Ikea's Dollies

⚠️MDNI • she/her • 23 THIS IS A SIDEBLOG.

[ikea-dollies]

Welcome to Ikea's Dollies, where I take my Original Characters and put them through some of the most traumatizing events of their lives :)

I'm your host Ikea and I'm the puppet master behind both the filthy smut and the mind-breaking angst you'll find below.

Have fun!

( P.S.: Some of these dollies are also present in my COD blog and I ask that if you've seen them there... No you didn't. This is an AU, okay? )

Victoria Isabelle “Whiskey” Callahan (aka Vic)

Kathleen Mary “Brass Balls” Moore (aka Kathy) w/ @bun-joint-dolls's Onyx Diamants

Three Times.

Rosalía Martina Estefania Montoya Ramirez Ortiz (aka Rosa)

Guadalupe Fernanda de la Gloria Montoya Ramirez Vargas (aka Lupe)

Gianna Valentina Moretti DeLuca (aka Gia) w/ @cod-z's Incardo Lozada Buffonge

Animals.

Spencer “Diesel” Collins (aka Spence)

Gaëlle Zoé Brogan

Damian Bernard Laurent (aka Dami)

Lucas Fox (aka Mr. Fox) w/ @goose-dollies's Kylie Rossi-Brown

Think I Need Someone Older

Bella Ciao

Dante Luis Donovan w/ @goose-dollies's Marissa Karin Romano

My Good Girl

Birthday Gift.

Tarif Nedal Hassan Rahim

Eren Orham Doukas

Dominique Colette Clement (aka Domi)

Candace Marie James (aka Candy)

Jordan Aaliyah Whitlock

[bonbobi]

so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honour what else was I supposed to do

[goose-dollies]

@ikea-dollies Lucas and Kylie-

[ikea-dollies]

👀👀👀👀

This is the same man that used to do ballroom dancing? 😭

[bonbobi]

so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honour what else was I supposed to do

[goose-dollies]

@ikea-dollies Lucas and Kylie-

[ikea-dollies]

👀👀👀👀

This is the same man that used to do ballroom dancing? 😭

[ikea-dollies]

Birthday Gift.

words: 1.2k~ cw: smut, soft fluff (bc Dante loves her very much) I guess, legal age gap (25&33) a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.

May 5th, 2024

Dante sat outside his shop, watching the delivery driver carrying inside spools upon spools of new fabric he had ordered, a cigarette between his fingers and eyes locked on the sun lowering in the horizon.

Marissa was out with her friends tonight, partying and having fun, completely unaware of what he was up to, of what he was planning.

Dante prided himself in being able to keep certain aspects of his life under wraps. It came with being involved in the things he is, the life he leads, the kinks he engages in.

It could also stem from having suppressed certain sides of him growing up to avoid criticism and abuse. Maybe.

Either way, he was actually a good liar, or, at the very least, good at hiding the truth even if he didn't particularly enjoy it.

Like currently, when he had told Marissa he was knee-deep in projects for some event and, therefore, had to work overtime and wouldn't be available as often as she wished for him to be.

He told her, also, he didn't want her to feel neglected or abandoned, but that he knew he was going to be in no mood for visits or play sessions and would likely not even answer texts for a while.

Dante had spotted the way she tried arguing, pouting, getting a bratty attitude, only for him to shut it down and tell her directly, eye-to-eye "This is not an invitation for you to be a brat and defy me. I'm telling you how it is. I'm gonna be stressed and overworked and don't want to risk you catching me in a bad mood and me hurting you."

Was it harsh? Yes. Did it make him feel like shit? Also yes. But, this time, a lie was necessary. It'd be worth it. Just to see the smile on her face.

That's the only thought in his mind as the driver comes back out of the shop and extends the electronic signature device to him, letting Dante sign for the delivery.

-

May 15th, 2024

"Have the fit you wanna have, princess, but get dressed and get in the fucking car." Dante scolds her as he glares at her from the other side of the threshold of her apartment.

Sure, he knew Marissa would be a brat, but what did she expect? He did warn her he'd be stressed and busy, so why was she now denying going out with him on her birthday?

"No." Marissa retorts and crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. "You don't get to ignore my texts for three days and now suddenly message me to get dressed and that you're taking me out on my birthday without even having texted me 'Happy Birthday' or 'Good morning'."

Dante takes a deep breath to steel himself and sighs. "Marissa, for all that is Holy-" He begins, squeezing his gloved hands into fists. "Either you get dressed and come down to the fucking car so I can show you your stupid fucking birthday gifts, or I will toss you over my shoulder and take you as you are right now." He warns and gestures at her lounging outfit.

"I'd like to see you try." Marissa replies with a bite to her voice, already on her to slamming the door shut in his face. Dante stops her by slamming his foot between the door and the doorjamb.

"Now you listen here, you brat-" He warns as he pushes the door open and wraps his arms around the shorter girl, sliding his fingers amidst her pretty brown hair, his fingertips gripping her head and holding it in place.

Marissa tries fighting him, squirming, only for him to pin her against the wall and quench her needy thirst by pressing his thigh between her own, his arm around her back pulling her down and rocking her back and forth against the black material of his slacks.

She mews so prettily, even when she's angry at him... especially when she's angry at him.

"Is this what you need? To have me fuck the attitude out of you, hm? On your own birthday?" He taunts as he looks her in the eye, his nose brushing against her cheek and his lips already kissing up her jaw and wetting her skin.

"Shut up-" Marissa retorts, still holding onto her bratty fit, but slowly losing her bravado as he rocks her back and forth against his thigh, her toes barely catching a perch on the floor of her apartment, sometimes grazing his polished dress shoes.

"I would've thought a little brat like you would want me to treat her all nice, take her out to an expensive dinner, and present her with a fortune worth of gifts..." He teases and chuckles.

"But no... All you want is me, isn't it, sweet thing? All you need is your Sir, isn't it?" He adds as he carefully probes his tongue into her mouth, feeling her suck on it, while his hands grab her around the hip and pull her close.

Marissa whines into his mouth, sucking and licking his tongue, feeling the taste of him, one she hasn't had the ability to get in 10 days, and has missed dearly.

Pulling back from the kiss, he resumes talking to her, nearly goading her. "You could behave, you know? You could... let me take you out like I planned... You know how much it cost me to reserve a table for us at that one restaurant you always talk about wanting to go?" He complains as he kisses her jaw and keeps rocking her cunt against his thigh.

"God damn you, sweet thing," Dante grunts as he undoes his belt with one hand, tugging down his dress pants, and fishing out his already hardening cock. "I love how much of a brat you are, but you also annoy the crap out of me," He says, his tone fully affectionate as he takes her hand and wraps it around his length.

"Is this what you wanted? This cock?" He taunts before pulling her underwear aside and rubbing his fingers down her slit, and back up, his fingertips rubbing against her clit. "These fingers? Me taking care of your pretty cunny, huh? Because she can't resist me, can she?"

Marissa nods and bucks her hips against his hand, causing a rumble of a laugh to rise in his chest. Her sounds of pleasure are soft and needy as her hands grab onto the material of his blazer, one he tailor-made for himself.

"God, you know how long I spent on your gift? And all you wanted was my cock buried inside you?" He asks her as he leans his forehead against hers, his fingertips still fanning over her clit, rubbing and carefully twisting it between two fingers.

"What is it...?" His brat ends up asking through frustrated and needy sounds of pleasure, causing Dante to chuckle again.

"I sewed you a whole closet worth of pieces..." He murmurs and closes his eyes as she fists his cock a bit faster, hissing through clenched teeth. "Dresses, skirts, tops, pretty little panties that I plan on ripping off you..." He murmurs in her ear before biting her earlobe.

"Anything you could ever want, I sewed it for you, and any other time you find something you like, I'll sew it too..." He tells her as he licks a stripe up her neck before kissing her again.

for @goose-dollies :) sorry I got lazy at the end, idk

[goose-dollies]

Bella Ciao

Now Playing: So High School

Word Count: 1.2k+

Pairing: F! Dolly Kylie Marcie Rossie-Brown x Moot! Dolly Lucas Fox

A/N: I blame the mojitos and Kea. @ikea-dollies & @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries

CWs: AGELESS, MINORS, DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, Fluff/Smut, Kylie is in love, cuddling, shameless smut, Lucas’s pale ass (literally), balcony sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f), hair pulling, darcyphillia, slight legal age gap (6 years), sloppy style making out, multiple orgasms, exhibitionism, talk of pregnancy.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME, YOU ARE.

The crashing of beach waves was the first sound Kylie woke up to. She then felt the warmth of the body behind her, the arm around her waist, and the breathing of her Lucas. The air in Naples was slightly humid, so they relied on a thin hotel sheet and each other for warmth rather than a blanket. She sees the orange of the sun rising reflect upon Lucas's pale skin, she shifts in his arms and brings a hand up to his cheek, light touching his skin as to not disturb his peace. Much to her dismay, his light lashes flutter, and she is met with his green eyes. Lucas grins at her, pulling her closer to him.

"And in the blink of a crinkling eye,"

"Knew I looked good, but do ya have to stare all the time?"

Kylie snorts, wrapping her arms around his neck, their bare chests pressed together.

"I much prefer the ocean, maybe we can go today? Get some lunch at that cafe?"

Lucas grumbles, pushing his face into the crook of her neck, "Five more minutes,"

"I'm tryin' to stifle my sighs,"

Sometimes, just sometimes, Kylie wonders how Lucas survives England summers.

"You look ridiculous."

"You weren't saying that this morning, darling."

Kylie stares at him, under an umbrella, in a sun suit, outfit complete with a fucking sun hat. There was a white cast of sunscreen on his face from the unholy amount of the product he put on prior. Meanwhile, she was in a simple bikini fully out under the sun.

"You look worse than a fucking tourist; you're paler than before, and I didn't know that was even possible for a ginger."

Lucas glares at her for that, opening his book and turning his attention to that.

"See if this 'ginger', fucks you tonight."

Kylie fully laughs at that, sinking down into the beach chair next to him.

"'Cause I feel so high school every time I look at you."

"No one's ever had me, not like you."

Kylie leans on the balcony of their hotel room, watching the blue waves reflect off the moon and crash upon the sandy shore again and again, until Lucas comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She hums when he drags the strap of her white nightgown down, trailing sloppy kisses down the side of her neck, taking advantage of her hair being up in a messy bun. She presses back against him, her ass grinding into his growing bulge. Lucas groans low in his throat, pulling her hips back into him.

"So much for not fucking me tonight,"

"Shut up, pretty girl."

Kylie smiles, turning around in his arms. Lucas stares back at her before slotting their lips together. She wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her. His hands go to her waist, bunching the fabric there and pulling it up and over her head. He lets the nightgown fall to the ground; they can worry about the missing clothes in the morning, and captures Kylie's lips once more.

“Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me,”

Kylie’s heart hammers in her chest when Lucas lowers onto his knees, scraping his teeth against her stomach as he goes. She flushes as she stares down at him, his pupils blown, the black eclipsing the green. Lucas places wet, open mouthed kisses to each of her thighs before throwing her right leg over her shoulder, maintaining eye contact. Kylie's hand finds its way in his messy mop of red curls, pulling him closer to her core.

"Please, no teasing," She whispers, careful to not be too loud and disturb their neighbors.

Lucas huffs, but indulges his girl by licking a stripe through her folds, causing her to whimper and buck her hips up into his mouth.

"You knew what you wanted,"

Kylie clings to the railing behind her and moans out when Lucas drags his tongue up to her clit and sucks, bringing a hand up to her hips to stabilize her. Her hips grind against his tongue, shoving his face deeper into her cunt. One of Lucas's hands leaves her hip, going to circle her entrance, pushing into her warm walls when she whines into the air. He's able to easily add a second finger when she begs for more, pushing them in an curling in a come hither motion. Kylie spasms around him, thighs tensing and body curling inward.

She pants through the pleasure, Lucas moving her fingers consistently in and out of her, prolonging her orgasm. He doesn't stop until her body relaxes, sagging against the railing, and her delicate hand pulling him away from her core.

Lucas stands up and spins Kylie around, bending her over the railing, pulling a squeak from her throat. He drapes his chest over her back, his lips next to her ear and his stubble scratching her jaw.

“Shush, don’t want anyone to hear, do you darling?” Kylie nods, bringing her arm back to grab onto any part of him, settling on his forearm. She whimpers when she feels the fabric of his sleep pants shift, the warmth of his cock replacing it.

“And, boy, you got her,”

Kylie wiggles her hips back when Lucas runs the head between her folds, lubing his cock in her slick. He pushes his hips forward when the top catches on her entrance, her tight cunt enveloping him with warmth. Lucas admires her face, the way it contorts in pleasure and how her eyebrows scrunch, her kiss swollen lips parting in a perfect “O.” He gives her a moment to adjust, picking up the pace when she arches her back against him. Mewls and cries fall from Kylie’s lips, echoing into the night. Lucas brings his hand up to cover her mouth, his thumb resting on her cheekbone. He gently pulls her up, her spine bowing on his chest. The sounds of his pelvis meeting the plush of her ass fills the new silence. The head of his cock hammers against the nerves within her walls, her cunt gushing and her glassy eyes crossing. A well aimed thrust sends the tears of pleasure running down her flushed cheeks. Lucas guessed that the mumbles she slurs is his warning that she’s going to cum. “C’mon darling, come on my cock,”

That was all it took to send her off the edge. Kylie’s entire body jerked, her cunt clenching around his length. She pants against his hand, stray tears pooling between his fingers. Lucas lets her head rest on the railing, opting to grip onto her waist, chasing his own orgasm. Kylie whimpers from the overstimulation, her thighs shaking from holding herself up for so long. Lucas groans, pressing his chest flush with her sweaty back as he cums. They sit there for a few moments, enjoying the peace and the afterglow of their orgasms.

"It's true, swear, Scout's honor,"

After cleaning up, Lucas pulls Kylie closer to him, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. Kylie thinks back to early this morning as she lays on her Lucas's chest, about the peace she felt when she was with him, and about the positive pregnancy test currently in the en-suite trash bin, wrapped in toilet paper. Yeah, she smiles to herself, he’s the one.

"You knew what you wanted, and, boy, you got her."

Thanks to @superhero-landing for holding me accountable 🫶🏻

[ikea-dollies]

AHHHHHHHHH

[goose-dollies]

My Good Girl

A/N: Smut collaboration with @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries. Thank you so much dear! We both gave each other brain rot about these two for, like, 3 days straight so here we are.

Word Count: 2.7k+

CWs: MINORS, AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL, BDSM talk (I am not an expert, do your research like I did), legal age gap (7 years), talk of collars, talk of spanking, dom/sub dynamics, sexting, female masturbation, explicit smut, oral sex (m), deep throating, shoe kink (Marissa rides his shoe), vaginal fingering, praise (use of "good girl"), Dante is a cunt (Kea's words, not mine), Marissa is a brat (my words), all is safe, sane, and consensual, safeword is in place but not mentioned in fic, porn no plot, aftercare is done afterwards, but Goose is too horny to write it. Semi Beta Thanks To Kea, We Still Die Like Men

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME, YOU ARE.

Clubs had never been Marissa’s cup of tea, she never liked the bright lights, the sea of people half naked and sweaty, or the blasting music. How she found herself in a BDSM club? She’s got no idea. Marissa clings to the hand of her friend, Leo, who was a frequent dom at this club. She was his plus one for the night to see what the kinky life was all about. He tugs her through the crowd, and she sees a group of people surrounding a man butt ass naked and kneeling - a sub. He seems happy with it, if his painfully hard, leaking cock was of any evidence. They make it to a booth in a semi-secluded area of the club, where another group of people are sitting. There’s no naked sub this time, however.

There is a man wearing a collar, though, paired with a tag that reads: “My Good Boy.” Huh. She keeps her eyes trained on her blueberry mojito, tuning out the voices until a certain sentence sticks out to her. “-Oh yeah, my tailor, Dante, is super talented but he has a MASSIVE waiting list because everyone and their mother wants something of his… he's even gotten people banned from getting any of his business because they were too insistent. I mean, he makes great items, I don’t blame them, but trying to get him to speed up your order when he’s got a brat over his knee? That’s fucked up, man.”

“He plays here?” Marissa can’t stop herself from chiming in.

The man, Sean, points to the bar behind her, where the supposed “Dante” is.

Holy fucking hell. Dante continues to give her a stone cold glare, which she returns in stride. The man’s eyebrow twitches, before he beckons her over with a move of his finger. She freezes, still staring at Dante. There no way he wants her to go over there. Her suspicions are proved correct, however, when Leo practically flings her out of the booth and towards the bar. She stumbles slightly before straightening herself. Powering through her shaky knees and hammering heart, she strides across the club to the bar, her heels clicking with every step. As Marissa approaches him, she realizes just how big he is, practically double her size and covered in tattoos. He smells of cologne and hints of natural musk.

Dante brings that same finger up to her chin and tilts her head up towards him before tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You’re new here…" he muses, before cocking a brow at her, “First time in a club like this? Inexperienced, are you?" Marissa nods dumbly at his words, her brown eyes wide. He chuckles at that. And then his face gets serious, oh god he looks hot serious.

"It’s very easy for you to get taken advantage of here, when you're not sure of what you're doing. If anyone gives you trouble, you let me know, hm?"

He ends it by giving her a little pat on the cheek before he gets up and walks off, leaving her standing there in shock.

Marissa stands outside of a shop the next Saturday. His shop. “It’s very easy for you to get taken advantage of here, when you're not sure of what you're doing.” Not sure of what I’m doing? She muses, time to fix that. The bell at the top of the door rings as she enters. The shop is empty of people save for a looming figure at a desk in the back of the store. Bingo. Marissa strides up to Dante, who had a sewing project in hand, her chin held high. The man barely looks at her before she’s speaking.

“Teach me. Show me everything you know so I can’t be taken advantage of.” Dante raises a brow at her, looks her up and down, and then gestures for her to pull up a chair. She spends the next few hours listening to this man go into extreme, almost painful detail over safewords, the risks, safe BDSM practices, dynamics, and protection, while also straying off topic due to her constant pestering and blushing. Her nails make a click noise as she types his words into her notes app on her phone.

She sucks in a breath before focusing on him and- oh my god he's staring at her over those stupid fucking glasses.

"I...I heard you make custom, clothing and collars."

"I do. Why do you ask?"

She avoids his gaze as she speaks. "Would- could you design a collar for me? So I can see if I like it?"

"I could," Dante places the bunch of fabric on the desk in favor of giving her his full attention. "But I'm not making anything for you until I know for sure you won't get yourself hurt doing anything with it."

She scoffs at him in response, crossing her arms and legs.

"Well how are you supposed to know what I'm doing? Stalk me?"

"Of course not. I'm not mentally deranged. But I can make you a collar and let you only wear it when I am present to supervise how you behave with it, like at the club, or here."

"You're willing to do that? Give away your time. For me?"

"Time will pass regardless, and I might as well spend it making sure you'll be fine."

Marissa stops for a moment to process that. This man, this fucking man, wants to train her into being a sub? Sign me up.

A cheeky smile graces her lips, "Well, who am I to refuse then? If you're okay with it, I will wear the collar only while in your supervision."

Dante looks over at her, raising an eyebrow. "You're very lucky I'm not trying to take advantage of your naivety, because I just got you to accept becoming apart of a dynamic you don't know much about, where someone else has full control of you. Controls your schedule, your location, your habits, your clothing, even your fucking breath. You just signed a verbal contract and handed over the rights to your body to someone you do not know."

"Anyone else would be using that to take advantage of you and then turning it around on you by saying: "you agreed to it""

Marissa flushes in embarrassment at that. Yes, she did just hand her body over, but she's not stupid... right?

"What can I say, I'm a good judge of character then. And if I'm so naive, it's a good thing I'm giving my thoughts and decisions over to someone else, right?"

Dante takes his glasses off, sighing under his breath and cursing in Spanish. "More like risking getting yourself stuck in a dynamic that borders on abusive. Like I said, you're lucky I'm teaching you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sputters at him, offended.

"Other people would have broken that lovely, fiery spirit of yours, and that would be a shame, I quite like the way you act."

"i'm a patient man, you know? Got nothing but time when I'm doing things like this," He gestures at the intricate dress he had been working on when she stormed in. "But don't mistake my patience for subservience, sweet thing. I can break that spirit of yours too, and we wouldn't want, would we?"

Break her? Break her? Marissa calmly stands from her perch on the chair, walking to stand in front of Dante. She leans down slightly to be eye level with the man. "I may act like a dumb, young woman who is getting involved with things she does not know much about, but a collar, and whatever may align with that, will not break me so easily, Dante. There's more to my 'fiery spirit' than my desires and fantasies."

Her gaze is sharp, piercing through the silence until he speaks again.

"Never said it was the collar that'd be breaking you, mi amor. {My love}" His larger hands come up to cup her face, "These things are much like... torture. There's physical, there's psychological, and there's emotional." He removes a hand from her face to tuck her bangs behind her ears. "And just like real torture, you have to know when to stop, lest you kill the person. And when you hand over control of your everything to someone else you risk them doing that to you, because they don't know when to stop, or simply don't want to because they don't care about you."

"And I'm willing to take that risk, caro, {dear}" She straightens her spine and shoots him a wink, "But, you did let me into your shop after hours and harass you with sex dynamic questions. That doesn't seem very responsible to me."

"Well I was still here working, and I always appreciate the company, plus any excuse to teach someone the ins and outs of healthy dynamics is always appreciated. Too many people don't listen to my advice." Dante's face becomes solum, as if he's remembering a darker time.

Marissa smiles at him again, reaching forward to play with the hem of his shirt. "So, does this mean the famous Dante will design a collar for me?"

He nods, "If inspiration strikes me."

Marissa sputters at that internally. What was this whole conversation about then? Why did he lecture her about agreeing to a "verbal contract" just for him to not agree to make her a collar? Her thoughts are cut off when Dante stands up form his chair.

"Let me measure your neck,"

The collar and matching cuffs are just as beautiful as Marissa imagined it to be, delicate pink ruffles covered in black lace, finished with a bow and bell. The heart shaped tag on the collar is engraved with a single word; Princesa {Princess}. She shuts the velvet box, placing it back onto a shelf in her closet. Her phone dings with a text message, Dante's contact name at the top of her phone screen.

Sir ❤️🖕🏻: Don't forget to take a bath. Take care of yourself.

Marissa rolls her eyes playfully, smiling before standing up and going for that bath.

She leaves him on read for over an hour, before deciding to rile him up just a bit. She sits herself in front of her bedroom mirror and snaps a picture of herself to send to him.

Little Brat ❤️: I took a bath.

She sends the text over without any other words, shutting her phone off and walking away from it.

Marissa comes back to her phone hours later, expecting to have plenty of texts and missed calls from Dante, but is baffled to find only two notifications.

Sir ❤️🖕🏻: That's a good girl

Marissa blushes furiously and tosses her phone onto her bed. If he wants to play dirty, oh she can play dirty. She grabs a hand towel from her ensuite, a water bottle, lube, and her vibrator, placing everything on her bed and propping her phone on her nightstand, ready to record. In one of his stolen worn out shirts, Marissa presses record and turns her vibrator on. The vibrations coarse through her system as a moan bubbles in her throat. She spreads her legs wider, her folds open and her cunt on full display for the phone camera to see.

"Dante, please," she whines out, her hips bucking wildly.

She circles the toy around her clit faster, chasing her high. Her thighs begin to tremble, her stomach tightening, and her toes curling in her socks. Her orgasm crashes on her in wave after wave of spine numbing pleasure. Her body convulses, cunt gushing and spasming. She pants through her orgasm, turning off the toy when the sensitivity becomes too much. Marissa lays there for a moment before sitting up and winking at the camera, ending the video. She pours some of the water onto the hand towel, cleaning herself of lube, slick, and sweat.

She sends the video over to Dante, with another picture and three choice words.

Little Brat ❤️: Enjoy the show

She shuts her phone off, and this time, she's not looking at it until the next morning. A smile creeps upon her face as she settles under her covers. Karmas a bitch.

That next morning, she opens her phone, almost buzzing with excitement of what Dante's reaction was.

To her surprise, and dare she say dismay, there was nothing but social media notifications.

He might be busy, she muses, it was sent on a Sunday night, he could've been at the club. Marissa shrugs it off, deciding to give him a few more hours to respond.

Four days, it took that bastard four fucking days to respond.He didn't even acknowledge the show she put on for him.

Sir ❤️🖕🏻: Enjoy the show

Marissa's eye twitches. Yeah, she is enjoying the show, but that's a cruel fucking joke to send that back to her. Oh, it's on.

The shop door slams shut behind her, the bell threatening to deafen those around it. Dante is sitting at the desk again, but this time, he's typing away at his computer. He looks up at her from above his glasses, unamused by her outburst. Marissa storms up to him glaring and, without a word, sinks to her knees and crawls to him from under the desk. She looks up at him through her lashes, placing her hands on his thighs, pleading for him to do something.

Dante stares back at her for a good minute before nodding, "Go ahead, if you're so desperate."

Marissa wastes no time before lunging forward, nuzzling her face over the prominent bulge already there in his slacks. Dante's leg straightens, and Marissa jumps onto the opportunity - literally. She straddles his leg, pushing her damp panties onto his pants, creating a wet spot. Marissa mouths at his crotch, her spit wetting his pants yet again. She moans when the buckle of his shoe catches on her panties, making the material rub against her sensitive clit. The clicking of Dante's fingers against the keyboard stops, and then his hand gently weaves through her dark locs and pulls her away from him.

"i'm trying to work, sweet thing."

Marissa whines high in her throat from the action and his words, still moving her hips back and forth against his shoe. Her eyes flutter when she hears the distinct clicking of a belt. Her eyes are trained on his tattooed hand as he fishes out his flushed cock from his white boxers.

At the sight of him fisting his cock, Marissa is pulling against the hand in her hair to move towards his member, mouth open and tongue out. The corners of Dante's eyes crinkle in amusement as he brings her forward, guiding his length into her mouth. He tilts his dress shoe up towards her pelvis, meeting her grinding by rubbing the buckle against her folds. Marissa moans around him, pushing her head forward as much as her mouth would allow until she reached the coarse hair at the base. Her eyes roll back into her skull at the taste of his salty pre and the smell that is so authentically him.

"Good girl, you enjoying yourself, hm?" Dante caresses her head, pushing strands of hair away from her sweaty forehead before turning back to his computer.

Okay, maybe storming into his shop was not the best idea, maybe, Marissa can't help but argue to herself, this would've went different. maybe she would actually be getting fucked by his cock, and not getting finger fucked on her doms lap. Marissa squeals as three of Dante's fingers jab the bundle of nerves within her gummy walls. Her slick runs down the cleft of her ass, creating a puddle on Dante's chair. The callouses on his palm scratch at her clit as his palm rubs against her mons. HIs other hand calmly types out a fabric order online as if he wasn't fingering her thoughts out.

She borderline screams into his neck when she cums for the fourth time, her cunt gushing and her entire body convulsing.

"That's it, princesa {princess}," Dante coos in her ear as she comes down from her high.

He slides his fingers out slowly, her walls still spasming, as if they were trying to keep his hand there, and pulls her panties back into place. Her dress is still bunched up around her hips, and she watches as Dante brings those same three fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them off while maintaining eye contact with her.

Marissa whines, bringing her arms up around his neck, clinging to him like a koala bear when he tried detaching her. She was going to get her cuddles, aftercare be damned.

Additional A/N: Many thanks to @lyralein who also semi beta'd this. Also, @support Free Lyra you assholes.

Want more? See my main blog: @loveandplanet!

[ikea-dollies]

AHHGGGGMMEKAOQBAIOFNWOD

YESSSSS!!!!

[goose-dollies]

Matteo was never one to get strict with Candy, his sweet, caring girl. But when she wanted more than he could give? He had to find a different way to appease her.

Making her grind her sticky folds on his thigh, the hair scratching her clit just right. Her whines and mewls going unattended and he moves her back and forth on the muscle. Ripping orgasm after orgasm from her before letting her sink onto his cock. Letting her tire herself out by riding him, and then gripping her hips and slamming her down onto him again and again until she gushes on him

@going-to-ikea-for-the-fries 👀👀

[ikea-dollies]

I'm alive

[vibesssurfer]

wick different2//

[z-wantstowrite]

@going-to-ikea-for-the-fries Incardo and you know it is

[ikea-dollies]

YES IT FUCKING IS

[ikea-dollies]

Animals.

words: 2.6k~ cw: mafia and other matters of the sort (drugs, alcohol, gambling, etc.), smut smut smut, piv (unprotected), the worst relationship in the world (but fr this time), toxicity, hate, enemies to fuck buddies, BIGGGG age gap (25&50) a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.

Fates cross and the two worst people to have ever laid foot in New York City are suddenly tangled in each other's webs...

(Very inspired by Animals by Maroon 5)

The social club looked like it could be taken out straight from the 1920s: wood panneling all over the walls, leather chairs, sofas and armchairs....

A large bar counter with two impeccably dressed bartenders behind them, in suits and bowties, preparing cocktails and drinks poured nearly straight from the expensive thousand-dollars-worth liquor bottles.

A jazz band playing in the corner stage, a few blackjack and roulette tables in the further back of the room, elite only, away from prying eyes.

The bar takes cards, for everything else, it's live cash or checks. And people make sure to play like they intend on losing their entire fortune. It's more fun that way.

Champagne coupes, whiskey tumblers, cigars aplenty... Maybe even a bit of cocaine, for the more adventurous ones... And, of course, escorts galore.

Men in suits lounging all around, young women in slinky dresses perching on their knees, greedy male hands smoothing over the smalls of their backs, the crooks of their waists, around the soft skin of their thighs, their arms, their necks, their hair.

Protection details and henchmen were left at the door, like dogs tied on a pole outside the bodega in the corner. Guns and knives are checked with the bags and coats. Neutral territory, they call it.

Incardo Lozada Buffonge sits in a leather couch in the corner, a pretty blonde woman sitting on his lap. She's foreign, speaks little English, smiles too much, fidgets with his tie and lets him grope her to his will.

His dark hair is slicked back, his suit, Armani, white on white, polished shoes reflecting the yellow tones of the vintage lamps and candelabras that light the space in warm tones.

To his right, Amarion Bindo Gerardo, his second-in-command, black on black, matching the boss, but the complete opposite of him. They talk in hushed whispers, drinking and looking around, taking note of adversaries, rivals, acquaintances and the rare ally.

The room isn't too full, but the event is still a real who's who of the underground business. Mob bosses, corrupt politicians, military leaders and law agents, cartel bosses, Yakuza, Triad, Bratva... Anyone that has stakes in the crime syndicates of New York City is present.

Incardo's eyes find their way across the room to the blackjack table. From where he's sitting, he can see her from the side. Sitting dead center, across from the card dealer, arms resting on the edge, holding her set of cards.

Long, sleek brown hair, tied back into a half-up, half-down hairstyle, long slender arms, longer slender legs, a tan that is, in no way, artificial, wearing an off-white dress, corsetted up top but loose around the legs, with a slit that gives a tantalizing view of her thigh.

She's young. He wouldn't put her a day over 25. And she's beautiful. Beautiful enough for him to want. Same with any other young, beautiful woman he sets his eyes on. Good for a night or two and never again.

But she's not like the escorts around the room, which are free for use by any of the men who want them. No, that woman... She carries he sophistication of a woman who was raised with money and not meant to entertain the men around her, like the others, poor things, much akin to a pig in a dress.

She's in the big boy leagues. If nothing else, he could tell from her outfit, a dress that has to have cost thousands of dollars, gold jewelry and make-up a plenty... But there's also the fact she has her own advisor standing behind her, one he recognized from many of these events in the past, though the name escapes him.

"That one-" Incardo murmurs and uses his chin to gesture toward her vaguely, bringing his glass of red wine up to his mouth.

Amarion glances over to the woman Incardo pointed out. "That's... Tony DeLuca's daughter, I believe."

"Ah." Incardo tuts in acknowledgment and nods his head. "Sure doesn't look it."

"Takes after her mother." Amarion replies as he looks between the brunette and Incardo. "Not a concern for us. Have no business to conduct with them. She's just here representing her old man."

"Hm..." Incardo murmurs and nods, pondering the sight of the pretty woman that kept playing Blackjack with the men around her. Japanese on one side, Russian on the other, and another Italian, from a rival family, further down the table.

He noticed how her eyes, surrounded by sparkly make-up, green and bright, shifty and vixen-like moved about the table, noting everyone's expressions, noting the dealer's movements... Watched everyone receive their new cards.

And then she suddenly bets big, pushing her own pile of chips forward, straightening her back, her eyes catching the other men's... None of them backed out. They never did...

So, as they flipped the cards over and she showed her hand, the men around the table immediately groaned and 'tsked'. "Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." She announced. "Better luck next time, ah?" She teased them and smiled broadly.

Then, she got up and leaned forward, wrapping her slender arms around the stacks of chips and bringing them toward her seat, a satisfied, smug smirk on her plump, shiny lips.

She turned to her consigliere, an older man with grey hair that he'd seen accompany her father and her brothers to events like this before, and gestured vaguely for him to keep her chips.

Then, she slipped out of her stool and crossed the room toward the bar. Incardo saw his opportunity in it. He kept looking at her, eyes locked on her, her body, her smooth skin, her polished red-bottom heels...

Once she turned away from the bar with a drink in hand, he was surprised to find her with a couple of lowball glasses with a yellow-ish liquid in it. Amaretto, most likely, if he knew his Italian alcohol well.

She returned to her consigliere and offered one of the drinks to him, who gave her an almost paternal look, as if implying 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'. She returned an impish smile, which caused the man to sigh and take it, before thanking her with a reverential nod of his head.

The consigliere's brown eyes then slid over to Incardo, finding him sitting and staring at them. At her. Leaning his head down, he spoke softly to the young mafia princess and she turned to look over her bare shoulder at him.

She raised her drink in an act of greeting and cheers, from a distance, and he returned the gesture with his own glass of wine. He watched her take a sip of her drink, eyes still locked on him, from the corner of her eye.

After he watched her take her drink, Incardo glanced at the blonde currently on his lap and waved her off. And then, with his newly freed hand he beckoned the young DeLuca girl closer.

The brunette nodded and approached, coming to stand across from him, her pointy louboutin pumps barely an inch away from his own polished dress shoes.

He sits with his thighs parted in a position of pure and absolute power, a smirk on his lips, tugging his left corner upward as he gives a once over, pleased that the pretty thing is submissive enough to come when called, like a good pup.

Incardo raises his hand, presenting the back of it and his fingers to her, a silent demand for her to show reverence and respect. 'Kiss my hand, little one, show everyone that although you're pretending to be a big girl, you're playing second fiddle to us all, especially me'.

Her green hued eyes slide down from his face, across his arm and down to the hand he was presenting to him. A thick gold ring with a large octagon cut purple musgravite embedded in the middle.

She recognized it for what it was. Nothing but a stupid test, a ball measuring contest, if you will, trying to see who had the biggest pair. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel all eyes on the two of them. And, oh, Gianna was about to make him look bad.

She handed her drink over to her consigliere, then, took Incardo's hand carefully with both of hers, with all the reverence in the world as she raised it toward her mouth, her eyes locked on his brown ones, eyebrows set down over her eyelids, intense and bold...

But then, before his hand was even within range to kiss his ring, she lifted it, like she was about to perform a little twirl for him under his outstretched arm, and used it as a crutch to sit down beside him, leaning back on the couch, crossing her legs, her foot brushing against one of his pant legs.

Everyone else also watching seems to freeze in shock, the room having suddenly gone silent to witness the power play performed by her, happening live before them.

Incardo watched her take her seat boldly, without so much as a greeting, let alone an invitation, then, the corner of his lip rose higher, a sadistic smirk took over his mouth and he licked his lips, amused by the little girl beside him.

Incardo waves off his second-in-command from the armchair beside them, a silent dismissal, to be alone with her... Her consigliere also makes himself scarce, but not before returning her drink glass to her. That drives everyone else in the room to go back to their previous conversations.

"You're either bold or stupid, Ms. DeLuca." The man tells her, murmuring near her ear, an arm already snaking to wrap around the small of her back, coming to rest on the side of her waist, already digging in.

Gianna leans into him and dips her head to the side, nearly setting it on his shoulder, so she can look him in the eyes properly. "Not stupid in any way, I guarantee you, Mr. Lozada." She murmurs in reply, eyes sparkling in the low light, as she takes a sip of her amaretto sour.

"I know... Saw that little play of yours in the blackjack table... Counting cards is illegal, don't you know?" He teases her, almost like he's poking about in her mind, trying to see what makes her tick, what might embarrass her or upset her, and give him control.

"I wasn't counting cards... I'm just very observant... and good at guessing." Gianna lies as she looks right into his eyes, not even flinching or trembling or hesitating, a smug smirk on her plump lips.

"Just like I guessed you'd appreciate me not being a little sheep for you." She slid her free hand over his thigh, before she slid it up over his forearm, down his wrist, and onto his hand, her perfectly-manicured fingernail grazing his musgravite ring.

"So you're just a gambler, are you, doll?" Incardo teases, his hand sliding down from her waist, grazing her hip and onto her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the slit in the cream-colored skirt of her dress.

"Could say that..." Gianna murmurs as she takes a sip of her drink again, biting the straw with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"How about a wager then, just the two of us?" Incardo teases her, his fingers digging onto the skin of her thigh, causing her to shiver ever so slightly.

"What would this wager of yours..." She replies as she rolls over toward him ever so slightly, her leg crossing over his thigh, wrapped around him like a snake coiling around its prey, her heeled foot rubbing against the inside of his white suit leg. "entail exactly?"

Incardo swallowed down the last sip of his red wine while pulling the young woman closer to his robust chest, her breasts pressing against the side panel of his blazer as he squeezes her closer.

"Just a moment of your time... I'd like to prove how stupid I can make a pretty, young thing like you feel and act." He taunts her, brown eyes locked on her beautiful green ones.

"Oh... Mr. Lozada..." She teases. "No man can make me stupid... But you're welcome to try... It'll be a pleasure to see you fail." She chuckles.

She was bold, confident, maybe too much so. Perhaps it was hubris from her young age, and lack of experience, Incardo was sure of.

But the smug smirk on her lips and the certainty on her voice was irresistible... especially when he knew he could have her mewl and croon under his touch whenever he wanted to.

"I never fail at anything, doll." He murmurs in reply.

"Guess you're going to start now."

"It's almost... adorable how sure you are of that, doll... I'll let you continue being delusional, it suits you..."

Gianna's plump lips simply upturned into an bold, broad smile, flashing him her pearly whites, her canines a bit too pointy... There was a mischievous glint in her green eyes... Like a cat that ate the canary.

Then, she untangled herself from his embrace and got up, but not before purposefully and slowly spilling her drink all the way down the front of his 3-piece suit, staining it with the bright yellow liquid.

He didn't react, he tried not to, at least, though his eyes told her directly that she was going to be taught a lesson sooner rather than later...

But she purposefully kissed the air at him and then turned and strutted off, disappearing beyond the doors leading to the large penthouse balcony outside.

And, for the first time in his life, Incardo got up from his seat and gave chase.

That's how they ended up tangled in each other. Each other's web, each other's arms, each other's beds.

As the sun set outside, bathing the balcony in hues of orange, shining off her dress, off her make-up, off their polished shoes...

Her legs hooked on each of his forearms, spread as wide as possible to allow his hip to fit between them, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers digging into his scalp amidst his long black hair...

She moaned and whined, her head rubbing back on the ivy-covered trellis wall that decorated the patio, her back definitely getting marks of the diamond-shaped wooden trellis behind her.

His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, squeezing and holding her up in his arms, his dick bullying into her slick, greedy cunt with each snap of his hips.

Incardo was still perfectly composed, his tie in place, his vest buttoned, although the blazer wasn't, his pants still fastened by the belt around his hip...

Were it not for the way he was grunting and huffing from a mix of pleasure and the mix of stamina + physical strength to continue holding her, nobody would guess he was even having primal sex with a girl half his age.

Meanwhile, he was definitely making a mess of her, Gianna's hair was wild, her lips parted, her eyes heavy and hooded, her dress rolled up as far as can go, her long, tan legs fully on display for anyone who looked their way...

But people in this world knew better than to pry.

So what if the 25-year-old daughter of Tony DeLuca, the biggest mobster in Jersey was currently being fucked silly by the 50-year-old boss of the empire left behind after Adalardo Dakota Buffonge was murdered?

So what if, before then, she proceeded to emasculate him in front of his peers by refusing to greet him with respect, and by spilling a drink down the front of his suit?

So what if, from here on out, he starts to play with her and her family's business, until she agrees to play nice for him and be the little doll, the little toy, he wants to play with?

So what if, no matter how much he tries, she never does become what he wants?

That doesn't concern anyone but the two of them.

[ikea-dollies]

Three Times?

words: 1.2k~ cw: none. smut smut smut. piv, oral (m!receiving), tit sucking? that's about it. a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.

The two times Onyx Theodore Diamants couldn’t keep his hands off Kathleen Mary Moore… And the one time she couldn’t. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU, HUH?!” Kathleen’s voice reverberates past the curtain. “HUH? THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU?”

“But I-”

“No buts! WHAT. DID. I. TELL. YOU?!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Now stop fucking bothering him! Does he look lucid to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then why are you insisting?”

“I just-”

“No, don’t even tell me, I don’t care. You’re going back to the lobby.”

“Ma’am, please, wait.. Owowowow-”

Throwing the curtain open aggressively, she steps out of the patient’s room, dragging a man twice her size by the ear. It’s very obviously an SAS officer, clad in full tactical gear, vest sporting the British flag and all…

“Oh, hi, Mr. Diamants.” She greets Onyx casually as they walk past him, Kathleen tugging the soldier toward the exit, who hunches over as she keeps pulling him by the ear, protesting in pain.

Once they’re reaching the doors leading out of the A&E, she whistles loudly, drawing the attention of two military police officers nearby. “He’s banned for the next 24 hours. Do NOT let him back inside the fuckin’ A&E unless he himself is dying. Clear?!”

“Copy that, Captain Moore!” One of the MP officers calls out to her as she lets go of the SAS officer. Then, she turns and marches back inside the A&E, stopping by a handwashing station to clean them.

Onyx approaches her from behind and places a hand on the small of her back, almost urgently so, leaning over her shoulder to speak in her ear.

“Need you to come with me.” He murmurs in her ear, his tone soft before he pushes her away from the sink and toward the double doors to another hallway.

“I’m not on break, Théo…” She whispers.

“It doesn’t matter… Need you.” He tells her as soon as they pass the doors.

Kathleen looks back at him over her shoulder with a smirk on her lips and an intrigued look in her eyes. 

The look in Onyx’s brown ones, full of fire and desire, almost desperately so, tell her exactly what he wants.

“Really? Because I was yelling at someone?” She teases him.

Onyx grunts softly and nods. Kathleen shakes her head, amused, then captures his hand from the small of her back, pulling him with her down the hall.

By the time she notices, Onyx has her pressed against a shelf in a storage room. Her scrub trousers and underwear are around her ankles, his left hand covering her mouth, his right under her top to grope her tits while he ruts his cock desperately into her slick cunt.

-

Having spent most of the night going from one side to the other of the room, hanging off Onyx’s arm as he made the rounds and introduced her to everyone and vice-versa, Kathleen was tired.

She glances at him from the group of women she was currently mingling with, wholeheartedly pretending to be interested in the boring conversations they were having, but her eyes trying to signal that she wanted to go.

Excusing herself once she caught his eye, she approached him, hips swaying slowly as she approached him across the marble floors of the room. “Théo…” She murmurs into his ear once she carefully takes hold of his arm, perching herself onto him.

Her breasts brush against his bicep as they stand side-by-side, the other men in the group unavoidadly glancing at the shape of her body in the red gown that highlights every curve of hers.

“Oui, ma louloute?” He asks her, leaning down to listen to her better, turning his face toward her ever so slightly, but keeping an eye on the other men through the corner of his eye.

“I’m tired… Wanna go home,” She murmurs in his ear, a soft wisp of a voice, her brown eyes locked on his. 

Onyx didn’t need to be told twice. He tells her to go collect her bag and coat from her seat at the table and he’ll meet her by the door. 

Once they enter the limo, he wraps his arm around the small of her back, leaning into her and wrapping a hand around her thigh, lips brushing the shell of her ear, before dipping down to her jaw, and her neck.

“You look so good in red, ma foi…” He whispers in her ear. “I want to take that off you and get my hands on you…”

“Meu amor…” She returns and glances up front at the driver whose eyes are focused on the road.

Onyx catches her nervous glance at the driver, then presses the button in the panel beside him, causing the partition to slide closed, blocking his view. Then, Onyx’s mouth dove in to catch Kathy’s.

Should the driver have reminded them that there’s a security camera in the back of the limo that recorded the way Onyx lifted her dress to pool around her waist, pulled both of her large breasts out of her cleavage, and sat her on his cock, making her rock on it as he greedily sucked her nipples? Probably.

-

Sure, Kathleen knew that Onyx had been in the Army. Hell, he had been Special Forces of all things… But it’s one thing to know it, it’s another thing to see it.

It’s on a day when a couple of the guys in his private security/military company weren’t available for a job that he decides to cover for them.

He’s tired by the end of it, rightfully so… So he doesn’t even change before coming home, figuring he could just take a shower and drop straight into bed when he does… Kathleen would be home by then too, also tired from a 12-hour-shift… She’d definitely want sleep too…

But when he walks in the door… In full tactical gear, kevlar on, a pair of sunglasses hanging from his collar, weapons and holsters still tied to his thighs and armor… 

It’s like something shifts in the room. Kathleen, who had been lounging on the couch, already in her pajamas, is suddenly moving toward him, eyes wide, crazied, lips parted and nearly glistening with saliva.

“I know… Don’t worry, I’ll lock the guns away in the safe before we go sleep…” Onyx tells her as he watches her approach, anticipating that she’d lecture him on how unsafe it was for him to bring all of this home…

But then she pulls him in by his vest and plants her lips on his, in a kiss unlike any she’s given him before… Wet and desperate and needy. 

And after she pulled back, he barely had time to give her a look of ‘What’s up with you?’ before she was dropping on her knees in front of him.

Was he expecting to have his woman unstrap each and every piece of gear from his body with nothing but reverence and lingering touches like she was preparing to help bathe a deity? No. Was he prepared to have her worship every inch of him for the next hour, or to watch her as she swallowed his cock and drooled around it, eyes glistening and unfocused? Also no. But it happened.

[loveandplanet-deactivated202405]

Think I Need Someone Older

Now Playing: Older

Pairing(s): F! OC Kylie Marcie Rossi-Brown x Moot! OC Lucas Fox

CW: Ageless and MDNI, explicit smut, vaginal fingering, piv sex, protected sex, oral (m), cowgirl (yeehaw), mild edging, slight angst at the end, hair pulling, finger sucking, slight ass and thigh smacking, cursing, darcyphillia, mild aftercare, Lucas is a man-whore, consenting adults, legal drinking, no drinking and driving, legal age gap (6 years. Kylie is 24, Lucas is 30). No Beta We Die Like Men. Useful links: What Kylie is wearing, what Lucas is wearing. A/N: Collab with @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries, even if she tries to deny it (argue with the wall Kea >:)) She gave me such brain worms that I had to write this before I imploded. My first time writing smut and I’m pulling every kink in the books out.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION, YOU ARE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

History was the one subject Kylie could not find herself to love, if she wanted to hear about boring shit, she would’ve called her grandfather. It didn’t help that she was required to take an elective for her undergrad degree. History or art. Stare at paintings, or create them? Stare. At least then she can daydream. “Kylie!” Kylie sits up with a start, eyes wide. Her father one of her fathers, Michael, stares back at her. “Had me worried for second there,” He smiles. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself? Me and you Dad, we can always stay for few days before our flight back to New York.” His full, dark brown eyebrows pinch together, enhancing his wrinkles. She playfully rolls her eyes. “Like I said before, I’ll be fine Pa,” She reassures him, “besides, my roommate will be here by the time I get back from orientation.” She grabs his hand in both of hers, giving him a reassuring smile. Michael sighs before smiling back at her. His husband, Smith comes up behind him. They say their goodbyes, Kylie watching from her dorm window as they leave, hand in hand. A shriek from behind Kylie reverbs through her skull. As she turns her head, she sees a short blond woman around her age stand in the doorway. “You’re the exchange student, Kylie Brown, right!?” The girl runs up to her and engulfs Kylie in a bone-crushing hug.

“Uh,” Kylie shuffles her hands around the woman’s back before setting them on her shoulders, slightly pushing her away. “It’s Kylie Rossi-Brown, and uh, nice to meet you too?” “It’s great! I’m Nora Goodwin, I’m a nursing major too! I think that’s why they put us together, honestly.” Nora talked a mile a minute and breathed for less. Kylie was getting dizzy for her. “Oh!” Nora perks up and oh god how does she still have things to talk about? “The entire class of nursing undergrads are going to the pub tonight, you have to come with!”

Nora’s brown eyes were hard to ignore, and Kylie felt herself flush at the sight. A small, pretty girl begging her? Sign her the fuck up. Kylie sighs, “Sure, what time?”

The pub is packed when Kylie walks in. As if 9pm is still early for English. She shuffles her way through the crowd, her American accent drawing stares; or maybe it was her dress, who knows. Nora spots her first, sitting up in the booth and waving at Kylie. As she nears, she crosses paths was a hard wall chest. “I am so sor-” Kylie stops when she looks at who she bumped into. Of course, of fucking course she walks into the hottest fucking guy she’s ever seen. The man is taller than her, about six foot, blue-green eyes, and has the brightest red hair she’s ever seen; bright as fire. The man looks her up and down slowly before stopping at her own eyes. “It’s nothing, darling.” And then walks away, as if it was nothing. Kylie is left standing there, mouth gaping, until Nora calls her name again. As Kylie approaches the booth, Nora raises her eyebrows at her.

“What? Why are you giving me that look?”

Nora pulls her down next to her. “Because that guy totally was staring at ass when you walked away!” Kylie gapes like a fish back at Nora. No way, Nuh uh. She turns head and yep. Yeah, the red head is staring at her, his eyes darkened. Oh shit.

“Think I need someone older,”

Everything after turned into a blur. Kylie learned his name was Lucas, and he definitely liked whiskey, with how strong the taste of him was. Kylie never thought her first year in England would start with her fucking some stranger in the backseat of his convertible, but she wasn’t complaining. Lucas trails sloppy kisses down her throat, pushing her cardigan down her shoulders. A moan bubbles in her throat as his teeth scrape against her collarbone. Turtlenecks are in her future, it seems. Lucas hums against her neck. “Pretty, do it again.” Before she can ask what he means, he drags the top of her dress down, her tits spilling out and her nipples hardening from the cold air. The squeak she lets out was music to Lucas’s ears. His hands engulf her breast, the fat of them spilling out between his fingers. Kylie moves her hips back and forth, grinding on his growing bulge. She lets out a whine as the rough material of his slacks rubs the delicate lace of her panties against her clit. “Take the weight off your shoulders,”

Kylie wiggles down his body until she is level with the bugle in his stacks. She undoes his belt and pants, pulling his cock out. She strokes him a few times before wrapping her lips around the head. Lucas rumbles, tipping his head back. Kylie brings her head down until she reaches the base, gagging around him. Lucas hisses at the feeling of her constricting throat. Her eyes roll back into her skull, gurgling around his member. Lucas’s eye darken, his pupils blown. “You like that don’t you, darling?”

Kylie gurgles again in response bobbing her head. He runs his hands through her dirty blonde curls, grabbing a fistful and moving her head up and down his length.

Lucas pulls her off of him and brings his hand down on the fat of her thigh, cause her to squeal in response. “Up,” he growls, making Kylie clench around nothing. She raises up onto her knees, and her hands immediately go to his shirt, raising it. One of Lucas’s hands travel up the skirt of her dress, squeezing the gloves of her ass, the other tangles itself in her hair, pulling her down for sloppy style kiss. It’s a clashing of teeth, drool dripping down Kylie’s chin. “Think I need someone older.”

“Please,” Kylie gasps, “please fuck me,” she whines. Lucas groans, shoving her panties to the side. He runs two fingers between her soaked folds before pushing a thick finger in. She gasps, tipping her head back from the feeling. She rocks back and forth on his finger, and when he curls his finger in a come hither motion- she feels like she’s about to burst. Lucas adds another, curling them and bringing his thumb into mix by rubbing her clit in quick strokes. She chokes on sobs as his pace quickens, three fingers bringing her closer to the edge, and right before her peak, Lucas cruelly rips his hand away. She fully sobs at that, pouting at him. He gives Kylie a stupid half smile before he lifts her up by the hips, rolling a condom on.

“Still good, darling?” “If you don’t fuck me now, I’m walking back into that pub.”

Lucas laughs at that, like he knew she was full of shit. She was. “Yeah I guess my age just don’t do the same,”

He enters her in a single swift thrust, bottoming out easily. Lucas bites back a moan at the feel of her warm walls, while Kylie openly moans out at the stretch.

“I’m young and that’s okay,”

Kylie waits for a moment, slowly grinding on his lap, the short red hair there scratching her it just right. She leans back and starts off with a small raise of her hips, before slamming back down, drawing a mewl out of her throat when his cock hits the bundle of nerves within. She places her hands on his thighs and picks up the pace, bouncing on Lucas’s lap. Her breasts jolt with every movement, until he grabs them back into his hands, giving her nipples a squeeze. She cries and whimpers as her orgasm draws closer again. Her cunt barely lets him move, and down right chokes his cock when he places his thumb back on her clit.

“Darling hold me while you wipe my tears,”

She cries out, her hips bucking. “Shut the fuck up,” Lucas hissed at her, shoving two fingers in her mouth. Kylie moans and gurgles around his fingers, shoving her head forward to take them deeper. Lucan moans at the feeling of her cunt, and her mouth sucking his fingers. It only takes a few more well aimed bounces before Kylie is writhing and cumming around his cock. He grabs her hips and roughly thrusts up into her, until he finally spills into the condom with a groan. They sit there and catch their breath for a moment before Lucas lifts Kylie off of his lap, causing her to whimper at the emptiness.

He leans into the front and grabs a small waste bag and a box of tissues. Kylie begins to wonder how many people he’s fucked in the backseat of his car. Lucas hands her the box of tissues while he removes the condom and places himself back into his slacks. She takes that as her hint to clean herself up. “Just a little bit colder,”

Lucas opens the door, stepping outside. He leans back in and looks at her. “Wait 5 minutes and then come back inside. Won’t be suspicious then. I’ll lock up when you’re back.” He leaves, but not before giving her a wink. She sits there for a moment, processing what just happened. And then she sees it. A tissue stuffed into her cardigan. She unravels it to his phone number? What the fuck?

Kylie tries her best to not wobble as she makes her way into the pub. It’s still busy, but she can clearly see Nora practically buzzing in her seat with excitement. As Kylie nears the girl, she finds a glass of water where she had been sitting. Nora lights up when Kylie sits down, slower than when she first got there.

“You have to tell me everything!” Nora grabs onto her arm, shaking her slightly. As Kylie look across from her, she see Lucas staring back at her from the bar. God Bless England.

[ikea-dollies]

my oc is so hot

THIS is so hot

SOMEONE SEDATE ME