hi there! my name is kuro and this is my horrible cesspit of fantasies with fictional characters. enjoy your stay /ᐠ._.ᐟ\ﾉ彡*:･ﾟ✧ this entire blog is self indulgent/work in progress. soz for any typos or weird grammar i literally have no excuse 💀
my current fandoms include: league of legends (including arcane), valorant, castlevania, overwatch, genshin impact, cod, one piece, chainsaw man, tom clancy’s rainbow 6 siege
MY REQS ARE OPEN!!! please read request guidelines at the bottom of my masterlist.
Decisions Have Consequences (VL fic) Swain x Fem!Reader*
Closing Time (fic) Darius x Fem!Reader*
Jealous? (scen, req) Darius x GN!Reader
I Swear! (scen, req) Darius x GN!Reader
Comforting Plus-Sized S/O (scen, req) Darius x GN!Reader
Reckoner (fic) Draven x Fem!Reader*
Edging (scen, req) Darius, Draven, and Swain x GN/Fem!Reader*
VALORANT
You Want to Play? Let’s Play. (VL fic) Chamber x Fem!Reader*
Roulette (fic, req) Chamber x Fem!Reader*
Linger pt.1 (fic, req) Omen x GN!Reader*
Linger pt. 2 (fic, req) Omen x Fem!Reader*
Hard Bondage (scen, req) Cypher x Fem!Reader*
GENSHIN IMPACT
Lab Cat (fic) Dottore x Fem!Reader*
CALL OF DUTY
Comfort HCs (req) Simon “Ghost” Riley, Phillip Graves x GN!Reader
CASTLEVANIA (wip)
request rules~
I WILL NOT WRITE character x character, sequels to one shots (maybe if i want to but probably not), or male reader smut (im so sorry i just lack the skill write that correctly because i am not a man. however-- dont let this discourage you! i can and will write gender neutral readers<3). keep in mind my blog is mostly self indulgent but i try to write for you guys too <3.
as for NSFW content-- DO NOT REQUEST zoophilia, age play (any minor reader/minor character, including aging up), non-con, anything gross, (by gross i mean scat, piss play, emetophilia etc..)
i WILL write- dub con, cnc, yandere, violence (no domestic abuse), drugs, hard bdsm, threesomes, dp, and other such topics
König would totally fuck you in a full nelson for the first time, when you're placed into a position where you're helpless and defenceless against his cruelty, left vulnerable and shaking uncontrollably at his brutality and violence.
He bucks and drives his well-built hips skyward into your plush rear, burying his girthy, meaty cock inside your sleek, drooling cunt while gushing about how perfect and adorable you look like this, how he's been longing and yearning for this exact moment. He can't get enough of the pulsing and tightening sensation wrapped around his girth, the sensation of your clammy, slick, and sticky walls pulsating and throbbing around the base of his fat, sweaty boner. Pearly droplets of your sweet nectar arousal rush down his veiny shaft, coating and covering him in your addictive fluids.
He'll bind your wrists with rope, wrapping them around his neck while supporting your weight by gripping your soft, supple thighs firmly. You can feel König's thumping, beating heart slamming against his brute chest with each deep, rough, and violating thrust. He breathes down your neck, creating an aching and sticky mess between your legs.
And despite this, König still won't understand why you're so hesitant to have sex with him! :(
“Sweetheart, I could rape you a lot harder than this.” Your Captain mumbles, one large and calloused hand gripping your throat firmly, silencing your horrified and intoxicated sobs, the other prying your supple thighs apart to continue with his violent and selfish assault.
(Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader x Captain John Price)
Summary: You disobey Ghost which pushes him and Price to their breaking points. They show you how they really feel about the matter in a training session and the locker room.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, daddy kink, sir kink (?), threesome, mean Ghost, mild violence (they spar), power imbalance (?), hella pet names, unprotected sex (wrap da ting before you tap da ting), also unedited sooo yeah that’s a warning in itself
Word count: ~5.8k
I don’t not own MW2, the characters, or the gifs above.
༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added
// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //
Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.
Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.
It's off-putting.
All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.
"Sit-rep, Diamond?"
Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."
Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.
You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.
Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.
Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.
"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.
Right.
König.
The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?
Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.
"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.
Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.
With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.
When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.
You were correct, of course.
So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.
Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.
You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.
You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.
Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.
Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.
And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.
Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.
Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.
It's nothing like you've ever experienced.
This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.
"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.
Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.
"Affirmative," König answers then.
"I haven't seen you before."
Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.
"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.
Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."
...Graves.
The last name of your target -- the son of your target.
"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"
"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.
"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.
"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile.
Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…
You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.
Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.
"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.
You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.
"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.
Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."
Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."
Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…
Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.
"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.
His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.
Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't.
However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence.
"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.
Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."
You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.
He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.
"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.
"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.
Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.
With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.
...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.
This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.
But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.
"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.
You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.
"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle
protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.
"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.
"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.
With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.
"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.
You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.
a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.
Hello! Your works are really great could you please write a Non-Con For Philipp Graves? 🦅 EAGLE SCREECH
Shackled
Pairing: Philip Graves x fem!reader
CW: CONSENSUAL NON-CON, DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, P in V, creampie, unprotected sex, BDSM, leather cuffs, torture/interrogation, rough sex, soft Graves, kinda aftercare?, tell me if I missed any.
WC: 1.6k
You shuddered, the hair on your skin standing high from the cool air of your isolation room. You were strung up by your hands, leather cuffs wrapped snugly around your wrists with the short chain hooked over the claw of a clasp, holding your weight firmly. Two other chains linked the cuffs of your ankle, spreading you open for whoever would walk into the cell. You flushed in shame and embarrassment, naked in the cold cell, tied to the ceiling and spread open by leather and chain shackles.
You were weak and vulnerable, unable to fight off anyone or anything that’d come in the room and the low temperature made your numb, fingers and toes curling in an attempt to stave off the cold. Squirming would be useless, hips swaying and legs kicking in all ways would make you waste energy, precious energy that could be used to escape your imprisonment when - if - you were free from your restraints. You grumbled, staring at the metal door, eyes burning the hate and anger into the door.
Sudden, loud steps heading towards your cell had you biting back a flinch, imposing and strong steps made to scare you, to intimidate their captives. You especially, the commander’s prize. Keys jingling, followed by the click of the lock, the door cracked open and you caught a foot breaching the entry of your room.
“Shaking, ain’t y’a, sweetheart?”
The familiar drawl in his words, the cocky and teasing tone he used in every visit had you wishing he could shut up, but you were more annoyed that he was so pretty. His cobalt, blue eyes framed by luscious lashes and a caramel-like tan to his skin, glistening under the white light of your cell, thick brows and beautiful, light brown hair. Age had only made him prettier, his rough stubble and rugged wrinkles made him look sinfully appealing, and the scar that stretched when he smirked added to his appeal.
Phillip fucking Graves.
You glared at him, burning into him your shameful anger. He only smiled, closing the door behind to give himself a bit of privacy with a lazy kick. He approached you brazenly, arms crossed over his chest as he admired your nakedness. His eyes wandered over your perky nipples and round breasts, down the valley to your navel and between your open thighs. His eyes narrowed, a lustful gleam when he placed a hand on your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your freezing skin.
“Why the frown? I thought we were getting somewhere,” Graves cooed, standing flush against you, hands wandering to feel you up.
He ground into you as he chuckled, his cock poking at you from the confines of his cargo pants, the harsh cloth chafing your soft folds. His expressions tempted you, coaxing you to lash out, to scream and fight, to bite down on the finger that lingered too closely to your face and to curse him to hell. Against your better judgement, you let him touch you, his warm palm cupping your cheeks. The harsh pads of his calloused digits drew a line under your eye and down to your sneering lips, pressing softly on your lower lip.
You shuddered from the gentleness of his acts, the almost loving touch with that soothingly calm voice cooing at your current submission. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, the sudden dryness of it had you sucking at his finger, swallowing what little saliva you had left. Your eyes fluttered, taking in the warmth Graves exhumed with a sigh. Your time alone in isolation had you craving warmth and attention, but the nagging part of your brain shook you awake, eyes cracking open and lips pulled back. Your teeth sunk into his finger before he pulled it out with a hiss, waving his hand around to ease the sting off.
“Fuckin’ Christ-” he growled, seeming shocked that you tried to bite him. He frowned at your laugh, the sweet, yet smug sound riling him up.
He backed away, face flushed angrily, he pulled his hand back and backhanded you, throwing your head aside. You groaned, teeth digging into your lower lip, the force he used left your cheek pulsing, burning with the promise of a bruise. You whipped your head back, spitting at him with a red-tinted liquid. You missed horribly, landing your spit on his shoulder rather than his face.
He chuckled, launching himself at you and pressing himself to you, his hands grasping at your scarred skin with hard, bruising grips. Your chest swayed, squirming against him to fight him off from undoing his pants. His cock sprung out, the angry, leaky tip slapping his clothed navel. His hardened length stood proudly, drooling from the slit, down the slight curve and the base, where hung heavy balls, engorged and thick.
“Fucking bitch,” he cursed, forcing himself on you with the vigor and vitriol of a berserker, rutting against your moist pussy lips. “Who’s laughin’ now?”
You jerked, a scream retching out of your throat when you felt his bulbous head bob between your folds, drawing a line of pre up and clit and down your ass. You forgot every thought of taunting your captor, to tire him until he decided to untie you from your hooks and simply cuff your hands to the back of a chair, to be left alone and escape by yourself once Graves was tired of you. You squirmed and fought, feet kicking from their bent position and voice rising to an outraged cry, calling him names that would most likely shame Price.
He cackled, hands holding your waist still, flush against his hard, throbbing cock that drooled over you. His hips pushed off you, pumping himself with a hand as he led it towards your wet cunt, the slipperiness easing his way in. He groaned, mind numb to your screams and cries, he was solely drawn into the heat that wrapped around him, the tightness and the wetness.
He pushed in slowly, taking every second to enjoy the sensation until he bottomed out, hips against thighs and balls to your ass. Graves’ only thought were to fuck you and keep you, maybe drug you into a clumsy and submissive doll, but still having that bratty spitfire. He rolled his hips, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix, pulling out and slamming back in, the head bruising your ring of muscle.
His chest rumbled with a satisfied hum, ignoring your useless struggle as he fucked you, teeth nipping at your collar, placing red marks on your sweaty skin. Every thrusts had you moaning, body jerking upwards with bouncing tits, your body burned, sweaty and exhausted. Your once cold tenure became boiling hot, the heat from Graves searing its way into you with heavy strokes of his cock. Your toes curled and legs shook, the chains holding you up rippled with the same force as Graves’ strength.
He drove himself deeply, his angry head bruising your cervix, he groaned and grunted, hung on your cunt’s tenseness, throbbing around him with a pulse, tightening and loosening, close to coming, but never really falling from the edge. He lips trailed a line down to your nipples, lips wrapping around your perky button and sucking, the sound as equally erotic and as disgusting. He sucked as if he was searching for milk, rough and toothy, before he let go with a wet pop.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he slurred, pulling back and slamming in with a loud, dirty squelch. “Gonna come, doll? C’mon, don’t be shy.”
You hated how sensual his voice was, how it called to you and coaxed your body to react in ways that he wanted, that he willed, even against your mind’s wishes. Your back arched, cunt pulsing and clinging onto him, the knot in your navel tightening to an unbearable urge. He grew sloppy, his fast and rough pace slacking in haste but still holding on his deep and rough strokes. He was slow but deep-hitting and rough. You mewled, pleasurable sounds pulled from your throat by Graves, moaning and gasping, seemingly asking - pleading - for more, for it to be harder and faster, rougher, but never uttering a word.
When he tilted his hip, changing the position, he rubbed against your g-spot, his bulging veins massaging you while his head pounded your crying cervix. It was all it took for the knot in your core to pop, furling outwards as you clamped down on him, milking him for his worth. You came with an embarrassingly loud cry, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock, under the thickest part of him. He groaned, curling into you as he stuttered, bottoming out as deep as he could before he came, spurting ropes of potent cum from his tightened balls, painting you with the marks of your torture, of your mistake that led to a failed mission. It was your sin, one you’d hold onto you for the rest of your miserable life like a visible scar.
“Fuck, doll,” Graves slid out, his flaccid cock plopping between his soaked thighs. “You all right?”
You hummed, watching him untie your ankles and kneeling to place your feet down before uncurling your wrists. He hissed at the red chafing on your skin, soothing it with kisses and promises of aftercare. He wrapped a blanket around you, holding it over your shoulder for you to grasp, kneeling before you to pick you up, one hand under your knees and the other on your back.
“You were amazing, sweetheart. Thank you for indulging me.”
You giggled softly, dried lips finding his chiselled jaw with fluttering pecks.
john price would put his cigarettes out on your body. the burning, fiery sensation of his cigar pressed firmly against your supple breast while he strokes his veiny and girthy cock slowly and sloppily. he drags his fingers along his wet shaft, grunting, chuckling and smirking at the sight of you; your eyes watery and your tongue hanging out.
since price loves anal, and he absolutely would put out his cigar on your tight ass. your tight, wet asshole stretched out and wrapped tightly around his meaty, slick cock. his musky and heavy balls pressed against your tight ass, rubbing against your cunt while he presses his burning cigar against your ass, listening to the whimpers and moans, and the squeals and mewls.
“attagirl!” he yells drunkenly, taking a swig of alcohol as he spanks your already sore ass, the smell of nicotine and vodka strong, prominent and assaulting your nostrils when you breathe it in. he grinds his hard, broad hips into you, breathing heavily while grinning as he pumps his hard dick into your ass.
Ghost keeps fucking you in the safe houses at night. He swears none of the other men can hear you guys despite all uncomfortably packed into one small room, they all sleep like the dead. Just let him fuck you a little, he swears he can't sleep without it. Peeling your sleep pants off to pull you onto his lap, making you ride him reverse cowgirl.
Spearing you on his cock and you're clapping a hand over your mouth from how full you feel in this position, hips jerking when you feel Ghost grab your ass in the dark. He's thrusting his hips up and into you, all you can do is lean back against him and take it. Trying to keep your mouth quiet but you can't control the lewd schlicking noise that accompanies every thrust.
You're getting fucked too good, too deep to notice Gaz stroking his cock slow and thorough under his blanket, to see Soap’s eyes glinting in the moonlight staring you down as he ruts into his makeshift bed, to catch Price as he's cupping his balls and rolling his hips to thrust into his other hand.
thinking about konig fucking you in your bedroom while visiting your parents for the first time :((( your head buried in your stuffed animals and you hands digging into your pretty pink sheets, tears of pure euphoria staining your blanket.
legs spread as he placed one large hand on the small of your spine, dragging slowly circles into your inner thigh with the other.
"how much have you fucked yourself with those pretty little fingers under these covers, mein liebling?" his tone almost mocking as his thick fingers fucked into you better than any of your teenage dreams.
"do your parents know their pretty little thing is so dirty, huh?" he mumbles slyly as you slowly clenched around him, gasping in defeat, "let's make them know, ja?"
a/n: going a lil crazy w this one ehe
also 7k+ notes n 300 followers r insane omg <33
oh, stepdad!graves absolutely adores anal, especially when he's able to use you without you whining.
slowly leaning onto you, pinning you down using his weight. he lifts his shirt up, his muscular and hairy abdomen pressed against your back while he unfastens his leather belt, unzipping his fly and taking out his hard shaft from his cum-covered boxers.
he really had to release his thick cum, to empty his balls into your cunt. you kept your head in a book, to invested in it to stop reading. he pushed your light blue panties to the side, slowly slipping into your hole while you giggled softly.
stepdad!graves leaned back, one hand on your tight ass, gripping your supple flesh firmly while tugging your hair slight, just enough to keep your back arched at a perfect angle. phillips groaned out when your cunny squeezed around his thick shaft, heavy balls rutting against your ass with each thrust.
he rammed into you, filling the emptiness of your sweet, little pussy with his thick and girthy cock. he pulled your hair slightly, eyes shut tightly while ploughing into your dripping cunt, moaning out your name through gritted teeth, unable to control the way his dick twitched inside your swollen walls! “god, sweetness, ya' always manage to drive me insane, don't'cha?”
(i didn't manage to fit non-con into it because i wasn't sure how to mix free use and non-con together, sorry :( 🎀)
Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊
cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.
Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.
“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”
“No no- please-!”
His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.
“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.
“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”
Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.
“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”
“Give me a second, ja?”
He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.
“Dear?”
“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.
“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”
“Ye-ah-yeah.”
She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.
“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.
“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.
König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.
“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”
“Ro-rosé, please.”
“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”
Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.
“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”
about jealous!mace, is he ((honestly)) like to sharing his girl with others? or it just when he's jealous??
// dub-con/non-con and intoxcation
whenever you're out and about, at a bar or a party, he always finds males staring at your cleavage, even whilst he has his burly arm around your waist protectively. to show who you belong to :((
god, it pisses him off to no end. gritting his teeth and groaning out, throwing his drink into the perverse, gross man who wouldn't back off when you politely asked with your sweet voice. definitely drags you to the bathroom and demands a blowjob.
you love him, don't you?
in your drunken state, you feel emotional; almost embarrassed for getting your boyfriend all pissed. mace rolls his eyes, scoffing when you hesitate. bringing your hands to his belt and ordering you to unfasten his belt. sucking his fat, girthy cock, stuffed down your throat, your puffy, wet lips wrapped around his fat girth while he guides your head up and down his shaft !!!
jealous!mace definitely face fucks you. heavy balls smacking against your cheek, slapping his thick and muscular thigh because you're struggling – gagging too much, eyes glistening. yet, he doesn't stop. continuing to slam against your face while you sob and shake :( a trembling, drunk girl getting used because her boyfriend couldn't handle his jealousy issues – an insecure mess.
summary: The hot military rep on your college campus finally talks to you, but what happens when he gives you his number?
word count: 2.4 k
tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, cunnilingus, afab!reader, very light dom/sub, sub!reader, gentle dom!johnny, he still whimpers tho, kind of anonymous sex, making out, biting, praise, hes actually rly sweet, smut, porn with plot
a/n: DILF JOHNNY DILF JOHNNY im so happy with how this turned out!! OH! and I've got another mk1 johnny fic halfway done so keep an eye out for that :))
Ao3
It wasn’t really fair to call you a college student. Were you still actively going to college? Yes, but! You were studying for your master’s degree. Totally not the same thing.
So you didn’t feel that bad about paying attention to the very hot military representative that you always saw on campus. He was insanely built for an older guy, tall and graying near the temples. Black sunglasses always cover his eyes, you couldn't tell if he was cocky or just avoiding the kids on campus. You wanted to talk to him but honestly? He made you sort of nervous.
He’s just so handsome and confident, nodding your way every time you pass him. But finally, after a couple of months, you decide it’s your turn to be confident. He’s stood next to a table under a pop-up canopy, looking around for more people to scout. You walk directly towards him, trying not to falter any of your steps. He finally notices you, quirking an eyebrow and smirking your way.
Fuck, that’s even hotter.
But it’s too late to back out now, as you stop a few feet from him. Nervous to meet his eyes, you clear your throat and manage to ask, “How’s the military this time of year?” He chuckles lightly, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “It’s not too bad. You know, I’ve seen you around campus, but you always seemed like you were in such a hurry that I didn’t want to bother you.” You mentally curse yourself for pretty much scaring him off.
“Well, you know how it is. Places to go, subjects to study. I have been wondering why you haven’t said anything to me. I always see you chatting with other students. I just figured it was because I wasn’t the right material.” You try to be less nervous and casual, leaning against the table as well. He looks down and laughs again, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into his tactical vest. He looks up, wide brown puppy dog eyes meeting yours.
Shit, can he stop being so hot??
“Nah, you’re too good for us, you’re needed out here. Besides, they only have me out here for star power.” You look quizically at him. I guess he did look sort of familiar. Then it hit you. “Oh shit, you’re Johnny Cage!.” He laughs again, who knew you were this funny?? “You just realized? I guess I’m not as famous as I once was. That, or without the tattoo, you can’t really tell.” He unzips the vest slightly and pulls his collar down, showing hints of a large tattoo of his own name across his chest. You fluster slightly at his show, “Wow, yeah, that makes a big difference. Wait, why are you in the military?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Well, my ex-wife basically recruited me and honestly, it’s been more fulfilling than being an actor.”
And there it is, the awkward reason that someone so hot is single. Coughing lightly, you look away. “A-ah, well, that’s…good.” Sensing that he might’ve just said something a little uncomfortable, he quickly grabs a leaflet and pen from the table and scribbles something on it. “Hey, I feel bad about taking up so much of your time. Here.” He hands it to you, sticking it almost directly into your arms. As you take it and look at the very rushed writing of what looks like his phone number, he flashes a signature smile. “So we can continue our conversation at your leisure.” Folding it up and putting it in your pocket, you try to smile back as confidently. “How kind of you, Johnny. I’ll take you up on that.” As you begin to walk away, you hear Johnny call after you. “Wait! What’s your name?” Turning around slightly, you wave and yell back, “Take me out first!” He laughs slightly and puts his sunglasses back on, light glinting off them mischievously.
As you get back to your place, you pull the paper out and put it on your bed. This is crazy, you know? He’s like twice your age at least. And a celebrity! But…he wouldn’t give you his number unless he wanted you to text him. But not yet. You didn’t want to seem desperate. You decide to eat a bit of food and check on your grades, trying to ignore your nerves. You can only wait so long though, and you grab the paper again. Putting his number in, you take way too long to figure out what to say. God, you feel like a middle schooler, getting nervous about some cute guy. But you finally pull the trigger, sending a simple hello and hoping that you were the only person he gave his number to.
He responds almost too quickly, immediately recognizing you and being happy that you decided to message him. You smile at his words, then quickly shake your head, embarrassed at how quickly you were getting giggly over him. But you can’t stop yourself, half-flirty messages sent back and forth the rest of the day. Man, a guy like this is dangerous. He’s smart, funny, secure in himself, and genuinely so nice. Plus, he spends half the time talking about you, asking questions, and seeming truly interested. It’s hard to find a guy like that.
As day turns to night, you get ready for bed. As you lay down in bed for mindless social media time, you get a text from Johnny. As you click on it, your eyes widen in shock. A selfie of him, laid out on a hotel bed, completely shirtless with wet hair lights up your screen. Finally able to see the full tattoo, plus the insane muscles he has, you need a second to catch your breath. He captioned it ‘ready 4 bed, but hotel beds r always uncomfortable’. You feel like you’re drooling over him, how can a 50-year-old look like that?? He quickly sends a ‘hope youre feeling comfy’ and you feel compelled to take a pic for him. Fixing your hair and lighting in preparation, you make sure that your pajamas are actually cute. After way too many tries, you get the perfect one. You send it with the caption ‘oh u know it ;)’ and immediately throw it onto your bed, nerves absolutely shot. After a few seconds, your phone buzzes. And buzzes again. And again.
Picking it back up with shaking hands, you see his praise flooding in. ‘oh wow’, ‘you look so good like that’, ‘comfy is definitely a good look on you’, and ‘ur room is so cool too’ are amongst the least of the texts he’s sent. After a short pause, a final text arrives.
‘i didnt think you could get hotter but you proved me very wrong’
All of a sudden, you lose the walls you set up to hold yourself back. The mood is switched rapidly, and honestly? You are no longer nervous about talking to him. It’s time to have fun.
Y: ‘you think im hot?’
J: ‘of course, i have eyes you know’
Y: ‘i mean, i thought i was too young for you’
J: ‘i wont say i didnt notice, but honestly, if you dont mind i dont’
Y: ‘perfect’
J: ‘god, youre so hot’
Y: ‘youre not so bad yourself. dont think i didnt notice those muscles’
J: ‘i was that obvious huh? sorry, i couldnt help myself’
Flirting back and forth, you begin to lose your inhibitions even more. Flirty turns to sensual to almost overtly sexual. Something weird about what happens when the sun goes down. Like a horny werewolf. That was, until, he sent the exact right message.
J: ‘i wish i could see you rn, teasing over text can only do so much’
Holding your breath, you can’t stop yourself from a much too bold text.
Y: ‘come over then’
J: ‘what’
Y: ‘come over, you said you dont like hotels and you wanna see me’
Y: ‘here (address)’
Y: ‘your move hollywood’
J: ‘omw’
Freezing and realizing what you did, you rush to pick up your house a little. It wasn’t messy but still. Nerves. It’s a surprisingly short wait until you hear a gentle knock at the door. Seeing him stand there in the pajama pants you saw earlier and a jacket, you unlock the door. Both of you stand there, waiting and breathing. Finally, he steps in, his right hand shooting to your waist and left hand closing the door behind him. Quickly, his lips meet yours in a messy clash, tongue and teeth and desperation. Finally, you pull away, panting and trying to catch your breath. Your brain finally processes that it’s really him, touching you, standing right there.
And it’s not too long before you begin to kiss him again, hands wrapped around his neck. His hands travel lower, squeezing your ass with a groan. With surprising ease, he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He breaks away again, asking in a breathy voice, “Bedroom?” With a nod, you manage to get out, “That way.” He starts the kiss back up, walking towards your room.
You expect him to toss you down on your bed. You’re kind of used to jacked guys having too big of an ego in bed. But he leans down gently, placing your back on the bed. His lips move down, kissing your jaw, neck, and chest, leaving little bites and hickeys along the way. You shiver at the feeling, he's much more tender than you expected, but you’re not complaining. One of his hands slides under your top, swiftly removing it. The cool air of the room can only be felt for a few seconds before his warm tongue latches onto one of your nipples, coarse fingers lightly twisting the other. Light moans slip from your lips as his other hand caresses your hip. He groans at the sound, pulling away slightly to mutter out, “Shit, you sound so good, baby.”
Continuing to play with you, his free hand travels lower. He finally dips below your waistband, quickly finding your wetness, another moan escaping his lips. Finally breaking away, he moves lower, crouching on the ground next to the bed. Slowly, he pulls the last of your clothes off. You’re fully exposed in front of him as he practically eats you up with his eyes. Placing chaste kisses against your pussy, he dives in, licking with a fervor.
Unable to hold yourself back, pornstar moans pour from your mouth. It eggs him on further, moaning against your sensitive clit, and gently curls a finger inside you. Pulling away to breathe, he rasps out, “You taste just as good as you sound. And feel even better.” He keeps working at you, pushing you closer and closer to cumming. Another finger pumps inside you, his thumb rubs your clit, and his free hand grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. He notices you about to finish, rapid pants and breathy moans, and leans in to whisper in your ear, “Come on love, come for me. Let me feel that pretty pussy clench around my fingers. Put on a show for me baby.” And there you go, grabbing onto his shoulder and throwing your head back, cumming around his fingers. He slowly removes his fingers, admiring you while lewdly sucking on them. That earns another groan from him and he cleans his fingers, not waisting a drop.
“Good job, you did so good for me.” He kisses your forehead, quickly removing his shirt. “You ready for more?” In your half-fucked out state, you nod rapidly as he finishes taking his pants off. God damn, aren’t older guys supposed to lose testosterone or something? Rippling muscles littered with light freckles, salt and pepper hair swept out of his eyes, and cock fully erect and waiting. He scoots you onto the bed further, climbing on after you. As he kneels at your legs, he looks down hungrily. He leans in and kisses you, body leaning onto yours. With a final questioning look, which is met with a resounding “yes please” from you, he lines himself up with you.
Slowly, he sheaths himself in you, hissing at the sensation, “Oh god, you feel so fucking good, so tight around me.” Your legs wrap around his waist again, pulling him even closer. It takes you a while to adjust, gentle kisses on the lips to distract you. With a final kiss against his cheek to reassure him, he begins to move faster and faster, grinding against you with each thrust. He’s unable to hold back from loud moans and whines. Readjusting, he leans back and grabs your legs, setting them against his chest. He starts fucking you even harder, nearly knocking the wind out of you. Both of you are definitely annoying your neighbors, loud and unabashedly lost in the feeling. He can’t help the praises falling from his lips, rasps of “so good”, “you sound so sexy”, “you look so good under me”, and “I’ve wanted this for so long, you don’t understand”. The lewd sounds that fill the room are drowned out completely by you two. He seems proud of how you bounce below him, hands desperately searching for a hold on him.
Moving your legs back around his waist and leaning down, his pace is relentless and he’s lost the rhythm in his movements. You kiss against his tattoo, biting lightly against it, which earns another delicious whimper from Johnny. He starts to snap his hips especially hard as you begin to scratch lightly against his shoulders and back, whining out “gonna come, ‘m gonna come”. There’s almost no time to react before his hips snap in violently one last time, coming deep in you. A final moan escapes his lips as his hips stutter with the force of his orgasm and how much physical effort this required. Both of you breathe heavily, trying to regain some composure. He's trembling slightly at how hard he came, pressing his forehead against yours. He pulls out very slowly, a light whimper at the feeling as he lays down next to you. After a long pause, he starts to speak again, voice shaky but words confident.
“So I’ve got two questions for you. Can I know your name now, and do you wanna go again?"
priest simon and his controversially filthy girlfriend
simon was a religious man. he attended church each sunday and had strict morals... until you came along.
a fun little thing at a strip club, coming to church with a cross necklace and a rosemary on your handbag. you'd speak to simon so sweetly that he had no excuse for the bulge growing inside his tight pants.
finding somewhere private to jerk off to, hoping nobody would catch him. he swore his morals were strong and he'd never go against him, but a fun young thing like you made him feel so alive and well, that he just couldn't help but fall head over heels for you.
forcing your face into a bible while plowing into you from behind. backshots while you read a verse to simon, forced to call him ‘sir’ like a respectable lady. you weeped, moaning his name and squirted all over your hand, moaning at the sloppy sounds of his cock driving into your cunt over and over again.
“attagirl, c'mon, finish it or i'll make you repeat it...”
1 Timothy 2:9-15. that the women should dress themselves modestly, let a woman learn in silence with full submission. “there we go... good doll.” he praised as you whimpered, walls clutching and tightening around his thick, fat cock, your sounds addictive to the priest looming and fucking into your slick pussy repetitively.
John's hands wandered all over your precious body. You were just a fleshlight for him to use and abuse, to fuck into after a failed mission, to ruin after a difficult and hardworking day.
Anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. More specifically, you.
You looked up at him with glossy eyes, his cock stuffed into your mouth and your pussy slick. You grinded against his military boot, moaning around his girthy cock and letting your tears stream down your raw cheeks. A plug filled your asshole and nipple clamps pinching your nipples, tape binding your wrists and tying them behind your back to restrict you.
Being bent over in doggy with your pussy full of his thick, musky dick. Your eyes were sensitive and raw from sobbing. Breathless and panting with a ballgag around your mouth, silencing you. John held your wrists together, using them to fuck you back onto his hard dick, babbling and whining for him to be gentle when he was ploughing into you.
A collar around your neck, his name embroidered onto it, looming above his little pet. “Filthy fuckin' slag.” he spat, a fag glob of saliva landing onto your tongue, slapped about while you bounced down onto a dildo.
Oh, you were just so desperate... how could he not feel the need to ruin you? So gorgeous and pretty, a smirk stained onto his face, watching as you grinded down onto a cock, crying for the real thing.
Folds raw from being used, filled with his big dick since you'd been so, so needy! You just wouldn't shut up... Slamming into your hole until you became limp from his rough fuckings, gasping and moaning out, your face sore from being smacked and your clit overstimulated and sensitive as he rubbed it. “Ain't'cha jus' so fuckin' greedy? So tight, so wet and warm, pet.” he praised. Praising you for being so slick that he didn't have to use any lube, yet degrading you and treating you like a filthy animal for being so overstimulated.
You squirted against the wooden floor, your knees bruised and your throat covered in hickeys, sore from the collar around it. But, he wasn't finished with you and your body. Gripping your collar from the back, slamming into your swollen cunt until he'd finished deep inside you. Leaving you sensitive and numb.
