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shotmrmiller · 4 months

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this is just another pathetic!simon blurb. Not the second part to this. unedited.

Johnny is Simon's wingman.

One quiet evening, Johnny sits you on the bed and asks you if you'd do Simon a solid.

"A favor is me washing his clothes, or making him breakfast, Johnny! Not sucking him off!"

He is completely undeterred by your reaction and just grasps your hand to press a kiss on it. "Ach, dinnae be like that." He's out of his fucking mind, you think, and you move to walk away when he blocks the exit with his body.

"Bonnie. Just hear me out. Ghost, err, Simon, he's lonely. He's a big man, with an oppressive air about 'em, aye? His stare is unnerving to say the least. Lasses run for the hills when they see em— if they aren't frozen in place with terror."

You can feel your soft heart crack because Simon is so sweet, so kind— how can anyone be afraid of him? and that's what you tell Johnny.

He tightens his lips into a firm, white line to keep from telling you that the Simon you think is just so sweet, has shoved his tactical knife in between the ribs of his enemies remorselessly, and breaks their necks without a second thought. He snuffs out life as if it were the only thing he was good at.

"Aye, bonnie. He's not very good when it comes to lasses. He can be intense, and not a lot of people can handle that," Johnny kisses the palm of your hand, "But not ye— yer good at handling intense." And then he says the most pitiful thing you've heard. "It's been decades since someone's touched him willingly."

Johnny's eyes glow as he physically sees you give in, and you've barely given your assent when he's bolting out the bedroom door.

With a shaky exhale, you get up and start to change into something more comfortable. You're probably gonna be on your knees for a while.

You gape once you see Simon pull out his manhood. "Er...How are you, uh- what?"

Simon's cock is huge. Monstrous, even. It's so heavy it doesn't even stand erect— just falls downward. He's so thick, you don't think you can even wrap your hand around it. His balls hang low— full and would overflow your hand if you cupped them.

At least he trims.

Simon took his mask off for this, so when you look up at him through your lashes, his cheeks are ruddy, and he's nervously biting his bottom lip.

In a comforting gesture, you extend your hand and take his hand in yours, applying gentle pressure to his curled fingers, coaxing him to let go of the tension.

"Relax, Simon. You're alright. Nothing I can't handle."

Johnny is watching you proudly as he sits next to Simon on the edge of the mattress.

"Aye, LT. She'll treat ye right, wont ye bonnie?"

You nod, and shuffle closer, to be inches from Simon's length.

"I've got you. Just feel, hm?" Slowly and deliberately, you interlace your fingers with Simon's. "I'm gonna start now, okay?"

Sticking your tongue out, you tentatively lick his slit, tasting the leaking pre-cum, and swirl your tongue around his head. When you encase your lips around his tip, his hot, salty seed is instantly coating your tongue.

You let go of his hand to wrap it around him and pump as you bob your head, helping him ride out his orgasm. The moment you feel him stop twitching in your hand, you pull away and are about to swallow— only for Simon to lean down and slant his lips over yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He curls it around yours, completely uncaring that he's tasting himself.

He breaks the kiss and licks his cum and your saliva from the corner of his lips.

Johnny laughs as he reaches down to wipe the mess left behind with his thumb.

"That was a filthy kiss, wasn't it bonnie?" and then he turns his attention to Simon, murmuring into his ear loud enough for you to hear. "How was Bonnie's mouth, LT? Was it like ye hoped? Her slick tongue against your slit? I bet it felt heavenly."

You don't know if it's the thought of your lips wrapped around him, or if it's Johnny so close to Simon's ear that his lips graze the shell of his ear, but Simon's length stirs, rising to half-mast.

It's been 2 minutes, and he's ready to go again.

Simon must've gotten more comfortable, or his mind is simply hazy with lust, because the moment you put him into your mouth, he harshly thrusts into you, blocking off your air and triggering your gag reflex.

The hurck you choked out was unattractive and thank goodness Johnny was here because his reaction was almost instantaneous.

"Ghost, no— ye cannae do that, aye? Yer much too large for her, have tae take it slow," and chuckles. "Otherwise, she might bite."

Simon speaks for the first time that evening. "I don' mind a little teeth."

Johnny cackles. "Whether ye like it or nae, ye have tae be considerate. Let her work ye, she knows what she's doin'."

You stick him in your mouth again, and this time flatten your tongue as you go as deep as you can, and curl it to drag along the thick vein on the underside of his cock when you pull back.

Johnny hisses and asks Simon if it feels good. If the tip of your tongue is snagging on the ridge of his flared head— if it feels like your throat wants to swallow him whole.

Simon's ears are red, and he's panting harshly as he jerkily nods at what Johnny's saying, never looking away from you as you work him into another peak.

He comes with a snarl when you cup his balls, and a fingernail scrapes the thin, sensitive skin of his perineum.

Johnny coos at Simon, "Oh, that must've been delicious, the way her fingers stroke ye. The way her throat closes up around ye when ye push a little too far."

Simon spurts more cum onto your tongue when he hears that.

You've been on your knees for what felt like hours, and Simon comes for the fifth time that night when you slightly pinch the tender skin of his head with your teeth.

This time, Simon grabs himself to come over your face— viscous, globs of cum over your eyes and nose. He taps his cock on your cheek, a sticky slapping noise resonating in the room.

You sit with your eyes closed and hear someone get up and walk toward the bathroom, hopefully to get you a bloody towel, when you feel a strong, wet tongue drag across your cheekbone.

"Gross, Simon."

"Nae, bonnie, it's really not that bad. Otherwise, ye widnae have swallowed most of everythin' LT gave ye."

"Gross, Johnny."

@pieckyghost i aint finna get locked up again!

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley #ghoap x reader #drabble

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ddejavvu · 3 months

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OH MY GOD SPENCER REID WITH A GIRLY READER!!!

like she has a pink Sanrio bedroom and he sleeps in it with her OMFG

Perhaps the pink bow that you clip to his hair is overkill, but Spencer's so comfortable with his face mashed up against your My Melody stuffy that he doesn't notice the light scraping of metal over his scalp. It's secure in seconds, and you delight in retrieving your phone from your back pocket.

Through the lens of your camera, it doesn't look right. It's not enough.

You glance around, spotting a powder pink throw that you keep on the end of your bed. You unfold it, draping it over his shoulders while he sleeps. He has your comforter over him but it's plain white- not the vibe you're going for.

Another picture set up- another failure. It's still not perfect, not while the puffy heart pillow that sits on your desk chair isn't beside him. You fix it quickly, then re-frame the shot.

Nope.

What you need isn't the smaller My Melody plush, nor is it the pink sleeping mask that you manage to wriggle over his head without waking him. The mask looks all wrong the way that he's sleeping, so you tug it off, huffing in frustration.

There's something pink missing.

As your eyes fall upon the only non-pink surface in the camera's lens- Spencer's cheek, you know exactly what the photo needs.

Phone at the ready, you lean in and smush a pretty pink kiss mark against Spencer's face, just firm enough to make his lashes flutter.

"Hm-?" He mumbles groggily, but you're petting his hair before he can gain full consciousness, luring him back into the tempting embrace of sleep.

"Shh, go to sleep, Spence. I just wanted to give you a kiss goodnight."

Evidently, he's awake enough to register your words, and the pink tint to his cheek when you take the picture has nothing to do with the lipstick stamped into his skin.

#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 smut

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screampied · 2 months

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saying “goodnight,” to gojo is one of the worst things you could ever tell him.

some may ask why . . it’s a simple word, a sweet farewell of good dreams if you will. but in this case, perhaps not. just a simple word, a simple word that always knew how to bring the strongest to complete tears.

“goodnight, ‘toru.” you’d murmur, swiftly running your hands through his white tangled strands. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. the calmness of your voice soothed him. cerulean irises stared right back into you before he lets off a soft sigh. his face was so relaxed, he stares into your eyes with his own becoming a bit droopy.

“goodnight,” he’d utter before his eyes briefly closes. “i love you.”

is what you thought he’d say in a moment like this. but even sometimes, reality can be faux. life’s pretty funny, isn’t it.

gojo didn’t like the word ‘goodbye’ simply because it brought back too many hard memories.

he wasn’t one to really explain why, he was more resvered sometimes than anything. he was often too embarrassed to get things off his chest. especially things like this, you did always wonder why though. how sometimes you’d kiss him on the cheek, reaching for the light before uttering off those fatal words of, “goodnight, satoru.”

despite everything though, he always gives you a soft kiss on the lips, murmuring, “sleep well, angel,” instead of goodnight. he’d hold you in his arms, stroking you gently until you fell fast asleep into his arms, where you always belonged.

why was goodnight such an avoidance to gojo’s vocabulary. it was simple, really. a bad experience, a very bad experience actually.

“i don’t like seeing you cry like that,” he’d grumble in a merely defeated voice. he sounded so different, so tired, so … weak. gojo’s voice, it was once so full of life and oh so effervescent. and now, it sounded like he was clinging onto his last and final conclusive breaths—in which he was. “hey, hey. look at me.”

you’d sniffle, glancing at gojo. your eyes were merely blind with your own pathetic tears, everything you saw through your own lens of eyesight was straight blurry. that dumb dorky smile remained plastered on his face despite the circumstances.

the circumstances, gojo satoru had been finally defeated. the strongest, considered as once the strongest, was now lying in your arms, squeezing your wrist as if it’d be the last time he’d touch you. and it would be.

“don’t cry for me. you’re gonna make me cry, silly,” he whispers in a jesting tone, brushing a thumb against the outer part of your hand. you always loved his touch, there was nothing like it. gojo actually for once seemed scared, he was always so good at concealing his emotions—but with you, that was an entire different story.

you could hear the tremble in his voice, his time was rapidly running out, and he just wanted to reassure you, even though perhaps you should have been reassuring him.

“s-satoru,” you’d reply in a shaky voice, you felt an abrupt sharp sting prod through your heart.

you didn’t expect to come to contact with the feeling of heartbreak so soon, but it hit you like a truck. you hated feeling powerless, you couldn’t do anything but just sit here and . . hold his hand.

one … last … time.

“you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and he lifts up your hand, struggling at first. you’re kneeled down beside him as he lies on the floor. a pool of his own defeat starting to fill from underneath him before he kisses the palm of your hand. “i… i want you to promise me something though. can you do that, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply, your grip on his hand only growing tighter. suddenly, the air felt so thick and warm—everything felt so out of place. your ears, both of them rang and rang. there was a sting in your heart and it refused to go away. you were experiencing heartbreak at its finest, in slow slow waves.

gojo inhales, and you watch as his pretty lashes flutter at least twice before he says in the most broken, defeated voice you’ve ever heard.

“promise me,” he starts, and you watched as a tear ran down the corner of his eye. even he knew what his fate was coming to, everything was catching up to him and you were sharing the exact dreading emotion. gojo’s eyes flicker up towards you before he sniffles. “promise me, promise me that you’ll be here when i wake up?”

silence—pure silence was your reply, you didn’t know what to say.

but that pure silence only lasted for about three seconds before you nodded, feeling your own tears start to trickle out the crevices of your eyes. “i promise, i’ll be here, i’m always here, ‘toru,” and with a sob nearly escaping your lips, you whimper out a, “i love you.”

“i love you,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and by now he’s really clinging onto his final breaths.

all gojo could focus on was your face, the tears that swelled up through your eyes. he hated seeing you cry, he truly loathed it. with your fingers interlocked with his, gojo says in a soft broken tone, “goodnight, baby.”

“… goodnight, ‘toru.”

but instead of waking up next to gojo like promised, you woke up alone with his side of the bed empty. then reality hit you, he was already gone.

#★vegasbaby.#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

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redwing4life · 6 days

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mdni

wanna know a bucky trope that sends me spiralling? bucky filming you all drunk on his cock.

imagine your thighs all sticky with cum, the three orgasms bucky’s pulled from you painted across the soft flesh like paint on a canvas. bucky can’t stop tracing his throbbing pink tip over your filthy thighs; his own white seed mixes with yours and you whine at the sound.

“never get tired of this, doll.” bucky’s sultry tone washes over you, your mind scrambled with need. “seeing you all sticky, covered in our cum -fuck- i- i gotta film this, sweets, let me film you, huh?”

a desperate moan falls from your swollen lips when the super soldier pulls away from you, the warmth of his tip no longer pressed into your thighs. in want of your boyfriend, you reach out for him, but he’s already on the other side of the room.

“bucky…” your voice is high and needy, “bucky, baby, come back. i need you.”

his usual arrogant chuckle greets your ears, forcing your thighs closer together to ease the fresh wave of heat flooding your core. you know that laugh, it’s the one he makes whenever you’re drunk on his cock.

bucky crawls back on the bad, hovering over your sweat-sheen body, and brings his phone over your face.

“smile for me, doll.” he orders, the command drawing your brows together in pleasure. you look up at him through your lashes, lids half shut before you focus on the camera.

“there she is.” bucky hums when you grin, albeit tiredly, up at the lens. “tell me how many times i’ve made that sweet little pussy cum, baby. tell the camera.”

“three.” you whine. you watch bucky lower the camera to your dripping cunt as he speaks and start trying to close your legs.

bucky taps your thigh harshly, tutting. “come on, sweets, show your sarge what a mess i’ve made of you.”

his rough palm slides down to your knees and slowly pries them apart, a growl rippling from the base of his throat as you bare yourself to him in submission.

“good girl.”

you keen beneath the camera, pussy throbbing at the praise. a smirk tugs at bucky’s lips while you writhe under him, he knows he’ll enjoy watching that back when he’s on a mission with his hand wrapped around his length.

holding the phone in his vibranium hand, bucky reaches down to run a calloused finger through your glistening folds, the swollen petals quivering at his touch.

“aw, is my sweet princess all sensitive after all those orgasms? huh?”

you claw at his flesh hand, nodding so fast you make yourself even more dizzy than you already are.

“m’so sensitive, sarge, please- pl- oh my god.”

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head before you can finish your sentence as bucky slides a finger into your tight hole. he prays to god that the camera picked up on the squelch of yours and his cum when he pushes inside you.

“fuck, sweets, you’re so goddamn wet, gonna make me nut all over the sheets.” bucky moans, hips rutting against the soft cotton duvet while he works your sex.

sinful sounds echo across the room, bucky’s phone capturing every single thrust of his hand. he adds a second finger, earning a squeal of contest from you.

“no- bucky, i can’t, i cant, it’s too much, please, just one, please.”

your broken pleas do nothing to slow the grind of bucky’s hips against the bed, your whiny voice merely encouraging him to play with his cunt even more.

“yes you can, and you will. you’ve been so good for your sarge so far, haven’t you, princess? tell me how good you’ve been for me.”

you open your mouth to reply, suddenly interrupted by a third finger stretching the walls of your pussy. a gasp falls from your swollen lips and it morphs into a cry of intense pleasure.

“bucky!!!” you scream, accompanied by the sloppy noises of bucky’s palm slapping your wet clit.

“i’m waiting, sweets.”

releasing a small whine, you look down at your boyfriend to find his eyes already on yours.

“i’ve been so good, sarge. just wanted to be a good girl for you, give you all- fuck- all my cum, be your best girl, all drunk on my sarge’s cock and fingers a-and mouth, oh”

his fingers keep curling and hitting that one stop that’s making you see stars and you begin heaving your chest up and down, desperately searching for a breath that would satisfy your needs. bucky turns the camera to your face so he can look back on your writhing body.

“cock’s so hard for you, princess. you’re so fucking beautiful like this, gonna make you cream all over my fingers again and then stuff you full o’ me”

“please sarge, please- ugh- i’m gonna cum!”

“let go sweets, cover me in your sweet juices”

and then you cum and then he cums against the sheets and then he fucks you and the he eats you out and then you clean up his cock with your tongue and then he cleans you up with a cloth and then he runs you a bath and then he holds you till you fall asleep and then a week later on a mission bucky fucks his fist while watching the video and then he cums to it and then he cums to it again and then an hour later he cums to it again and then-

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superb-tanzania-safaris · 2 years

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qweerhet · 5 months

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really gets my goat when people weaponize gender politics against disabled people. every time someone blames a disabled man (or person read as a man) for lashing out violently against their female caretaker and refers to it as "male violence" i lose 200 years off my life.

we live in a society where "caretaker" is a role that gives you absolute power over the disabled person in your care; quite frankly i think it's actively malicious to try to apply the concept of gendered violence in a way that posits the disabled person as the agent of violence and oppression in that situation. someone who has 100% control over you is, factually, in a position of absolute power over you; lashing out violently against people in absolute power over you is an inevitability.

i don't think there's a rhetorical way for me to get through to these people; they operate on the idea that maintaining the disabled as a powerless underclass is righteous and necessary, and that their powerlessness is inherent to their existence, not a socially constructed hierarchy. that's why they believe this is a robust feminist analysis of the power dynamics here--in this lens, the patriarchy is a socially constructed hierarchy that must be abolished (correct, tbc), but the caretaker-disabled relationship is just and inherent to the existence of disabled people, and thus cannot be a relevant axis of oppression.

but like. damn. really sucks to see feminism weaponized in such a directly dangerous, violent manner.

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lovedazai · 7 months

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SAY MY NAME OR NOTHING AT ALL . . . fyodor doesn’t fall prey to emotions like jealousy (or so he says).

ft. fyodor + f!reader, subordinate!reader, possessive behavior, fingering, one use of “good girl”, fyodor is a little petty but he’s still soft for u, reader is a little lovesick…mdni !!

p.s.! ₊˚. idk what this is !! maybe (def) ooc but i needed an excuse to write ab fyodor & his pretty fingers ꩜_꩜

it’s quickly becoming clear to fyodor that choosing you for this mission was more trouble than it was worth.

all you had to do was collect information from a particularly important man, one with a history of being easily captivated by beautiful women. you’d take what fyodor required, then dispose of him. there was no question you’d be able to charm him, especially when you were wearing the silk gown fyodor had personally chosen for you. it suited you perfectly, highlighted all of your finest features; after all, he knew youーmind, body, and soulーbetter than anybody else.

the same gown a pair of filthy hands were trying to slither beneath, and you were letting them.

fyodor monitors you from the comfort of his office, listening quietly, as always. he hacks into the security cameras of the dining hall, watching as you run your hand down the man’s chest, batting your lashes. your fingers, curling around his thigh as you lean forward and brush your lips against his ear, whispering something. he can make out your smile even through the grainy lens as you pull him by your intertwined hands out of sight.

he doesn’t even realize how hard he’s biting his thumb until the taste of blood trickles onto his tongue.

you were an incredibly important asset, but even more importantly, you were his. you were more than a pretty little pawn, if anything, you were a queen; you’re rightful place was beside him.

with the ability to see through everyone he encountered, he found himself bored by humanity’s sheer mediocrity. you were the exception, sneaking into his thoughts, igniting something unfamiliar and ticklish in his chest. he wouldn’t let you fall into someone else’s undeserving hands so easily.

you’re late when you arrive back. he hears you before he sees you, heels clicking down the marble floor of the hallway before his office door creaks open.

“quite a convincing performance,” his lips curl upward as he stands from his chair. “one must think you’ve had a lot of practice seducing men. you should’ve mentioned it sooner.”

you don’t seem surprised he was watching you, tilting your head at him as you smile innocently. “isn’t that why you asked me to do this mission?”

“it wasn’t an ask as much as an order, my dearest.”

he watches as you pull your heels off, still dotted with stray blood splatters. his eyes don’t waver as you approach his desk, dropping a flash drive onto the dark wood.

he curls his fingers beneath your chin, eyebrows furrowing as he tilts your head towards him. his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, your lipstick was smeared.

“did you kiss him?” he grips your jaw, squinting his eyes. they flit down to your throat, watching you swallow. as far as he’s concerned, touching what’s his is the greatest sin of all; his only comfort was that you’d already gotten rid of that man and his filth, even if it had gotten on you in the process.

“where else did he touch you?” he feels your skin warm beneath his fingers. he looks at you carefully, expecting some type of answer, but you only look at the floor, trying to lessen the weight of his disapproving gaze on you. he tilts your head higher, forcing you to meet his eyes. from the way you squirm, he knows you’re clenching your thighs beneath your dress. “i’ll simply have to cleanse you. surely he didn’t touch you here, hm?”

he trails his hand down your figure, ghosting the delicate curve of your throat and the plush of your chest before he settles on your lower stomach, pressing down through the silky fabric.

“no,” you whisper. he can see your heartbeat through the fabric of your dress, and he knows the reason your pupils are dilated isn’t from the lack of light in his office. “of course not.”

“of course not,” he repeats. he pushes his keyboard aside, papers scattering across his desk, and you sit on it without hesitation. despite your actions this evening, you were still trained well.

your thighs are warm against his hands when he lifts up the tulle of your dress. your breath catches when his cool touch permeates through the thin fabric of your underwear as he trails his fingertips against you, stopping right above your most sensitive spot.

he stretches the elastic to the side, barely brushing against your clit, but it’s still enough for your hips to jerk. he rubs slow circles, stroking through your folds before he presses a finger into you, smiling at the way you open your legs wider for him. he puts in another, nearly down to his knuckle before he curls them. his grin only grows when he finds your sweet spot, and you let out a satisfied sigh. he splays his hand against your stomach to keep you still when you roll your hips, trying to get him deeper.

“don’t be so impatient, dear,” he leans close enough to whisper into your ear. “you know i’ll take care of you.”

“i know,” you dreamily sigh. “you always do.”

your cunt clings to him as he pulls his finger in and out, watching with careful eyes at the way your lips quiver and your muscles tense.

“tell me,” he says, as casual as if he was speaking to you over tea. “do you think that man could do this to you?”

you shake your head, opening your mouth to speak when he presses into you especially hard, and you let out a choked whine instead.

“only you could,” you cling to his lithe wrist. “there’s no one else like you, fyodor. i was made f’you, i swear.”

he hums, pleased. you were too adorable, completely wrapped around his finger. he rewards you with a kiss as he scissors his fingers, gently stretching you.

your teeth nip at his bottom lip, tongue smoothing against the rough, cracked skin. you’re practically dripping into his palm, moans vibrating against his lips, and he can’t help the satisfaction that blooms when you make those sweet noises, all because of him.

“fyodor,” your fingers twitch, clinging to the edge of the desk, head lolling. he knows you’re dying to touch yourself, but you don’t, letting him play with you in whatever way he wanted. maybe you were still his good girl after all.

you gasp as he grinds his palm against your clit. even through your half-lidded eyes, you look at him like he’d personally hung the moon, pupils sparkling with adoration. something flutters against his ribcage at the sight of you, completely in awe of him. you tug him closer, toes curled as your ankles press against the back of his thighs, muffling your whimpers against his shoulder.

hearing you moan his name was prettier than even the most complicated pieces he played on his cello, your glassy eyes and soft hands clinging to him like your life depended on it finer than any work of art he’d ever seen.

your legs tremble so hard they shake his desk against the wall. he grips the soft skin of your thigh, moving his knee to keep you in place, holding them open when they threaten to close. he feels your cunt tighten around his fingers, back arching as he quickens his pace on your clit before you cum, body practically melting in place.

you always looked beautiful when you fell apart because of him. your head falls back, perfect, soft skin of your neck on display, begging for him to sink his teeth into, to visibly lay his claim, and his name falls out of your mouth like a hymn. your dress strap has fallen down, silk barely covering your cleavage when he pulls his fingers out of you.

he looks at his hand, coated and shining with your cum. chest still heaving, you meet his gaze, parting your pretty lips, tongue slipping out.

it’d be pathetic how obediently you open up for him, if you were anyone else. you lick at his fingers gently, looking up at him through your lashes as you suck them into your mouth. you curl your tongue around each one, eyes watering when he presses dangerously close to the back of your throat. you kiss his fingertips as he pulls them back.

you look like his very own angel: fabric flowing around your waist, thighs still spread open, lips shiny with drool.

maybe it’s him you have wrapped around your finger.

he cups your cheek, brushing his fingers through your hair. your forehead falls to his chest and he rubs his thumb along the back of your neck, still warm. his gaze falls back to the flash drive on his desk.

“the mission was successful, yes?”

“mhm,” you turn your head so your ear is pressed against his heart, smoothing your hands across the silky fabric blanketing you. “i didn’t even stain my dress.”

“how impressive,” he smiles, careful not to let the elastic snap against your skin as he slides your underwear back into place, pulling your dress strap up your shoulder. “i quite like it on you. i’d hate to have to throw it away so soon.”

he guides you off the desk with a hand on your lower back, keeping it there even as he settles you against his lap, pulling his papers back into place. this is where you belong, right next to him, basked in the violet light of his monitors.

“you don’t have to be jealous,” you whisper. “i only did it for the mission.”

he looks down at you, nuzzled against his shoulder, peering up at him with heavy eyes.

“i would’ve rather spent my night with you,” you tuck his hair behind his ear before you brush your lip against his cheek, hand settling right above his heart. it almost felt intimate. “i only got through it because i thought about you the entire time.”

he wonders if you can feel the way you effect him with your hand resting on his chest like this. he tightens his hold against your back; he’ll have to give you a proper reward, like your own night out with him, where you can hold his hand, whisper secrets in his ear, and let him smear your lipstick afterwards.

“obviously.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd imagines #bsd smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #fyodor imagines #ʚ shhh ɞ

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hyewka · 11 months

Note

can i suggest a fic where beomgyu is helping take the reader’s mind off a bad breakup…. by fucking the living SHIT out of her NDJDNDJDJDJ

while i fuck you straight | c.bg

warnings; hard dom best friend!gyu, sub!reader, unprotected + pullout method, breeding kink, a spank or two, praise + degradation (mostly praise), slut shaming, rough marking, a tinge of possessiveness, friends w/ benefits, no romantic feelings involved (or are there?), ruined orgasm, princess pet name, beomgyus an insatiable manwhore lol, needy perv gyu with a lot of spit play, fingering, titty sucking hehe, literal messy filth and also barely proofread on my end

a/n; have to thank jazmine with all my heart for proof reading and giving suggestions, i love you so much 😭 @heart2beom this shouldn’t be a big deal as it is, but it is my first time writing full on dom beomgyu so it is this mini celebration for me and all the dom!gyu enthusiasts (i hope) 😇 reblogs are appreciated, keeps me going

You held your phone above your face, scrolling mindlessly through your socials, though subconsciously, you were really just awaiting a call from your boyfriend. Well, now ex-boyfriend. It's already been a week since you got dumped but no matter what went down that day, you couldn't get over him.

It was pitiful every time you jumped up from your bed at a notification just to find it was in fact not your ex asking to take you back and ...just a random spam email.

Beomgyu had his back against your bed, legs sprawled on the floor, also on his phone. You guys had run out of things to talk about when every conversation spun its way back to your ex- Seen that new avengers movie? You wanted to watch it with your boyfriend. That professor just got fired! You remember your boyfriend used to complain about that class. Gosh, you don’t think you’ll ever get over him.

"You're miserable." Beomgyu suddenly brings up.

You groan, as you repeatedly refresh your feed. "Gee, thanks Beomgyu. That definitely doesn't make me ten times more miserable."

He lets his head fall back on your bed, looking up at you through an upside down lens, abandoning his phone. “No, like truly miserable. I’ve never seen you so up and dry and…sober. Be young, live a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking past your phone for the past time in a while. “…You talk like you’re 80 years old, about to retire and wallow in self pity, having experienced all there is to life. Thanks Gyu but no thanks.”

“I’m an old soul Y/N.” He says patting his chest, and you roll your eyes. Not necessarily refuting it, it’s his entire personality. “Where’s the chick I used to know anyway. The old Y/N would’ve been over this in a day with a quick hookup rebound.”

You finally put your phone down, staring up your ceiling. He was totally right. Who else would be right about you if not Beomgyu? But you don’t want to think about your old self, or you’d start sobbing again. Not like you were a totally great person, but that person wouldn’t be so stuck on someone. Anything but being the lovesick, doting person you would’ve made fun of just a year ago. God, he really changed you hadn’t he?

You kick your feet, whining, falling into the abyss of treasured memories. “You don’t understand, he was different, he—he was the one, you know?”

He ponders for a bit, room silent, staring at you through his soft lashes, and you think that maybe he’ll give it you; sympathize and understand that grieving was the entire process of a first love. The silence is suffocating when finally, he lets out a light scoff, cutting through it. “No, no I don’t know. Bet you just got soft.”

“God, fuck you Beomgyu.”

He grins his stupid grin that the situation definitely doesn’t call for, “You wish.”

You think if he wasn’t with you through thick and thin for the past four years, you would’ve definitely developed some sort of hatred.

You could visibly notice a lightbulb spark above his head with the way he immediately sits up straight. “Hey, hey wait.”

You tentatively watch as he turns his back away from you, laying both his arms on the soft cushion of your mattress. “I think I might’ve just had the best idea ever. Of the century. The idea of the century.”

“I highly doubt that.” You say, blindly feeling the surface for your phone already.

“Just hear me out,” he whines noticing your eagerness to dismiss him. “But also don’t freak out or anything. Promise me.”

You stare at him, hesitant before you give in to his doe eyes. Sighing, you say: “Okay. I promise I won’t ‘freak’ out. What’s your groundbreaking idea?”

“We should like… fuck.”

Your brows are slow to raise, the rapidness of your blinking at what you think you just heard—no, not think, know. Beomgyu’s voice, loud and clear with his diction, your eyes widen at the final click of it all. Before you know it, you’re reaching for the pillow behind you, flinging it at him with all strength.

It’s like he predicted it prior, dodging one… and then another as you throw all remaining pillows on your bed. Instead of missing with your last one, you decide to hold on to it, and attack him with it. His smug demeanor of successfully dodging everything just a second ago, dissipates as he takes cover for protection. “Are you fucking—are you crazy?!” you yell exapserated, more than awake with your wide eyes.

“Ya! You—you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” When that doesn’t stop your mania with the damn pillow, he decides to lay it all out with as much speed as he can’t seem to escape your wrath. “You want to forget him don’t you? I mean, you should! He dumped you, it’s over! Sulking over him is—Ow! So out of character for you—fuck—I promise a one time fuck would get your mind off him.”

Your pillow is mid air, and Beomgyu opens an eye to peek, hands still in protection mode—you sigh, landing a weak hit on his head before loosening your grip. You do want to forget. You’d do anything to get rid of what you’re feeling. But…

“It—it wouldn’t change anything for me. If that’s a worry. You know that no matter what, you’re my best friend.” He finds his footing, collecting himself, looking at you with intensity you could date back to just a few times over the course of your very long friendship. “Someone I care about. I can’t stand seeing you hurt and not being able to do anything. You know that.”

You bite down on your lip, staring at the familiar boy with his familiar brown bed of hair, and his familiar eyes, lips…How fast did he get you to actually give this a thought? Probably a minute or two. Beomgyu had a way with convincing you to do …anything. “I…know. But what if, what if I’m still head over heels in love with him? What if it doesn’t change anything for me?”

A grin gradually takes over his face, one that is once again, not fitting for the situation. “Why—why are you smiling like an idiot? This is—”

“It’ll change.”

You knit your brows together. “What?”

You don’t notice the way Beomgyu’s hand slowly inched to yours but suddenly, his palm was over your hand, squeezing it just a bit. “Having sex with me is a once in a life time opportunity. You’ll forget him. I promise.”

If you weren’t so lost in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds, you would’ve been completely taken out—probably a joke on his sheer confidence because who just says that? But he’s so …hypnotizing as you don’t even take notice of the ‘okay’ that leaves your lips.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You exhale, “Okay. We’re adults. This won’t matter in a few weeks. Let’s do it.”

Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds before he was on your bed, crashing his lips on yours, a brief taste of strawberry lip balm, knocking a breath out of you until he slows down, testing the waters, then he stops, noses brushing against each other as he searches for something in your eyes, breathing already heavy, “Is this weird? Was that weird?”

You gulp looking down on his already glistening lips, and you nod. “The—the situation, not …the kiss. Fucking your best friend is an odd situation. The kiss…the kiss was good.” You ramble, your voice barely a whisper but he catches it anyway as you take notice of a small smile before he’s kissing you again, hands once cupping your cheeks already moving down to your tits, ministrating gently—every bit of his action seemed careful, too careful for what you know of the things your friends had told you in heated rants and swoons.

Half of the dictionary could be used to describe Beomgyu, and promiscuous was not an exclusion. You could probably say you already fucked him with the headache inducing details about what being with him in bed was like. Which is why you’re nervous as hell right now. From what you know, Beomgyu was… a lot. More than you could handle now, after an entire year of keeping yourself to one man.

“Jaehyun was worried about you. Was worried about what you’d do to me.” You blurt out randomly when Beomgyus’ moved to peppering feathery kisses along your jawline. He hums against your skin, then stops for a second to whisper, “He was?”

You could feel the smirk on his lips, opening his mouth a tiny amount to slightly suck on your neck at the process of your words—of course Beomgyu would get an ego boost from this. “Why?”

Beomgyu is practically suffocating with how little space he’s giving you, body flush against flush, your chest heaving the rougher he increasingly gets with his marking, his sly hand down to rub between your thighs, right at your core.

“Said you only wanted to get into my pants—h-ha shit, slow down, slow down Gyu.” You were getting teary eyed by his increased speed, friction against your sweats getting you wetter by the second whenever the pad of his finger teased your slit. “You know he—he asked me to stop hanging around you b-because—”

None of this was new to Beomgyu, your past boyfriends have always been worried about him for the exact reason—that he’d convince you to let him fuck you, because apparently women can’t have male best friends without it being more than platonic. But …you guess you aren’t really proving them any wrong now with the way you were letting him have his way, marking messy purple splotches all over, in hungry predatory manner, getting rougher and rougher by the second. You gasp when he abuses the same spot he just visited a few seconds ago, “Beomgyu!”

“Because?”

He presses on your aching core, pending you with the question. He didn’t seem as happy as he was with his smugness prior. “Because he thinks you’re a sleaze.”

An incredulous— mean chuckle from the back of his throat and suddenly his hand was down your panties, abandoning the long game of teasing in matter of seconds. He doesn’t touch you though, which only proves to make you more insane. “That’s dumb. Do you think I’m a sleaze?” You shiver, his deep voice so close to your ears, breath fanning against your cool skin—your eyes could go sore from how hard you’re shutting them closed.

You refuse to give it all to him, it makes you feel embarrassed and small. A new, foreign feeling you never thought you’d experience with Beomgyu of all people. “I-in some ways, yes.”

Not a satisfying response from you, he clicks his tongue like you were a misbehaving child, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

You don’t get a chance to retort before you feel the pad of his finger prodding your pussy, then moving to gather your wetness.

Suddenly, he freezes his movement, pulling back from your neck, looking at you with an amused glint to his dark eyes. “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. And I barely did anything—”

You think he’s making fun of you so your cheeks quickly flush red, already putting up walls of defence but then he kisses you in the heat of the moment, wiping your frown away and you’re finding yourself reciprocating without a second thought—the kiss so sloppy and messy, string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away out of breath. “Fuck, that’s so hot princess. You’re so hot.” He breathes in awe of the spit—he truly is the biggest perv.

“Spread your legs for me.” he groans, trying to get better access to your pussy. You obey, admittedly a little slow, but who can blame you? It feels embarrassing regardless of who, but it’s ten folds with your best friend. “Moreee.” he whines, and god you wish you could slap him—can he not see that you’re trying?

“Beomgyu—“

Your voice gets cut off, gasping when he takes it upon himself to pull down your sweatpants with a quick swift motion, taking it off completely, revealing your patterned underwear—and god, now you’re hiding your face…everything was so embarrassing. He takes a second to examine the wet dark spot right in the middle, proof to what he felt earlier, but then you kick your feet. “Stop staring freak!” you shriek.

You can see through the cracks of your fingers the smirk he has on, looking at you with so much intensity you think you’d melt. He reaches out to grab your hand and put it down, even through your resistance, you couldn’t match his strength to your dismay. “I wanna see your face. Have to let me see you fall apart on my fingers like a little slut.”

You’re scandalized at his wording, your cheeks once again quickly heating up. But you let him part your timid legs anyway, big hands gripping the softness of your thighs, spreading your legs as much as he possibly could, to the point you felt yourself cramp up. But even with whines of protest he doesn’t ease up—bunching your panties to the side, impatient when finally he inserts a digit—experimental with his movement before you hear him groan out a curse. “You’re so tight holy shit, did he even fuck you?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Your senses are already overflowing, you could feel his hard on, his erection pressed on your bare skin, you’re hyper aware of the finger inside you—slender and slow with expertise as he pushes in and out, talking to you as if you could respond with anything more than restrained mewls. “Maybe dating him was good, then you had to be monogamous and not whore around with every guy you laid eyes on like you used to.”

“I-I never whored around—shit.” He suddenly speeds up, a merciless grin spread on his face—did he find messing with you funny?

“Yes you did. It was a new guy every…it was weekly, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head at his accusations, tears brimming when his mouth finds it use, suckling harshly on your nipples through your flimsy top—your body extra sensitive with the way you spasm on a singular finger. He pumps in two without warning and you yelp, hand reaching out to grab at his hair. You swear you could cum just from the stretch. “Stop denying it, you’d do anything for dick. I’m surprised you stayed so long with that bitch. Was he any good?”

One thing you won’t do is tell Beomgyu details of your sex life with your ex. You refuse. But Beomgyu is stubborn, and he isn’t one to give up so easily. Especially if he feels like you’re withholding information from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

He raises his eyebrows in mocking shock, “No way. He never made you cum?”

Your nostrils flair from pure embarrassment and shock. How’d he know? You quickly try to control your expressions, masking it to not give him a hint that his guess was right, but he knew you too well. You hate that. Especially now.

“Can’t believe you’re hung up on a man—fuck, baby are you close? Hung up on a man that never made you orgasm—shit,” He breathes, rubbing his clothed dick on your thigh, getting off at the sight of your face. You really are falling apart. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you.”

You tighten your hold on his hair, feeling yourself get close as you grind down on his fingers, chasing your high, choosing for your sanity to ignore all his sweet talkings.

“Gyu, gyu I-I’m gonna—No—no-why? God, fuck you, you’re such a—such a dickhead!”

Beomgyu just ruined your orgasm by completely taking out his fingers, you could practically cry out of frustration and yet he didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Instead, he makes a show of licking his fingers, the ones he just had in you, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean while making direct eye contact. You cower a little but still keep your eyes on him. Now you aren’t sure if you could stay as bitter.

You blink rapidly to collect yourself, because holy shit, you’re getting weak for…Beomgyu. “Why’d you do that? I was close Gyu.” you say exasperated.

He unbuckles his jeans, “I said I’d take care of you, just trust me.” Zipping down his pants, he’s quick to drop it down to his knees before completely abandoning them on the floor.

He flings his cock out of the restrictions of his boxers and you’re practically drooling at the pretty sight. He isn’t the biggest you’ve seen but he definitely has the girth—his tip leaking pre cum down his length, hands trying to lube it with his spit. “Beomgyu, condom.”

“I don’t have one.” He breathes, already on you as he lays wet kisses down your collarbones before he gets irritated with your shirt and takes it off, revealing your bare tits. “God, you’re so sexy.” He drawls, sucking hickeys all over your chest in hunger.

You wish you didn’t have to, but you resist his touch and in turn he lets out an annoyed whine, his voice vibrating against your exposed skin. “Beomgyu, we can’t—we need a condom.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, the cutest you’ve seen him this entire day. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Please, I need you right now.”

In that moment of weakness, his tone so needy, as if he really did need you made you feel some sort of power—like you were the hottest, sexiest woman in the world. And so you bite your tongue, and trust Beomgyu to not ruin your life. You’ve done that quite a few times.

“Swear you’ll pull out.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do.” You say with conviction. “I do, obviously. It’s just-”

“I know. Take a breather for me. Said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

You could feel him lining up to your entrance, his tip prodding your hole, and you’re already getting desperate. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do, not sure what to expect until Beomgyu spits, letting his saliva slowly fall down in your mouth. “Swallow.” he demands, his low voice making you shiver—dark eyes watching every twitch of your face intensely.

You gulp his saliva down your throat, obeying and suddenly his expression morphs into lust you’ve never been met with before. You don’t even get to process it for longer, bask in the attention you’re getting before he’s pressing your thighs to your body, pushing into you with a deep groan—filling you up to the brim, your cunt not prepared for the aching stretch. You can feel each vein against your walls, you can feel his slight twitching, you can feel everything. “Fuck, fuck you’re made for me. You’re perfect—shit, you’re perfect princess.”

“Gyu—” you cry out, gripping the sheets under you. It was too much, too much for him to already start slamming his hips. “Gyu what—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hits your g-spot, your face scrunched up, hot as you let out lewd sounds with no control of your own, throat strained already. It's not a surprise he manages to find it on his first try, despite it catching you off guard with the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Should’ve fucked you sooner. Get your little pussy molded just for my dick. You would’ve liked that, right princess?” He breathes out in a long winded babble, his hips unrelenting with each thrust, already quickly building up to be in erratic speed. Through your blurry vision you could see his eyes focusing down on the jiggle of your breasts lewdly, drool trickling down the edge of his lips, the brutal slapping sounds of them from his roughness getting his head light with ecstasy. You’re more than aware of what he wanted to do when he lets your legs rest from the ache of angling them so high. Dirty pervert.

You can’t handle him playing with your tits again, you were too sensitive for anything more than you’re getting but you can’t find it in your throat to say anything before Beomgyu gives in to his lust, leaning down to attach his mouth to your sore nipple. Abusing it as he suckles harshly, muffled moans against your breasts.

His pace getting quicker, clearly getting off from sucking your nipples like a dumb baby. It was getting you embarrassingly close, your pussy clenching around his dick. “Princess. My princess is so—mmf—so perfect.”

“Stop calling me that.” You manage to squeak out. Hes been using that nickname the entire time, and though it was easy to ignore everything else, the nickname was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

He detaches from your tits, slowing his movement, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh? Princess? Why?”

“He—he used to.”

He blinks a few times before his lips draw into a sneer, clearly irritated and you’re about to backtrack, but it’s too late. Your eyes fly wide open, breath stricken when he, with no mercy, picks up his speed again, drilling his dick so far into you, you think there’s probably a bulge showing through your stomach—its when you let the tears stream down, let yourself go as he fucks you dumb with each sharp thrust serving as a punishment. But for what exactly? For mentioning your ex? Did he hate him that much?

“You can replace your memories of him with me princess. I know you can do that, I’ll make sure you do. You’re my princess, and I’m the only one who can call you that. Remember that, yea?”

You nod up and down, and he leans down to give your lips a peck, one then two then three until he loses it and it starts getting heated, tongue messily intertwining, spit exchanged in desperate action. Drilling his dick in and out your sopping pussy, squelching pornographic like sounds filling the room—you think you’re screaming at this point, mind too clouded to be fully present. You’ll definitely hear a word or two from your neighbors.

“Fuck princess, are you close?” he hisses, “I’m close too, so close. Tell me when you get there baby, okay?”

You manage to nod, pressure quickly building up

Suddenly you feel him force in a finger in your pussy, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. “B-beomgyu—I’m cumming, I’m—” your panicked hands at the intense feeling reach out to grab at his chest, crumbling his shirt’s fabric, using the last bit of your strained voice to moan his name, your orgasm so overwhelming you genuinely start seeing white, body shaking as you try to calm yourself down. “F-fuck.” you breathe out.

The way you still clutch onto his arms pushes Beomgyu to his high too, quick to pull out of your gushing pussy before a mistake happened. It takes only two strokes before he’s spurting his seed all over your tummy, biting down a groan, obsessively taking in each inch of your body’s ruined state.

He did this. He ruined you.

The only thing filling the room being the heavy breaths of you both, Beomgyu’s hair plastered onto his forehead from sweat, yours disheveled, a complete mess. Suddenly, a notification ding goes off, and your attention’s snapped to your side. “It’s my phone.” You awkwardly point out, noticing the light before reaching your arm to get it to you.

He doesn’t move from his position, still practically hovering over you. But you try not to focus too much on it, instead taking a quick look at your notification.

Your brows twitch in surprise at seeing the message on your lock screen. Fuck, it’s your ex! Did he want you back? So miraculously? After fucking your best friend?

Without any thought, you unlock your phone, trying to skim where the ellipses left off. It was a long message and—

“We just fucked. Can’t you wait a few minutes before going on your phone— Are you texting Jaehyun?” His warm smile turning to utter rage gets you stuttering.

“No I—well—yes, but—” you fumble on your words, not knowing how to explain—not knowing why you feel like you should explain, but Beomgyu isn’t one to play around clearly, as he snatches your phone from your hand and throws it to god knows where before your body’s turned around like it was nothing to Beomgyu, like you were some ragdoll. Pushing your hips up to have your ass up in the air with your face pushed into the sheets. “B-beomgyu wha..—”

Slap. Your whole body jerks at the impact of his hand, feeling yourself get teary eyed again. “Beomgyu what the hell?” You shriek, trying to squirm from your position, your ass burning. Then you get another slap, and your legs start to shake, bottom lip wobbling at the painful feeling of his rings.

“I promised you I’d make you forget him. Clearly one fuck wasn’t enough to get your mind off that asshole.”

Your panic only lasts a millisecond at feeling his tip for a second time before you’re abusing your throat again at the oversensitivity of having Beomgyu’s dick slam into your pussy, fucking your juices back in. He’s rougher now, ten times rougher. Maybe this was what all your girlfriends were describing to you, the feeling of having Beomgyu’s dick rut into you like wild feverish dog, fucking you like all you are is a pair of limbs, just for him to hound.

You can’t think straight, not a single word coming out of your mouth is intelligible, all slurred together dumbly as he ruthlessly digs his fingers in your hips, helping you find rhythm, your body reacting on its own as it syncs with his thrusts, moving your hips enough for him to let a hand go to the back of your head, further pushing you into the mattress, drool messy staining your white sheets, loud muffled wails filling the room.

“Fuck, you like this don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch?” your hear him growl. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth, you don’t know anything right now, because you are being fucked like a bitch while thinking like one too, your nose running with your tongue uselessly out like something out of a porno. “Should I breed you like a bitch too? Huh? Will that make your pretty little head forget?”

At that, you cum again, and he sneers, a mean laugh at noticing your orgasm, “You want me to breed you princess? Make you round with my seed?” he drawls each vowel mockingly like you were a dumb kitten and he had to explain a really simple concept—still ramming your cunt, not giving you a fair chance of responding.

That’s how it goes for you’re not sure how long, Beomgyu switching positions to have your leg draped over his shoulder as he fucks you to oblivion, making you orgasm over and over again, before you really feel like you had blacken out at some point only to find yourself waking up to him still going at it—your entire body sore, down to every inch, your nipples especially swollen from all his sucking. He never cums inside you, instead emptying his load all over your body, making you basically a show of his dried semen.

You trust him, even when his tendency to go far never died down no matter how much he got older. “You awake?”

You flutter your eyes open, a dark room, and Beomgyu. His face is abnormally close to yours. “What happened?” your voice comes out very strained, your throat hard to use. Great, you entirely lost your voice.

“Think I might’ve had my balls in…too deep.”

Even a chuckle hurts every bone in your body, holy shit, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?! “Hey, don’t move around too much, I already cleaned you up. Just try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy. I can’t.”

Beomgyu suddenly giggles, you could make out the cute small thing he does with his lips when he does. “What?” you ask.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d find it funny. Maybe next time you should peg his ass and see how he’d like to not speak for an entire week.

You feel his all too familiar hand laying on your cheek, and you subtly gulp. You don’t know if he heard. He probably did with how close you guys are, noses practically brushing against each other, his breathing all your hearing can pick up. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You nod, until you realize he might not be able to see you properly. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He takes his hand off your cheek, then turns on his back, folding his arms over his chest, staring up the ceiling. So the room won’t fall into an awkward silence, you say: “I have a question.”

He shuffles a little on the bed, letting out a hum in acknowledgment. “What was the I’m perfect for you thing about? We’re definitely not like, compatible or anything.”

He laughs before he turns his head to you in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that a serious question?”

You nod, “Do I not sound serious?”

“No, you sound like you just had the best fuck of your life.” You roll your eyes in good nature, though exasperated, you were exposed to too much of his ego in one day. If you had the strength and will to come up with something to level his ego down, you would. “It’s called dirty talk if you must know the term fair maiden.”

“God, you’re so silly, I’m going to sleep.” You withstand your pain to turn your back to him, groaning with each movement. But you can’t escape his wrath it seems, because he almost immediately snakes his arm around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, his heartbeat all you can here against your back. “Can’t I find you perfect? You know, like…my dream girl. My princess.”

You rapidly blink a few times trying to process—past the deep rasp of his tired voice that you found yourself incredibly attracted to— his words and how it brewed big unfamiliar emotions, knowing now you won’t be able to get a blink of sleep after this.

“Can I keep calling you that by the way? It really sticks.”

Oh god, the last thing you’re going to do is self sabotage yourself even more and get yourself in a stickier situation than you already put yourself in. “No, that’s definitely staying in the bedroom.”

a/n: i have no idea how this reads, its basically bare of any editing so if the flow is a little choppy i sincerely apologize, i write at the golden time of 10pm-2am 😭

#txt smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #dom!beomgyu #txt hard thoughts

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months

Text

It's Gonna Be a Scream!

Pairings: Stu Macher x Reader Word Count: 3.7 words Kink: Erotic Photos Warnings: NSFW, smut, erotic photography, swearing, fingering, oral (f and m! receiving), multilple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, sadistic and masochistic tendencies, creampie, praise kink, slight degradation kink... A/N: This is a day late but I got it done! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much! Feel free to add yourself onto the taglist for message me to be added! Link posted below.

You shake your head as another click fills the room. You ignore him and readjust your position in bed, laying on your belly with your papers splayed before you. Your boyfriend looks at you through his brand new camera, which you'd gotten him for Christmas. He's been prancing around you all day, taking all the pictures of you while he giggles and tells you to “smile all pretty for me”.

“Stu, baby,” you sigh when he lies down on his back in front of you, laying on top of your homework and effectively halting your studies. “I'm trying to focus.” You can't help the chuckle he pulls out of you when he flashes you an adorable grin.

He reaches underneath him and pulls out all of your work, glancing at it before tossing it into the air and letting it fall to the floor. You ignore it. “Well, you shouldn't be. It's Christmas, and you're sitting here doing homework. You're boring.” He says this as he gently pokes his finger into your shoulder, moving to hook his finger around the dainty golden chain of your new necklace. It was his gift to you, it had both your initials on a tiny little heart. It sat along your collarbone, cold and pleasant against your skin.

“Stu,” you try to complain. “Let me finish this last bit, and we can watch a movie or something. Whatever you want.”

He points his finger at your face, not moving when you lean forward and bite the tip of it gently. “Don't say that,” he laughs, “Or you'll be watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

You scoff, “Again? You'd think you would get tired of it by now.”

He flashes a wide smile, “Never, baby.”

You make a sound of disgust, shoving him out of your face so he rolls over onto the floor. He lets go of the camera to keep it on the bed as he lands with a thud.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up on his knees and looking up at you from the floor. He leans forward, his lips pressing to yours as you smile and suck on his bottom lip. You giggle against his mouth when your teeth take his lip between them. He just kisses you back, a little rougher as he growls playfully against you—he's just being weird.

You hear the click again and pull back to see him taking a picture of you kissing. “You're insufferable.”

“Shh-t-t-t,” he smiles, kissing you again as he takes your face in his hands. You melt against his lips, your lips parted as his tongue slips between them. His hands press to your shoulders and he rolls you onto your back.

Shifting up, he stands above you as he continues to hold your face, his lips mashing with yours. He pulls away, grabbing his camera again. He aims the lens at you, and you roll your eyes, chuckling lightly.

“Smile for me, baby,” he grins, lining his shot.

With a sigh, you look at the camera and smile softly. He licks his lip, clicking the shutter button. “Make it sexier,” he says.

You scoff, parting your lips and letting your lashes flutter, your eyes hooded. He shakes his head in disbelief of you and your beauty, taking more pictures and requesting “sexier, sexier, sexier” each time.

“I don't know what you want me to do, Stu,” you say, removing one hand from the dip of your thigh and the other from your partially exposed collarbone.

“Well, you're doing perfectly,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, grabbing at his body until he ends over and kisses you again. His lips slide off yours and up to your neck, his teeth nibbling at the skin as his fingers play with your shirt. After a moment, he bares his teeth around your throat and bites down, just out the pure impulse to do so. You moan at the feeling tangling your fingers in his hair. He continues kissing you, laving his tongue hungrily over your flesh as he slowly pulls at your shirt. When he's got it off, he admires your covered breasts with his hands and your breath shudders at the feeling of it.

He doesn't bother trying to undo it from the back. He wraps his fingers around the bottom and pulls it over your head. His tongue traces down the valley of your chest and licks up to one of your nipples, taking it between his lips and flicking it.

“Stu,” you breathe, inhaling the scent of his cologne as he body leans over you.

He seems to be enjoying himself by the way he hums around your nipples, playing with one as he savors the other. You feel slick gathering between your thighs as you lay there, your fingertips brushing over his body.

His hand wanders from your breast and smooths down your tummy, down to the waistband of your tiny shorts, that he simply slips underneath as he presses his hand to your mound. Your hips pump forward slightly, a slight moan getting caught in your throat as he smiles around your nipple.

He separates from your breasts to get a good look at you, untying the strings around your waist and peeling the shorts off your body. Biting his lip at your lacey red panties, he shudders at the sight of them. After a brief pause, you hear his camera sound.

“Stu!” you exclaim, your words breathy with a laugh. You smack his sides, pinching them for more effectiveness.

He squirms, laughing, “Ow—Hey! I can't help it if you're so cute!”

“Ugh!”

He giggles like a child as he pulls down your panties to show your smooth little pussy. “Well, Merry Christmas to me.” He bites his lip. “Is this all for me?”Another camera shutter, you shudder. “God, you're fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your hips jerk when his fingers rub along the seam of you, collecting the arousal that had gathered there. You stifle a moan when you hear his lips smack softly after his fingers leave you. “You taste so good,” he hums, tracing your entrance again before pushing in. You hum as his fingers part your lips, starting out with two long slender fingers that already stretch you out real nice.

You moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, which drapes over your face as you feel his body leaning over your own. You lean forward just enough to kiss his lower belly, clenching around his fingers as they massage that part inside of you he knows drives you crazy.

He takes another picture, and you suck his fingers in with your insecurity. His thumb presses to your clit. You grip his waist a little tighter, pulling body down just enough to kiss his belly again.

After a moment, he breaks from you, standing back up to tower over you. You take his belt, keeping him closer as you start unbuckling it, effectively sidetracking him as you start pulling them down his legs.

He stares at you as he pulls the camera up to you. As his cock springs free and you press your lips to his pelvis, his warm length against your cheek. “Just like that, baby,” he smiles, a red light glowing from the camera as he records you. “Just like that.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him a few times as he sighs, a bead of precum leaking from the slit as you bring his tip to your lips to lick it off. You lave your tongue against the head, sucking him into your mouth with a little hum.

He presses his hips forward slowly, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your tongue and taunting your gag reflex. His hand squeezes your breast, smacking it lightly as you suckle around him.

He smooths his hand up your chest until it settles it around your throat, slowly pulling out to the tip before pushing back into your mouth until his balls press against your nose. You gag lightly as he slots into your throat, a huff leaving his chest as he feels himself bulging in your throat under his palm.

“Suck on it, sweetheart. There ya go,” he encourages, pulling out and pumping back in again. He builds a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of your throat as he slowly quickens his speed. But he doesn't do too much, saving himself as he enjoys the view of you taking his cock down your throat, the camera capturing every moment for him to relive the moment whenever he likes.

Your hand is settled between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit. You gag sometimes when he does a little too deep, but you're so used to him by now that it's not a problem as you moan when you have breath to.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hard and hot at the feeling of your tight throat. “Good girl.”

When you suck around him, his hips jerk slightly before he's lingering somewhere in the back of your throat and pulling out. You take in a deep breath, placing a hand on his hip to keep him back.

“Beautiful, babe,” he praises, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it a few times before he squeezes the base with a groan.

You scoot yourself more onto the bed as you lay there, catching your breath as he pans the camera closer to your face. His smile is wider now, a sinister undertone to his as he captures your wet lips covered with precum and saliva, your lust blown eyes blinking away the tears on the sides of your face. “Absolutely beautiful.”

He ends the recording, leaning down to kiss your sloppy face before he rounds the bed to join you. He sits across from you, taking your hips in his hands, bending down to kiss your chest. His lips slide against your skin until he's reached your belly, his tongue licking at your slit before he wraps his mouth around you and starts licking into your pussy.

You grip the sheets, clenching your thighs lightly around his head. You lay your head back, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. His tongue plunges between your folds, licking into you as making you squirm.

You roll your head back, grinding your hips into his face. As you spit his camera on the bed, you take in between your hands and examine the equipment. “How do I do it?” you ask between breaths.

He looks up at you and smiles. “That button to record, that one to take a picture.”

Tentatively, you press the record button as you look at the feed it shows you. He smiles and digs back in, his tongue flicking and suckling at your clit. You moan as he does it. He's too good with his tongue.

After a moment, he thrusts two fingers into you and looks at you, your face blocked by the camera. “You like that?”

You nod, “Yeah.” His fingers brush deeply inside of you, and you whimper a little at the feeling.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he laughs. “Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue out to his chin to lick a long stripe up your cunt, closing his mouth around you at the end of it. Your hips jerk as he hums his laugh against you.

He seems to thrive under the shot of the camera, his drama increasing to over-exaggerate the process, but you don't mind. You watch him, lust-stricken as you hold the camera up with shaky hands. His fingers pump into you, his tongue licks at you, his lips suck on your clit. Your back arches and your stifled moans become a little looser as your need to cum slowly builds within you, his mouth bringing it closer as he gives you a perfect view.

You reach one hand down to his hair, combing your fingers through it before you grip lightly at a particular pump of his fingers. Your lips part as your breath becomes unsteady. “Baby, fuck—I'm gonna cum.”

He hums, sing-songy as he keeps sucking on your clit, pressing his fingers deeper and curling them just right. "Please, I’m gonna cum, Stu."

He coaxes you closer and closer, playing you like an expert. A knot builds in the pit of your stomach and you tense as the impending release hangs over your head. When the coil snaps and you're overcome with the bliss it brings, you moan breathily and shudder. Stu smiles at the way you suck his fingers in. He continues fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around him, easing you through your orgasm. You chant his name under your breath, riding out your high against his face with an insistence he adores.

“Good girl,” he eases you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your and admiring the result of his work. He stares directly into the lens as he places his fingers on his tongue and sucks.

You catch your breath as you come down from your high, lazily ending the video. He takes the camera from you, snapping pictures of your disheveled face as he pulls you by your hips onto his lap as you lay back.

His hands stroke the length of your sides, and you grab his wrists to stroke them. He smiles at you, standing on his knees and planting his fists into the bed next to your head. He kisses your lips softly and flips you onto your stomach. He grasps your hips roughly, pulling you up to your knees and pressing you back against him to feel his erection against your cheeks. You moan lightly, pressing your back and grinding your ass against him.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsks, smacking your ass harshly and moaning at the sharp sound of his hand on your skin. “Be good for me, sweetheart.”

Stu pumps his cock in one hand, picking up his camera again as he pans the lens up and down the length of your back, the dip of your spine caressed by his fingers as he traces it. You shudder, holding yourself up carefully as you do.

He takes his cock, pressing his tip between your folds and pushing his hips into you, inch by inch as he fills you slowly to the brim with him. Your eyes flutter and you moan deeply as his thick, hot length thrusts inside.

Stu groans, grinding his own hips into you once he's fully seated inside, making sure he got every second of it on film. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Fucking perfect for me”

You let your head fall onto your crossed arms. Stu presses his hands to your back, holding you down as he pulls out to the tip, only to split you open once more on his cock. You let out a breathy moan, letting the pleasure blossom within you. You clench around him, sucking him in as he takes you from behind.

You whimper his name. He doesn't bother going slow on you. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you back up so he can fuck you nice and deep. He holds the camera as steady as he can as his hair travels to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat so he can move your hips to meet each thrust.

His rhythm is rough and fast. He snaps into you, your body bouncing with each in and out of his cock. Your clit throbs between your legs, and your arousal is dripping down your thighs with each thrust. “S-Stu,” you moan breathlessly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, giving you a rougher thrust just to pull another moan out of you. “You like when I fuck you like this?” He laughs, tightening his hand around your throat. “Of course you do. You're a good little whore, aren't you?”

You just nod, appreciating his hand around your throat. It's tight and your breath is thinner going through to your lungs, but your clit throbs and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest at the sensation.

Stu pans the camera down to your ass, where his cock disappears and reappears with each thrust. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You're fucking suckin’ me into you.”

He ruts into you, splitting you apart on his cock as he drives it in and out of your dripping cunt. He fills you with a mind-numbing pleasure that throws you in a daze as you take it all. You squeeze his cock as your legs tremble, sucking him in each deeper as the slap of his hips becomes louder with your slick building up.

All too quickly he pulls out. He pushes you onto your back with little regard to gentleness. You haven't caught up yet by the time he's pulling your hips closer and shoving his cock back inside.

You stare at the camera as he directs it at your face, fucked out as you moan so nicely for him. It captures your bouncing tits, the pumping of his cock into your tight pussy. Every nerve ending burns with pleasure. Every movement licks at you like the flickers of a fire. You clench around him as he presses himself deeply within you, moaning his name at the feeling of his hips fucking into yours.

Stu’s lips part as he watches you, his head falling back as he moans before looking back at you again, hungry at the sight of your body. He loves your body. Your skin is soft and malleable. He bets that if he pressed a silver blade to your flesh, it would slice so nicely. He'd watch the red slip from the wound and decorate your pretty skin.

He wouldn't hurt you too bad. No, against his better judgment, he loved you too much. And, besides, he's got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you've got him around yours.

By now you'd invite the pain. If he took a belt to your back, you would cum when he beat welts into your skin. If he put a knife to your throat, you'd bare your neck to him and tell him to do it. Even now, as his hands slots around your throat once more and squeezes, you huff a moan and squeeze around his cock.

“Look at the camera, baby,” he breathes, moving his thumb from your neck to give you air to speak. He doesn't stop, still fucking into you just as roughly. “Tell ‘em who you belong to.” You whimper. “Go on, tell him. Who's the only person who can make you feel this nice, babygirl?”

You reach a hand to his waist as he leans in to get a better view of your face. Stringing words together to create a coherent sentence, you speak, “Y-you. Fuck, only you, Stu.”

“Say it again, baby.”

His finger presses to your clit and you lose breath when it does, moaning a little louder as he massages it to coax you to a release. “F-Fuck. Only you can…make me f-feel so good, Stu.”

He smiles wide, rubbing your clit a little faster as a reward. “Good girl,” he praises. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod desperately. “Yes! Fuck, yes.”

His grin widens, his thrusts getting sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his release. He curses under his breath, “Come on, babygirl. Cum for me.”

The coil snaps as you do, throwing your head back as you're blinded by the pleasure. “Stu!” you exclaim, moaning loudly as you cum, sucking him in with each flutter of your pussy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he rambles, joining you as he's pushed over the edge of ecstasy. He cums with a loud groan, shoving his cock inside of you as he paints your walls white. You milk him, taking everything he gives to you as the pleasure builds inside of you like a heavy crescendo.

You trembled and moaned as he spills inside of you with a rough thrust deep inside you, tiny little ones following after to fuck his cum a little deeper. Stu leans forward and smacks his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he moans deeply. You wrap your heavy arms around his neck to keep him there, lazily kissing him with just as much passion, both of you forgetting the camera laying forgotten on the bed, the lens still pointed at your sloppy kiss.

You bite his bottom lip, taking it between your teeth and digging them inside until you draw blood. He swears he could've cum again as you keep kissing him, sucking on his lip as you do.

He grinds lazily inside of you as the last few sparks of pleasure dot your skin. Stu smiles against your lips, pulling back as he giggles. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You smile, his joy contagious as you join his little giggle. “I love you, too.” You kiss him again, addicted to the taste of him.

Pulling back again, he stares at your face and nods to himself. “I'm keeping you forever.”

And he will. Because ever since he fell in love with you, he's been shaping you to be like him. And, by the time September rolls around next year, you'll be just as fucked up as him that Billy will have to let him keep you. You'll be his forever, and you'll be perfectly happy with that because you love him just as much.

He pulls out of you with a sigh, and you whine at the empty feeling that sprouts in your belly. He picks up the camera again and makes sure to capture every inch of you: the light sheen of sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the wetness of your swollen lips, the hickeys he had worked into your skin, the swell of your breasts, the cum stuffed in your dripping pussy, his claim marked in you forever. He briefly wonders if he should carve his initials into your skin.

He smiles wide, pointing the camera at your face again. “We're gonna make so many movies together,” he prides, bending down to kiss you once more. With his excitement simmering in his chest, he chuckles quietly. “It's gonna be a scream, baby!”

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