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sexbot300 · 2 months

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat-tamer!toji

authors note: no thots, just him. this is just pure smut, sorry lollllll. need him so bad u don’t understand. with that being said, minors dni, 18+ ! thank you for the love on my first few posts! i appreciate it all of it <3 i'm not ignoring my messages btw, just extremely busy with my studies! ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

brat-tamer!toji who notices you acting up and simply asks, “cranky because you ain’t got dick today?”

brat-tamer!toji who only looks at you with a raised brow and (huge) arms across his chest when you purposely try to piss him off. so cute.

brat-tamer!toji who purposely puts his entire body weight on top of you when you beg him to stop due to overstimulation. he tugs you even closer, just laughing in your face.

brat-tamer!toji who stops thinking coherent thoughts when he sees you in a sundress.

brat-tamer!toji who rewards your good behavior with head (lets you squirt) and also punishes your bad behavior with head (denies you relief, gives in eventually, sometimes).

brat-tamer!toji who loooovessssss shoving your face into the pillow while you whine, pant, and moan. he loves to put your head into a headlock with his bicep, as drool escapes your lips, and you’re babbling like an idiot while he’s hitting it from the back.

brat-tamer!toji who casually lifts you up and fucks you in the air as if just anyone can do it. “such a perfect little pocket pussy,” he snickers.

brat-tamer!toji who gets you cock drunk so often (he’s starting to think that it’s your normal state).

brat-tamer!toji who likes to make you count every time he spanks the fat of your ass when arched up across his lap. slap! “24…” you say with a slight moan, biting your bottom lip in, as he soothes the red outline forming on your cheek. he grins above you, “should’ve known a cock-bent whore like you would take this as pleasurable rather than punishment.”

brat-tamer!toji who makes a safe word with you early on (which you tease him for doing so early, he only tsks because he knows YOU know how much you mean to him and he puts your well-being above anything else).

brat-tamer!toji who has a hidden collection of pictures on his phone with you smiling, his cum decorating your face.

brat-tamer!toji who grips your face in the middle of a make out session, pulling away as he notices your fucked out, panting expression. “open.” you quickly open up your mouth as he slowly lets spit hit onto your tongue. he lightly chuckles. “obedient slut.” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wanting more. “swallow.”

brat-tamer!toji who finds his favorite position to be when his massive balls are hitting your clit and he mercilessly pounds, abusing your little cunt from the back as he strings profanity out of his mouth. or a full nelson where he just tells you to, “shut the fuck up and take it.” or even a mating press where he can pummel his cum into you while seeing your face contort in pure bliss. “y-yeah. ‘ust let loose. go dumb on this dick.”

brat-tamer!toji who regularly calls you; “slut, (needy or cock) whore, vixen, pretty, disgusting, (stupid) bitch, brat, bad girl, good girl, perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, princess, angel, (sex or fuck) toy, doll, bunny, cum-slut, cum-dumpster, sugar… etc”

brat-tamer!toji who gets annoyed at your endless ramblings about your day, he sighs and tells you to get on your knees. you promptly do that, but to push his buttons you don’t stop rambling on and on and on. somehow, this man manages to get his 8 (girthy) inches down your throat. “cant complain with my cock in your mouth, huh?” he only smirks as you become teary-eyed, moaning a little at his statement, lapping your tongue up and down like a starving dog. he throws his head back, forearms supporting him while you bob your head back and forth on his thick length. “hey… never said that my cock doesn’t appreciate your tongue. s’ch a good girl when you do what you’re made for. unh!”

brat-tamer!toji who presses against you into a mirror, his broader, massive frame encasing you while he stares into your soul. “i-i don’t understand what i did?” you look up at him feigning innocence, batting your eyelashes. fingers caress his forearms, down his hard bicep, and lightly trace his hardened outline. his eyes never leave yours, a stern, menacing look to the average person, but you can tell he’s about to have you praying for mercy in another way. “of course you don’t understand what you did.” you whine slightly when his fingers suddenly grab a fist full of your hair, burning your scalp, his voice turns mockingly softer. “all you know in that pretty, empty, head of yours is just fucking. nothing else.” he quickly releases you, eliciting a gasp, magically flipping you around in an instant so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror now. “told you not to play with yourself until i came home. but you just haaad to be difficult.” he gripped the vibrator in one hand that was tucked away, pressing it against your lips. “spit.” you spat on it, eyes full of want. he only snickered and smirked. “good luck thinking I’m going to let you cum. stare in the mirror while I do this.” he turned the toy on, a vibrating tune humming throughout the room. “need you to realize how pathetic you look begging.” you gasped slightly, “b-but-" he proceeds to pry your legs apart with one massive thigh, his hand gripping the front of your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “push your skirt up. you lost your right to cum, stupid whore. cum without permission, see what happens.”

brat-tamer!toji who loves to fuck you on his fingers. he loves the lewd noise it makes while ramming his two middle fingers in and out, or up and down. he loves to see your jaw go slack as you beg him to stop. “i-it’s… uhhhhhh! t-to- ah! -ji, toooooo-uhhh much!” he never loses focus, “yeah? yeah?” he presses his hand on your lower abdomen, “quite honestly, don’t care what you think.” he only licks his lips, his scarred lip grins with anticipation to finally taste you when you unfold.

brat-tamer!toji who degrades you like it’s a living but LIVES for your filthy mouth. he loves that you talk back, he’ll never admit it. he loves putting cum sluts like you in their place.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

brat-tamer!toji who weirdly… gets needy at times when you finish. he’ll hold you from behind, shutting his eyes while his arms are wrapped around, practically glued to your torso, the backside of your body molds perfectly to the front of his. legs intertwined, your head against his chest, a moment of pure bliss shared between you two. “who knew the big bad toji likes to cuddle?” “shut up.”

(silly toji! i need him to ruin me)

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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deadghosy · 1 month

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🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

JELLYFISH! READER X HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: A sea creature wants to bring light in hell. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡˚

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚ you died while being an oceanographer. You studied the ocean for its plant and creatures. You drowned specifically while trying to push a jellyfish away from you. And honestly, you went to hell becoming a flowing beautiful jellyfish.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Charlie welcomed you with opened arms, she liked how beautiful you are. The way you flow in the air, you were eye catching and majestic

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚jellyfish! reader is a Mitski, grimes, and tv girl fan of music. I think it fits their vibe at how peaceful but dangerous they are with their stingers.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how your human form would look. Jellyfish hair cut with the colors of the blue from your og form with some pink and purple. Or like blue and light blue. You would be an actual main attraction to the hotel.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you probably did get mistaken to get sent to hell instead of Heaven. You were beautiful like a heaven angel, but you were in the depths of hell. Surprisingly the hotel was a safe haven for you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚a beautiful creature like you gain the attention of many to the hotel. You could say that you are the main attraction. And Charlie doesn’t use you like that, but she does make you a resident to get into heaven.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vaggie finds you calming. You have this type of aura around you that just makes people relax. So your hotel room is specially designed to your liking. Which is a dark blue wall with a glowing blue that has ocean waves. It’s basically jellyfish’s en ocean designed. It’s just so magical.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you love floating around as keekee would follow you around. Then you would have the egg boiz following you plus fat nuggets. You just collected your own little band of little people.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚husk doesn’t know much about you in the hotel other than you are practically the princess/prince of the water in hotel. You make sure the water is okay as it’s your duty.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once had made water appear. You had guess you have water power based on you drowning. And using that power, you soaked husk who started to go crazy almost scratch angel dust in irritation.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Lucifer admires your colorful being. Like he may seem as if he doesn’t care about you. But he sorta does as he secretly makes you a jellyfish toy that lights up in the dark.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚alastor, he might as well try to see what you are. He still senses a human soul in which makes him want to get your soul. A human souls is rare than a disgusting sinner’s soul. But you sting him every time he tries to even get close.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once accidentally stung Alastor with your stingers. He oddly didn’t lash out at you, but rather just walked away. He was trying to hold on the stinging pain you gave him.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sir Pentious found you alluring even. Frank and the rest of the egg boiz agree. Frank once called you mom/dad since you were singing him a lullaby.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how crazy you can be. Like one day you are the calming person every one loves and knows in the hotel. And next thing people know is that you are stinging people just because they breathed the wrong way around you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚luckily you are a passive aggressive person sometimes. Or else you would be frying people like bacon. EXTRA CRISY‼️

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚angel dust dead ass thinks you should have a cute blue ocean crown or necklace. Maybe even a cute blue with purple star car. Bro he’s thinking of so much ways to make you girly pop.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you could’ve had shocked angels, and I mean literally cause if it was the battle between hell and heaven. You would win lmao. Cause what if you shocked then hoes into an angel kebab

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on how your stingers is as powerful like the jellyfishes in SpongeBob. You area full electric chair.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vox had a whole board about who tf were you. Legit was giving crazy science man vibes cause how tf is a jellyfish in hell?! You don’t even look demon! You dead ass don’t fit the hell palette. As he is making theories, Valentino and Velvette just stare at each other like “wtf is this?”

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚now say you did went to heaven. Everything would probably be different, but you are something no one had seen before. A jelly fish angel? Yeah that seems unique.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Heaven would admire your original look. Your calming energy makes most of heaven better. Like say for example the angels complement each other with the light of your energy and how your energy flows. You basically have a pheromone, but it’s for positivity to be spread. #bethereasonsomeonesmiles LMAO

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Adam probably makes fun of how you are such a small sea thing creature. But then he switches up when you turn into your human form and start to sting his ass every time he tries to offend you. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sera would possibly have you as a cherub cause of your small jellyfish form. It only makes sense for you to be one as you are so adorable.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Emily adores you. She knows you don’t mean any harm towards her with your stingers. She’s the type of person who makes you a flower crown cause she loves it be creative around people she likes. Honestly 10/10 friendship honestly.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚lute probably doesn’t care about you much. Other than your stingers are damn annoying. She just wants to rip them out, but you are is kind and sweet. So you have her vote to stay in heaven with her.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on you just humming a soft lullaby as you swim in the air, your blue soft glow in the dark makes anyone go to sleep. The blue is pretty alluring.

A/N: I tried a different writing style with the “bullet points” I hope you guys like this lol and sorry if it seems lazy.✨ inspired by: @selvyyr <3

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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You need a favor

SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | Part 1 Here | Masterlist

You’re out of milk.

You’re out of milk because you hadn’t had the mental bandwidth to finish your shopping three days ago after Johnny, with help from a certain puppy-eyed five year old, convinced you to have dinner with them after you made your very awkward introduction. Isobel had long ago told you his name but you’d pretended not to know for formality's sake.

“Neighbors shouldn’t be strangers,” he’d declared. That’s what you’re telling yourself as you hesitantly step up onto his front doorstep, empty measuring cup in hand. It takes several moments of controlled breathing and a fair amount of you rocking back and forth on anxious feet before you work up the courage to knock, a timid rap of your knuckles. You’re just asking for a cup of milk. Neighbors do that all the time. You’re just being- “‘S it Friday already?” His voice interrupts the silent conversation you’d been having with yourself and you nearly stumble back and off the narrow stoop.

“Oh, n-no. I just-” You take a beat, a breath, to calm your nerves. “I um, haven’t got any milk.” You lift the measuring cup, as if it wasn’t already obvious in your hands, and he leans with his shoulder against the doorframe. “Was wondering if I could borrow some?”

“Makin’ more sweets?” There’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, and you nearly drop the measuring cup when you spot the dimple hidden beneath a few days worth of stubble.

“Oh, no. It’s for combat corn.” The smirk remains but his brows draw together with a curious tilt of his head, and eyes the color of lochs in the summertime flicker with amusement.

“Combat corn?” he echoes, and it takes you a few beats to remember the distinctly American dish and the family joke that named it isn’t common knowledge in Scotland. So, you find yourself explaining to the man–who nearly gives you an aneurysm when he folds his arms and the muscles in his chest bunch deliciously beneath the corded muscles of his forearms–what scalloped corn is.

“Someone made a joke that it was like the food in the army, anything you could find just thrown together—combat corn. Called it that ever since.” You fidget with the measuring cup, tapping the pads of your fingers against the glass, overly aware of your rambling explanation. “It uh… you have to bake it. With milk.” There's a beat of silence and then he’s pulling away from the doorframe,

“Cannae say I have much time f’r bakin’ in the army.” He reaches for the measuring cup and your arm works independent of your brain to hand it to him, functioning on autopilot as your mind works to absorb the unexpected revelation about the man next door with the muscles and darling little girl. Your fingers brush, just barely, as you hand it over, and you can feel the confirmation of this newfound part of him, callus pads of his fingers glancing over yours to retrieve the glassware. “Never left a man behind though. C’mon in then.” Thank fucking god he’s holding the glass because the wink he shoots in your direction before retreating inside, leaving the door wide for you to follow, surely would have sent it shattering against the pavement at your feet.

Their home is both exactly what you thought it would be and somehow the complete opposite. None of the living room furniture matches, like it’s all been collected over many years, and looks well loved. As does the room itself, littered with toys and costume clothing, a small shelf in one corner near the television overflowing with bins of more colorful blocks, stacked high with books, and crammed full with stuffed animals.

“Sorry f’r the mess, Bell’s no’ fond of pickin’ up after ‘erself.” The clink of glass against stone countertops echoes from the kitchen.

“I can’t imagine she would be at her age.” Pictures line the wall leading into the cozy space. Some you recognize of Isobel. Some you think might be a younger Johnny. There’s one of the two of them, a very young Isobel balancing on top of his shoes and holding onto his hand in front of him, and Johnny stands with the other arm draped around the shoulder of the woman holding Isobels hand at his side. She has the same hair, wild and curly. Her mom. Something bitter coats your tongue at the realization, sour and unpleasant. You feel like an intruder.

You fidget with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to put the pieces together. In all the time you’d lived next door, you’d never seen the woman in the photo. Never saw a ring on Johnny's finger. Never saw anyone but him walking her to and home from school. The sound of the fridge opening and closing precedes Johnny’s appearance at your side, measuring cup full of milk in hand, and you’re acutely aware of how close he stands, shoulder nearly pressed to yours as he follows your gaze to the photo. He smiles but it feels forced, like doing so hurts him.

“Havnae stopped to look at that one in a while.” The remark only confuses you further. Why does such a happy photo make him look like he just took a beating, like he’s smiling through the pain? When you don’t say anything he continues. “She passed. ‘Bout two years ago.”

Oh. The bitter taste on your tongue curdles into something rotten and rife with shame. You’d been jealous of his late wife. For all of about three minutes, but still. The realization twists your stomach into knots and it roils with guilt and embarrassment.

“I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” Sorry for feeling jealous of a dead woman. A cautious glance up at his face reveals a stoic expression, one he’s probably learned to carry on with from the military if you had to guess.

“‘S hard, ‘specially on Bell. Still too young to understand why she’s gone.” Too young to grasp the concept and finality of death. Far too young to endure the loss of a parent. Silence stretches long between you, thick with grief and the admission of a once beautiful life lost. Her life. Their life. Guilt nestles itself between your ribs, taking up space between flesh and bone and it makes your chest feel tight, lungs constricted by writhing tendrils of the ugly thing. He always looks so happy, always smiling and laughing with Isobel. Always strong for her. Who smiles for him? Who takes care of him? Does he hold it all in until he drops Isobel off for school, filling the silence of their home with muffled sobs and silent tears as he picks up toys and clothes?

“Bubby?” Isobel stands at the end of the hall near the stairs, hair tousled and eyes still half-lidded with sleep, and a little bear wearing a skeleton hoodie dangles from her hand. Johnny’s eyes immediately soften, cold fractals of sorrow melting when they land on the sleepy little thing, toddling closer to wrap her arms around his leg.

“Did ye have a nice nap. leannan?” He holds the cup of milk out to you, something you’d nearly forgotten about, and passes it off so that he can lift Isobel, settling her on his hip.

She mumbles something that sounds like an ‘uh-huh’, cheek squished against his shoulder where she lays her head. “Hi miss neighbor.” Little lips curl up at the corners to smile lopsidedly at you, and you give her a small wave.

“Hi honey. I like your bear.” It’s pressed between her and Johnny, little hood pulled over its head to make it look like it’s wearing a mask with a cartoonish skull printed on it. “Does it have a name?”

“Ghost.” Johnny’s own lips tug into a half smile. “Bubby’s friend uncle Grumpy gave ‘im to me.” He chuckles at that and gives her a little squeeze.

“Are ye hungry?” A nod and a toothy yawn tells him yes.

“Well it was very nice to see you, Isobel. And very nice to meet Mr. Ghost. I’ll see you in a few days on Friday, hm?” She nods and Johnny carefully lowers her to the ground.

“Go get washed up, Leannan, and ye can help me make supper.”

“Okay. Bye miss neighbor!” She lifts the arm of the bear, waving it at you before running off to the washroom. You wave one last time and turn your attention to Johnny.

“I should leave you to it. I need to get my own dinner going.” You raise the cup of milk for emphasis.

“I’ll walk ye out then.” He does so with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you past the living room-turned-warzone by Isobel and her toys, and surprises you when he follows you out the door, hand still lingering on your back, and walks you all the way to your door.

“Thank you. Uh, for the milk, I mean. And walking me over. You didn't have to do that.” His hand leaves your waist and fixes itself on the doorframe beside his head, leaning against it with his forearm and shoving his other hand in his pocket.

“What kind of gentleman doesnae walk a lassie home?” Any remnants of the grief that shone in his eyes moments earlier has been replaced with the warmth Isobels presence brings to him. It makes them look like the hottest part of a flame, bright and mesmerizing blue in the golden rays of the setting winter sun, apricity blooming a faint pink on his cheeks that mirrors the warmth creeping into yours for an entirely different reason. “Cannae let ye slip on the pavement. Bell would have my heid if ye got hurt and couldnae make it to dinner wi’ us. She’s been talkin’ ‘bout it all week.”

“Oh.” Really? ‘Oh’? That’s the best you can come up with?

“Been thinkin’ bout it too.” He shifts his weight, leans forward, and you have to look away for fear the flames flickering behind his eyes might burn right through your head to peer into your mind where he can see all of the inappropriate imaginings inside it. Your back to the door and him towering over you, one hand around your waist and the other braced against the doorframe as it is now. All that warmth in his eyes because of you. Burning for you. “Can’t stop thinkin’ of how ye’d look in our little kitchen, bakin’ yer sweets with Bell.”

“I could bring something, if you’d like.” He shakes his head.

“Ye’re sweet enough on yer own, lass, just bring yer bonnie self. Besides, if ye do all the bakin’ here, how’m I s’posed to sneak a lick from yer spoon, hm?”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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angelltheninth · 1 month

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Could I request Aventurine and his s/o using (hidden) toys on each other while at work? But the moment they get home, their clothes are on the floor and their having intense yet sweet love-making in the bedroom.

Fuck yes, this got me foaming at the mouth!

Pairing: Aventurine x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, using sex toys, horny and desperate, rough sex, teasing, edging, hallway sex, floor sex

A/N: Fancy blonde man who might be a little crazy is just my type actually.

Aventurine was on edge all day, all because of the little bet that he made with you

What as that bet? Who could make it through the whole day without coming while being stimulated by a toy

Both of you could control each other's toy, which meant that you'd use this to your advantage, making your smug boyfriend a groaning mess while he makes his deals and collects his winnings

In response the small, quiet dildo would pump in and out of your pussy from where it was secured to your thigh

Making you clench your legs for the relief you knew wouldn't come

Egging each other on every time you passed by each other you knew you would have no mercy for the other when the work day was finally over

You were right, the moment you stepped foot inside Aventurine's apartment he turned the dildo on at the highest intensity and speed, adding the vibrating function to it too

As you fell to your knees, wetness pooling between your legs he unbuckled his belt and pushed his hard cock into your mouth, finally free of the vibrating cockring

The only ring he wants around his cock is the ring your lips make when you suck him off

You can complain all you want, about how unfair he's being

It won't get you anywhere with a man like Aventurine, he has quite the sadistic streak to him

Not a monster though, as soon as tears start to run down your face from frustration, as your body shakes on the floor, your pussy sensitive and abused from the toy's brutal pace he makes it stop

Crying looks good on you, really good, it almost makes he come right then and there

He quickly removes the toy from you and replaces if by his cock

Aventurine's cock might be hard too but it feels much more comfortable to you

You almost came from a toy, that shouldn't happen, don't you know that you're only allowed to finish on his cock and nothing else, or could you use a reminder

Daring to be so close to an orgasm from a mere toy, while his cock is right there is as close to an insult as you can get

But he won't punish you tonight, he's too far gone to think about punishments now

All you need, what you both need, is a really good fuck

Who cares of it's on the cold, hard floor, neither of you can bother to make it much farther until you've made each other come at least once

For the first time today you can both let out your voices, let your pleasure be heard by the other

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c0llisiion · 3 months

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★Pairing: lee know x bang chan + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: npr, drabble , threesome , bf!minho x reader x chan , filth , oral , cum eating , unprotected sex — lmk if i missed any!!

★W/C: 916

A/N: 2 posts back to back?! wrote this fic back in oct of 2023 and was js letting it rot in my drafts 😭 so I finally decided to post it hehe FIRST SKZ FICS AH- enjoy pookies <3 (p.s i was rlly h0rknee for minchan when i wrote this so please have mercy.)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck" were the only words echoing throughout the room, along with the sound of your skin clapping against Chan's abdomen. "Fuck c-chan, right..the-re," you said in between loud moans. Chan was fucking you mercilessly. Ass up, and your face is buried in the pillow, collecting your hot tears.

You could feel a pair of eyes burning into your body as Chan kept fucking you. It was your boyfriend. Minho. He was sitting in the corner, watching every move and analyzing every sound you were making. To begin with, it was his idea to have Chan fuck you. He insisted on it. “Fuck Minho How are you ever able to control yourself when you are with her ... F-fuckkk” Chan said. But Minho ignored his words and just kept staring at you. He was growing jealous. Hearing you moan like this over another man's cock was not sitting right with him. Minho got up from his place and climbed on the bed to face you. Chan got the signal and pulled your arm back, and his pace slowed down. This made you face Minhos crotch. He lifted your chin up using his fingers. You were looking up at him with teary eyes and a fucked-out face. His eyes were filled with lust and rage.. "You liked getting fucked by other men, huh?" He said it tauntingly. You shook your head. "Look, how well you are taking Chan’s cock? It feels good, right?" You shook your head once again. He slapped you, not too harshly. He leaned in closer. "Now don't say that, baby. You know how much it will hurt Channie Hyung?" Chan thrust harshly into you, making your face contort in pleasure. He looked at the older man and gave him a wink. You could see the way he was grinning. "Do you want to have Channie's cock or my cock inside of you now?" ,, "Y-y-you" he shoved his fingers into your mouth. Playing with your tongue. "You are not going to get it, love." Your face turned sad. Minho put his hand behind your head, gathering a handful of your hair. He pulled out his dick. "Let me fuck your face." He said it with a devilish smirk on his face. "Open wide, doll.." Chan leaned in and whispered in your ears. Minho tapped your cheek with his dick, and you opened your mouth willingly. He quickly shoved it in and started fucking your face. Your eyes filling up. Loud, muffled moans left your mouth as Chan started abusing your puffy cunt once again while Minho fucked into your mouth with no care. His grip on your hair tightened as you gagged and spasmed around his length, your throat perfectly molded for his dick. Minhos eyes were closed and his head thrown back; eyebrows furrowed as curses left his mouth. “S-shitt… You are doing so well, baby..” he said while pushing away the stray hairs on your face. Chan, on the other hand, was fucking you into tomorrow. His hands were on your ass cheeks, spreading them as he observed the way you sucked in his cock. "Minho, look at how well she is taking me … “ he praised you. Minho smirked. “Ya hear that slut? You like being someone else’s fuck toy, don't you?” You moaned against his dick. You felt Chans dick twitch inside of you, as well as Minhos, signaling that they were close. “Im going to fuck!” Chan loudly cursed at how you clenched around him. He eventually pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whine and cry more. He started jerking himself off, trying to reach his final high. Minho did the same; he made you lay on your back as they both kneeled in front of your face. Their hands were picking up pace as they started jerking themselves. curses after curses left their mouths. You laid there as you fondled with their heavy cum filled balls. “G-give it to me.. please.. fuck- i need your cum all over my face…”

Chan busted over your chest and body. A heavy load of his creamy, clear cum coated your sweaty body. You moaned and coughed, spreading the mixture all over your swollen tits using chans Hand. Chan groaned as he watched you take his fingers and put them in your mouth, sucking and licking his cum-covered digits with a sultry smile. You turned to Minho before using your hands to guide his own down his length. “Cum on my face minho.. need it so bad… i need you.. come on you can do it..” you encourage him, as he seemed to be struggling. “Fuck-“ Minho grunted as he watched suck on his tip while you stared into his eyes. Within a blink of an eye, Minho shot his load onto your face. You let him paint your face with his cum. Your eye getting glued shut by the sticky substance. He took deep breaths, his eyes focused on the way your lips licked his cum off of them. Minho’s thumb scooped the glob of cum that was on your eye before spreading it over your clean lips and pushing his thumb through your lips for you to suck on. He had a shit-eating smirk on his face as he watched you. You turned over to look at Chan, who laid next to you, caressing your bruised hip. You gave him a smile.“Was I a good girl?” You asked both of them.

“The bestest girl.”

A/N: THANKS 4 READINGGGG! ILYSMMMM reblogs and comments are appreciated! Lmk if I should write more skz smut eheh

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asceluffy · 6 months

Text

OP MEN when they’re in the mood pt. 2

ft. Shanks, Mihawk, Katakuri, King (not proofread)

Shanks

Little did you know that it’s you who gets him in the mood every single time. It’s not just a “I’m feeling horny and I need release” typa thing.

He gets riled up when he watches you put on your favorite lipstick, when you try on your newly bought clothes and show it to him, when you walk around the ship with his shirt on, and when you sit on his lap.

His brain is quick to conjure up different positions he’ll fuck you in when you sit on his lap.

At first, he’d rub your inner thigh ‘absentmindedly,’ and when you shift on his leg, that’s when he’ll go further.

With a mug of beer in his other hand and half his attention on his crewmates, his fingers slowly dance their way up your leg until he stops just when he’s near your panties.

While he chats with his members he’ll toy with the garter of your underwear, tugging it at first before he snakes his hand inside just to feel the skin near your pussy.

And when you squirm, he’ll lean near your ear, face flushed with words a little slurred.

“Once they all get wasted and pass out I’m gonna fuck you on my bed, yeah?”

Mihawk

Mihawk is the type of person to plan things before it happens.

He’d feel the need to feel the warmth of your pussy as it clenches on his thick cock, but when he sees you busy he’d patiently wait until your schedule is free.

He’d set up a romantic candlelit dinner, cooking you steak and pouring you the finest wine in his collection.

He’d let out a small, ‘nonchalant’ smile when you compliment his cooking, all while holding himself back from pining you on the table and taking you then and there.

On the middle of the dinner, he’d casually say, “Let’s have sex.” which will lead you to choke on your food.

“After dinner,” You’d say, and in his mind he’s already celebrating.

When you two finish, he’ll ask you to take his hand and lead you to the bedroom, gasping when you see rose petals scattered inside and lovely music playing from his vintage record player.

Katakuri

He’s mostly shy around you, being his first girlfriend and all.

Some people may think that he acts coldly towards you, but it’s only you who truly knows why he acts that way.

You’d know he’s in the mood when he acts cranky and touchy.

He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, fiddle with your fingers, compare hand sizes, and glare at anyone who dares speak to you or even breathe your way.

But when he’s really in the mood, his subtle touches will level up.

He’d rub your inner thighs, fondle your breasts, lightly squeeze your butt.

You’d notice how his breath gets heavier and how his pupils dilate when you get near him.

You’ll notice him staring at you the whole day without saying a damn word, and when you notice these signs you’ll chuckle and pull him into a passionate kiss.

King

King is a busy man, working under Kaido means he has to do things almost 24/7.

The only time you’d spend with him is when’s sent on expeditions, which rarely happens because he’s always glued beside Kaido.

Or, when he just finished a battle.

While his whole system is still pumping with adrenaline from a recent battle, the only reason for him to calm down is to sink into your tight cunt.

When he sees you after he just won a fight, all his pent up energy will shoot straight down his dick.

He’s a man of few words, and once he has you pinned against the wall, you know what will happen next.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen you in a long time. Open your pretty legs for me so I can show you how much I missed you.”

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece smut #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #king one piece #king the wildfire #king the wildfire x reader #king x reader #katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri #akagami no shanks #dracule mihawk

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

Text

tw - forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and border-line shitpost energy.

It is common knowledge that Lord Scaramouche, Sixth Harbinger of the Snezhnayan Fatui, the nationally acclaimed and universally feared Balladeer, does not like to share his toys.

The timeline of your relationship should be proof enough of that -courted after only a handful of chance encounters during his time in your humble village, married as quickly as he could find an alter and an officiant willing to misinterpret your frantic sobbing as an 'I do', hastily locked away in an estate populated solely by masked guards and servants under strict instruction not to speak a word to you - but, if there was a soul in Teyvat who dared to ask for more evidence, you would happily point them towards the smoldering remains the book that you'd been too caught up in to keep track of one of his frequent one-sided rants, the patch of sand and stone that had once been the flower garden you lavished with all of the love and attention you'd withheld from him. He's as savage as he is predictable. His precious things, from his vast collection of porcelain dolls to the ancient sword that he keeps hidden in a velvet-lined box in his study, are safely stowed away, while yours are swiftly and mercilessly destroyed.

If there's something you'd like to keep, it has to be bargained for. You'll spend weeks singing his praises and cuddling up to his side, cooking all his favorite meals by hand (much to the distress of his small legion of private chefs) and letting him speak at length about the bloody, visceral vengeance he plans to rain down upon his countless enemies. It's only when you have him content and assured of your love for him that you pounce.

His lips purse, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Please, my lord." You lean forward, clasping your hands over your lap. "Won't you at least try to consider it?"

"Absolutely not." His tone is surprisingly haughty, especially considering his current position; head resting on your thighs, gaze pointed at some indistinguishable point on the far wall as you rake your fingers through his hair. "You expect me to strain my staff and myself just so you can... what? Visit your sister for a few boring days?"

"Her son is turning five, and she just had her first daughter. I thought it might be nice to see how she's doing and lend her a hand."

He scoffs. "You expect me to be so patient with you and yet, here you are, practically begging me to let you run off to the countryside just to see another man."

"Surely, you aren't denying my request because you're jealous of an infant."

"No. Whatever. Be quiet." If you didn't know better, you would think he's pouting. "My answer hasn't changed. I can't afford to spare that much thought on such a petty errand, not with the Tsaritsa as demanding as she is."

You hum, letting your head lull to the side. "You know," A weighted pause, your nails scraping against his scalp. "Her home isn't as... accommodating as yours. Her only spare room was converted into a nursery some years back, so we'd have to stay at an inn."

His lips quirk downward, unimpressed. "And?"

"And, there's only one in my village. It's quite a meager thing, too. Even this time of year, there's only going to be a few rooms available." Your touch lingers near the nape of his neck. "I know I usually insist on separate bedrooms, but given the circumstances, there's a good chance neither of us will be able to be so selfish."

There was a beat of silence, then another. You think, for a moment, that Scaramouche might be holding his breath, but you quickly remember that he doesn't breathe at all.

Finally, he responds. "A few days would make for a pathetic visit. Tell her that we'll be staying for a month."

As savage as he is predictable. That's all you could expect from your husband, wasn't it?

You lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss into his temple. "As you wish, my lord."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer #wanderer x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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nouearth · 8 months

Text

blue current.

clark kent x male reader headcanons.

warnings: fluff, co-workers at the daily planet, maws!clark, soft!clark, intern!reader.

a/n: it's been a hot minute since i've written anything! i feel so bad because i've been swamped with school, so hopefully this will hold you guys over until i post my next fic! it's not much, but i've been feeling fluffy as of recent, and clark is the perfect candidate, HAHA. idk, i've been feeing low-key creatively stuck for writing, so hopefully this well get me out of the slump!

gif credits to: fukutomichi!

—clark was smitten from the moment he first laid eyes on you.

—it had only been the fourth month into his internship, but it was no secret that the higher-ups, and even his colleagues, have been impressed by clark's rapid growth.

—it was enough to ensure their trust in clark to train the new intern as the lead journalist had taken a month off for vacation. while he had his doubts if he would do a good job, clark always loved challenging himself.

—his mother had always reminded him: one who feared failure will never achieve greatness.

—sure, you weren't being mentored by the best journalist in the city. though, you had to admit that you felt defeated since miss lane was the only reason why you chose the daily planet over other internships.

—but bitterness turned to throat-drying, cheek-flushing, and hand-flexing sweetness when you came in your first day and met the man who would be training you.

—for clark, it was the drowsiness in your gaze that suddenly brightened when he met your eyes. if he could have seen his own face, clark would reckon that his eyes lit up the same way yours did upon meeting you for the first time.

—he's so... handsome. maybe training him wouldn't be so bad after all...

—his blue eyes sucked you in like heavy ocean current, but instead of fighting back the pull like any sane person would, you allowed him to drown you in the gorgeous wash his gaze doted on you with.

—god, are you toying with me right now? have you finally come around to my reckless behavior back in high school? i knew you always would!

—it began with a handshake. when clark's large hand cupped into yours, a current of sparks flickered from the bone of your knuckles to his own, and you both released with a gasp.

—"sorry! it must be my vest or something—has a lot of... cotton, i think—" clark assured with a laugh, but cursed his lame excuse in between breaths.

—"no, you're fine! i guess your sweater vest knew i was half-asleep, huh?" you laughed with him, and almost as if it was choreographed, you reached back to rub at your nape when he does, and the discomfort left the collective laughter in a fleeting dance.

—"well, lucky for you, our first stop is the break room! i'll show you how to make a poor man's mocha if you get sick of the coffee here!"

—from then on, you two had quickly become close friends.

—where clark would teach you more hacks to spice up an ordinary roast of coffee, you would return the favor by surprising him on random days with lunch that you prepared the night before.

—on nights where you were too tired to function, you simply settled for sandwiches and prepared an extra meal for clark.

—whether he claimed he forgot his lunch, or was too busy to even take a glance at his lunchbox; eating lunch had become a rarity for him.

—unless it was with you.

—even before opening the brown paper bag, clark knew it was going to be delicious.

—you always remembered what ingredients he liked and disliked since the first time you had lunch with him.

—clark smiled to himself as he ate the meal you didn't have to prepare for him in big bites.

—and then laughed when you watched in amazement and mirrored him like a parrot with messy bites.

—somehow, the thought of cared for was more filling than the actual meal.

—in moments where clark suddenly felt guilt for liking you as more than a friend, he sat silently, staring blankly ahead, with the tissue crumpled in his hands.

—and you sat beside him on the bench, compelled by his silence, while the birds watched from their home of oak and birch.

—it had been happening more frequently: clark's sudden mood shift. no matter how much he tried to deny it, how much he attempted to pacify your silent worries with his handsome smile, it was clear that something was bothering him.

—at first, you tried to break him with a joke.

—"geez, was my sandwich that bad?! i guess i shouldn't have used that expired mustard..."

—you've studied clark enough to anticipate a half-hearted chuckle from him; weak, but still had the intention to please. to masquerade his thoughts.

—instead, the birds chirped in his absence, and your frown only deepened as clark maintained a fixed gaze to the pavement.

—"clark?" you nudged him once on the arm, and he immediately dropped his head in between his legs with a heavy sigh.

—"what's wrong?"

—"there'ssomethingigottatellyou..." he muttered into the crook of his elbow, and your brows knitted together in worry, despite your amusement at the fact that he was behaving similarly to a puppy throwing a tantrum.

—"huh? didn't quite catch that when your mouth is full of linen." you gently nudged him once more to vacant the space between his legs, then another with a gentler squeeze to his arm when he doesn't.

—"clark, come on. talk to me." you squeezed harder to the sound of his groans. "people are staring—"

—then another squeeze.

—"there's something..."

—and another.

—"i gotta tell you..."

—and before you could alert him once more, clark returned the pressure into your own palm when he suddenly took your hand into his, and held it as if it was a pirate's lost treasure.

—the warmth of your skin compelled him to sit back up, but he refused to look at you. instead, he gazed every perimeter that didn't involve your eyes.

—the birds again, the sky, the trees, anything to drown out the sight of potential rejection.

—but how you wished he would turn to you right now, because you smiled. wide enough to sting the apple of your cheeks, and as much as you wanted to yell out his name for him to do so, you wanted to let clark do it for himself.

—to take upon the challenge of potentially meeting failure or success.

—heat crept onto his cheeks as he stared at a couple who were charmed by chubby ducks floating on the nearby lake. for a brief moment, he could see you two walking hand-in-hand, while the other free hand threw feed at the eager ducks.

—he was lost in his imagination. a blink turned into a dream, and a dream turned into a desperate paradise.

—it wasn't until the trail of your hand that looped your fingers into his, tightly sharing the warmth of anxiousness with a sticky clamp, that clark opened his eyes again and finally turned to you.

—wet eyes and shaking blues, they told a story that you didn't need to read into.

—silence filled the space between the two of you, then groaned in annoyance when you scooted closer until your knee was pressed to clark's. you folded his hand into yours, still clutching onto him tightly, and laid the joined affection on your lap.

—"i like you too, smallville." your thumb ran several laps over his knuckles to calm the tremors clark had possessed.

—he watched, open-mouthed as if he was about to respond, but the shock trapped the remainder of his words within his throat.

—you lounged back and squinted at the radiance of the sun, the brights of the sky.

—"(m/n)..."

—the sunlight faded into the background as the beauty of your best friend came into frame once again. he absorbed all the color and light of the world until your focus was on him.

—"i really like you."

—the sigh on his lips told a different tale compared to the previous exhales. it curled his lips upwards and finally pacified the shakes that had been bothering clark for months.

—when he pressed his palm back into yours, folding his fingers over your own, you braced for impact as you felt the electrical current from the first day you met him return in stronger pulses. it nipped at your skin, then at clark's, in its desperate escape.

—but clark held tighter, as did you, until the shockwaves melted in his skin, into his veins, then into his blood, and became one with the victorious cheer of his heart.

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hemmingsleclerc · 1 month

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is it possible to have olivia meet charles daughter?😭 dad driver fics are my favorite! don’t worry if you can’t, love your works!❤️

The beginning of a friendship┃C.L M.V

summary: where emma jules and olivia verstappen meet

I'm back!!! So so cute this new duo!🥲💗

It was a hot day of racing in the Formula 1 paddock, the sound of cars accelerating filled the air. Charles, the Ferrari driver, walked hand in hand with his pretty daughter Emma Jules. Emma, with her eyes shining, held on tightly to her father's hand as they walked through the place.

Meanwhile, Red Bull Racing driver Max was also accompanied by his 6-year-old daughter, Olivia. Liv, with her blonde hair bouncing as she jumped alongside her father, was eager to explore the thrill of the race.

When they arrived at the track, Olivia's eyes widened with excitement at the sights and sounds of the racing world. But her attention quickly changed when she noticed a girl who appeared to be the same age near her, along with a man in a red suit similar to her father's.

With an excited sound, she waved her father's hand to get his attention.

¿What happend angel?

¿Who's that girl over there daddy?

!Oh, that's charles with his daughter, do you want to say hi to them?

!Yes, yes¡

Max smiled and walked towards Charles with Olivia by his side "Hey, Charles! How are you?"

"Hey, Max, great, you?" Charles responded with a warm smile. "This is my daughter, Emma. And I see you have liv with you today."

Max nodded and his eyes sparkled. "Yes, this is Olivia. She's been dying to meet your little girl since she heard that she would be in the same race as her and would have someone to play with."

Emma, sensing the attention directed at her, peeked behind her father's shoulder, her small hand clutching Charles's shirt.

"Hi, Emma! I'm Olivia Verstappen!" Olivia chirped, taking a step closer, her enthusiasm palpable.

Emma's response was a timid movement, her cheeks flushed with shyness as she buried her face against Charles's chest.

Charles laughed softly, rubbing Emma's back to reassure her. "It's okay, Emm. Olivia is just excited to meet you."

Max crouched down next to Olivia and put a hand on her shoulder. "Emma's a little shy, Liv. Why don't you show her your toys?"

Olivia's eyes widened with excitement as she reached into her small backpack and pulled out some dolls. "Look, Emma! Isn't this great?"

Faced with this action, Charles took Emma out of his arms but she was still a little shy, so she hid behind her father's leg.

Peeking out from behind her father's leg, Emma cast a curious glance at the dolls before tentatively reaching out to touch them. Her fingers touched the pretty dress of one of them and a slight smile appeared at the corners of her lips.

Max and Charles exchanged a knowing smile as they watched the two girls join tentatively over the dolls. Slowly but surely, Emma's shyness faded, replaced by a new sense of curiosity and excitement.

They discovered a shared love for the color pink, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.

Try as they might, Max and Charles couldn't keep the girls apart. Olivia's boundless energy and Emma's newfound confidence kept them attached at the hip all day, much to the amusement of the racing teams and fans.

As the sun began to set on the circuit and the race ended, Max and Charles exchanged bewildered glances. It seemed like their daughters had formed an unbreakable bond in just a few hours.

"Looks like we're in for a long road," Max laughed, as he and Charles resigned themselves to the inevitable play date.

That night they met at Charles's house, where Charles's wife Y/N warmly welcomed Max, his wife, and Liv. The girls wasted no time raiding Emma's collection of costumes, transforming themselves into princesses with joy.

Over a delicious dinner prepared by Y/N, Max and Charles shared stories of their own childhood pranks, marveling at the unlikely friendship blossoming before their eyes.

As the night came to an end, Max couldn't help but smile as he saw Olivia and Emma fast asleep on the couch, wrapped in a tight embrace.

That day, a new friendship was made at the paddock.

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

Note

Can u do their hard limits for the nsfw🙏🏽 and love ur works🖤

ooh dear xx

jjk men : their hard limits in bed

includes many kinks mentioned or explicitly described !! EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT

toji ⋆ kento ⋆ satoru ⋆ suguru x sub/switch afab reader

[tw: anal, threesomes, explicit knife play, gun play, pegging, predator prey, explicit cnc, gag, period sex mention, safe word use, explicit somnophilia, breath play mention, pet play, collaring, blindfold, bondage, choking, public toy use, degradation kink, slapping, spit kink, praise, humiliation, tail butt plug use]

Toji

He's filthy. Anything goes with this man. You think of the kinkiest shit you've ever heard? He's done it. Nothing will surprise him. When he was younger, in his twenties, he found himself getting totally obsessed with anal until getting in a girls' cute ass was all he could think of.

He soon found his love for pretty hard kinks- especially when women asked for it. He leaned into that roguish demeanour of his very heavily, and found so many girls who loved it. So much so that he nearly had to give Shiu a bigger cut of his pay just to deal with all the redirected booty calls. But they just ended up sharing a lot of the time anyway. They rarely shared meals and, in fact, their free time was often their own. But when it came to getting laid, especially with girls like you, they couldn't say no.

And later, with his extensive collection of weapons only growing, it only felt natural for him to tease his sweet love with them. When you went all wide eyed and gasped like that, grabbing at his thick and muscular wrist with a long, sharp blade pressed at your throat? His dick got fucking hard and he entered a whole new level of extreme kinks. Next up was his gun; a semi-automatic pistol that he'd use on his targets, then bring home and use to lift up your skirt. Again, it was your beautiful, fearful reaction that made him do it... he couldn't help but slide it between your legs and fuck you with it.

However, something that got his stomach churning in the worst way possible... was your bright idea to peg him. I mean, he said he was up for anything, and he has played around with anal stimulation. Sure, it was fun, but having his sweet girl strap a cock to her body and fuck him with it? It sent a shiver down his spine. He'd still fucking try it though.

Kento

His limit is tough to define. It's the moment that you ask him to do it harder and he does- it's when you tell him to get rough with you and he watches you struggle under him. It's more like an underlying discomfort than a limit. But because he is a patient and mature man, he will talk to you about it and you are given yet another opportunity to fall more in love with him.

The issue is more complex than 'i don't want to hurt you' - because he loves spanking you, he loves tweaking your pretty nipples till they're all sensitive and swollen, and he adores getting his hands on your body; grabbing you, squeezing you. And realistically, he wants to make you happy... he wants to make you feel good. But there's just something so deep in his psyche that tells him 'Kento, you could lose yourself' and he's petrified that one day he's going to take it too far.

For this reason, after your lengthy discussions on the subject, you have agreed that your husband will keep up the rough play as long as he feels comfortable, and that he is not going to engage in breath play anymore. He said his piece, set the boundary and, although you love his big hands around your throat, you understand why it scares him and you respect him wholeheartedly. You finish off this deep conversation with an even deeper love making session- this time keeping it slow and sensual.

Satoru

Consent. Consent and blood.

This man does not need any more blood on his hands. So, unless you're begging him to impregnate you, he may be quite averse to period sex.

He will play around with consent- but like any loving and respectful partner he will need a play by play of what you want him to do to you. He needs to know exactly what's off the cards... and what's on. Especially with his powers thrown into the mix- although he has them fine tuned, it still adds an extra element of danger (which you seem to like very much).

So he will play along with your sick little games of hide and seek that end with him teleporting right behind you and covering your mouth with his hand, with your excited giggles soon turning into screams. He honestly never knew playing with this boundary was so attractive, but when you look up at him with glossy, wet eyes telling him 'Satoru 's too much' or 'n-no I can't take it, wait, please-' it gets his dick so fucking hard it almost hurts. But none of that would be possible without your safe word- or sign if you're gagged (which is rare because he loves hearing your pretty voice even if all you can get out are soft whimpers of how big he feels inside you and that you want him to cum). He's used it a couple of times, and so have you.

But you're learning your limits and coming to understand each other very well, so much so that your use of the word is dwindling because he knows when something is actually too much and when you're just saying it. From the little movements in your body, those microexpressions; he sees every detail. He can feel it all.

And now he's started to enjoy this, you wanted to take it a step further. You were desperate to have him fuck you in your sleep. After you expressly asked him to wake you up with oral one time, he really wanted to try it. And it was so fucking hot he asked you to do the same for him- it's not like he never thought about it before. Waking up to a good dick sucking is any man's dream. But that you'd want to do it? God, he feels so lucky when he wakes up with his cock in your mouth. And the final step, when you fell asleep naked from your previous night's escapades after begging him to do it all again in the morning, he finally got his dick inside you. You were sleeping on your side, facing away from him, and he just edged up and started slowly fucking you open. It took much longer than usual and added to his arousal- he was trying to be patient so as not to wake you. And it worked. When he finally stuffed you full and started moving you woke up and the first noise you made was the most sensual fucking horny moan he's ever heard and he gets addicted.

But if there's ever any feeling in his gut that you're not enjoying what he's doing to you and that you actually want to stop... he will. Even if it's just a doubtful nag in the back of his head- a couple of times he has completely edged you because of the thought. But with your enthusiastic consent (impatient begging) he continues to get you off in whichever way you want.

Suguru

Now your lovely boyfriend Suguru is a real sweetheart. You can tell he'd do absolutely anything for you. Of course, he won't be taken advantage of, he's a smart man. But in the bedroom, if it's for your pleasure, he's in. And that includes your fantasies of having him collared and strapped up to the bed. He'll let you blindfold him, gag him, he likes it when you choke him- especially when he's about to cum, it makes the experience all the more dizzying. He's very open to anal play- he loves it when you use toys on him, vibrators, dildos, love eggs... even in public. But he is not your submissive and he likes to remind you of that, especially with the strength he holds in that muscular body of his. He loves restraining you and overpowering you, especially when you're getting a little too cocky and comfortable on top. He likes to slap your pussy as much as your face and he will spit on your tongue if you beg him for it. He loves being mean and crude to his girl, then suddenly switching to be the softest gentleman you've ever met.

However, with your fantasies getting a little out of control- with buying him a new collar, a lead, the cutest outfits to wear (his slight embarrassment added another level for you)- he became uncomfortable with one certain request. And yes, he'll admit he's been playing along- it's been very enjoyable and stimulating for him- the pleasure has been overwhelming at times. But with your new toy... a certain butt plug with a black fluffy tail attached... he wrinkles up his nose and turns you down. You took it too far. But, the idea comes to him that if you like it so much, why don't you use it? And soon enough he's got you on your knees licking cream off his boots with a collar round your neck and a tail up your ass. You didn't know it vibrated.

hcs | m.list

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ddejavvu · 8 months

Note

hey mei baby i was wondering if you could do something about shy!reader with spencer and she's just so smitten with everything he does and gets flustered really easily and spencer is like ??? like he doesn't get it cause he doesn't see how fucking gorgeous he is

love love love you!

love love love you too!

Spencer sits down at the table you'd scouted with a warm smile and a gift bag, and you eye it warily, noting the particular absence of one in return for him.

"I brought you something," He confesses bashfully, and you watch as he pushes it over the table towards you, "But- um, I'm sorry there's no tissue paper in there. I thought I had some, but then I didn't, so I went to the store earlier to find some, but they only had neon pink, and that didn't really go with the orange on the bag, so- just- it's in there." He concludes drearily, "Sorry."

The mere thought of him apologizing for a gift that he's giving you not being perfect makes you want to scream in agony and kiss the apologetic smile right off of his pretty pink lips. But you think that a gentle reassurance would work better, so that's what you give him.

"It's alright, Spencer," You promise, reaching into the bag and wrapping your fingers around what feels like soft paper, "The tissue paper is the least important part of the gift."

It turns out to be a book, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected anything different from Spencer. It's worn, well-loved, with sticky notes in disarray all down the sides and pencil scribbled in the margins. It's a collection of vignettes, from the title, old English tales that you'd find covered in dust at an ancient library.

"My mom used to read these to me when I was younger," Spencer admits, hands toying with each other nervously in his lap, "And I bought myself a copy when I moved out, for- to, like, start my collection," He explains, "And I always found myself going back and annotating it, because I just had so much to say, but- uh, no one to listen."

His cheeks burn pink at the admission, and you physically feel your heart swell to dangerous proportions within the confines of your chest, "So, I thought that- well, if you want to, at least... you could read them too. And- my notes, if you're interested."

He's staring at you with so much raw hope shimmering in his pretty brown eyes that it nearly brings tears to yours. Your brain is filled with static, useless and jittery, and all you can do is drop the book into your lap and slam your face into your arms on the table.

You let out a muffled groan, maybe more of a scream, and when you peek back up at Spencer, he looks mortified.

"I'm sorry! If you don't want it, I can- I can take it back, or get you a different copy, or-"

"Stop! Spencer, stop," You plead, clutching at his hands from across the tiny table, "You're perfect. How are you perfect?"

He looks bewildered, but doesn't pull his hands from yours, "What?"

"You gave me your special book," You whimper, "Actually, you apologized that you only gave me your special book, and you trusted me to care for it and read all of your thoughts and notes about it, and you're-sitting-with-me-in-a-coffee-shop-being-the-man-of-my-dreams! You're perfect!"

He looks heavily flustered now, cheeks burning only brighter red as he grins, "I- I'm glad you like it. Um- I didn't think you'd like it this much."

"I love it," You whine, dragging one of his hands to your mouth to smear a kiss over the back of it, "Spencer, you're perfect."

"Stop saying that," He pleads, but he has to avoid your eyes as he grins into his lap, "You're making me tongue-tied."

"I know," You confess, squeezing his hands, but you show him no mercy as you grin: "But it's only fair, Spence. You just gave me the most heartfelt gift of my life, I'm allowed to make you stutter."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid

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corroded-hellfire · 1 month

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Okay this is random but I work at a daycare and this little boy who’s about two years old looks exactly like his dad and their eyes are just so blue and distinctive but he has his mom’s hair and I was just wondering if you could write something like that with Eddie x reader, I just think it would be so cute to see their little mini me ! I love your work so sos much no pressure if you don’t want to of course:)

Eddie as a father? If only I had some experience writing that 😜 I hope you enjoy your and Eddie’s little mini me!

Words: 900

“Can you believe it?”

“No. I mean, it’s been two years and no.”

Max and Dustin sit on the floor of your living room, watching your son rummage through the toy box on the other side of the deep brown coffee table until he finds something suitable to play with his babysitters.

Bret settles on his Fisher Price Rescue Hero action figures and tries to collect as many of them in his tiny arms as he can. A few curly strands of hair fall into his eyes which he shakes out of the way as well as he can manage in this position. Satisfied with the haul he’s gathered, he lugs himself out of the toy box and toddles back over to his favorite aunt and uncle. At least that’s what Max and Dustin tell themselves.

“He’s like their clone,” Max speaks softly as Bret sits down and spreads the toys around his small body to get a better look. “Dad’s hair curls. Mom’s hair color.”

“Dad’s eye color, Mom’s skin tone. Jesus, I’d swear Eddie grew him in a lab if he knew the first thing about science.”

“Technically, Bret is here because of biology,” Max teases as the two-year-old in question hands the redhead a construction worker action figure.

“The one aspect of science Eddie’s willing to experiment with time and time again,” Dustin says.

“Hmm?” the little boy asks Max, having heard her say his name.

“Huh?” Max asks, looking down at the youngest Munson. “Oh. Um, what game are we playing?”

“We playin’ heroes!” Bret announces, having the firefighting action figure he’s holding fly in an arc over his head.

“Are they superheroes?” Dustin asks. He lays flat on his stomach to be more on an equal level with the toddler. Action figures of every occupation are spread out in front of him on the plush navy blue carpet.

“Not all,” Bret says with a shrug, which is the spitting image of one of your usual quirks.

“Which one do you want to be?” Max asks.

Bret’s eyes scan the variety of toys laid out around him, his small tongue peeking out from between his lips as he thinks about it. Max can’t help but chuckle at the familiar image in front of her, just on a smaller scale.

“I don’t know!” Bret pouts, his lower lip jutting out. He slumps down on the carpet, his head coming to rest on his Uncle Dusty’s shoulder.

“Aw, come on, Mini Munson.” Dustin rolls onto his back and lifts Bret over his head. The two-year-old giggles wildly and starts to kick his feet as if he’s trying to swim away. The laughter is so loud and piercing that none of the three hear the front door opening.

“Careful,” Eddie says as he walks into the room, you trailing just behind him. “He had a few waffles for breakfast, and I don’t want to see them come back up over Uncle Dusty’s face.”

Bret giggles—slightly evilly—as if this would be hilarious.

You set your purse down and slip your shoes off, throwing Max a smile.

“How was the troublemaker?”

“The usual amount of trouble,” she tells you.

“So, nowhere near as much as his father. Got it.”

Your husband walks towards Dustin, ready to scoop your son up out of his grip, but the little boy squeals and dodges his hands.

“Hey,” Eddie pouts, which only makes Bret giggle. “Bret Michael Munson. Are you trying to escape your old man?”

“Yeah!” he replies cheerfully, making Dustin laugh.

Eddie softly kicks his best friend’s shoulder with his socked foot.

Across the room, Max accepts the glass of water you hand her.

“How was your afternoon date?” she asks.

“It was fun. The weather’s really nice and I beat Eddie by three points because he couldn’t hit his ball through the little windmill,” you say with a giggle.

“You’re definitely going to have to be the one to teach Bret to play mini golf,” Max says.

The two of you look over to your son, where he seems to be the object of a game of keep away between Eddie and Dustin. Bret giggles wildly, his face scrunching up in a way that makes the tip of his nose wiggle.

“It’s so crazy how much he looks like you when he scrunches his face like that,” Max says, shaking her head in amazement.

Bret must’ve caught his aunt’s words because he looks over at the two of you, a tiny furrow between his brows.

“But Mommy’s a girl!” he protests.

You blow him a kiss and he’s quickly sucked back into whatever game he’s playing with the guys.

Once Bret is tuckered out from the roughhousing, he plops down on Dustin’s chest and Eddie makes his way over to you. He catches wind of your and Max’s conversation of how your son looks just like the two of you. When Max slips away to grab her things, Eddie places his hands on your hips from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Wanna make another one and see if they look more like you or me?”

Just the thought sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“You’re on, Munson. Meet me in our room. Nap time.”

“Bret’s or mine?”

A snort of laughter bursts out of you, causing Eddie to smile and only hold onto you tighter.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #request

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wineauntie · 3 months

Note

omggg you could you maybe do little blurbs or headcanons for quinn x single mom reader? for example how sweet of a dad figure quinn would be for evie on valentine’s day and spoiling her rotten? btw love your writing so much!!

HEADCANONS — Quinn Hughes x single mom!reader

based on this one shot

note: Oh, no need to ask twice, I love Quinn x single mom reader with my whole heart. This includes how you guys met, Quinn meeting Evie and all the cute inbetweens!

warnings: a tiny little suggestive content halfway through but nothing major- sex is implied, fem!reader, just tooth rotting fluff for the rest of it.

Quinn knew he loved you from the moment he’d met you.

You and Quinn had a meet-cute. Meaning, he physically ran into you outside a coffee shop, causing all of your coffee to spill down his front.

He remembered cursing in shock only to turn into a flustered mess when you began to apologise and offer him tissues. That drama turned into him asking to buy you another coffee to which you agreed.

You hadn’t known who Quinn was or why some people had stared as he ordered you a coffee (You 100% just assumed it was because he was attractive)

You two talked for just over an hour before you parted ways (his number securely in your pocket as you went).

And the rest is history

You went on a date with him to a restaurant downtown. During this date you brought up the fact you had a daughter and that if that was a problem, then he should leave.

Quinn stayed. To him, it didn’t matter if you had a child.

You’d left the date blushing like a school kid whose crush had admitted to liking them back.

The two of you took it slowly, but around two months into your relationship, when Quinn asked you to be his girlfriend, you knew it was time to introduce him to Evie.

Evie, who was two at the time, had no idea who the man was holding her mom’s hand. She ended up throwing her teddy at him before running straight between your legs to hide.

Quinn had brought Evie pink and purple flowers after being told they were her favourite colours.

Evie had never been given flowers and instantly began to like Quinn.

I can just imagine Quinn crouched down introducing himself and Evie giggling.

“Oh hello, I’m Quinn,”

“Win.”

You’d stifle a laugh at Evie’s attempt to say his name.

“Yeah, Quinn!”

Quinn would be so unphased by Evie being unable to say his name, even when Evie began to call him Winnie, he secretly loved it.

Quinn became a constant in you and Evie’s life. He’d come to see you and Evie almost every day, or at least as much as his schedule would let him.

Evie would be obsessed with him, and Quinn? Oh, he adored being around you and her.

Evie would babble nonsensical words mixed with a few normal words and he’d nod and talk back to her, holding a conversation.

And don’t even think Quinn is above having tea parties with Evie because he is the one who suggests them.

I imagine you running to collect the post from your building's postbox only to come back and hear giggling from the living room.

You would find Quinn sitting cross-legged on the floor with a tiara and a sparkly pink cape opposite Evie in a princess dress and obnoxiously large sunglasses.

You had to take a picture before entering and joining them. That picture was your lock screen for so long.

Quinn more often than not spent the night at your apartment.

You’d given up a few drawers so that he could keep some things in your place.

It was easier to meet in your apartment because all of Evie’s things were there but the times you and Evie went to his apartment? those were like going on holidays for Evie.

Quinn’s apartment was considerably bigger than yours and when he’d begun to date you, he changed one of his two guest rooms into a room for Evie.

So imagine your surprise when you brought Evie over for the first time and found an entire princess-themed room filled with toys just for Evie.

You’d cried and Quinn had nervously scratched his head until you’d hugged him and thanked him for being so kind.

Evie had loved her room and begged you to stay over more.

And so when Quinn had asked you to move in with him a few months later, you’d jumped at the opportunity.

Quinn had surprised you with over fifty bundles of your favourite flowers as a ‘welcome home’ gift.

Your parents offered to watch Evie overnight to allow you and Quinn time to sort out the apartment.

Let’s just say the two of you christened the house…in multiple places…multiple times.

You’d curled up that night beside Quinn that night and had basked in the glow of your new home.

You’d already spent a Valentine’s Day with Quinn but at that stage, he hadn’t met Evie yet.

On Valentine’s morning, Quinn woke up at eight o’clock to make you and Evie a special breakfast— pancakes with a variety of toppings.

He’d gently woken up Evie and carried her into your room, placing her gently beside you. You’d barely stirred as Quinn pressed a loving kiss to your forehead whilst Evie cuddled close to your side.

He returned ten minutes later with breakfast, to which Evie and you had laughed and dragged him down into a one-handed hug.

He had sat down on the end of the bed and ate with the two of you, his eyes gleaming as the two of you enjoyed the food. (He’s an acts of service kind of guy and, hell, moments like those made his heart swell).

After the three of you had gotten ready, Quinn surprised you both with flowers. He was taking you out for dinner that night and in order to lessen Evie’s fear of missing out, he’d bought her a few gifts.

“It’s a bracelet,”

“That’s my name!”

You’d never forget how Evie beamed at the silver as Quinn clasped it onto her little wrist.

“And these are so you can come onto the ice with me,”

Quinn had bought her tiny black skates with pink lining, specifically for teaching Evie to skate as she’d begged him to for so many weeks.

Evie had been so overwhelmed by glee that she’d burst with excitement and lunged toward Quinn for a hug.

Quinn really is the best dad figure for Evie. He cares for her so wholeheartedly and so unwaveringly.

This man is so protective over her and you, it’s ridiculous.

Evie would come home with you from doing an odd shop and tell Quinn all about how some man was talking to you– he’d been flirting and you’d rejected all advances.

“And I throw bag of pasta at him, Winnie!”

“Atta girl! Good job!”

The two of them would high-five before Quinn would grab Evie and jostle her around as she laughed.

Quinn would be so protective over Evie in a way that made your heart so full.

Evie would come skipping home one day claiming that she and Tommy from school were married.

Quinn would immediately spring into dad mode and begin questioning who this boy was, what was his full name, where is he from, what’s his parents’ names, etc.

You would laugh off this protectiveness as Quinn stubbornly pouted at the lack of responses from Evie.

Quinn had gone to every parent-teacher conference with you, every recital or school event and every career day.

In fact, Evie became one of the most popular people in class when they found out that her ‘Q’ was a famous hockey player.

(Evie had begun to reference Quinn as her ‘Q’ since she was able to pronounce them at three. She knew Quinn wasn’t her dad but her 'Q' was basically the same.)

She began calling him dad when she was four and Quinn melted. You were overjoyed that your daughter had someone other than you to trust and love like a parent.

Evie asks Quinn why he always has ‘boring’ colours on his hockey stick, so he always wraps one stripe of pink tape around it in honour of Evie. (Then another stripe the same colour as your eyes just above it.)

When you’d brought Evie to her first hockey game, Quinn had gotten her a custom ‘Winnie, 43’ jersey. He’d also given you a Hughes 43 jersey, which he all but demanded you two wear to your first game.

Quinn had scored two goals that evening and dedicated both goals to his girls up in the box.

You and Evie had cheered so loudly for him and after the game, the three of you had headed home and celebrated with a movie night.

All in all, Quinn loves the little family he found and you guys love him just as much.

As you might be able to tell, I am OBSESSED with father figure! Quinn. I love him too much and would be more than willing to turn this into a series, I can’t lie <333

#wineauntie #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #hughes brothers x reader #nhl x reader #i love quinn hughes what a man #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes #father figure!quinn hughes #x reader #quinn hughes x single mom!reader #family is family universe

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moon-rivr · 4 months

Note

Loving your fanfics hun

Just wanna know, will you make someday a Boss Miguel x Maid Reader? Could be awesome 👀😳

settling a debt

pairing: boss miguel o’hara x maid fem reader

contents: drug abuse (not from miguel or reader), elements of neglect, use of gun, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sorry this took me so long, i hope you enjoy it though :)

word count: 4.9K

While most of the girls around you grew up being the apple of their father's eye and getting spoiled beyond belief, you'd grown up in a small home in the suburbs with a drug-abusing father. Your father had been the son of a successful tech company CEO, but instead of using the money that his father had left behind to reinvest in the company, he spent it all on fueling his addiction. So while most girls around you grew up wearing the latest clothes from the mall and prancing around with every toy that showed up on the sunday night cartoon ads, you were stuck having to go to the thrift for your clothes and using a barbie doll you found at the park one night.

Despite everything that happened, you never did notice a difference enough to resent your father. Even when you managed to get a job at a shitty burger place on the outskirts of town when you were 16, the wage just enough for you to cover a majority of the bills. You tried to save up some money, just enough to cover the application fee for a couple colleges, finding it all missing just after you'd collected a bit over 400. You wanted to be pissed off at your father, especially when you saw the tossed up baggies that lingered in his room, but you couldn't deny yourself that you just longed to feel for his love and affection. You continued to let these little things slide, hoping that your father would grow to like and maybe even love having you around.

You were coming back home from work, a feeling of impending doom following you as you stepped in through the door. You found it a bit odd that the door was open but you decided not to question what your father did in his drug-induced states anymore. The aura in the room completely changed when you stepped into the house, a strong arm gripping yours and pinning you against the wall. "What the hell?" You called out, wanting some kind of answer as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. You saw your father kneeling down on the kitchen floor, a gun barrel stuck in his mouth with glossy eyes. Maybe if you would've looked a little closer while you were walking home, you would've noticed that the front door was almost ripped off the hinges.

Your attention was ripped away from your father's vulnerable state to the giant of a man stepping out of your father's bedroom, crouching his head down so he could pass through the door. You could tell that the suit he had on cost a fortune, the material perfectly tailored to fit him. The man bit into an apple calmly as he stepped closer to you, his footsteps echoing throughout the silent home. The juice from the apple dribbled down his chin before he wiped it with the back of his hand, kneeling down at your level. The aura of authority followed him everywhere that he went, the men that were holding your father staring at the man in front of you as they waited for some kind of instruction.

The expensive cologne he was wearing practically overwhelmed your senses after being used solely to the scents of burning cigarettes and the alcohol that lingered on your father's mouth every time he opened it. "How much do you know about the money your father owes me?" He asked you, bringing his thumb underneath your chin so you'd look up at him. His ruby red eyes practically glistened in the moon night the way that gems would, his brows furrowing as he waited for an answer. "I don't know what money you're talking about," you answered honestly, hoping that he would be satisfied and leave . "Bullshit!" You heard someone boom behind you, the voice coming from the man holding your dad's arms.

"Quiet. I'm the one deciding what's bullshit and what's not," the man in front of you spoke up, the room falling back into his control as the seconds passed, every movement apart from his ceased. He took a couple minutes to look at your face, carefully assessing your features as if he were a human lie detector. He seemed satisfied with what he found, given that he stood up and dusted his suit off before walking to where your father was being held. "What's this about? Twenty dollars?" You asked, trying to access the situation better before a sharp laugh interrupted you. "You think I'd be making this much of a mess for twenty bucks?" The man that was in front of you earlier retorted, throwing the apple's stem in the garbage bin before kneeling in front of your father.

"Tell her how much money you owe me," the sharp command surprised your father, the man standing above him taking the gun out of his mouth. Your father stayed silent for a couple minutes, the gun getting slapped against the side of his head after a few seconds of defiant silence. Your father looked over at you, his eyes silently pleading before he spoke up once more. "I owe him twenty grand," his answer completely surprised you, no evidence that your father was ever in possession of such money showing itself before. "Something about wanting an investment for his start up company. Though I'm sure you're not surprised that he blew all the money on cocaine," the man bending down in front of your father added, a gun coming out of his pocket as he pointed it at your father.

"Wait, wait! I have something else that you can have!" Your father announced frantically, a puddle building underneath him as he spoke. The man immediately stood up, putting some distance with your father as he stared him down in disgust. "What possibly could you have to offer me apart from the fucking shithole you live in?" The question resulted in scattered chuckles from the rest of the henchmen, your knees buckling as you watched the situation unfold. "You can have my daughter! She's even a virgin, please!" Your fathers pleads ignited a feeling of fear in you, a feeling of betrayal brewing below that. The man let out a small scoff before he turned to look at you, walking closer once more.

He held your chin in his hand as he looked at your eyes, almost like he wanted to assess something within you. "I'm not looking for a wife, But what I am looking for is someone to provide for my home services," the man spoke to you more than anything, despite the fact that it boomed across every surface it had access to. "So what you're saying is that if I go work for you, the debt my father has will slowly start to pay itself off?" Your voice came out shaky as you asked, barely able to keep eye contact with him as he stood over you. "She'll do it!" Your father announced, another smack to the head a few seconds later. "I want to hear what your answer will be. I won't kill you, just your father if you don't agree to my terms."

Silence followed as you thought about what he was telling you, making it seem like you were giving away what you knew just so you would go and work for him. "I'll do it," you responded quietly, the man in front of you helping you up to your feet. Your steps staggered slightly as he led you out of the house, henchmen following after the two of you. Before the two of you had a chance to reach the car door, it was already being opened by one of the henchmen. "It won't be so bad. You'll find that I'm a very reasonable boss," the man next to you spoke as the engine started, giving you a rundown of the things that you would be responsible for as his new maid. "I think you'll find that it's actually a pleasure to work for me. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Miguel, by the way."

The next day, you were rudely woken up by one of the henchmen shaking you awake. They refused to tell you where they were heading, pulling up in front of a mall a couple minutes later. "Boss gave you a three hundred dollar budget to buy yourself some work clothes," the henchman told you as the two of you walked into the mall, your eyes practically widening at the prospect of having that much money to spend on clothes. You typically didn't buy clothes unless your old sets were breaking down to the hem, usually not spending more than twenty dollars at the thrift every time it happened. "Isn't that a bit counter productive? To spend money on someone that owes him," you inquired, the henchman letting out a small scoff in response as they shook their head. "Three hundred's pocket change to the boss. Best not to question his actions, though."

You quickly realized that you had to be smart with the money assigned to you, realizing just how expensive a pair of jeans could get. You ended up walking around the mall for a bit before stumbling inside of an Old Navy, immediately drawn to the offers that were available and the convenient prices. You ended up getting a couple pairs of jeans, just enough to last you through the week and a couple blouses. Your total came out around 280, allowing for you to get one of those mall pretzels you'd heard so much about. "Do you want one?" You offered to the henchman, receiving a head shake in return. You shrugged and bought yourself the cup of pretzel pieces and a soda before leaving the mall.

You were aware of what the other maids in the house thought about Miguel, overhearing most of their conversations about how they had a desire for him to come and bend them over. But, you didn't really understand what the attraction was all about. Sure, he wasn't too bad to look at but his threatening aura completely erased every good quality that he had. You couldn't help but want to avoid making too much contact whenever you were around him, a complete contrast to the other maids who would do anything just to be in his space for a couple seconds. You were out in the basement, dusting off some art pieces before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"I can't help but think that you're avoiding me every chance that you get. Do you want to tell me why that is?" You heard Miguel's voice behind you, every syllable that he spoke melting like honey against your ears. "I'm not avoiding you," you tried to defend yourself but you could tell just by the way that Miguel looked at you that he didn't buy it. "I appreciate what you did for my father, allowing me to exchange my services for his life. But I miss having him around," you spoke up quietly, hoping that it would be enough for the night. "I know you're not exactly happy with the arrangement and I'm sorry about that. Your father and I actually used to be friends once," he told you after a while, your grip on the duster loosening slightly as he did. "What happened?"

"Your father is anything but an honorable man. He took advantage of the business that he and my father used to have together to get me to 'invest' money in him. All he cares about is when his next fix is, but if you want to continue to see things through your rose colored glasses, be my guest. There's a cord phone in my office that you can use," Miguel explained, stepping back to give you space to move. You excused yourself and headed up to his office, hesitating for a second once you approached the phone. Your fingers hovered above the keypad before eventually you typed out the number from memory, the line ringing expectantly. You weren't sure what you were expecting to get out his phone call, maybe some kind of reassurance that your father was working to get you out? An opportunity to hear how much he missed having you around?

"Hello?" The response came out groggy, his voice sounding slightly disoriented as he spoke. "Dad, it's me. How are you?" You spoke after a couple seconds, giving yourself some time to get over the initial shock that he'd even bothered to pick up. "Oh it's you. I thought it was my plug," he muttered in response, annoyance seeping through the line. "I thought you'd be happier to hear from me. Are you doing okay?" You tried to keep your optimism as you spoke, hoping that he would admit that he at the very least acknowledged how much help you were around the house. "I don't want to hear from you anymore, you're no longer my responsibility. Go ahead and grow accustomed to living without me. In a way, I'm glad that he took you away."

A small beep came as you tried to digest the information you'd been given, the phone dropping from your hands. You'd envisioned this conversation for what seemed to be a million times, drafting out what you say to your father and what you wanted him to reply to you, but now that you were on the other line, you were at a loss for words. You picked up the phone, putting it down where it belonged before stepping out of Miguel's office. You weren't expecting to find him leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. "Sorry you had to listen to that," you muttered, rubbing your neck and shifting your feet uncomfortably. "You don't need to apologize. I know that you're here against your will but if you ever need to talk about something and I'm available, feel free to come to me."

You weren't planning on taking Miguel up on his offer originally, but you found that he was pretty good at listening to whatever you had to tell him. He didn't offer his thoughts unless you asked, solely offering you the comfort of understanding and listening. "You were always too good for your father, I hope you know that. And if college is something you want to pursue, I'll see if i can help you out with that," he offered after you told him what happened with the money you'd been saving up, your eyes widening slightly. "If you keep doing these acts, I'm never going to repay the debt," you joked around, a bit of truth underneath your words. "You are a separate person from the debt that your father has towards me. I think you're more than the circumstance that you're in and I want to help you out any chance I get."

"Well I don't want you to necessarily pity me," you told him, sitting down on the leather couch he'd placed in his office. He let out a dry chuckle, sitting down next to you as he placed his hand on your thigh. You weren't expecting for his touch to ignite you, the sole touch sending waves of electricity running down your body. "Nobody said anything about pitying you. I just think you have potential to be something more than just the daughter of a pathetic drug addict," his words came out harsher than you'd expected them to, the resentment that he held towards your father showing with every word that he uttered. Despite the fact, you found some kind of comfort in the way that he spoke about you.

You leaned in instinctively, looking up into his eyes for any kind of hesitation from his part. You weren't sure what it was that made you want to kiss him, whether it was the belief that he seemed to hold out for you or whether it was the fact that you'd been thinking about how his lips would taste against yours despite the fact you tried to convince yourself otherwise. After seeing no reluctance from his part, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. His lips were inviting, a pathway to pure sin with every taste that you took. Your eyes fluttered shut as he took control of the kiss, his hand coming up to your cheek as his tongue danced with yours in a painfully slow tango. You felt like you couldn't get enough of how good he tasted, the sudden realization of the power dynamic dawning on you like a bucket of ice cold water poured over you.

You pulled away from him, flustered and awe struck as you saw his eyes flicker towards your mouth as you did. Almost like he'd been wanting for that to happen too. "I'm sorry, That won't happen again boss," you whispered, feeling the full extent of your actions as you stood up. You scurried away from his office before he had the chance to say anything else to you, unable to look him properly in the eye after. You heard a small "wait!" a couple seconds later, your feet carrying you to the opposite direction as fast as they possibly could. You knew that he could catch up to you if he really wanted to, but he didn't make any effort to do so. "Fuck fuck fuck," you muttered to yourself as a mantra once you got inside your room, wishing that you could reverse everything that'd happened.

You were embarrassed by the way that you'd jumped to him for comfort the first opportunity that you'd gotten. It was past midnight, your body shifting on the bed back and forth as you tried to fall asleep. Your mind felt like it was running at a hundred miles for minute, the embarrassment of the moment repeating in your brain over and over again. You gave up on your quest of trying to fall asleep, laying down on your back as you looked up at the ceiling. You were hoping that the white noise combined with the blank slate that you were looking at would make sleep come by faster, but your brain wouldn't allow for you to live down what happened. You eventually did end up falling asleep, though the kiss between you and him followed you into your dream state.

You distanced yourself from Miguel once more as the following days passed, though he wasn't around the house too often either way. You felt an odd sense of concern towards him when he came in at around twelve in the morning, wondering if he'd had a chance to eat all day or if he had the chance to relax. You eventually managed to push those thoughts of your head and focus on the main task at hand, preparing the house for the party that he was hosting tonight. The rest of the maids were cleaning up the house, leaving you to decorating duty since you were the youngest one there. Plus, you figured that they had a tight bond from working here for so long and preferred to work amongst themselves.

The party arrived much earlier than expected, the job of decorating the house proving to be much more difficult than you’d originally thought. You'd had trouble putting up a couple banners and streamers, receiving help from one of the older maids to get it done. The house was adorned in a lovely shade of gold and white, the party being an excuse for some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen to get the opportunity to market and expand. You'd gone to your room to get changed into a modest dress for the evening per Miguel's request to the help, finding a box on your bed once you arrived. You opened up the contents of the box, a stunning floor length gold dress inside with a pair of heels that sparkled when the light hit them just right. You hated to admit it to yourself since you didn't weren't exactly a materialistic person, but the dress fit you like a glove and looked like it was meant just for you.

"I’m glad you decided to wear my dress," you heard behind you when you stepped into the living room, spotting Miguel standing there in a black suit. The material fit around his body like it was custom made, every stitch seeming to be designed with his figure in mind. "Would've been a shame not to," you responded, hoping that you wouldn't sound as flustered as you sounded to yourself. You hadn't spoken to him since the kiss in his office and now that you were looking at him in the eye, the events from the night unfolded in your mind once more. He was about to say something else before someone else pulled him away, someone you recognized from nueva york's magazines as Peter B. Parker. Miguel didn't seem too hesitant to talk to him so you walked away, giving them the space that they needed and went to go tend to some of the guests who needed a drink refill.

You walked into the library while the rest of the maids were down in the living room attending to the guests, figuring that your presence wouldn't be missed. Your fingers ran through the shelves as you read through some of the cover pages, the covers all mesmerizing in their own way. You picked up a worn-down copy of '1984' by George Orwell, the spine of the book full of ridges and some of the pages bent in a dog-ear motion. Opening the book to a random, you were immediately greeted by Miguel's handwriting on the side as he wrote his thoughts on the page. You couldn't help but read the small tidbits that he wrote, an insightful summary of what the page had offered and a small overview of what his perspective seemed to be.

You figured he wouldn't mind that you were in here since he rarely spent time at his own home, sitting down on one of the couches he had set up near a fireplace. You opened the book back up to the first page, eyes skimming through the page as you consumed the words. You weren't sure how much time had passed by since you were in here, your only indication being the sound of a door openings. You heard footsteps shuffling around as they made their way through the library, your head snapping up to check up on who it was that came up but you were met with nothing. You shrugged to yourself, picking up the book once more and started reading where you left off.

Your eyes wandered down from the book down to where your boss was sitting, on his knees in front of you. You thought it was a bit ironic, a man with so much power being on his knees as you sat down on a chair, the scene almost making it seem like he was bowing down to you. A small shiver ran down your spine when his cold rings made contact with your skin, his hands gently moving up your legs. "Read that book to me, hermosa. I forgot how it goes," he whispered just low enough for you to hear, his face resting on your thigh. Your legs spread instinctively, a small chuckle eliciting from his throat as he kissed his way up your thigh. The cold rings that moved up and down your other leg proved to be the perfect contrast to his warm mouth, your legs already buckling from excitement.

He placed your legs on his shoulder, the heel you were wearing slightly grazing against his coat jacket. "Come on sweetheart, I asked you to read for me so do it," he cooed, gently moving his hand up and down your leg as he got closer to your clothed cunt. You felt your breathing hitch in your throat, unable to get out anything other than small whimpers as he licked a stripe against your folds. "By the time I'm done taking your panties off, I want you reading that book out loud. Do I make myself clear?" He asked, your head nodding in agreement as he hooked one of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He slid them down at a painfully slow pace, giving you enough time to get your breathing back under control.

He disliked all women, and specially the young and pretty ones. It was always the women, and above all the young ones, who were the most bigoted adherents of the Party.

You managed to get those two sentences out before your nails dug into Miguel's scalp, pushing your pelvis against his face to receive more of what he had to give you. The tongue that was running up and down your folds stopped, his eyes flickering up to yours as he gestured with his head towards the book. You let out a small huff, annoyed at how he seemed to think you could get through even just the page with his head in between your thighs. You kept reciting lines from the book to the best of your ability, your voice sounding foreign even to yourself. You sounded breathless with every word you uttered, too overtaken by bliss to even want to continue reading the book but you couldn't run the risk of having Miguel stop now.

You stopped reading for a couple seconds, his tongue flicking inside of you in precise motions as he thrusted in and out of you. "Start that page over again for me, since you can't seem to read it properly without stuttering over your own words," he spoke up, his tongue going back to its relentless rhythm. You resisted the urge to groan as he asked you to start over, already having difficulty reading through it the first time. His fingers replaced his tongue, his pointer and middle finger flicking upwards expertly to find that spongy spot inside of you. Your heels dug into his back as he continued to finger you, his tongue swirling around your clit to stimulate the bud.

"Please, I can't keep reading this," you pleaded with him, setting the book down as you found yourself growing annoyed with every orgasm he denied. He'd had his head in between your legs for what seemed to be hours now, delaying it each time after claiming that you weren't reading well enough to earn the privilege to cum. "Alright, set it down. I'll expect for you to read it some other time," he responded, his mouth enclosing around your clit after he finished speaking. You heard some voices outside of the library, only managing to make out the syllables of Miguel's name. Your eyes widened when you felt the footsteps getting closer, looking down at Miguel in a panic. "Guess you'll have to be quiet, linda. That won't be a problem for you, will it?"

You shook your head, your palm resting against your mouth as you tried to quiet down the moans he elicited from you. The only sounds that couldn't be muffled were the sounds of Miguel slurping on your pussy, enjoying every drop of your essence like a starved man. Your fingers tightened their grip around his curls, your orgasm approaching you quickly with every flick of his tongue that he took. You looked at him, eyes watering a bit at the prospect of having another orgasm ripped out away from you. "Don't look at me like that. You can cum this time," he murmured, your stomach clenching up as you felt the knot inside of you tighten up with every second that passed. He kept the same rhythm, your release coating his tongue and mouth instantly.

He pulled away from you, grabbing your panties from the side and sliding them back on with care. His mouth glistened against the pale lights in the library, his tongue running against his lips to clean himself. "What about you?" You asked him, a prominent bulge almost threatening to burst out of his pants as he stood up. He shook his head, grabbing the book you'd placed to the side before putting it on the shelves once more. "Don't worry about me. This was about you," he responded, his hand coming to the small of your back as he guided you out of the library. You were surprised when he led you to his bedroom instead of yours, the space much bigger than what it seemed to be on the outside. "If you ever want to go to the library again, don't hesitate to do so. I have a bunch of books in there and it'll do some good for someone to read them for once," he murmured as he helped you get out of the dress you were in.

Only the sound of your breathing combined with Miguel’s could be heard as you laid on his chest, his hand tracing small circles on your shoulder as your eyes started to grow heavy every second that you kept them open. “What you said about our kisses never happening again, I hope you didn’t mean it,” he spoke softly, his movements halting for a second. You felt yourself growing flustered, simply kissing his cheek in response. "Wake me up in a couple minutes. Just need to get a bit of sleep," you murmured, looking up at him as he nodded.

You found comfort in how warm his body was against yours, your head burrowed deep into his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Despite the affirmation that he gave you, he didn't wake you up. He didn't have it in him to kick you out, not when you looked so vulnerable laying down next to him. Eventually, he ended up falling asleep as well with his arms wrapped around you.

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