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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

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Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

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jaylaxies · 6 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 29 — THREESOME

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader x jeno

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, facefucking, cunnilingus, breeding, threesome, usage of nicknames, jake and jeno are step brothers (not yours).

WC: 1.2k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! this is purely self indulgent atp, but i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Jake, stop! What if he hears us?”

You gasped, asking him to stop, but your fingers only pulled him closer to leave featherlight kisses all over your neck.

“He won’t, trust me,” Jake mumbled, too immersed in kissing down the expanse of your skin to worry about his step brother being home.

The arrangement was new for him. His father had recently remarried, which means his stepbrother had to leave his old life behind and shift (along with his mom) to the new mansion, to Jake’s place.

He didn’t interact with him a lot, the things were awkward and they were both well aware that it would take a while for them to come to terms with the new setting, so they tried to keep it decent by greeting each other whenever they crossed paths.

As for you, it had barely been a week since you and Jake got into the friends with benefits arrangement, having met through a mutual friend at a party last week, which led to a crazy night with him and hence, the new proposition, which finally brings you to Jake’s place.

He was sure that there wasn’t anyone else at home. His parents were out for their honeymoon trip, and his step brother was nowhere to be found when he last checked the place, which was before you arrived.

With his assurance, you let your moans get louder, moving your hips along his thigh, which was flexed to provide the perfect amount of friction to your bare cunt, your skirt ridden up to the waist.

“Feels good?” He asked, accent deep as he pulled you up, throwing you on the bed and getting in between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you tighter, pulling your ass cheeks apart.

Your mouth was open, eyes rolling back when he licked a big stripe of your cunt, groaning and mumbling about how sweet you tasted each time before prepping featherlight kisses all over your cunt, barely touching your clit to tease you.

When you whined again, he gave in, sucking your clit and running his tongue up and down your folds.

Unbeknownst to you both, there was someone standing right by the door, curious if there was something wrong with Jake, granted the noises coming from his room were muffled till he reached the door.

Jeno didn’t mean to breach his privacy by any means, but he was curious and one look wouldn’t hurt anyone—which was his thinking.

However, he did not expect to see his old fling in the bed with his new step brother, legs wide open as he ate you out.

He cursed. Jeno had missed you too much when you had to leave the city to shift somewhere else, granted that sex with you was literally the best he used to have, but he never thought he’d find you here, especially in his brother’s bed.

His body worked faster than his brain for once as he swung opened the door, grasping their attention.

“Jeno what the fuck?” Jake’s eyes were wide.

He paid Jake no attention, saying your name in a whisper as your expression mirrored Jake, but yours was more of a realization filled one rather than a horrified one.

“Jeno—” you breathed out, your body on display for him.

“You know each other?” Jake asked, glad he still had his clothes on for this interaction.

Jeno didn’t answer, only striding forward to where you were on Jake’s bed, pulling you as you yelped, wasting no time in kissing you. Jake only scoffed, pushing Jeno off you.

“She’s with me,” he said, possessiveness in his tone.

“She’s been with me for years—” Jeno was smirking, and you gasped.

“Guys, you don’t have to fight,” you said, looking at both of them before they turned to look at each other, clicking their tongues.

“Want us both, huh? Still a needy little girl I see,” Jeno mocked, getting rid of his clothes just like Jake.

“Want our cocks together, huh, princess?” Jake asked and you nodded, looking at them with shining eyes, whining to let them know how desperate you were.

“You go first,” Jake said to Jeno without looking at him, while he flipped you around so your head was on his lap, right near to his cock.

You gasped, “suck on it like a good girl,” Jake ordered, pushing his cock in your mouth, your eyes watering at how thick his cock was.

At the very same time, you could feel slender fingers teasing your entrance, thrusting inside your pussy which had you moaning around Jake’s cock, “so wet,” Jeno mumbled, stroking his cock to lubricate it with your juices.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned when you screamed at the stretch of Jeno’s cock, who had his hands wrapped around your waist as he pumped himself in and out of you.

You couldn’t remember if you ever felt this full in your life before, mouth and cunt full of thick cocks had you drooling and clenching uncontrollably, “I missed this tight cunt,” Jeno rasped, pistoning harder.

“You like that, baby?” Jake chuckled, his thumb collecting your tear and taking it to his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

“Oh, yes she does,” Jeno smirked, spanking your ass, “she’s clenching like crazy, ever so desperate,” his deep voice only led you to your first orgasm, shaking harder when Jake let you breathe, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

“Fuck! She’s dripping,” Jake observed, and Jeno let him take over switching positions so you were laying on your back. He sat down next to you, tapping your cheek to open your lips, pushing his cock in you for you to taste yourself.

Jake didn’t wait either, the thickness making your back arch, brain clouded as deep grunts resonated the room, which felt misty with the scent of your activities.

“That’s it, princess,” Jake cooed, slamming his hips on to yours, faster by each second, your toes curling and eyes closing with overstimulation, even more so when the two boys started playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting them, Jake paying attention to your sensitive clit, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb.

You felt as if you had reached the highest you could ever feel, being fucked dumb, their praises mixed with degradation only sent you to your edge, whiny curses leaving your lips in an incoherent manner.

“Fill her up, she likes it,” Jeno said, his cock twitching in you, and Jake groaned, his own orgasm approaching.

“Of course she likes it, look at her being a needy fucking mess for us,” Jake chuckled.

Both of them couldn’t hold back any longer, and neither could you as Jake emptied his balls deep in your cunt, Jeno doing the same in your mouth, his cum leaking out of your mouth.

You felt yourself blanking out, crying as you squirted all over Jake’s length before falling limp in their arms.

They worked in sync, Jake caressing your back gently as Jeno got you water, and you looked at them with stars in your eyes as you breathed out, directing your words to both of them.

“You own me now.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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cauliflowercounty · 2 months

Text

Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

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simonrillleyyysss · 3 months

Note

angel🪽! reader meeting simon😇

the 141 discover a real life angel – wings, halo, and an ethereal singing voice! simon is dirty sinner who wants to receive your “blessing”. pls! it’s your heavenly duty baby girl🥺

simon has a big corruption kink cuz he’s like that

I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS IDEA!!!

cw; darkish content, coercion, slight manipulation, corruption kink, breeding kink, minor religious ideology, minor mentions of pregnancy, implied catholic reader but idrc, p in v, squirting

“What is she?”

“Dinnae’, pretty wee’ thing though.”

Mactavish crooned, reaching out to stroke a ginger along your feathered wings.

“Lads, leave her alone.”

The bearded man ordered, waving the blondehaired man over with a slack hand, the behemoth of a man stepping over to your cowering frame, slinging his arm around yours and gently assisting you up.

“Bring her to a spare room—We’ll find out who she is soon.”

Without a complaint, Simon gently tugged you along—Watching you struggle to find your footing, almost tripping over yourself—Glancing up at the man with fearful eyes.

“Where are you taking me, sir?”

Silence, before he glanced down at you with narrowed eyes; staring, just staring. Before he eventually spoke up.

“What are y’?”

The low accent enquired, your lips parting in mild confusion, gently murmuring out with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“Gods servant.”

Chuckling, the man just shook his head and glanced forward, unlocking the bedroom door and navigating you inside; standing in front of the closed door now.

“Y’need anything, just call.”

And with that, he was gone.

The next few days were calm for you, essentially, Mactavish and Garrick often visited you to chat and ask you questions. Play with your wings and decorate your halo, helping you preen your wings.

Price helped you with everything—Clothes, necessities, even helped you get set up with a local church and attempted to find you your own apartment.

Ghost? He just brought you everywhere. Literal guardian angel, you wanted to go out for a walk? He’s following behind you like a dog, arms crossed and boots stomping against the ground. And as time passed, you grew closer to him.

You helped him pray, taught him how to properly bless himself, assisted him with small tasks, blessed him before any mission—Small or safe, long or dangerous. You forgave him, for all of his previous sins.

He was still sinful.

Simon still laid in his cot, hand stroking his cock furiously—grumbling and hissing through his teeth, hips arching up and off of the bedsheets, cum spurting along his abdomen, spilling down to his pubic hair.

Simon still fucked his pillow, like a dirty, hormonal teenager—Thinking of the way your unused cunt would clench and stretch around the length of his dick, how he would ruin you for yourself, and your beliefs. Your purpose.

Make you faithful to him, not god.

When he’s knocking on your door, it’s not a surprise—Your fluffing your wings before he walks in, glancing down at you.

“Hi, Si!”

“You alright?”

“M’fine.. Just wanna pray for a bit.”

Nodding, you patted the side of your bed, watching the man sink into it comfily, placing a hand on his thigh.

You’re so gorgeous, the way your soft eyes looked up at him with mild adoration, the way your lips parted softly as you whispered soft prayers, fingers clenched together, he couldn’t help but feel his cock harden at the sight of you, chewing on his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself, he wrapped a hand around your waist, yanking you into him—listening to your soft little squeak, eyes widening.

“Simon?”

“I had a dream, last night.”

He grumbled, glancing down at you with faux worry.

“A vision, even.”

“Meant to have your blessing, worship you.”

The blonde coerced you into sitting atop his lap, kneading at the flesh of your ass gently; lips suckling on the untainted skin of your neck, cross between your cleavage glistening at him.

“..Blessing?”

“S’yr duty, love.. God sent y’down here fr’ me, sent you here to create the purest kind..

To save sinners like me.”

Within seconds, he was pulling you into a sloppy, openmouthed kiss—rough fingers tearing your clothes apart, palms squishing your bare breasts together, rolling the buds of your nipples over his thumb.

“Do all of yr’ kind walk around, tits out? Think you wanted this attention..”

It was all moving too fast, your wings fluttered slightly, lips parted and eyes wide with soft concern as your palms rested against his chest.

“Are you—“

A soft whimper interrupted your voice as the man beneath you lapped at your perky tits, letting out soft groans.

“Are you sure we’re meant to do this?”

“This feels unholy..”

Simon shook his head, slapping your ass tantalisingly, grinding his aching cock into your clothed cunt, listening to your quiet mewl.

“God told me, told me in prayers.. Soon as I seen yr’ pretty face, I knew it.”

He knew this was wrong, he knew manipulating this little thing into seduction was horrible, but how could he stop now?

He’d never stop, that’s what he told himself as he slid his digits into your tight cunt, tears streaking your cheeks, crying out at the painful stretch, but how could he stop? The way your hips met his hand in mutual thrusts, the way you squirted all over the bedsheets with a drawn out moan, the way your toes curled into the bed from pleasure.

How could he stop?

He couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop when your cross bounced atop your tits, couldn’t stop when you begged him to slow down—his cock battering your pussy like it owed him money, couldn’t stop when you prayed beneath your breath for god to forgive you.

Wouldn’t stop.

“That’s it—Fffuuucckk..—What would the lord think do you? Being wrecked by a dirty sinners cock..”

“Your first cock, your only—christ— cock.”

“Simon—ahah!mngghh.. s’too much!”

Each word from him was emphasised by a swift slap to your clit, his lips worshipping your body like a temple—His temple, he’d pray to you every night—Fill your tummy up with his offspring, make you his goddess , never listen to anyone but the woman carrying his fertile seed, the woman who he was currently cumming inside with soft pants, kissing the nape of your neck with soft praise.

Acts surprised when your tummy starts to swell with his baby a few weeks later.

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writingdumpster · 11 months

Text

flashes

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, nude photos, fingering, m receiving oral, breeding, p in v, dacryphilia, squirting, minor degradation, minor praise, creampie,

summary: you buy a special set of lingerie when you know you're ovulating and Bob asks if he can take pictures of you while you fuck.

word count: 3.2k

“Can I take pictures of you?”

Bob’s question surprised you. You had sent him nudes before, and it wasn’t like he had never seen photos of you, but he had never taken any himself. You did look good. His jaw had literally dropped when he saw you. You bought a special lingerie set to wear that night. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was Bob’s favorite shade of blue and it was made of a thin mesh material that left little to the imagination.

“You want to take pictures of me?” You questioned.

“On my polaroid,” Bob explained. “To have while I’m gone.” You smiled softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That’s okay.” His expression perked up. He gave you a soft kiss.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bob drawled, his accent sweet. He scrambled from his place on the edge of the bed. You had instructed him to wait there while you made your grand entrance from the bathroom after changing into your lingerie set. He fished his polaroid camera out of its place in the closet and loaded it up with a new set of film.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” You asked. You wanted Bob to take charge of this. Not just because the pictures were for him, but because you were nervous. You were ovulating. You had been casually trying with Bob. The two of you had stopped using condoms, but you had started tracking your cycle. You were ready. You hadn’t told Bob. He wanted kids too, you had stopped using protection on purpose, but you were nervous about it.

“Could you get on your knees for me?” Bob asked. You smirked as you fell to your knees in front of him. You reached for his belt, carefully unbuckling it and shoving his pants down his legs. He was already rock hard, the idea of photographing you had been enough to wind him up. You spit on your hand and then wrapped your fingers around his cock. He moaned softly. You leaned down and gave his tip a few kitten licks, cleaning up the precum that was leaking out of him.

“Look up at me,” Bob called. “Stick your tongue out.” You turned your eyes up towards Bob to find he was pointing the camera down at you. He took his cock in his free hand and pressed it down against your tongue before the camera flashed. Bob dropped the photo on the bedside table, where a stack of them would soon sit. While he was distracted you let his cock push down your throat. He gasped in surprise, knees nearly giving out beneath him.

“Jesus, honey,” Bob groaned. You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you had caught him off guard. He was good at teasing you, and you always had to find your own ways to get back at him.

Bob turned his focus back down to you as you deepthroated his thick cock. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail so he could see you as your lips moved up and down his shaft. He groaned as he gently guided you up and down, keeping the control mostly in your hands.

“Look up,” Bob called. You flicked your eyes up to see the lens of the camera facing you. You gave your best innocent doe eyes as the camera flashed again. He pulled you off his cock, tossing the picture with the other.

“What next, Robby?” You asked as you licked your lips. He lifted you to your feet and pulled you in for a kiss.

“I want to get some of you in this pretty little thing you bought for me, sweetheart,” Bob told you cheekily. “Lay on the bed.” You quickly followed his instruction, climbing onto the bed and laying out on your back. You spread your hair around your head and adjusted the lingerie set. Bob was crouched on his knees, looming above you as he pointed the camera down at your body.

“Smile for me, honey,” Bob called. The absurdity of the context pulled a giggle from you and the camera flashed again. He looked down at you thoughtfully, planning out his next masterpiece. He smirked when his idea came.

“Spread your legs for me,” Bob requested. “Squeeze those pretty tits I love so much.” You moaned softly at the idea. He was really indulging himself. You followed his instructions and the camera flashed again.

Bob kneeled over your hips so he could reach you better. He pushed his thumb down against your tongue. You closed your lips around it, letting your tongue slide against it.

“That’s my good girl,” Bob cooed as you sucked on his finger. The camera flashed again. He slowly drew his hand away from your mouth. He slid his hand to rest on your throat. The pressure was firm, but not restricting. The camera flashed again. His hands kept moving down to your breasts, squeezing them in a way that would leave bruises in the morning as the camera flashed once more.

“I want your bra off,” Bob told you. You leaned up from the mattress and pulled the fabric off, leaving you nearly bare in front of him. He grabbed your tits, thumb rubbing over your nipples briefly. He sunk his fingers around your round breast and flashed the camera again.

“Can I have your cock now, sir?” You begged. Bob smirked.

“No,” Bob said. “I want some pictures with my fingers inside your pretty little pussy first.” You sighed in disapproval.

“Hurry up then,” you whined. He chuckled.

“Be patient,” Bob told you. “I want to take my time with you.” As much as you were desperate for Bob’s cock you couldn’t help the small whimper that his words pulled from you. “Can you lift your legs up for me?” He requested. You smiled softly at him as you lifted your legs into the air so he could remove your panties. He tossed them off the side of the bed.

Bob looked down at your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for him. He put the camera down and used both hands to stroke up and down your thighs. His touch was featherlight, drawing goosebumps to your skin.

“Robby…” You whispered needily.

“I know, baby,” Bob cooed in understanding. “I promise that I’ll give you everything you want, but you have to be patient.” Something in his tone was different. He knew what you really wanted from him. He knew you wanted him to make you a mother.

“Please just touch my pussy, Robby,” you begged. “However you want. I don’t care. I just need to feel you there.” Bob smiled. He moved a single finger to your clit, gently rubbing circles around it to appease you. The moment Bob’s finger made contact with your clit your back arched in the air and your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Open your eyes,” Bob ordered. When you did the camera flashed on your face.

“Are you ready for a finger?” He asked.

“Can I have two?” You pleaded. Bob considered your request. You were being good for him and you were letting him live out this fantasy.

“Okay, honey,” Bob agreed. “Two it is.” He sucked his ring and middle fingers between his lips, coating them in his spit. “Ready?” He asked as he aimed the camera towards your dripping twat. You nodded furiously.

“Please,” you begged. “I need you.” Bob smirked. You needed him. Wasn’t that sweet?

“I’ve got you, baby.” No sooner did you feel Bob’s fingertips gently sliding through your folds. You inhaled sharply, waiting for him to give you what you wanted. He was filled with a wave of pride at the small sound. It made him desperate to give you what you wanted. He pushed his fingers into you, his movement quick enough to relieve your desire without being harsh. The camera flashed.

“Thank you, Robby,” You mewled.

“You’re welcome, honey,” Bob cooed back. He kept a steady rhythm inside you as he snapped another picture of your cunt with his fingers buried in it. “You’re so sexy, sweetheart,” Bob groaned as he felt you clench down on his fingers.

“I want your cock, Robby,” you whined.

“Come on my fingers first,” Bob pleaded with you. He put the camera down and reached down with his other hand to rub tight circles around your clit with his thumb. You moaned in surprise and kicked your legs against the mattress.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bob cooed. “Come for me.” He hooked his fingers against your walls, pressing into your g spot as he sped up his movements on your clit.

“Fuck! Bobby!” You cried out in pleasure. The camera flashed. Your walls pulsated around Bob’s fingers and your legs shook. You arched your back away from the mattress. The camera flashed. You opened your eyes to see Bob’s adoring stare as he flashed the camera once more on your sweaty, fucked out face.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Bob murmured. Tears sprung to your eyes despite his sweet praise.

“Your cock, Robby,” you whined. “Need your cock, please.” You sniffled as you fell into a state of total desperation for only one thing. Bob’s eyes softened upon seeing your tears. He quickly reached up to wipe them away.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bob whispered softly. He crawled up your body, bringing the camera with him. “Didn’t realize just how bad you needed me.” He lined the swollen head of his cock up with your dripping hole.

“Always need you this bad, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob kissed your nose softly.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “Me too.” You moaned softly. Bob had gotten himself in position to take another picture. He had his thick cock in his hand, lined up perfectly with your wet slit. He held the camera in his other hand. His eyes flicked up to yours. “Ready?” He asked. You nodded quickly. Bob pushed his cock into you. The camera flashed several times—some photos on your face or your body, and a few at the spot where you were connected.

“Ohh, Robert…” You moaned slowly as you felt him fill the emptiness that you’d needed him to fill. Bob cursed quietly. You looked up at him. He was beautiful, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his body tight around you.

“Can I take a picture of you?” You asked. Bob smirked.

“Yeah, honey,” he agreed. “You can take one.” He handed you the camera. You pointed it up at him and reached up, dragging your nails down his chest as the camera flashed. You handed him the camera and the undeveloped photo.

“Thank you, Bobby.” Bob put the camera and photo to the side and turned his focus fully on you. He leaned down on his forearm so he could kiss your neck as his hips fucked slowly into you. He grabbed your leg with his other hand, pulling it up around his hip so he could get just a bit deeper.

You came without warning, but kept your moans in. You weren’t supposed to come without asking. Bob kept fucking into you and you thought you��d gotten away with it when you came again. You were doing your best to keep your breathing even and not pass out as you recovered. Then Bob switched arms and pulled your other leg around his hip as well. You knew that you were going to squirt this time.

“Can I come?” You cried out suddenly, unsure whether you’d be able to hold it anyway.

“Yes, baby,” Bob agreed. You let the electric pleasure run over you, whimpering and whining as you did. Bob wore a proud grin as he watched your face contorting in pleasure and felt you clench down on his hard cock. Clear fluid sprayed out over his cock. Bob reached down and rubbed back and forth on your clit, splashing your cum all over the sheets. You were panting as Bob stilled his hips, still buried inside you.

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby girl,” Bob drawled. His accent was thicker when he used the low tone that he would pull during sex. He knew how much it drove you crazy. “How many times was that? Be honest, I know you came at least once without telling me.”

“Including when you fingered me?” You asked shyly.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Bob replied.

“Four,” you told him quietly, awaiting your punishment for the two unpermitted orgasms.

“Why are you so horny today, huh?” Bob asked. You looked away. You knew exactly why. It was why you’d bought the lingerie. Bob wanting to take pictures had been a surprising bonus. “Answer me,” Bob pushed.

“I’m ovulating,” you admitted in a whisper. Bob groaned roughly. He made one quick and deep thrust into you, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

“You want me to get you pregnant, baby?” Bob asked, his voice as slow and smooth as molasses. You nodded. “Tell me, honey. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to get me pregnant, Robby,” you told him. “I want you to fuck your cum deep into me.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby,” Bob said with a smile. He began fucking you again, faster this time. If you wanted his cum he was going to give it to you. You clawed at his back and he left hickies over your chest and neck. Bob reached down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You moaned loudly.

“Can I please come?” You begged.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Bob told you. You fell apart on Bob’s cock, tightening down on him as he thrust into you. He moaned loudly, making a few harsh thrusts into you before you felt him coming deep into you. He kept fucking into you as he rode out his orgasm. You were slowly coming down. He leaned back onto his knees so he was upright and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and pulled you down against him, getting deeper than you had ever felt him before. The new sensation threw you into another unexpected orgasm and you cried out in pleasure, milking Bob’s cock for everything he could give you.

“Thank you, Robby,” you whimpered. Bob chuckled.

“I’m not done, sweetheart. If we want you to get pregnant I should probably give you more than one load.” You whimpered at the thought alone. Bob could already feel himself getting hard again. He rubbed your clit slowly, making you clench and flex around him. It was just what he needed to make him rock hard again. You moaned at the feeling of him hardening inside you.

“Give it to me, Robby,” you whined. Bob didn’t need any other words of encouragement to begin fucking into you. He started off with a steady pace–not too fast, but not slow either. You were falling apart regardless, completely unable to hold in orgasms anymore as you lost yourself in the pleasure of Bob’s cock. He hit just the right spot and you felt the tightness in your stomach exploding again.

“Are you coming again?”

“Yes, Robby,” you gasped. “I’m–ungh–I’m sorry. I can’t h-help it,” you whined.

“Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” Bob taunted. The degradation only made you come harder. His dog tags were dangling over you as he thrust in and out. You reached up and twisted the chain around your finger, tugging him down to meet your lips. He kissed you with a passion that reminded you of the very first time you kissed. His thrusts were getting more irregular as you continued pulsing around him. He reached down to your clit, desperate to pull one last orgasm from you. He rubbed against the sensitive nub, lubricated by his own cum leaking out around his cock.

You screamed out in overwhelming pleasure and came again. Fire burned through your body as every part of your body tightened and then snapped into a release. You were moaning loudly, not really aware of the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. You started squirting again, the fluid spraying out around Bob’s cock as he continued to fuck into you. He groaned loudly at the sight. Bob grunted, gasping loudly before hammering harshly into you with a deafening moan as he emptied everything he had into you. Bob rolled off of you after a moment. The two of you lay there, quietly catching your breath as the two of you each recovered from the strongest orgasms either of you had ever had.

“How many times was that for you, sweetheart?” Bob asked after a moment.

“Eight, I think,” you admitted.

“Jesus,” Bob said. “I hope the pregnancy hormones are this good too.”

“You came so much, Robby. I can feel it inside me,” you murmured. “It’s so warm.”

“Will you push it out for me, baby? Will you show me what I gave you?” Bob requested. He leaned up and grabbed the camera.

“That’s not gonna help me get pregnant,” you said.

“I’ll push it back into you, baby. Besides, I fucked my first load real deep into you,” he said.

“You’re so dirty, Robby,” you teased. Bob smiled. He kissed your thigh.

“Please, baby?” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You clenched your insides, trying to push out the thick cumload Bob had given you. Suddenly you felt the warm liquid dripping down your folds. “Fucking hell, honey.” He took one last picture. He scooped his cum back up onto his fingers, pushing it back into you again. He crawled up the bed to be level with you, putting the camera on the bedside table and picking up the stack of photos.

“Want to see?” Bob asked. You nodded as you scooted over to his side. The two of you looked through the photos, Bob complimenting something about you in each one. When you got to the photo you had taken of him you grinned widely.

“You look so sexy, Bobby,” you said. Bob chuckled.

“Glad you think so, honey,” he said. You bumped your arm against him.

“You’re an adonis, Bobby. Completely out of my league,” you said with a smile. Bob rolled his eyes.

“Honey, I’m in a squad with adonises, but I ain’t one,” Bob joked.

“Oh, please. None of them even compare to you. You had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw your eyes,” you said in reflex. Bob could tell you meant it by how quickly you said it.

“I love you, baby,” he said simply. You looked up at him and kissed him gently.

“I love you too.” Bob turned back to the photos.

“Could you write me notes on them? Like you do with my lunches?” Bob asked shyly. You grinned at him, leaning to kiss him gleefully. You pulled away with a smile still on your face. He always told you how much he loved the notes you put in his lunch everyday.

“Yes,” you said simply. “Do you want them to be sexy or sweet?” You asked. Bob smiled softly.

“Both, just like you.” Bob flipped to the picture of his cum dripping out of your pussy. He hummed softly at it. “I sorta wish I could’ve had one with my cum on your face too,” he said. You smirked.

“I think I can make that happen.”

#bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader smut #lewis pullman smut #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

corvase · 1 year

Text

character insecurities

insecurities are honestly a construct and the dumbest thing society has conditioned us to believe matter because i could literally make this a prompt of random things and it would probably be accurate but anyway! feel free to use <3

your character is insecure about:

how loud they speak

their accent

how passionate they get about certain things

their recent haircut

their height

their clothing style

their place in their friend group

their place in society… especially if they’re a minority

the way they think people perceive them

their hobbies

their lack of hobbies

their lack of friends

the fact that they have a lot of friends

their personality

their openness

how much they talk and who they talk to about it

their past

their future

their present… like they are insecure about where they’re at and wish they were in a better state

the place they live

their lack of confidence

their writing style… haha

their talents .. or lack thereof

their past lovers i.e. feeling like someone they were with didn’t value them

they think everyone is always making fun of them

hope this helps !!

#change of pace but i like this #characterization hello #writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing insecurities #insecure characters #insecure prompts #imagine your otp #writing prompts #prompts #character building #character traits

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Cruel Intentions | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: …so this is a thing that’s literally so old. BETA’D BY MY LOVELY @as-is-above-so-below

song: Cruel Intentions by Delacey & G-Eazy

LYRICS FROM SONG USED!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. mentions of ex-boyfriend john price, you and ghost are toxic, mentions of breeding kink/mentions of pregnancy. SMUT. car sex, fingering (f receiving). NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MDNI.

summary: After another shitty break up with your on and off boyfriend Captain John Price, you always seem to find yourself in the comfort of his Lieutenant’s car - and letting him do whatever he pleases.

I like sex, I like flowers, I like attention.

“You look good tonight.”

Don't ever put me second.

Hands settled on the door, and you peered into his familiar black Trans Am, nails tapped against the inside. “You say that every time.”

“Fine; would you like me to just say what I would if I wasn’t restraining myself?”

You chuckled, questioning going back into your apartment but you said, “Tell me.”

“Get in the car, baby, and I’ll tell you.”

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good this side of Heaven. So stop talking, pull my stockings down,

It wasn’t long before his hand danced up your thigh, under your skirt, and it wasn’t long before you were biting your lip, the feeling of digits inside of you made you already more attentive to your boy toy turned benefit. A hand on the steering wheel and the other massaged you, the small purrs from your pretty lips made him smile.

“Don’t waste your pretty little voice ‘til we get there.” He spoke with an almost bored tone in his beautiful accent, but you knew he was living in how he touched you; how he got you so high without holding a flame to anything.

“Fuck, Ghost, stop talking,”

You're my cruel intention.

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good, this side of, this side of, this side of Heaven.

He giggled and slowed his pace, the rings that sat at the base of his fingers now collided with your skin, warm to the touch and soaked in you. Did that matter? No, not to Ghost. “So good for me, always good for me.”

“Couldn’t you wait until we get there?” Your left hand grabbed his thigh, the right held onto his forearm as he kept going deeper. You bit your tongue and he laughed.

“What can I say? I am a man of taste,” he purred as the car slowed down at an empty stop light. You never worried about someone looking in; the windows were tinted and Ghost drove fast on nights like these. “It’s not like I could’ve; in that outfit, fuck, I jus’ wanna shred it.”

Uh, think you got me, but the problem is

I'm already hip but I see the play I just been watching this,

His fingers curled and your breath hitched in your throat, clutching his thigh as your head hit the headrest. You bit your tongue, trying not to give him the satisfaction of what he wanted to hear if he didn’t follow your clear directions - don’t drive and fuck me.

Well, it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing; missed him after a week and sucked his dick as he drove you back to his place. He fucked you good that night, and was the reason why you didn’t look at anyone else. You wouldn’t look at anyone else. He showed his love physically by fucking you better than he did last time.

Happy to see the way you call me everyday, it's obvious, plus it's 2AM you know what time it is, you just wanna have me come and chase you, boost your confidence

His hand became a little faster and you had to grip his thigh even harder to stop yourself from moaning; you couldn’t give him that satisfaction of breaking the one rule you had. You could see his smirk in the corner of your eye and your right hand slid from his forearm down to his wrist, forcing him to go knuckle deep into you. He grunted in annoyance and his thumb flicked your clit, a shaky breath escaped your lips and his smirk turned into a smile. Your eyes glared at him, seeing how his other hand curled around the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white - the way his eyes were half-lidded as he watched the road.

“Come on babe, moan my name and I might fuck you good tonight.”

Shower you with flowers, give you all these daily compliments, yeah, careful if you fall in love, then it's gon' be a consequence.

“Fuck you.” You whispered and his hand stopped completely, your head rolled to the side, looking at your boy toy with an annoyed glare. His fingers curled inside of you and you almost purred, you were almost there. A few more moments of his fast and curling fingers made your head hit the headrest and groan, the first orgasm in the car of the night.

His canines shined in the dark and he retracted his hand, the addicting feeling was now gone and you were left high and not so dry. “If you’re gonna play hard to get, it’s only gonna be worse for you.” You groaned as you watched his fingers disappear into his mouth, sucking and licking all of your juices off of him. His tongue flicked around his rings and that’s when your hand let go of his wrist to make its way down to replace what he had taken away; but his almost clean hand grabbed yours. He took only a moment to look at you, saying, “Don’t.” His hand brought yours to his lips, kissing the back of it as you saw how the lights from the city were long gone.

We keep going - it's no turning back, it ain't no stopping us, Had you at “Hi. What's your name?" Burning in a flame, a little fling you turn into a game, and since we started fucking, it's never been the same,

Your eyes trailed to his face, a smile on your face as he kissed your hand again. His eyes glanced away as the car turned and slowed to a stop at a hidden cliff, showing the lights of LA. He kept the keys in the ignition as his eyes looked at you, glassy and knowing what he was going to see. A pretty little thing, one he gets to watch beg for him to make her choke on his cock.

The idea of stopping? I can't even entertain, you driving me insane, craziest I met. Drinking champagne, we started fucking on a jet, took you to the mile high, then we start to sweat,

I got you in a bag but you still play hard to get.

His hand let go of you and unbuckled both of you as your own hands grabbed his hair, crashing his lips to yours. Your body pressed into his chest and his hands grabbed your head, deepening the kiss so that way his tongue could taste you again; his drug. Your nails scratched his scalp and his tongue stuttered for a moment, you didn’t even notice. He pulled away for a moment, and your eyes opened and met his as he spoke, “Get in the fucking back.”

Yeah, when you over this is light work, love that when you put them heel ons with that tight skirt,

You both got out and pulled back the seats, allowing Lieutenant Simon Riley to sit down in the back, his legs spread out and his hands unbuckling his belt as he watched you in that skirt and the heels he loved to see you in. He licked his lips as his hands abandoned his pants and grabbed your hips, pulling your skirt down, and revealing his favorite pair of panties that made your ass look damn good. He smiled wide as you awkwardly stepped out of the skirt before he pulled you onto his lap. Your hands grabbed for the black tie around his neck, his hands gripped your ass. You glanced up at him as you began to untie it from his neck.

“Baby,” he whispered as his fingers found your warm hand, his eyes flicked up to your eyes, you were focused on that tie but his hand interlocked with yours. You looked down at him and he smiled, eyes twinkling as he spoke, “You really are beautiful, Y/N.”

You sat back on his legs and rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“At least I tell you more than Price ever did.”

You leaned forward a little as his other hand rested on your cheek. “You fuck me more than he ever did.”

He chuckled and your hands then sat on his jaw. “Better than he ever will.” And he was right - even with the on-and-off relationship with his best friend, you were always coming back to Simon like a dog. Of course, when you let Captain John Price kiss your feet and say sorry, you wouldn’t dare text his Lieutenant - you’d never cheat on him when you were together officially. The arguments only get harder to deal with, harder to see him leave for so long after saying horrible things and breaking it off, again. It only ever drove you back into the tattooed clutch of Price’s lap dog, fucking out the anger and hurt of your broken relationship.

Simon’s eyes sparkled and his hands rested on your thighs, gentle yet it still sent electricity through your body. “Do you want me to show you how much better I can get?”

Sleeping over almost every night, wake up in my shirt, if we make it official, I think maybe this can might work

Your ex-boyfriend’s best friend gripped your thighs and you went to work on his tie, quickly throwing it off of him as his fingers gripped your panties, he loved that set but he didn’t care; a rip sounded and you yelped, looking back to him as he tossed the ripped piece of fabric to his side. “Si!” He giggled as his lips connected to your neck, teeth pushing into your skin as his hands pulled your legs even farther apart. “That hurt, you know how much I spent on that?”

“‘M sorry, baby.” He mumbled as your hands made quick work of tossing his belt to the side and unbuttoning his nice dress pants. A touch to his crotch and he gripped your legs tighter, chewing on your neck harder made you whine. Your hands stopped fucking with his pants and carded into his blond hair, pressing a kiss to it.

Fuck the heavy shit, tho' we living in this moment, it's not even mine but I treat it like I own it

“You sure John still doesn’t know?” You whispered. He looked up at you with a sweet smile.

“He doesn’t even know I own a car in the States.” You giggled at that and his hands clawed at the bottom of your shirt. “Fuckin’ his off and on again girlfriend anytime while he can barely even keep up with his sleep schedule.”

He slid the shirt off your body and quickly raised his hips, tugging down his pants while you sat up on her knees - your head knocked against the roof of the car. His eyes trailed down your body then flicked back up to meet yours again.

Six missed calls, but ain't tripping, where your phone went? Ain't thinking bout that now, nothing matters now, got you so wet

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you slowly slid down his cock, he groaned as your nails scratched up his shoulders to his scalp, happy that he decided to ditch the mask again. “You’re so-“ he groaned as you finally bottomed out and he loudly panted, “tight tonight.”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.” You spoke and a hand slid down his head to his neck, pressing in your fingers to slow his oxygen intake. The man’s body buzzed with adrenaline; it’s been a few months since you had ridden him and it was the best orgasm of his life. To date, at least.

You rose up and Ghost moaned, missing the gentle touch of your thighs connecting with his but craved how slow you started to go. His hands crawled to your hips and you grunted in distaste. “Don’t make me tie you up, sweetheart.”

That turned him all the way on. His hands pulled you up and down, making you gasp loudly but after a few slow motions of your pussy up and down his cock, your hand on his throat jumped to his cheek. “Hands off.”

Ghost loved you like this, his hands moved away from your shirt and to the headrests in the back, pressing his arms against them hard enough to resist the intense emotion to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk.

Light a couple candles in the room, pop some Moet, every single night I'm tryna go but we ain't go yet

Your hand moved back to his throat and your other hand dipped into his button down, as you began to rise again. Rise all the way up and off of him, touching his tip with your clit before going back down at an agonizingly slow pace to him but amazing to you. Being filled so well and the pain felt miles away while you kept going, slowly and Ghost was going to lose it if you didn’t pick up the pace. The faster you went, the faster he could reach that climax he only reached with you. The mind-numbing stimulation made stars in his vision for hours after.

“Pick it up, love,” he grunted as you slid back down his dick, starting to reach your second orgasm.

“I’m not- Fuck, I’m done with him,” you answered as the hand that was ghosting over his skin moved to your nipple, rubbing it between your fingers.

“Oh god,” he panted as his hands gripped the headrests. “Don’t tell me that, might ask Price to help me fuck you, love.”

You finally began to pace faster and you both groaned, low and high both blended to create a melody of love, whether you knew it or not. “God, I don’t think I can handle that, your dick is big enough- Fuck!” His hips thrust upwards and he hit the one place only he was able to, causing you to falter in your rhythm.

His right hand left the headrest and went right for your hair, your pace grew faster. “Fucking bitch- I- if I-“You slammed your hips down and grew double times faster, his hips began to roll as you kept going, faster and faster making him whine. “Fuck- fuck- God,”

“You just really like this, don’t you?” You purred as your high was so close, and as soon as he thrust his hips again, your eyes rolled back into your head, keeping your pace as you whimpered, “Like sitting here and getting fucked?” Your hands disappeared from your own body to lean forwards, placing your elbows on the top of the seats to hear the delicious moans coming from him.

“Yes-“ he began but your teeth skidded down his neck and that’s when his hands abandoned their place, grabbing onto your hips and pushing his cock even deeper into you.

Finishes, she clenches like she ain't ready to go yet. Yeah, I mean you crazy and you know that, yeah crazier than me, keep on playing mind games, I ain't got time for that shit, it gives me migraines

You let out a tangled cry, your sweet spot getting hit faster since your skin met together harder, Ghost groaned when he heard you. “C’mon, baby, fuck me,” he spoke and you tried to go faster, sloppy but it didn’t matter cause his hips met yours every time. “I got you.”

A myriad of moans and whines came from your mouth as the blinding white feeling of another orgasm hit you like a punch, your hands grabbed his hair and pulled his head back with that strength. “God, Ghost-“

“Say my name,” he whined as the growing pressure in his stomach began to make him want to fucking lay you down and fuck you so right, but God, his cock felt so good in her right now. He wouldn’t dare move from your body pressed to his, riding him like it was your last day alive.

“Simon,” You breathed and he smirked, faster thrusts from his hips and there were only broken gasps that came from your lips. The sound of his skin meeting yours over and over was like a melody, one you loved to hear.

Only the realness, it's what's running through my veins, and every time I'm in that, she always screaming my name.

Your stamina was gone, which made him slide your back to lay on the seats, he kept his pace the whole time. Your hands clawed at his shirt, and he groaned again. He went harder the next thrust, hitting your spongy spot and earning another cry of overstimulation from your lips, to which he met them with his own. The dance was one you have done before, deep and full of passion; you shouldn’t be loving each other like this but neither of you couldn’t stop. Addiction is hard to kick.

“I just want to make you mine,” he grunted as he kept going harder and harder; that high was so close but he wanted you to feel so much that you forgot about his best friend. Ghost truly loved you, and he couldn’t say if he wanted you because you were his best friend’s ex-girlfriend or because he was in love with you.

“If-“ You moaned as you could barely even ride your high down as you felt another one begin to bundle in the bottom of your belly. “If you promise to not be everything that hurts me.”

He wished he could’ve closed his eyes and not met your saddened eyes, but he met them with a trustful stare. He removed a hand that had held him up, only to lay it on your cheek as his thrusts began to slow to a stop.

“Y/N, I’ll love you until the end of time.”

“And I can’t hear that again,” You whispered, your hands cradling his face. “Don’t say you love me, this’ll get complicated and I lose everything.”

Ghost’s heart cracked, hearing the rejection with his dick still inside you made everything so much more confusing, but he knew he wasn’t your number one choice. He knew you had to love him, the talks and the time you’ve spent together and the hours you’ve spent getting fucked by each other had to mean something.

Simon knew this was all in his head and he knew he had made an agreement, to pleasure each other mutually without any distractions.

I like sex, I like flowers, I like attention.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and his hands left your cheek as you winced a little.

There was only a moment of awkward silence before you spoke, “I hope you know that I am not leaving this car until I can’t walk.”

A silent agreement to not talk about it.

“But,” You closed your eyes as your hands roamed his face. “You can’t fucking cum in me, I don’t want to have to explain why I’m pregnant suddenly.”

He chuckled before he started to slow down again. “Just go fuck Price after this, or invite me to a threesome or something.”

You whimpered out a laugh as your stomach began to tighten again. “Then he’d know that you fuck me better and he’d get jealous.”

“He’d know that I would never put you second.”

Don't ever put me second.

His thrusts then became violent, skin slapping against skin like a song and your throat screamed melodies of moans and screams of pleasure. He bit his lip the whole time, trying to hold back his orgasm as he watched you writhe underneath him like a goddess. God, it felt like an eternity for him, watching how your skin moved and how your tongue curled when you orgasmed again.

You hit another orgasm in a record time and it was getting impossible for Ghost to not immediately cum when seeing your half-lidded eyes, he gripped the wall of the car while the other near your head now moved to your neck, squeezing tightly which made a smile appear on your lips as he went hard.

“Fuck, Si, I ca-an’t again,” You whimpered with what little breath you had, “I-I-“

“Come on,” he growled as his hips snapped so quickly you yelped. “Cum on me.”

They snapped again and you cried out, your hands went up to his shoulders, pulling him a little forwards as he finally let go. The feeling of release made him scream out your name, thrusting through his orgasm while you began to ride out your overstimulation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-“

He stopped abruptly with his whole length in you, balls against your ass and you both panted.

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good this side of Heaven, so stop talking, pull my stockings down,

“Gimme my phone.” He panted and your hand moved to his pants on the car floor, digging around before you finally handed him the black phone. Your eyes closed as he took some deep breaths before making a call.

“Hey, Price.”

You're my cruel intention.

——

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nwndrlndn · 10 months

Text

modern anakin hcs

pairing : modern!anakin skywalker x gn!reader | wc : 1.4k | 18+MINORS DNI

a/n : this is just how i see a modern anakin. its kind of an add-on to boyfriend.

general hcs ( adaptational awareness )

anakin is some kind of scandinavian from shmi's side of the family and thats all he really cares about. his stance on his father and his full ancestry is "if he didn't want me then, i don't want him now" ( lies, we'll talk about the daddy issues later )

so shmi was probably born in a country thats similar to sweden or denmark and anakin probably spent his early years there. but by like 4 or 5 they moved from shmi’s home country to modern tatooine

so like picture little blond haired, blue-eyed anakin, right? imagine he was homeschooled for like the majority of his life and he walks into school with a swedish accent and basic english skills

eventually, shmi saves up enough money and gets a really good opportunity to send anakin to a really good school in coruscant

shmi taught him how to cook, clean, some housekeeping skills

and he has even less friends, but he got along with his peer mentor, obi-wan, who was like on the verge of graduating and saw anakin as a surrogate brother

anakin definitely isnt emo until he’s in college, before college, i imagine him dressing like scott barringer, loose clothes, light colors, and he keeps his hair blond

this era of anakin defintely liked car shops and had a part time at a niche interests store ( think like, a bait shop ) to help his mom

he met padme in his junior year of high school, she was one of those alumni who were asked to come back to talk about the college experience to high schoolers

and anakin ( having zero filter ) asked for her number after the talk and she shot him down but still gave him her number.

then like, going into his college orientation, he was pissed off because his mom had remarried while he was away. but he was coming to terms with it and liking his step brother and his fiance.

i picture he shows up kind of fucked up looking. like his hair is growing out and the texture is off, his clothes are dark on the inside, light on the outside, and he’s listening to music on his headphones the whole time

and you see him sitting by himself, a little off from the engineering majors and fiddling with something in his hands and you walk over to him, in spite of your major and your nerves and sit next to him

instantly the headphones are off because his cool, tough guy front is still just a front, he was HOPING someone would talk to him

and you guys hit it off, chatting away about everything and anything

even when you part ways and the orientation ends, he’s texting you randomly and oh my god, he thinks too fast for his thumbs

“hve you seen ovrdrive?” “wtff is that thing your ordered at ciplt? im picking up food fr obi and he hates when i bring spicey stuff” “hellp”

he moves in with doctoral candidate obi-wan for college and takes up a part time at a mechanic’s shop and another as an overnight security guard ( he just sleeps and works on assignments there )

he got his mom threepio, a golden retriever, but usually is playing with padmé’s border collie, artoo ( credit to this amazing fan art )

he asked out padme after he fixed her computer ( for funsies ) and didnt shut up about her the entire time they dated

anakin is clingy in relationships, literally would hold onto padmé’s bags while out in public so she wouldnt wander too far from him

and he just really liked the environment of padmé’s apartment, being around you, padmé, and sabé was just a really big comfort for him

his descent into becoming a metalhead mostly happened because one of his bosses suggested it to him

and slowly he started to enjoy it more and more

and his wardrobe got darker, developed an energy drink addiction, and he started letting you and padmé give him messy eyeliner

and it culminated when he asked you to help him box dye his hair and now theres a stain in his bathroom of a streak of black hair dye across the ceiling

the reason why anakin and padmé broke up was a healthy end because ani def got a little jealous and toxic and padmé had to sit him down and tell him it was for the best

and he resented her for a while, wouldn’t talk to her while at her apartment for a good month

but then he watched her burn food and he felt bad and ended up cooking something for her and they never spoke about it again

and he definitely liked you when you first met, even when he was dating padmé ( and the few flings he had after her )

he just made himself bury his feelings for a while by treating you like a best friend or little sister

hanging out with you when padmé took everyone on a lake house trip and was busy talking to others

his actual confession comes in the form of him making a really crappy bracelet at his work bench

yes, he literally set up a robotics station in his bedroom. he will literally invite you over and sound so excited to see you

only to focus and work for 8 hours with only two rockstars and his thrash metal playlist as sustenance

you can try to give him a snack and he’ll ( unintentionally ) glare at you until he realizes he’s been ignoring you for so long and he just picks you up and kisses you

now youve got anakin licking at your face and laying on top of you. he’s not coming up for air until he’s made up for every minute he ignored you accidentally

his favorite kind of date would either be a movie date or to go out for a drive then stargaze

he will put you in his clothes, whether you like it or not. and he smells a bit like like oil and sweat mixed with mint

he started getting tattoos because he saw it as a form of independence

he has one industrial piercing, and three others on each of his earlobes. the tongue piercing was for fun

he likes alternative girls more, but if you’re not alternative he won’t push you ( unless you like that )

will have a titty attack if you call him emo and not a metalhead ( theres a difference )

18 + hc

he’s so fucking WEIRD

so he probably gets off every other day because of his mind ( and because his hands wander so much that he gets himself worked up )

to get into the idea i mentioned in boyfriend

he got your name near his navel and once he realized he liked you, he would try to aim his releases over your name

and he’s not a bad shot

his hands wander naturally because he just likes to feel your skin. like its not even his intent to get sexual, he’s absently rubbing your back and like 5 minutes later he’s just massaging your ass and tits if you lay on him

he’s actually really big on doggy, he just really likes to look at your back

so he also likes bending you over tables, counters, his workbench, his bed, and security desk at work

he has aquaphilia. will feel you up in pools and in large bodies of water

he really likes biting and marking

during sex, he likes to focus on your neck and back

but in general he would be the kind of guy to give you a forehead hickey

and will rub off any makeup you put on to cover it

prefers to praise and worship you, and if you try the same, he’ll get awkward and embarrassed but lap it up anyways

if you degrade him and objectify him, he will fuck you within an inch of your life

he also has his own playlists that he plays when you guys are fucking

he broke the door to his room so it’s not the best place to have sex, unless youre ok with the possibility of someone walking in

obi wan accidentally walked in on you both once and had to leave the apartment for a week

he has tried to fuck you in his car but you bumped your head and he drove you straight home to ice it, refuses to even get road head because of it

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keeganbrainmush · 10 months

Text

" I don't always like the things I have to do. " | Miguel O'Hara x male (villain) reader.

Ik he's been through so much, but why not put him through alittle more? Angst NO COMFORT, Unknown identities, identities are eventually discovered. Reader is based off the Prowler, Remember Miguel doesn't have a no killing rule? mhm. Blood and cuts mentioned! 1k words , Male reader , No NSFW mentioned, Minors DNI.

A small click sounded from your clawed glove as you disconnected it from your suit, placing it onto the table lightly as you looked around your base with narrowed eyes. Jesus, was it gloomy in here. You thought to yourself, taking off your mask as you gasped in fresh air.

You could finally go back to your apartment, and live your relatively normal life with your beautiful boyfriend. Aside from the fact you were literally the fucking Prowler. But only when you were called out. You had a debt with your boss, and if you didn't repay it, he'd threaten to hurt you or your loved ones. Yeah, Nueva York criminals were real predictable with their circumstances.

Only thing you'd have to do was work for him as a criminal for the rest of your life which was very likely to be cut short because of your ' job path '.

Wasn't that a pain in the ass?

You suddenly heard a rustle behind you, you instantly tensed up as you quickly pulled your mask down, grabbing ahold of the heavy glove as you clicked it back on as you spun around, meeting your eyes with a muscular man in a blue suit with red markings was sitting on one of the poles, sharp talons digging into the metal to hold himself.

You audibly groaned as you recognized the man who'd been watching you. Spiderman. He man who'd gotten close several times to capture you. God, you hoped this would be one of those times too. " Prowler. How about we make this easy on the both of us and let me take you in without a fight? " He offered, jumping down as his muscles were very clearly tensed as he took steps toward you.

Even if he asked to take you in easily, he knew you weren't gonna do that. " Sorry, Spiderman. I got my own thing to do. " You mumbled, voice distorted, listening to the light whir of your mechanical gloves as you leaped forward, Spiderman moving swiftly to the side as you turned sharply on your heel. " Why can't you leave me the hell alone? " You scoffed, twisting your neck enough for it to crack.

" Its kinda my job to take down criminals, if you didn't know. " He replied snarkily, picking up on the light accent which coated his voice. You stood up straight, nodding your head upward in a " come on, then " motion. You could almost hear the annoyed sigh which came from the stupidly tall man.

Spiderman jumped forward before you could react, grabbing ahold of your throat as he slammed you against the wall, feeling sharp talons against the sides of your throat as you lifted your legs upto his abdomen, kicking him back. He grunted as his claws scrape against your neck, ripping the fabric of your mask that went down to your collarbones as you felt a sharp stinging sensation.

You gasped as you felt blood start to instantly rush out of your cuts, shaking your blood as you focused on the problem infront of you instead of the one on you. ' Asshole. ' You muttered, quietly to yourself. You lunged forward quickly as you dragged your own metal glove across his face as you landed one, two, three punches successfully. Spiderman gasped out, grabbing your wrist before you could punch him a fourth time.

You tried to tug your arm out of his grip, panic starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. Spiderman twisted your arm sharply, feeling your ligament tear as you let out a muffled cry, the distortion making it sound eerie. You looked at the blue and red suited man, your pupils dilated as you used your other arm to cut at his abdomen, long red lines dragging from his chest down to his hip.

He loosed his grip slightly which gave you an opportunity to quickly pull your arm away from him, flinching at the pain before quickly recovering. You stared at Spiderman who was examining his wounds before jumping back at him, rolling for a moment in a struggle before pinning him down. Your fear starting to settle down, your mind instantly starting to fill with rage as you looked down at him, grabbing ahold of his throat before he could get back up, slamming him down against the concrete floor.

Spiderman choked out violently, a cough erupted as the back of his head hit the hard surface, a throbbing sensation starting to form in his head as his vision became fuzzy. You started to claw at his suit aggressively, cuts and scrapes starting to appear on his body before you tightened the grip on Spidermans throat. His chest heaved heavily as you did so, you started to punch at his face instead, small tears starting to form as your metal fist met with his cheek time and time again.

Until there was a hole large enough that you could see an eye.

An eye so painfully familiar.

The eyes that would normally make your heart swell with adoration and with happiness, instead caused your heart to drop.

Was it? It couldn't be. Miguel was at work, your beautiful, adoring boyfriend was at work. He couldn't be the Spiderman you're punching the life out of. Right?

...

Right?

No, it wasn't right. The soft wrinkle in the corner of his eyes when he normally smiled was now crinkled in pain. It was him. It was Miguel O'hara. The man you fell in love with.

You pulled back your hands instantly, panic and worry starting to fill your brain as you cried out, feeling several sharp talons in between the heavy chestplate and the plate which covered your back, digging into your stomach. Letting out shallow breathes as you shakily looked down to the source of the pain, you saw Spidermans, or rather Miguels, claws digging into you, pushing further into you until he was at his second knuckle.

You fell on your side off of him, your legs curling upto your stomach as pain took over your entire body, you glanced at Miguel, watching him flinch as he stood up shakily. ' He's hurt. ' You thought to yourself, trying to make yourself sit up as you took off your glove, holding your bare hand against the stab wound. You sat up against your elbow, looking up at Miguel desperately.

As much pain he was in, he still had his intimidating build, slightly hunched over as he glared down at you. " Are you done yet? " He spat, venom dripping from his voice. You instantly realized the severity of your situation. He didn't know who you were, you just beat the fuck out of him, and he doesn't have a problem with killing. You held your bloody hand out shakily up to him, signaling him to wait, stopping him in his tracks.

You slowly brought a hand to press a button on your voice changer, bringing it back to your normal voice. " Miguel. " You groaned quietly in pain, moving back to apply pressure on the wound. Just as yours did, his heart dropped. He let out a small gasp, the voice was shaky and obviously not the same as you sounded when you were happy, but it sounded like it was you. Was it?

He instantly slid down to his knees at your side, taking off your mask as his heart pounded so hard he was sure you could hear it too. Much to his misfortune, it was you. Miguel took his own mask off, bruises and cuts were scattered all over, but his focus was no longer on his pain. He cradled you in his arms, resting your back against his forearm.

" Hey, hey (Name). Mírame. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Fuck, I'm sorry. " He apologized, worry coating his words. You only looked at him with hazy eyes, nodding as best you could. Yeah, you were definitely bleeding out. You concluded, looking at the puddle of blood on the floor. " I'm gonna get you to a hospital, Love. Just hang on. " He ordered, gulping as he put his mask back on, picking you up bridal style.

How did he always manage to hurt the ones he loved?

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

Text

Pretty~

Pairing: Lee know x Felix x reader

Summary: You and Lix punish Lino for playing with what wasn’t his

Warnings: fem!reader, dom!reader, sub!lee know, slight switch!felix (mostly sub), mommy kink, pegging, oral (m recieving), handjob, choking, praise kink, degradation, slight objectification, cum eating, ropeplay, probably more that i missed

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Straight porn, literally no plot. 18+ minors DNI.

“Doesn’t he look so pretty kitten?” Felix whimpers, your warm breath tickling his ear and the side of his face. “Such a pretty little thing to defile and use just like a toy.”

He gulps loudly, shifting in place in an attempt the hide his growing hard-on.

“Isn’t that right, Lix?”

Your hand snakes around waist, slipping under the loose shirt he wears, pressing cold fingers against beating heart.

It thumps erratically at your touch, skipping as you close more of the distance between your bodies, pressing your chest up against his back. “Yeah,” He breathes, biting back a moan. “Looks so pretty, mommy.”

“Yeah.” You affirm, almost teasingly.

A chill runs through his body as your hand rubs lower on stomach, gliding between the dips of his abs and sliding lower to the waistband of his pants. “Mommy, will I get to play with him today?”

A small smile slips across your face. “Maybe kitten. That depends on how good you are.” Icy touches slip just a bit lower, palming him over his sweats, leaving just enough pressure there for him to take a sharp breath, letting his eyes slip shut.

And then you’re gone and his eyes fly open.

You lean over towards the other boy, tied up in red ropes, accenting his skin in a contrast that nearly has you groaning from just a simple look. “And it depends how good Minnie decides to be.”

“What do you think about that Minnie?” You brush his hair back as holds back a whine, trying to appear cool and composed. “Want Lixie to use you? Want Lixie to turn you into nothing more than a cheap slut?”

He pushes against the ropes, straining as if that might make them disappear or heaven forbid-break them. “If that means things are actually gonna get good. Right now it seems like you’re all bark, no bite” He groans, cockily albeit weakly.

Eyeing the way his cock twitches, you smile at him, “Really?” You brush your hands down his bare body, leaving goosebumps in your wake. “Is that really how you feel, bunny?”

The steel in your tone has him recoiling, backtracking his words, unsure. “I-i mean...”

Your voice drops to a whisper, leaning in to whisper it almost conspiratorially into his ear. “Just answer the question. Yes or no?”

He shakes his head. “No.” But the tone betrays the words, coming out almost a squeak.

This only further extends your amusement, fingers gliding along the edge of his jaw. “Really?” You repeat that godforsaken word once more, aggravating him further, testing how far you can push him. “You see, I could’ve sworn that you wanted this. You must’ve known what doing that would get you.” He shakes his head trying to deny it. “Remind me again-what you did bunny?”

He gives no reply, pausing his struggle to look away in embarrassment. “I didn’t do anything.” He mumbles and you roll your eyes, shaking your head at his theatrics.

He grunts again, struggling in a way that’s all show, no try. “Lix, kitten?” You call. Your sweet boy hums behind you, coming when called like the good little kitty he is.

“Yes mommy?”

With a sigh you turn to him, smile widening at the way his eyes somehow look up at you despite being basically the same height as him. “You’re my good boy, right?”

He nods quickly, melting into your soft touch as you run your thumb over his face. Starting at his temple, down his cheekbone, across the dusting of freckles and over his lips, pulling away just as his mouth falls open.

He whines but the noise quickly cuts off at the sharp warning look in your eye and turns into a sigh as you push him onto an empty spot on the bed, legs opening in wait of whatever touch you would decide to gift him with.

From the corner of your eye you see Minho pause, just for a second in pure need. Pure and unfiltered lust to be in the place that Felix is now.

“Yeah, kitten.” You speak, voice a rasp. “Such a good boy for me.” He bites his lip, entranced in you; by your voice and your touch and your scent and your presence; so utterly intoxicating. “Can my good boy remind me what the naughty bunny did to earn him his punishment?”

You glance to Minho, finding him looking right back at you, desperation and competition glittering in his gaze.

Two sides rivalling in what he wants more.

To listen to you, be broken down and given pleasure, be used as nothing more than a toy and be spoken to like one, just the way he likes.

Or to listen to his pride, continue to behave like this-like he doesn’t want whatever you’re planning to do. Be denied over and over until finally, he’d give into you.

Really, it was just a waiting game.

And it didn’t help that your patience was wearing thin.

You look back down to Felix, who’s glancing over to his tied up hyung as well. “W-well, Minnie...”

“Yes, what did Minnie do?” You prompt, guiding his face back to look at you, he whines under the gaze, thrusting up into empty air.

“Minnie t-touched me without your per-permission.” His cheeks flooded with colour, in embarrassment or perhaps in shame of his previous actions, fidgeting with his hands and working his bottom lip with his teeth.

You nod, fake sympathy playing on your face. “Yeah. The naughty little bunny tried to play with what was mine, didn’t he?”

Now that the initial words came out, it was a spew, voice growing in pitch as the flow of Minho’s crimes came to the light.

“Y-yeah! Was just cleaning up! Being a good boy for you, mommy!” You nod, biting back a smile at how adorable he was, a comical pout and flying hands as he grew more and more distressed.

“A-and then Minnie! Minnie came out and said he wanted to play! Lix sa-said no! Lix said no mommy!”

You cradled his face in your arms, “Shh, shh, it’s okay kitten, you’re not in trouble.” You coo, watching over his shoulder at the way the boy in question turned redder and redder at the confession.

“B-but then! Then Min started to play with me! Lix wanted to be good for mommy, tried so hard! Just felt so good mommy! Lixie’s sorry, so sorry!”

His hands gripped onto your hips, holding them for dear life as he apologized, trying to pull you closer to him.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t really care about what Felix had done.

99% of the time he was an obedient thing. A good boy down to his very being, through and through, doing anything he possibly could to make you happy.

The only time he ever disobeyed your rules was when Minho pulled him into something, which very rarely he successfully managed to. Even then though, just seeing you look at him with disappointment in your eyes was enough punishment to make the poor thing even start crying at times.

Your sweet little thing.

The one that got your nicer side. Sweet and comforting, cooing and doting. Kind words and even kinder praises, filled with love and velvety touches.

Minho however, Minho was an entirely different story.

He loved to push buttons and loved to pull Felix into his ploys, coercing the younger boy into them as well when he can. He loved to piss you off and loved the punishment that would come after that.

Oh, how he loved it when you were cruel. Venom leaking into every word, he loved it-craved it. How you looked down at him like he was nothing. How you’d call him a toy and a slut and every other depraved word your twisted mind could come up with.

You could be nice or you could be cruel.

And it seemed that tonight you’d need to be both for them.

You brushed Felix’s hair back with a warm look in your eye. “It’s okay baby, shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He looks up at you with big sad eyes and you smile sweetly. “Really?”

“Of course kitten. I am, however, upset at bunny here.” Your attention turns to him for a brief moment. “What do you think his punishment should be, baby? For breaking my rules and making me angry?”

He looks at Minho, then back at you and you can see the answer forming in his mind before he leans up to you, whispering so that only you can hear his words.

Your smirk grows, nodding along and he pulls away, looking up at you as you work the plan over in your head.

“What?” Your tone is scandalized, speaking as if you weren’t laughing inside.

“Lixie, since when did you become such a filthy little thing?” Pushing him back to lay onto the bed, embarrassment crawls up his neck at your patronizing tone. “Disgusting,” you murmur, crawling on top of him, legs on either side of his slim waist.

“Gross.” A raspy comment thats only reply is a moan as you place two of your fingers under his chin, making him look at you, attention falling across his unmarked neck, a smooth canvas of pale skin and scattered freckles.

Your lips find their way up his collarbone, tracing the dots with your tongue and teeth, biting, sucking, marking. Smirking as his breathy whines become apparent, loud and clear in the silence.

Felix blushes, head falling back to give you more access, mouth falling wide open.

“Sinful.” It was all too much and all too little as you pulled the waistband down, just low enough for his cock to spring out before swiping your thumb over his tip.

He threw his head back, a loud, unrestricted moan reverberating deep in his throat. “So mean.” Your hand forces his chin, prying his mouth open to slip your middle and pointer finger as he’s forced to look at Minho. “You think he can take that? The poor little slut, just wants to be fucked dumb but don’t you think it’ll be too much for him?”

His moan is garbled as are the words that follow after it. “Mi-minnie can take it.” His words are determined as his eyes grow unfocused, a faraway look clouding them, drool dripping down his jaw, coating your hand in his saliva.

His tongue swirls around your fingers, lapping at them all while trying to gasp for air around them, eyes falling shut.

“Oh can he now?”

Your words. Your touches, burning, scorching his skin, heating his body up from head to toe.

He so sensitive it hurts.

Every sound. Your pants, heaving air into your lungs between intervals of kisses, the sound of your tongue working against him, the feel of it, warm and wet, right in the places that you know will turn him on so much.

The feel of your hand, gripping him, using the leaking pre-cum, already a mess and leaking through his pants as lube. The other gripping his jaw tightly, pressing down on the muscle as he tries to pull it deeper, trying to pull you closer to him.

His cock is so hard, leaking and throbbing from your touch, from Minho’s earlier touch. Fuck, he wants to come so bad he’s afraid he might actually come in no time.

Humiliation runs cold down his spine but he likes it. He’s already so hard. He’s already so close. So close and you’ve done practically nothing. You just started touching his cock, it’s been less than a minute and he feels as if he could cum from this alone.

From you lightly stroking his dick. From your lips on his neck and your fingers in his throat.

He’s only vaguely aware that Minho is still in the room.

But when he opens his eyes they meet his. Wide and wanting now that you’re distracted with something else. Fixating intently on you-your hands, your mouth.

“So you’re just gonna make me watch?” He sneers, voice slightly shaking in a way that makes him cringe.

But it’s okay because it seems that neither you nor Felix seem to notice-in fact neither of you even seem to register that he had spoken.

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than you looking over him with a sadistic smile and condescending eyes, telling him to simply shut up as if he were a toddler having a tantrum.

And he almost wishes that that was the case as the both of you continue, Felix moaning out high, whiny noises while you groan into his neck. Your hand still works against him, gaining in speed, faster and faster.

“This d-doesn’t seem like much of a punishment at a-ll.”

No response, just the lewd, wet noises filling the room, running straight to his cock as he bucks into the air, letting out a sob of frustration at the inevitable unsatisfaction at the motion.

“C-c’mon, you-you aren’t even trying~” He whines, once again straining against the ropes, whimpering. “You th-think that this is even doing anything-”

“S-shut up, slut.”

To his surprise, it’s not you who says the harsh words that make him shudder, full-bodied, falling rigid, a moan spilling out from deep in his chest.

It’s Felix.

Felix who looks at him, pupils blown wide and mouth fallen open, heaving small pants alongside cute little whines.

Felix who’s always been soft and pliable. Submissive even to Minho.

Felix who’s never ever said anything remotely mean, much less degraded him before, but now that he has, Minho can’t help the effects that it’s having on his body.

You chuckle, pulling away with a contented sigh to look at the boy beside you. “Oh, that work you up bunny?” You reach over, hands leaving Felix with a whimper. “Lixie here degrading you?”

His head’s gone foggy, dazed and he can barely register your hand cupping his cheek with a wet hand until he’s melting into the touch, shoving his face further into the contact, desperate for any form of touch at this point. “Yes.”

At the confession you bite your lip, opposite hand trailing down, admiring the art of the ropes against his skin. They’re tight, tight enough to leave slight marks, to let him feel them, squeezing, pressing down into his skin in the most maddening ways.

They’re not tight enough to do any real damage. Just tight enough that tomorrow he’ll look in the mirror, fingers tracing tender red skin, moaning at the sensitivity of pressing down on them.

Finally you begin to circle his buds, already hardened into peaks. “You love it when I tell you how much of a slut you are, corrupting sweet little Lixie until he says it too.”

At his name, he begins to paw at your hips, begging for your attention once more. “Mommy~” When you don’t react his hands slip up your shirt, travelling to your boobs. “Mommy, pay attention to me.”

But still, you continue to play with Minho.

He makes no reaction at your motions, biting down on his lip hard as to not let a single noise out. “C’mon Minnie, let mommy hear your pretty noises.” You coo, tracing your nails around his pretty pink nipples, before coming to pinching them, twisting them between your fingers.

“Mommy, Lix can make pretty noises for you, Lix will let you hear him.” He whimpers, fiddling with the clasp in a second of struggle before slipping off your bra.

Your mouth replaces your fingers on his chest, latching around one of his hardened nipples, nipping on it lightly with your teeth before sucking, coaxing and encouraging him to let you hear the noises ready on his tongue.

Yet he continues to be stubborn. All that can be heard is his heavy breathing as his hands move in an effort to grip your hair, the ropes restricting him so all he can do is clench them fisting around nothing so hard his knuckles turn white.

Felix throws your bra somewhere forgotten on the floor and begins to grope at your body, maneuvering to shove your shirt up for access to your chest. “Please mommy,” He tries once more in a pitiful whine, grinding your hips down onto him before licking up from navel to clavicle.

“Please,” He begs, plush lips sucking a mark onto your cleavage, groping at your boobs just the way you taught him to. You let out a deep moan, the sound vibrating through you and straight to where you’re connected to Minho and finally-finally his exterior breaks.

He moans and that’s just the beginning. His hips jump wildly off the bed, back lifting in a vain attempt to arch, head falling back as a spew of curses and broken whines tumble out of his red, bitten lips.

You pull away from him with a wet pop and a satisfied smirk, continuing with your fingers, the area now wet with your spit.

And at last, you refocus your attention back on Felix.

“Been such a good boy for me, Lix.” You groan, his hands warm and soft against your skin, cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly, whining at the way your hips rolled down onto his.

Soon he began to gain confidence in the movements, growing slightly rougher and less gentle, pinching and rolling your hard buds between his fingers, ripping a hiss from you.

“Such a good boy, mommy thinks you deserve a reward. Want a reward kitten?”

He nods but his attention isn’t fully on you until you’re gripping his wrists, breaking the fixation.

“Want to play with Minnie?”

His eyes grow wide at the prospect, pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “Can I?” He asks with an airy lilt, looking over to him.

“Yeah baby, you can. Take off your clothes and do me a favour and go mommy’s strap.”

He pounces off the bed in a scrambled rush to carry out the order and you have to bite back a smile before turning your attention back to the one left behind. “What do you think of that? Want us to play with you bunny?”

He shivers when your hands ghosts over his dick, nail trailing down a vein, moaning unabashedly. “Yeah, you like the idea of that huh?”

He slowly nods and you test the ropes, slipping a finger under one on his inner thigh, relishing in the groan he emits. “Gonna have take all these off though.” You pout in faux disappointment. “Look so pretty with them on, but with what Lix has planned for you, well we’re gonna need a little more...access.”

You reach over to the bedside table as Felix comes up behind you, bare and with the harness in hand. You pick up the pair of scissors you had set there earlier. “So we’re just gonna cut them off of you.”

His heart races faster and his hands grow sweaty, in lust or in nerves he can’t tell as you snip the scissors once, a metallic sound that sends goosebumps down his spine.

“Just stay still for me, okay? Yeah.”

And like that, the cruel facade is gone. Concentration is set across your face and he wonders at how fast you switch between the two masks.

The one that loves to torture him, make him moan and calls him filthy names; and the one that loves to hold him, praise him, whispers to him sweetly and makes him feel safe.

You’re carefully sliding the scissors under the rope, slowly, and tenderly, checking in on him whenever he shivers from the cool feel of it against his feverish skin.

It takes less than half a minute, only a few necessary strands having to be cut to have the whole thing falling apart, but it feels as if its longer.

Every time he trembles.

Tensing at each new spot, as the sharp point of them grazes his skin before slipping under the knots. Relaxing when your eyes meet his, pausing the movements to reassure him before continuing, dropping your hard exterior for the moment to take extra care for this.

If anything, it makes him all the harder. The intimacy of it. The trust in you he has, the trust of the blade, despite only being scissors pressing nearly into his skin to get under the cords. The coax of your voice, calming and comforting that it even has Lix, not even under your ministrations falling deeper until he’s whining and you’re fixing him with a glare, telling him to stop distracting you.

And when you’re done, he’s throbbing, fully hard as you pull the ropes out from around and under his body, lifting his limbs gently for better access.

He knows both you and Felix can tell, shame running down his spine at the quip clearly seen on Lix’s lips, a scolding from you the only thing holding it from being released.

A hot tension fills the room, he swears the heaters have been turned up as you tell Felix to put the harness on you and he does, dropping to his knees for what he calls better ‘access’.

He feels like mush, melted into the mattress. He doesn’t feel like he can get up or even move until you place a hand under his chin, encouraging him to look up at you. “You done for now or do you still wanna continue?”

You give him a minute to fully contemplate the choice before he’s slowly nodding, glowing in the warm smile you give him. “You sure bun? It’s okay if you need a break.”

You place a hand on his cheek and he nuzzles against it. ”M’ sure. Wanna keep going.”

“Okay then.” And the facade is back up. You’re digging your nails into his jaw, dragging a low groan from him. “Lixie, you wanna prepare me or do you want Minnie here too?”

He doesn’t say anything. He feels clumsy, giddy, like he can’t fully control his body like he normally would. But the answer is obvious as he drops onto the floor.

The hardwood is uncomfortable against his knees, hardly cushioning but it’s the very last thing on his mind at the moment.

Because the way you smile down at him, towering over him with a malicious aura has him drooling, nearly vibrating in excitement.

You tap the dildo against his pretty pink lips, patiently waiting with a wicked gleam in your eye as he opens his mouth, eyes falling shut and tongue lolling out with an exaggerated flourish for your own benefit.

“Aw, so cute.” You whisper, giving him no time to reply as take the roots of his hair in hand, clenching it in a grip as you swiftly shove it into his mouth.

It’s girthy with fake but realistic veins to match. He struggles to wrap his lips around the whole thing. But the poor thing’s trying, putting in his best efforts and the sight is such an arousing visual, feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter from simply watching.

He’s never done this before and that only heightens the experience.

He’s watched it countless of times when you’ve forced Minho to his knees, but Felix himself has never been subjected to such a treatment before.

Never asked to is more like it. He remembers, early of the three of your’s relationship, you preparing the strap and right before you began to lube it up.

He clearly recalls the blush across his face as Minho in all of his tough front turning red and shyly asking if he could prepare it for you.

And clearly, oh so clearly, he could remember the sadistic smirk that crossed your face as you agreed-or wait-was he just getting that confused with now as you looked down at him, beginning to get impatient with the way he was oh so obviously struggling to take the whole thing.

So impatient that you decide to help him out, using the leverage you have with the grip in his hair to finish it with one quick push, all the way in, nudging against the back of his throat.

He gags around it, tears welling up in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten? You enjoying this?” Giving an experimental thrust he can’t help but moan.

You turn to Minho who is trying his very best to not touch himself, trying not to make you angrier than you already are at him. “What do you think, Minnie? Doesn’t he look so good gagging on my cock, maybe prettier than you are~”

“N-no!” He pouts at the quip but watches on with a lust-filled interest. “Look at him, Lix can barely take it all in! M’ so much better at it than he is!” You let him go and he gasps for air, leaving just the tip in his mouth for just a moment before giving another experimental thrust.

His hands fly to the back of your thighs, gripping them and using them to push it in harder and harder, quicker and quicker, lodging the strap deep into the back of his throat. “Oh but look, he’s doing so good, aren’t you Lix?”

He holds himself there for a moment, moaning around it at the compliment, at the feel of it so deep down his throat. “I don’t remember you being this good your first time Min.” You tease, brushing a finger over the slight bulge on his neck, biting your lip. “Look how good he’s taking it, like he was made for it.” You purr, finally pulling all the way out.

He splutters, coughing and trying to collect himself, slightly wheezing and sniffling, tears running freely down his cheeks. But finally he looks back up at you, mouth falling open, ready for you to go again.

But you don’t, instead you push his chin up. “Ready?”

He nods, jumping up off the floor and ungracefully onto the bed, sliding up to the headboard. You laugh at his eagerness. “Flip over now Min.”

Minho bobs his head, impatient after such a show and flips over onto his stomach, uncoordinatedly lifting himself onto his hands and knees and spreading them just the way you always tell him to.

“Good boy. Now, you’re gonna suck on Lixie’s cock while I fuck you from behind,” You lean over his back, thumbing over his hole. “Can you do that for me, or you still too dumb to follow orders correctly?”

His breathing grows heavier, your voice along with the way Felix sits in front of him, legs spreading to show him his dick, all red and hard, leaking pre. He wants to reply, tries to, but all that can come out is a pitiful whine.

“Oh, that’s okay bunny, just open your mouth like a good toy and Lix will do the rest, won’t you baby?”

“Yes mommy!” He replies, chipper in his reply as always, putting a hand on the back of Minho’s head, threading his fingers into his hair.

Slowly, you push into him, watching as his hole gives and adjusts to girth and length of the strap, already all lubed up with Lix’s spit.

It’s so mind boggling hot. The view, the sounds. Listening as he whines brokenly, hips stuttering, brain scrambling trying to figure out whether he should push back into you or pull away.

You put a single hand onto his shoulder, pressing him back into you, feasting on the way he slides, pulling, swallowing the strap until the full length in deep inside of him and he’s moaning loudly, arms already wobbling where they’re holding him up on the bed.

You bring a hand forward, squeezing the boy’s jaw until he opens, slipping two fingers in to wet them before pulling away.

“Go ahead, baby.”

It’s so fucking hot. All heavy panting and husky moans as Felix lines his cock up with hyung’s mouth, pushing in slowly. “C’mon baby, remember what he did earlier?”

You watch with a bated breath and pulsing ache as he gasps, slightly arching from what you assume is Minho’s tongue swirling around his tip and you wonder if he’s moving slowly truly for Minho’s sake or for his own and how sensitive he is.

“Remember Lixie? This is his punishment. His punishment for playing with my things without asking for permission. No need to be gentle with him.” At your words, Felix groans. “C’mon, kitten.” And finally he’s letting out a helpless whimper and suddenly, with no preamble using Minho’s hair to shove himself all the way down his throat, moaning out loudly as he bottoms out in his throat.

His mouth is so tight and warm and wet. It drives him utterly insane, his hips thrusting erratically, mewling out in pleasure. “Mommy-mommy please, w-wanna kiss, please.”

You smile at your sweet boy, leaning over Minho’s back to press a quick kiss to his lips, unintentionally but not ungratefully pressing the tip of the fake cock right into his prostate.

Minho’s eyes widen, moaning around the cock sheathed down his throat, in turn having Felix moan against your lips, hand frantically searching for anything to find purchase on, finally landing on your shoulders, holding you in place against him as you desperately lick into his mouth.

Wet, lewd sounds of skin-on-skin echo around the room as you rock your hips into him, jostling him higher on the bed, farther onto Felix’s thrusting hips until you fall into a rhythm.

And poor Lix feels dizzy with pleasure, hips moving at their own will. Your tongue in his mouth, Minho moaning below him, choking and gagging on his dick, moving at his own pace without so much of his junior even having to guide him anymore.

“Y-yes-please.” He whispers in a cry, the words immediately swallowed into your mouth, before you’re pulling away and he’s whining from the loss as you focus your efforts back onto rolling your hips into the boy below you.

“Harder, please, harder,” Minho whines, pulling off of him just for a second to say the words. Then you’re shoving his head back down, brushing Lix’s hand aside, replacing it with your own to control his movements.

He arches his hips, encouraging you to fuck him harder, deeper. And you do with more fervour, slamming his hips against the swell of his ass. “Toys don’t talk bunny. Just keep being a good little toy and maybe I’ll let you come.”

The noises in the room are so lewd, so disgusting. Wet smacking of your thrusts as Minho begins lifting his hips, meeting your own to let them collide harder, repeatedly slamming into that spot deep inside of him over and of Felix’s thrusts, his whines, so wanton and needy.

“P-please, hnng, m-mommy, need-need to cum so bad! Can I cum? Please, please, p-please!”

You grip Minho’s hair, pulling up, ignoring Felix’s whine as he brings his hand to keep the stimulation he so desperately needs. Drool and tears drip down his face, falling onto the sheets into a messy puddle. “What do you think bunny? Want Lixie to come on your face or in your mouth?”

He’s moaning loudly, not responding in anything but a whimper when you stop moving. “Asked you a question.” You pull him harder, his back arching up as your other hand falls on his throat, no pressure yet, just resting there. “And I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Wan-want Lixie t-to come in my mouth, wan’ his come.”

You smile over-sweetly as his reply comes, broken and breathless. “Yeah? Why don’t you ask Lixie?”

It seems the other boy is lost in his own world until you his say his name, panting as his eyes meet your own. “Lixie-please, co-come in my mouth.”

His head dips, moaning it the thought. “Fu-fuck yes.”

“Good.” You murmur.

You push his head down once more, but first he frantically shouts out. “Can I cum! Ple-please, need it so badly!”

Massaging his jutting hipbone with one hand, you pretend to think over the thought. “Make Lixie come and then you can.”

Giving him no time to respond, you’re shoving his head down and starting a new punishing pace, rocking his entire body as you abuse his prostate over and over.

And when Felix comes with a long with, gripping into Minho’s shoulders like his life depends on it, Minho is crying, tears flowing down his cheeks as he moans, the warm salty fluid fills his mouth.

Felix trembles, shaking with a sob, falling back against the headboard of the bed from the intensity of his orgasm. “Shit, so good, so good, thank you!” He sighs.

Meanwhile, Minho hiccups, swaying slightly, still slowly thrusting back against you. “Fu-ck!” His voice cracks and he sticks out his tongue, showing both you and Felix before dutifully swallowing.

He pants heavily, eyes drooping. “Please! Please...fuck, shit...c-can I please cum, please, please! I promise-I promise I’ll be so good!” His voice is hoarse with desperation, wailing as cries out. “I’ll be so good for you!”

You pet his hair, shushing him with the movement. “Go ahead, bunny, been such a good boy, cum for me.“

The hand that’s been resting on his throat, teasing him with the presence of it finally presses down, cutting off his air, making his head spin in every best way for one final harsh thrust as he finally comes with a high-pitched keen, twitching as his arms give out, falling against your arms as you rest him down onto the mattress.

He curls up on the bed, clutching your arm and one of Felix’s legs as he comes in spirts, dirtying the sheets with white, crying out in ecstasy.

Quickly pulling off the harness, throwing it somewhere on the floor to be cleaned later you grab the cup of water set on the nightstand, turning back to where the two have huddled on the bed, Felix holding Minho as he pants for air.

You make each of them take a few sips until the glass is empty before setting it back on the nightstand.

Then you carefully nudge the two over, laying down beside Minho and pulling him into your chest, letting him nuzzle into you as Felix falls into place behind him, lacing fingers with you.

The blankets are pulled up and over as a final touch and they take turns having their hair played with by you, whining when you pull away to the other.

“Love you both. Bunny.” You kiss the corresponding boy on the forehead. “And kitty.” Both smile, enjoying the praise and the aftercare attention from you. “Such good boys for me.”

A hum of agreement from Felix that has you quietly gigging and soon you find yourself falling asleep.

1K notes · View notes

anatee · 1 year

Text

Fantasy | Kylo Ren x Reader Smut

Fantasy | Kylo Ren x Reader Smut One Shot. 18+. MINORS DNI.

Word count: 4.3K

Content warning: fem!reader x Kylo; a few curse words; jealous, possessive Kylo, one tiny bit of violence (not smut-related), inappropriate use of the Force, smut: thigh riding, fingering, oral (f receiving), size difference (and kink ig lol), piv (unprotected), filth really

Author’s note: What bothers me in many Kylo smuts is that he is excessively ruthless. And while I do agree this man is no softie in bed, sometimes the degradation goes so far it’s actually a turn-off to me, so here we have this, the man’s still the leader but doesn’t make you feel like scum ig

"Why did you invite me here?"

Y/N was still shocked she found herself in Kylo Ren's quarters. They had known each other even before she became a First Order soldier, but it was the first time she got to visit him. She didn't know why: ever since she started her military career, she saw him only a few times, and always with his mask on, either arguing with General Hux or walking aggressively maker knows where.

They didn't even talk much, busy with their own duties, however this part changed two weeks earlier. He started approaching her often, talking to her even if he didn't need to and, eventually, asked to come with him. She followed him gladly, but in utter shock at the same time, not quite understanding what he was trying to achieve.

Yet there she was, alone with him in the private quarters while almost everyone else on the ship was going to bed.

It was the first time she was even near his room. Twice the size of her quarters, it was mostly black with red accents just like every interior of the First Order. Everything was dimly lit by one source of light, and it didn't seem like he wanted it any brighter. He gestured for her to sit on a metallic, circular chair while he approached a weird piece of furniture resembling a well filled with ashes instead of water. And then, to her surprise, he took his helmet off to put it there.

He turned to face her, making her jaw drop. She had seen him before, of course, but it was a long time ago. He matured a lot.

"Wow," she breathed out before she could stop herself. "I... I almost forgot how you look like."

"You like it?" he asked with a smirk dancing on the corners of his mouth.

This question made her gulp, because she knew about the Force, she knew that Kylo could read her mind like an open book if he wanted. He even tried to show her the ways of the Force years before, but it wasn't strong with her. That's why she worried...

She worried he knew how attractive she had always found him, and now even more so. Black, thick hair, broad shoulders, the face that looked young and mature at the same time. He was much more pleasant to look at without the mask, although the act of taking it off was hot by itself.

"Is this your way of asking if you're attractive to me?" she retorted, trying to save herself as her First Order uniform suddenly became much warmer.

"You've been on my mind recently."

Her heart jumped for a moment. She threw her ponytail back, but even though she didn't have her hat on anymore, it still felt very hot... And she wanted to keep it cool.

"Is that so? Why?" She raised an eyebrow, engulfed in a weird feeling. She hadn't looked him in the eye for a long time and it made her heart race.

"I saw you have been talking to this one guy lately."

"You mean Admiral Fando?"

Kylo's face was almost expressionless. "Whatever his name is."

"Well, yes, he approaches me often. Tries to be funny, I sup..."

"I don't like him talking to you," Kylo cut her off sharply, rendering her speechless for a moment. She thought she had long forgotten the feelings she used to have for him before joining the army, but when he was saying things like this, it was impossible to stay calm.

She cleared her throat eventually. "Why?"

At that moment, as if she weren't shocked enough by everything he was doing, he sat beside her, making her feel extremely small, both literally and metaphorically. He was huge next to her... And one could almost feel the power vibrating, whirling all around him. It must have been part of why he was so intimidating.

His face was less than ten inches from hers as he leaned towards her to say quietly:

"Because I don't like any man trying to court you."

She swallowed hard, because even if it weren't her he was threatening, he looked murderous, and she knew what he was capable of. "You think he's trying to?"

"Don't be delusional, Y/N. Why else would he do this?"

She knew this question would be very risky, but she asked nevertheless.

"And why are you doing this?" She looked down, then back up at him, trying to understand the situation they found themselves in.

There was a moment of silence, silence so tense Y/N feared they might lose oxygen from the room soon. Kylo was piercing her with his gaze, so intensely it almost made her dizzy.

"You know that I can hear your thoughts. I don't look into them at all, but once... Once they were so loud..."

He moved his face closer to speak straight to her ear. The moment she felt his hot breath tingle her skin, she was hopeless; she had a strong inkling she knew what kind of thoughts he was talking about, and waiting for the confirmation like for a sentence.

"I know your fantasy," he whispered in his deep voice. "I know about everything you want to be done to you. I heard it loud and clear."

Each word was almost like a separate touch between her legs.

Suddenly everything made sense. The dates aligned - she remembered that night her thoughts went wild, her mind playing out every erotic scenario she wanted to experience while she pleasured herself on her bed, but didn't even get half the satisfaction she wished for. Little did she know it made him realise how much he desired her, how much he wanted to act out his own dreams with her, and he decided he would make it happen.

Y/N was surprised herself, but she was not embarrassed at all while listening to him - on the contrary, it was turning her on, and the only fear she had was that he knew her emotions.

"Well, thinking that is not an offence..." she replied breathily, not daring to think he had something else on his mind other than scolding her, even if deep down she wanted him to have.

"That's not what I'm talking about."

He was still speaking against her ear, craning his neck from time to time to watch the expression on her face. Her lips were parted, her gaze half-lidded, and he was intoxicated by that view. Eventually, he decided he wanted to see more of it.

He put his cold, gloved hand on her hot cheek, and the feeling of the leather itself sent a shiver down her spine. All of this was the last thing she expected to be doing that day - but she wished it would never end. He never acted like this, but he always had an effect on her...

He guided her head gently so she would face him, the subtle touch almost igniting a flame between them. She was sure that if he had no gloves on, it would drive her crazy.

After a moment of silence, Kylo spoke while looking right into her eyes. "You're talking to this guy... Do you think he can do it? Do you think he can make you feel as good as you want? Do you think he could fulfil your fantasy?"

His gaze alone was penetrating her, petrifying her completely as the provoking questions echoed against the walls of the spacious room.

She gave in.

"It's not him whom I'd like to fulfil it with."

That sentence alone made him heave a sigh as blood rushed through his entire body. He didn't even need to use the Force; her eyes told him everything he wanted to know.

"Who, then?" he asked even though the answer was right there, in the way she gazed at him.

They both felt that question between their legs.

The only thing stopping him from ripping clothes off of her was that he wanted to do this right, especially now that he knew she desired him just as much. Besides, he would love to catch her off guard one day...

"You could have just told me," he said, making her snort.

"You could have not entered my thoughts."

"You will thank me for doing this," he whispered against her lips, making her heart stop for a split second. She was anticipating something, anything, any touch, words, any action from him, hoping beyond hope he would let the lust from his eyes take over.

He brushed his gloved finger over her bottom lip, trying not to give into the frenzy too quickly. A smirk formed on his face as he was already planning what he'd do to her.

"Let's meet again soon."

He left her that day with arousal, disappointment and anticipation all at the same time.

The next few days were a hell to go through. Kylo Ren didn't leave her thoughts not even for a second, making focusing on her duties almost impossible. But how could she not be thinking about him when she remembered the words he had told her with the velvety voice, when the feeling of his hand still seemed to linger on her cheek? She was constantly alerted, just waiting for the moment he decides to take her back to his quarters.

To make matters worse, he realised what she was daydreaming about, and he absolutely loved it. He made sure she saw him every day so both of them would crave the other person even more, and he was just waiting for the best opportunity to show her that only he could give her the pleasure she had fantasised about.

The opportunity presented itself one calm evening, almost two weeks later, when the tension between them was so high both Kylo and Y/N wanted to throw themselves on the other at any given moment. That evening, she finished her shift and intended to go straight to her room to rest, but Admiral Fando approached her before she could even leave her console.

"Where are you headed?"

"To my quarters, where else?" she replied in a surprised tone as she stood up from her chair.

"Well, you look and smell exceptionally well today, I thought you had some other plans." He smiled at her, and she was given yet another confirmation Kylo was right about him.

But she did look and smell better. Ever since her tense encounter with Ren, she tried to take better care of her appearance, should he decide to invite her again. She shaved herself to the root and used the most deliciously smelling lotion she could access.

"Thank you, but that is just me caring about myself," she replied, making sure everything was in place for the shift coming after her.

"But if you don't have any other plans... Then maybe you'll come and visit my quarters instead."

And Kylo Ren heard that. Every word, loud and clear, even though he was far away from where Fando was standing. It railed him up immediately; this was the moment. He couldn't wait anymore.

Y/N was flabbergasted. She suspected he might eventually ask her this, but had no idea how to react once it happened.

"That is a bit unprofessional, isn't it, Admiral?" she replied half seriously, half jokingly, trying to get out of the situation.

"Oh, come on. I'm not asking anything weird," he continued. "We can just drink tea and talk."

Y/N let out a sigh. She wanted to refuse, but it was quite complicated since he was her superior and it felt like it was against the protocol.

"It's very nice of you, but I..."

"Come on, Y/N," he cut her off, moving closer to her. "I know you're not taken. Do not act unavaila..."

He trailed off because a loud gasp escaped her lips, one that was unexpected by both parties.

"What's going on?" Fando frowned.

Y/N wished she could explain. Just a moment before, she felt something touch her, like an invisible hand, right between her legs. A shiver of pleasure went down her as she realised whose hand it must have been.

Before she even opened her mouth to respond, her heart racing, she sensed presence somewhere behind herself... And soon, a man in a mask was towering over her and Fando, wrath radiating from him.

It all happened in a split second. One move of Kylo's hand was enough; Fando was thrown against the wall, then fell to the floor with a yelp of pain. Ren didn't even give him a second glance as he spoke to Y/N again:

"Follow me."

She did not dare disobey him, did not dare to check on Fando who was whimpering on the floor... She followed Ren step by step to his quarters, and the moment the door closed behind them, he cornered her.

"I told you it would come to this," he said with disappointment, trapping her between the wall and his body, enveloping her in the feeling of smallness.

"He approached me first, I just replied." She intended to respond loudly and proudly, but her voice failed her as he inched closer.

"Then I'll show you," he grabbed the sides of his helmet and took it off aggressively, "why you shouldn't even reply to scum like him." He threw the helmet into the ashes, his eyes never leaving hers.

She suppressed a shiver as he put a gloved hand under her chin. Her eyes, wide and full of admiration, were staring back at him, and he couldn't get enough of that view.

He smirked. "I should have done this sooner."

"Then stop talking and start doing already. You left me waiting for so long," she said before she could stop herself, making him sneer.

"Cocky, aren't you?" He took his hand back. "Why don't we change that?"

For a split second, fear overtook her as he took a step back, and she had no idea what he was about to do. He threw his cape off, then put one of his hands in front of him, brows furrowed in concentration.

Two invisible hands cupped her breasts at the same time, pulling out a gasp out of her yet again. This further confirmed he was the one responsible for what she felt back at the bridge. It was such a weird sensation, but a pleasurable one, something being there and not existing at the same time, vibrating, pulsating against her body while he wasn't touching her at all. He had never done this to her before.

"I-" She sighed heavily, trying to form a sentence as the large hands massaged her breasts. "I didn't know you- you could do that."

He clearly enjoyed these words as he smirked again. "See? You've underestimated me... Not the first person who has..."

He moved closer to her, maintaining the Force touch - and it made her want to act, too.

"You underestimate me as well, Kylo."

She stood on her tiptoes to grab him by the neck and bring him to her lips. Caught by surprise, he lost focus for a split second, but then quickly seized the initiative again. His invisible hands were untying her hair and taking off her hat or gloves, while his real ones were roaming her body, looking for openings in her uniform.

Minutes passed and she was beginning to lose her breath. She had never thought he'd be kissing her, yet there she was, letting his tongue in anywhere he wanted.

He eventually grabbed her buttock with his one hand and her thigh with the other, raising it so she would wrap it around him. When she did, his arm travelled to her nape, and he held it tight to kiss her hungrily. Hell, fire was flowing through him while he was doing it. Who knew her taste would be so addictive, her lips so soft he could nibble and lick them constantly? Had he known all of this, he would have been devouring her ages ago.

His kisses were hungry and demanding, making her dizzy, but that was just what she wanted. At that moment, she was so drunk on his taste, scent and noises she would allow him to do anything to her. Each of his sharp breaths, loud grunts to keep focus on the Force, the strong, fresh scent that lingered on his body... All of these things made her notice him and him only.

"Fuck," she whimpered against his lips when his real hand slipped underneath her pants. He immediately circled her clit through the material of her panties, causing her to buckle her hips.

He let out a triumphant laugh. "Look at you, and I haven't even started yet..."

The invisible hands took off her boots, and then her pants, roughly, almost causing her to lose balance. Kylo pulled her towards the circular to sit on it, and then made her settle on his thigh.

It was huge. She felt it well as she straddled it, heat from between her legs already spreading throughout her half-dressed body. She knew what he was doing; it was a picture taken straight from her mind, one of many he must have seen...

"I don't think I have to tell you your own fantasy..." he said, planting a kiss on her neck. "Ride it," he added in a commanding voice. He meant it.

The first thrust of her hips pulled a moan out of both of them. When she noticed it was already much more pleasurable than rubbing herself against furniture, she grabbed his arms as tightly as possible to steady herself and began moving back and forth.

The friction did it for him. The invisible hands took her shirt off, while the real ones grabbed her hips strongly enough to leave marks on them. She didn't restrain herself from any noises, and they turned him on more than he thought they would; his pants becoming tighter on him was the best proof of it.

That's why he didn't let her do it for long. Without any warning, he cradled her in his arms and took her to his bed. He let her lie down on the black sheets as he stood in front of her, enjoying the view - she was already soaked, just like his thigh.

"I'm taking whatever I want now," he announced to her, looking her up and down with no shame.

She just smirked, because from her new position she could see the bulge in his pants, one she knew she caused. Who knew she could have such an effect on the Kylo Ren?

"Do it," she replied with no hesitation, craving for him.

He took his gloves off and tossed them to the floor before kneeling in front of the bed. Her heart stopped just for a moment; was he really going to do it? Was he going to fulfil her another fantasy this easily?

The answer came instantly - the Force pulled her panties down, and he used his bare hands to grab her thighs to open her legs. Flesh to flesh, the sensations were even more overwhelming.

She closed her eyes, waiting for what's to come and let out a squeal when he planted a kiss on her inner thigh, massaging them at the same time.

"Open your eyes, look what's coming for you," he demanded. "He wouldn't be able to do to you what I'm about to..."

She obeyed and saw his face for a split second before his mouth came in contact with her clit. A very long lick was followed by an absolute madness of licks and sucking, almost like he took his time to prepare for it. He wanted to make her shake, and it quickly turned out it was the right way to do it as he saw her grab at the sheets out of pleasure.

The moment she moaned out his name, Kylo became drunk on the control he had over her. He let go of one of her thighs to speed up the process of her becoming undone...

"You feel good?" he asked right before sliding two fingers inside her, earning himself the loudest moan yet.

She couldn't think straight enough to give him a cohesive answer. She grabbed him by his thick hair, burying his face in her. "Fuck, Kylo."

He snorted with satisfaction. "I'll take that as a yes."

He soon added a third finger to pump in and out of her, remembering the number from her thoughts. Even she, however, didn't expect them to be this big. The sensations were indescribable; his tongue nor his fingers didn't slow down for a second, making her think she was about to have an orgasm and a heart attack.

She came. She came for the first time in months, because she couldn't quite reach that level of pleasure herself. A powerful orgasm rocked through her, her legs shaking, her breath shallow, and at that moment she was sure no other man than Kylo Ren could make her feel like that. Maybe it was the Force, maybe it was his size, maybe it was her desire for him - either way, she hadn't even hoped it would feel this good.

He let her ride it out to the end, then stood up, his face and fingers glistening - the proof of her satisfaction.

She began sitting up slowly, trying to catch her breath. "Kylo, I-"

"Stay where you are." He pressed her back into the mattress with a wave of his arm. "I am not done. I want you to not be able to think about anything else than this."

Y/N didn't even get to cool down and she was already turned on again. She watched in awe as he removed his pants and boxers, revealing his erected cock without any shame. Her mouth fell agape; not only because it was the first time seeing him naked, but also because it meant he intended to go as far as they could.

He looked at her with authority, clasping a hand around his length - as a result, she felt even smaller than in reality. If he were to interrogate her, she would be cowering, but at that moment, she was excited and waiting.

"Now, can you give me one more?" he asked quietly, his voice working wonders on her.

"Depends on what you're about to do."

"Make you beg," he used the Force to open her legs even wider, "for more."

Before she could respond, he started slowly rubbing his cock along her cunt, letting out a grunt that made her roll her eyes back. It went on for a few seconds, the sound of the wetness echoing in the room and arousing them even more.

And then, without warning, he slid into her with just the tip, then pulled out quickly. He repeated that a few times, slowly driving her insane.

"Kylo... Please..."

That's what he wanted to hear.

"Tell me what you want and you'll get it."

She gulped. The perspective of telling him what was on her mind seemed humiliating, especially that he knew exactly what she wished for.

She tried to save herself. "I cannot give orders to you."

As she expected, he did not buy it.

"Say what you want. That is my order," he replied, moving the tip once more to stimulate her further.

She closed her eyes as if bracing for impact. Alright. She could do it. It were mere words separating from another wave of pleasure. They were nothing compared to the fact that she was lying there with her legs open for him, weren't they?

She took one last deep breath. "I want you inside me."

He smiled with satisfaction. "As I thought."

He ended her torture as promised. He slid into her, slowly, because it was a lot; after all, nothing about him was small-sized.

She thought he would stay standing, but it wasn't the case. Right after a few of the first thrusts, he put his hands on either side of her body and continued dragging his body passionately, making sure to fill her up completely each time. She felt unbelievable.

"Who is making you feel good now?" he asked after hearing a moan from her, trying to hide the grunts of pleasure which were taking over him as well. "Who is the only person who can?" he rasped, keeping his head close to her neck to kiss it.

"You." She breathed heavily, her whole body shifting on the bed with each of his movements. "Only you."

He used the Force to keep himself steady and grabbed her wrists with his hands, pinning them over her head just to feel even a bit more of control. There was no mercy in his thrusts, ones he had been waiting for for days, the sexual tension finally resolving.

She didn't know if she were to have another orgasm, but he was certainly coming to one. She could hear and feel it as the powerful thrusts became sloppier, and the loudest grunt yet escaped his lips.

"You'll take it all," he almost growled, "for me."

That was his last warning before he reached his peak, letting all of it fill her up. It was insane, the whole scene, the emotions, the sounds of their breathing in the spacious room...

He placed one last desire-filled kiss on her lips, then stood up eventually, pulling out of her, leaving her with her wrists burning. She had no energy to raise again, and he stood there, watching with triumph how his cum flowed out of her.

For a moment, there was a silence, in which they both tried to regain rational thinking... And realise what had just happened, and that there was no turning back - but neither of them regretted it, not even a second. They both got what they wanted and were already thinking about repeating it.

Kylo used the Force once more to pull her closer, then put his hand under her chin again.

"You're not going to even think about anyone else now, are you?"

She smirked, still feeling his cum dripping down her thigh. "Is that your way of saying you want me only for yourself?"

"You're so right."

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