden fruit.

Because he thinks you are him, and he thinks you think so, too, and all he's ever wanted in his life is just for someone to see him the way he saw himself.

When he comes, he paints your cunt and fills you, and you collapse, your body on fire as you come down from a high that takes your breath away. His big hands cradle you against his chest, and you don't move, too afraid to let go, and he kisses your face when you whimper. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and when he pulls out, you gather it up on your fingers and suck. He groans, and he kisses you, and then he sinks back to his knees because he doesn't hear the ringing in his ears when his mouth is on your pretty pussy.

You're just a lamb, it's all you are. Handpicked by Laswell to head into the lion's den, a scarred animal that has no one to protect her, straight to slaughter.

He knows what it feels like. He knows what it feels like to be used and forgotten, to have nowhere to go, to be backed into a corner with no way out, and he pities you.

Ghost pities you because there is nothing behind your eyes except fear. But it's a lie. You're so good at it now. It's a lie, and you tell it so well, and you're warm inside. Not from taking the last moving piece, but from the satisfaction of knowing you have done what others cannot. What others never could.

It's late when you finally settle beside him. He leaves you when you ask for something to eat. You watch him slip clothes on haphazardly and leave, the door swinging shut behind him as he shuffles to get what you need.

To provide. To protect. To shield. Ghost is good at those things, you knew he would be. A man does not nurse a brother back to health without it, does not protect his mother and defy his father without being good at being a dog.

He's a good guard dog. And when he goes, and the door is closed, you smile because the dog is mine, all fucking mine--

You reach for your phone, and you pull up the only contact in it. You type a simple message, and then you send it, and for good measure, you shut the device off, tossing it into the pile of your discarded clothes.

>> we have joy.

You are good at pretending. You can tell a lie without blinking. You have been taught to be this thing, and you do it well, because you are a soldier, and this is your mission, and you cannot fail, and you didn't fail.

When you see Laswell again, many weeks later, she is not surprised to see you covering up with long sleeves and keeping your hair down. One tug on the collar of your shirt, and she gets glimpses of the love bites that have marked bruises all across your skin. She lets you go, tells you to sit, and she smirks.

You smile back this time.

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

"Good girl," she takes out another manila folder, but it's different this time. When you open it, you have schedules of upcoming ops, intel the boys are working, evidence of their reckless abandonment of order in favor of the chaotic success of getting the job done. You have seen this first hand, you know what they do and how they do it. But now there is another factor, another subject, right in the middle of it all. It is you.

Laswell takes a seat, spreading out the papers, and you meet her eyes. This time it's different. This is the truth, and you want to feel bad for your betrayal, but you don't. The fact of the matter is that you and Laswell, together in this room, have more power at your feet than you know what to do with.

A lamb to slaughter, and yet you sleep with the wolves.

"Alright," she says. "Now let's get to fucking work."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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fayes-fics · 19 days

Text

Vignette

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An artist meet-cute in the park.

Warnings: none... this is the fluffiest of fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Note: Anon request fill (see HERE) about Benedict and an artist having a meet-cute in the park. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this, Nonny, and sorry it has taken so many months! <3

A wooden toy hoop whooshing inches from your knee interrupts your quiet refuge amid the flower gardens of Regents Park, breaking your intense concentration on your drawing and almost dropping your charcoal.

Seconds later, a pretty young girl of maybe eleven years old comes running after the errant object, her plaited hair bouncing, her blush pink dress swishing around her knees as she calls out an apology to you and retrieves the hoop from the nearby bush.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her face a picture of impish inquisition as she wanders back to your bench.

“I am drawing,” you smile benevolently; something about her mischievous spirit reminds you of your nieces.

“What are you drawing?” her grin somehow infectious.

“You see those roses there?” you point with your charcoal to a nearby white alba maxima rose bush, stems almost bowing under the weight of the heavily ruffled peach-tipped petals. “Those are in peak bloom, and I am attempting to capture them, their ephemeral beauty...”

“Are you any good?”

You chuckle at her youthful bluntness, but just as you are tilting your work towards her, you are interrupted by a man rounding into this same quiet corner.

“Hyacinth! Please refrain from injuring and bother…” his refined voice begins to chastise but suddenly grinds to a halt mid-sentence as soon as he catches sight of you.

But he is not the only one who has lost the power of speech.

Something vaults hard in your stomach like you are plunging down an invisible chasm. He is handsome in a way you have never seen before in your twenty years on this earth: tall, with a strong jaw and a dandyish colourful outfit that fits him very well.

There are a few moments where all you do is stare at each other, lips parted, before he appears to shake himself a fraction and bows his head in polite greeting.

“Where are my manners? I would like to apologise for my little sister almost causing you injury, Miss. The fault is entirely mine; I should not have let her play quite so spiritedly in a public park. I-I hope you are not injured?”

“N-Not at all; the hoop merely brushed my skirt. I am more than fine,” you assure hurriedly. “Mr….?”

“Bridgerton,” he offers, nodding to you in a more formal greeting.

You would know that name anywhere—one of the most esteemed families of the Ton. You instantly know he is not the Viscount, having seen him at society events, so you surmise this must be one of his younger brothers. Before you can offer your name, however, he speaks again.

“You draw?”

“Oh.. yes, yes… I-I do,” you stumble, a little taken aback by his question, even as you feel his sister’s gaze volleying between the two of you with a bemused expression.

“I draw too,” he explains, placing a hand over his sternum, the sunlight catching upon a signet ring on his little finger.

“Oh…” you seem inordinately pleased to share such a hobby with this virtual stranger.

“I also know well that charcoal fingers are an occupational hazard..” he adds cordially as he catches you attempting to wipe the dark smears upon your hands with a rag. “May I see your work? If it is not too impudent of me to ask,” he adds modestly.

“I-I am not very good…” you fret, looking down at the partial image you see on your sketch pad. “Tis merely a pastime I use to escape…”

“Believe me, Miss…?”

“Y/l/n.”

“Believe me, Miss y/l/n, it is very much the case for me too - being that I am one of eight. Including such trouble-makers as this one,” he rolls his eyes affectionately as he signals to Hyacinth, who seems to be rapidly losing interest, distractedly spinning the hoop she holds. “Escaping is almost a full-time hobby for me…”

You cannot help but giggle at his droll humour, and he seems delighted, his face lighting up as you hide a mild blush behind the back of your hand.

“May I?” his ask is so soft you cannot do anything but acquiesce.

“‘Tis just a small vignette…” you excuse meekly as you hand over your sketchpad, suddenly so nervous to hear his opinion. You have never shared your drawings with anyone before, but something about his affable demeanour makes you bold enough to do so.

He is quiet for some time. It feels like an age, even though it is likely only a matter of seconds, but still long enough that butterflies start to roil in your stomach.

“I did say it is just a hobby…” you titter nervously, looking away.

“It is beautiful…” he exhales quietly, tone filled with admiration as your eyes ping back to him.

Your heart flutters as he extols the virtues of your work, effusively admiring your use of shading to capture shadows and the lines you have used to denote the multitudinous layers of petals, his gracious hand gesturing over the picture as he speaks.

“You flatter me entirely too much, Mr Bridgerton…” you demure, even as you feel yourself blooming under his praise, just like the flower you have painstakingly attempted to capture. A warmth in your chest that seems to radiate out to glow all over.

“I assure you I do not,” he smiles, handing you back your sketch pad.

“Benedict,” Hyacinth whines, stamping her little boot on the grass, “you said we would play…”

“I do not wish to interrupt your family time,” you placate, pleased you have learned his first name.

“Hyacinth, I am sure Eloise said something about sandwiches; you want lunch, do you not?” Benedict responds, raising a pointed brow.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Run along then,” he pulls an exasperated face at her that again has you giggling, making a shooing gesture with his hands.

She sighs but departs with a dramatic flounce.

“Sadly, I must also depart; a family picnic indeed awaits. But if I may be so bold, I would very much like for us to meet again. If you would be amendable? With a chaperone, of course,” he adds hurriedly, keen to be gentlemanly. “I think perhaps we would have much to speak of… around art. And perhaps we could… draw together? Here?”

His proposal, so sweet and straightforward, has you rendered speechless again, heart leaping at the very thought.

“I…I would like that very much,” your honest confession out of your mouth before you can swallow it.

“As would I,” his response instant, his face beaming. “Would you be here, perchance, Thursday afternoon around this same time?”

“I would…” The hitch of excitement in your own voice unmistakable.

“Excellent!” his hazy blue eyes seem to dance in the sunlight as he respectfully tilts his head again. “I am so looking forward to it, Miss y/l/n…” are his parting words before he takes his leave.

“As am I, Mr Bridgerton…” you murmur belatedly, the words shared only with the fragrant roses surrounding you, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.

Your stare lingers where he stood long after he has left, an excited buzz over your skin at the thought you have met a kindred, artistic spirit. And one so very handsome, too.

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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 month

Text

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene.

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion.

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there.

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night.

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers.

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme.

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?”

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you.

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass.

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you.

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job.

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.”

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.”

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round.

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting.

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?”

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires.

Fuck it.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you.

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second.

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin.

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more.

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake.

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours.

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up.

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.”

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yuqiyu · 1 year

Text

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.”

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive.

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands.

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise.

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?”

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused.

“Are you new?”

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were.

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression.

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs.

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way.

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.”

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.”

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine.

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under.

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him.

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them.

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more.

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you.

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now.

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.”

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real.

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!”

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over. “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?”

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this.

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness.

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing.

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?”

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed.

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.”

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this.

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point.

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!”

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.”

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that.

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?”

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens.

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.”

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree.

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch.

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you.

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?”

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks.

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.”

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks.

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?”

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze.

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky.

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack.

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely.

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly.

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up.

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile.

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.”

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him.

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun.

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging .

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again.

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more.

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up.

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more.

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured.

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine.

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well.

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ”

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly.

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.”

“That’s my girl.”

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it.

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone.

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.”

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake.

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.”

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill.

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt.

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing.

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back.

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now .

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out.

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already.

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum.

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?”

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question.

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?”

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

#stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #smut #eddie munson

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pray4byron · 1 month

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hiiii!! i was wondering if perchance i could request head canons or a one shot (whichever you see more fit) of how [character] is on their first date with [reader]

the characters im rlly invested in are alastor, vox, velvette, angel & husk 💗

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐨𝐱, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: i’m so sorry requests have been so slow, my show is almost done (closing night is today) so i’ll be able to get to requests after that!! and i tried to make this a bit longer than my normal pieces so i hope i did okay? we’re almost at 700 btw so tysm for that <3

warnings: profanity, mentions of sex in vox’s part (no smut), mentions of valentino, implied!masc reader in angel’s section — the rest are gn

proofread: no 😔

tags: x reader, alastor, husk hazbin hotel, angel dust, headcanons, the vees

𝐯𝐨𝐱

vox would probably enjoy a night in the most, honestly, fans can irk him a fair bit, and he wants tonight to be about you and him alone

he’d probably get some of his more decent employees to be like waiters, and let’s be real, even if you were only in vox’s quarters, you both would still be dolled up

seeing as this is only the first date, vox’s “show host” persona is still very present, he’s not ready to let his walls down quite yet, he’ll sit there and boast about how fucking amazing he is for most of the date

but you’d be surprised, when you speak, vox won’t shut down anything you’d say, he’s an extremely good listener — it mainly comes from how he has to listen to boring meetings, even when he doesn’t want to, but as much as he won’t admit it, he could listen to you talk anyday

when the end of the date comes, you’re either gonna end up spending the night at his, whether it ends in sex with him or falling asleep on the couch together in the middle of a movie is a bit of a 50/50

OR he’s gonna end up driving you home, mainly because he doesn’t enjoy just walking about the streets of hell, because so many people come up to him, and also cause he doesn’t want to risk putting you in harms way, but also because he wants to flex his fancy ass car…

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

like vox, he’d also probably enjoy a date in a more private settings — due to the type of fans he has, the contract he’s under, along with many other things

but angel has a preference for more relaxed dates, he’d bring you into his room the hotel and end up having a massive sleepover — movies, skincare, gossip seshs, etc. whatever you ask for, he’ll give ya!!

after valentino, i can see angel only really taking interest in people who he’s known for a long time/has a strong bond with — so considering the fact that he’s most likely known you for a long time, this is probably when he’s gonna be more affectionate — possible cuddles, kisses, etc

but even with that, angel really considers first dates as a ‘get to know you’ sorta thing, so he wants to hear all about you, and share stories with you about him as well! you two will probably play games like 21 questions or truth or dare but with mostly truths 😭🙏

honestly, angel will probably spend more time telling you about molly (his sister) then himself, he misses her a lot, and she was one of the biggest parts of him and he loves telling you stories about them together in their lifetime

𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

in contrast to vox, she would love to go out somewhere for a first date, more specifically, the mall! she may end up treating the first date as more a girls trip, but trust me, it isn’t her way of friend zoning you in the slightest!!

the stores in the mall that she’d most likely wanna hit up are the clothing stores and makeup stores (duh)

she’d try on a bunch of fits for you in a ‘fashion run-way’ kind-of manner and force outfits into your arms and rush you to do the same

and in makeup stores, she’d grab a bunch of lip-oil testers and swatch them on your arm and see which ones she thinks look the best — and she’d also try to find your foundation shade match or something like that

then you goes would probably stop at a food court and she would sit there and just yap, i can see velvette as a big rambler, she can be very expressive with her words, especially when it comes to her passion topics, so she really grows to appreciate you if you decide to hear her out

and side note; if you guys run into one of her fans, she’ll make sure you see it, she needs you to know how fucking hot and famous she is

the both of you will probably stay until the mall is about to close, and then you’ll walk her home, but don’t worry, she’ll give you a small kiss for being so good ~

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤

honestly, husk would kinda be at loss a for what to do for a ‘date’ — it’s been a long damn time since he’s been romantically interested in someone, so he’s not too sure where to start

he’ll end up going to charlie for help, or angel, and he ends up deciding to take you out to a small diner that’s just a stroll away from the hotel

it’s not great there by any means, but it’s not bad, but more importantly, it’s safe, and that’s all he really wants for you

you two will spend most of the time conversing in conversation, nothing too crazy or life changing, but simple ice breakers here and there, husker is more awkward than you may think

despite the fact that he thinks it’s so fucking stupid, he takes charlie’s idea to share a smoothie with you, which ends up back-firing as he takes a sip and it goes through and up your straw and splatters onto your face

and you can’t help but blush as he gets a little too close to you as he wipes the smoothie off of your face with a few napkins…

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫

alastor is a gentlemen, who aims to please, so he has a number of activities for you that are bound to blow you out of the water, even if the idea is simple on paper

first, he starts off by taking you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, you both are dressed up to a tee

he makes sure to feed you every last bite of your food, treating you like a pet, its so sickeningly sweet you didn’t whether to be slightly offended or swoon right then and there

then he takes you out to a nice park, even if it’s already dark out, and he’ll have you on his arm and take a simple stroll with you, the attention is fully on you and he won’t shy away from giving you all the praise possible

shortly after, alastor will get his staff and play some gentle jazz music as you both sway under the hellish stars on what seems to be such a blissful night ~

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

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l0v3tast3 · 9 months

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Pervy!Krueger? He just, looks like a man who would steal your panties and purposely grind against you when you and him are training.

god sebastian krueger is so hot. i love him his skins in cod ? his voice ?? his regular voice sounds so calm and even u just KNOW he's hiding some freaky shit behind that !!! thank u anon for opening up this beautiful new path of a new character to write <3

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, female reader, age gap (r is 20's, krueger is 35), dirty talk, abuse of pet names, possessive!krueger, edging, public s3x, he buys u slutty outfits, innocence/corruption kink

✎ word count: 1.3k words (not proofread)

translations: spatzi - little sparrow (pls someone confirm i'm not 100% sure?) mein engel - my angel / schatzi - little treasure jammere nicht - don't whine / das gör - brat

masterlist

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!sebastian who teaches you self-defense mostly for the opportunity to feel you up that much more. he uses the excuse that you're small (you aren't that much shorter than him) and it makes you an "easy target". but you always hear the satisfied little laugh he huffs out whenever he effortlessly pins you down, you always feel his hips pressing into your back or stomach when he straddles you and holds you by your wrists.

✧ ˖ ° it's very obviously a power play for him, another way for him to make a point of how he has you now, how he won't let you get away. sebastian reminds you of it constantly. he spells his name on your clit, leaves you covered with the imprints of his teeth and stains of his cum and spit. when he's covering your body with his, his thick cock stretching you enough for him to be licking away the beginnings of tears under your eyes, he'll remind you of it. "spatzi, you feel so good. you were made for me, don't you know? just as i was made for you. no other man will ever make you feel like this- right, mein engel?" sebastian makes damn sure you know who you belong to, and proving how easily he can overpower you (and therefore protect you) while "training" you is just another way to do that.

✧ ˖ ° obviously, sebastian would rather die than ever actually hurt you. that doesn't mean he'll let you go without a (figurative) fight- so when he has you under him on the mat for the fourth time in a row, he'll grin while he leans down to graze his lips against yours. "what will you do when you have nowhere left to run?" before you even take enough of a breath to respond, he knows what you'll say: that you won't run. it's the loveliest sound sebastian has ever heard.

✧ ˖ ° despite his love of seeing you under him, when you finally manage to get him under you, he's has nothing but praise for you. he easily breaks out of your hold on his wrists to sit up with you on his lap, his hands cupping your face to bring you in for a kiss. "well done, schatzi. i am very impressed." sebastian rewards you immensely after that.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!sebastian who genuinely gets annoyed when you wear anything but only his shirts when you're at his house. if you dare to try to wear pants or even underwear, he'll take them off of you, pocket your panties, and edge you for as long as he deems fit. "jammere nicht- you brought this on yourself, das gör," he'll mutter with a slap to your thigh or ass whenever you start begging to cum. "how many times will i have to tell you? you don't need those when you are with me."

✧ ˖ ° eventually (and unsurprisingly) he'll start escalating to outside the house. sebastian will make sure to buy you endless amounts of little sundresses and skirts that never go past your knees while you're together. he won't say anything about it until you start catching on and ask him why, and even then, he'll play dumb. the approach to getting you to like the idea of his fingers stuffed into your cunt around others is slow at first; a hand that creeps further up your thigh with every dinner, movie, coffee date you go on. when his fingertips finally meet the edge of your underwear, he'll have the most salacious grin you've ever seen.

✧ ˖ ° sitting together on a bench overlooking the river you had walked along, your hand grips his wrist and you dart anxious eyes in several directions. "don't worry, schatzi," he'll whisper, turning towards you to press kisses against your neck. "there is no one else here. do you think i would really let anyone besides me see you like this?" his insinuation is a lie, of course- he wants them to see you. sebastian wants everyone to see his claim on you, to see how only he can make you feel good. as soon as you relax your hold he's pulling your panties to the side and drawing circles on your clit.

✧ ˖ ° it nearly becomes a habit, something you expect and anticipate whenever you go out together. sebastian will get you to the point where you're squirming in your seat before his hand even moves from your knee, casting impatient looks at him if he's taking too long. it's the one time he doesn't mind you being a brat- it is his own fault, after all. you both love the game of trying not to get caught, you trying to hide your hitched breath and rocking hips and him trying not to make it obvious how deep his fingers are reaching into you.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!sebastian who likes dressing you up in slutty little outfits and costumes. after he shows you his latest purchase and sweet talks you into putting it on just for him, he'll happily sit on the couch and wait for you to shuffle out of his bedroom. he'll have the biggest smile when he beckons you over, lathering your legs and stomach with kisses while you stand between his legs. "so ein schönes mädchen, such a good girl for me." (such a beautiful girl)

✧ ˖ ° it's not uncommon for him to pull out a matching collar for the outfit. he just thinks it's the perfect finishing touch, always a color that compliments your skin well, always fitting perfectly as a sign of his claim. sebastian will be so gentle while he wraps it around your neck, always asking if it's too tight- as soon as it's secured, though, he's tugging on it to pull your back to his chest. his hands will run all over your body as he admires it from over your shoulder, biting into your soft skin as his hands sneak under the tiny pieces of fabric.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!sebastian who, if you couldn't tell already, is very possessive of you. you're his sweet little angel, untainted by the horrors that have reached into him. you need someone to protect you. to keep you safe, to keep the wool over your eyes against the people who want to corrupt you (in less-good ways than he does). sebastian is more than happy to take on that role. you're just so innocent when you first meet, so soft and naïvely curious to learn why his cock aches whenever he's around you.

✧ ˖ ° taking your virginity was one thing, but the first time he sees your childhood bedroom when you're not living in your university dorm, sebastian ends up ravaging you. stuffed animals, pink fairy lights casting an intoxicating glow over your skin, the entire cutesy aesthetic all makes him jump on you the second he's climbed through your window. he gags you with your frilly white panties and folds you in half on your floor- there's no time wasted in burying his tongue in your little cunt. "stop squirming, schatzi. you don't want your parents to hear us, do you? lass mich mein mahl genießen." (let me enjoy my meal).

✧ ˖ ° sebastian's possessiveness over you knows no bounds- there's always a hand on the back of your neck or a bit too low on your waist in public. there's always some piece of jewelry with his initials on you. he's always by your side. he'll come with to meet your friends and when they try to pull you to the side and say something about how he never lets you stray far, he'll fuck you in the bathroom and grin when you come out all dumb. sebastian wants everyone to know that he makes you happy, keeps you safe, makes you feel better than anyone else ever could. sebastian wants you to know all that, most of all.

(´꒳`)♡ likes, reblogs, n comments are always appreciated!

#— ask!#— lilly writes! ♡#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #sebastian krueger #krueger cod #sebastian krueger x reader #krueger x reader #krueger x you #sebastian krueger x you

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

Text

bake it

reiner can’t get enough of you or your sweet treats. Regardless of what anyone thinks.

themes: food play, reiner and reader both being nasty af, (and both have super country accents), lots of old southern colloquialisms, food play, oral (m. receiving), spit play, pet names (sugar, poundcake, daddy, pumpkin, sweet girl), spanking, backshots, squirting

📝: this may or may not be a lil series based off my fav album at the moment. I think it fits the cowboy!reiner x reader headcanon very well.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Chile, did you hear about what (y/n) did down at the Hole this weekend?”

“Girl yes. Being fast and actin’ all loose. Hanging over every man that’ll look her way.” “I’m tellin’ ya, honey. She ain’t nothing like her mama or her cousins. Girl’s a handful, I tell ya. Never seen a thang’ like it.”

“She was with that Braun boy from what I heard. Lord knows what she was doing..”

rumblings and rumors had spread like wildfire among about what took place at the infamous hang out spot and saloon in the small town in which you’d grown up. It seemed that not much had changed from the time you were a tiny child from now being a grown woman, returning to your stomping grounds after a couple years of higher education. Pearl clutching church ladies and snobby debutants with their noses in the air, disapproving of any woman who hadn’t settled down and popped out ten kids before the age of twenty five. It was how the customary traditions went in the south and sadly, wasn’t going to change any time soon. However…

“Yes and did you hear that I had him calling to the good lord after I fucked him seven ways to Sunday? He was a lot of fun. Boy’s got a third leg and a tongue like a serpent. Might have to keep him around.”

the very bold proclamation of your supposed actions had your coworkers of the Sweetie Pie Bakery; owned by the ladies in your family and had been a staple in the city for ten years, gasping and glaring at you disgust. The ones working there currently were a few new hires from the local church. The types to be sleeping with other people’s husbands by Saturday and running in and out of the pew on Sunday. Blatant hypocrites. Hence why you so casually admitted to your affairs and boasted about them. You didn’t give a damn what those uppity bitches thought of you! Especially when the man in question was all but obsessed with you…sneaking away at any opportune moment to have you since the first night you gave him a taste of your proverbial sweetness. Slurping you up, tonguing you down and pounding that little pussy sideways..letting him have a slice of you anyway he liked. It was no secret to anyone that you weren’t some innocent saint but if it’s gossip they wanted, you’d give those mouth breathing heifers something to bump their gums about. They’d feel how they want to about you regardless so it didn’t matter. Might as well have a little fun..

“Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”

“In that outfit?!” Referring to the very short, denim miniskirt wrapping your thick backside and halter top hoisting your ample breasts.“It’s ninety two degrees outside besides, a wretched jezebel like me has to look the part, right?” Mocking them with an overly done accent and a fake smile before waving and turning on the heels of your boots.

and where you were headed, you wouldn’t have it on long anyways..not once he spotted you…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

halfway across the tracks was a small office residing on the outskirts of town, right before you’d reach the dozen mile long stretch of fields and farmland. The moniker atop the building read ‘Braun Farms, Inc.’ owned and operated by the prominent family for several years and generations. Providing fresh vegetables, poultry, cattle and everything else to many local diners and families. The hardest working man in the entire company may have been the next line to take it over, Reiner Braun. A young, handsome, determined guy who was always about his business before any sort of pleasures. Of course, that all changed when his new fling came around..a girl by the name of (y/n) (l/n) who had a grip on him in more ways than one. After some whisperings, he discovered that you too had grown up in this area but was carted off to school elsewhere in your adolescence. You at sone private Christian academy and him homeschooled, hence why your paths never crossed. But that was a thing of the past and so was hiding the promiscuity you both harbored.

“Damn, poundcake. You keep suckin’ on me like that and I might hafta’ give you my credit card and last name.”

the words escaping in a guttural groan from Reiner’s half parted lips. His chest was heaving, so much so, it looked as if it were about to pop from his chest. Going mad with pure unadulterated lust as you licked on his shaft from underneath the desk. He had been assigned to records keeping today so you decided to pay him a little visit on his lunch break. And what was a better meal than your delicious cupcake and the chance to eat his dick up?

“Don’t say that too loud, pumpkin. Someone might get the wrong idea about me..think I’m trying to take ya’ money.”

“To hell with them. Only thing I want right now is to fuck that pretty lil’ throat.”

and he did just that. Bobbing your head up and down with a spread palm resting atop your freshly done lace front; feeding you every inch feasible of that long, erect cock. Gliding it to the back of your mouth until it damn near reached your esophagus and drummed up strings of spit. Loud gurgling noises filled the room and Reiner nearly lost his shit. Clawing at the arms of the chair and cursing like a sailor. You had this man doing and behaving in ways unbecoming of his character but he could give a damn less. As long as you kept letting him use you like this. Sticking your tongue out, you’d smile and request that he spit into your mouth..adding to the pre existing strings saliva and cum covering your face. It didn’t help matters any when you decided to take some of that frosting and place it on his sensitive tip before slurping it off. “W-whatever you want, sugar. I’ll give you whatever you want just keep —oh shit!” Earning yourself another warm load of his nut all over your exposed tits and pretty face. “You taste so good..” Those deviant eyes and sultry voice luring him in. By now, you had to be dripping so he’d tug you out from under there and place you at the edge of the desk before saddling up behind you with that hard dick. Hoisting that mini skirt to your waist, letting it bunch up around that soft, pudgy tummy, he was pleased to find that you wearing no panties but was wetter than the lake he frequented.

“Want you to fuck this pussy so good…stretch it out f’r me, Rei…” begging with your decorated nails placed on your round cheeks as you pulled them apart to reveal that puckering hole and soaking entrance…making him hungry for both. Wasting no time, he’d grab a handful of that thin top and your waist to reign you in. With his teeth grimaced, he’d whisper in your ear with growls; feeding you heavy handed smacks to your ass in the process. Spanking you like a bad kid but doing so because you enjoyed every second. “That’s what you want, sugar? For me to fuck ya’ like a lil’ slut? Make you come all over this dick? That right, baby?” To which you’d nod profusely, never craving something so badly before in your life. Of course, he was happy to oblige..but you’d have to beg a bit, just because that sexy voice turned him on so bad. “Yes, daddy. Need you to fill my shit up too..nut all in this pussy. I ain’t come all this way for nothin.” And of course, that all but sold him. So with your inviting heat waiting for him and those Wranglers ruffled around his waist, Reiner pulled you in close before impaling you on his cock.

“Damn right, baby..so take all this dick.” Pressing a thumb to your tight little asshole as he pumped you full..one long, deep stroke after the next, coaxing out sticky cream and soft cries as you scratched at the wooden surface he had you planked across. Sliding in and out of that warmth like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece. The tight clutch you put around his shaft had him mesmerized. It didn’t help your case any when you constantly doted and bragged on how good he fucked you. “I swear you’re the only one who can get this pussy wet like this..” “..right there, daddy. You in my fucking spot..gonna make me come.” Of course, Reiner was loving every bit and only wanted to please his lady so as that big ass bounced against his pelvis and rippled like waves, he’d give you more slaps and try to maintain his pace. Even going as far as to make that tip kiss the inner corner of your cervix.“Give it to me then…nut f’r me, sweet girl. Let it all go.” And the second you did, juices flooded the floor as you squirted all over him. “Shitttt! That’s what I’m talking about, pretty girl. Make a mess of me..” grinning from ear to ear before housing his own seed inside of you. That pulsating cock still inside of you minutes later. Turning you around, he’d mark your lips with a sloppy kiss and look down at the aftermath.

“I swear, I ain’t never gonna be able to quit you, sugar. Just too damn sweet..”

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