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21 year old trans man. Bisexual (in fantasy, asexual and taken IRL), heavy male preference. Everything is purely fantasy. NOT INTERESTED IN DMS OF ANY SORT. Posts are all about F/O ( #hi spy ), but vague so others can relate to them.
been Thinking really hard about forcemasc in a spy way recently
molding and shaping a man into exactly what you want him to be, making him workout and become stronger, teaching him how to use weapons and hand to hand combat skills, how to take it up the ass properly
turning an awkward desk agent into a killing machine that’s always hungry for blood and dick and you Made Him That Way
I would really like to write something where Spy impregnates a trans male partner (consensually) but I worry that's far too niche, and additionally that I would make my fellow trans men uncomfortable with a premise like that.
It also doubles as being a very emotionally vulnerable topic for me in general, which is porn I do like writing but I'm not sure I'd ever bring myself to share it, so I also don't want to get anyone's hopes up if they would be interested.
I still have other things I need to write too - July is busy for me, with it being my birthday month. Moving parts all around. Hopefully I'll have something out before the end of the month.
If anyone stumbles across this and feels strongly about FTMPreg x Spy, I'd love to hear feedback.
Uhh could you quite possibly do dry humping with spanking spy x male reader 👀
I could very possibly do this yeah :] Hopefully will be the next or next next thing I write, I'm planning to do something with Spy and anal forcemasc next but if this strikes my fancy more. Regardless, it'll be done. Thank you for the suggestion!
Decided to start working on kinktober now while I have time, since once my job starts in the fall I will not have the time to write oneshots every day. Hopefully I can actually complete it this time!
Minors DNI
Numbers don't mean too much, except 31, which will be (hopefully) posted on Halloween. Otherwise, prompts will be released whenever they're ready in October. I am still open to other suggestions or pairings, as long as they involve Spy.
Tmasc!Reader / Spy
WC: 2.9k
Rating: E, Smut, NSFT
Tags: Crossdressing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Panties, Scent Kink, Slapping, Spit Kink, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Mild French
Spy enjoyed feeling pretty.
Gorgeous was a more apt term, actually. While his closet consisted primarily of suits, vests, dress pants, the typical markings of a masculine taste, it also ventured into the innately feminine. He had a number of expensive dresses, ones that would show off his well defined back muscles and broad shoulders. They were pieces only broken out for special occasions, when Spy was yearning to explore a side of himself he often kept under even tighter wraps than… Well, any genuine part of him.
You two made a pretty picture. He’d picked out a dark grey suit for you, which he’d fussed with for about 30 minutes before finally deciding to get ready himself. You lingered behind him to get a proper look at his assets, from top to bottom. He had sharp, angular hips, and admittedly a rather flat rear. He knew how to move his legs to distract from it. You had to resist reaching forwards to pat or squeeze at him, something that would surely work him up even more than he was right now.
“You are so tense right now.” You chuckled, as he applied makeup to the parts of his face one would be able to see. He gave a derisive scoff, rather dramatically reapplying the cap to a tube of lipstick. “... And so beautiful.” You added hastily.
“Smooth.” His sneer was not missed by you. “It’s a mission, darling. And I am not sure how much I trust your… investigative skills.” His voice went flat at the last syllables, giving you an unamused look. It wasn’t that surprising. It had taken a lot of pestering on your end to get him to agree to bring you. He always was such a perfectionist.
“It’ll be fine. When have I ever disobeyed you?” A purr escaped you as you stood up, resting your chin against his chest, where you could feel soft padding. He had to crane his neck to look down at you. “Having a taller wife is more fun than most men let on, you know.” You stood on your tip toes, and Spy reluctantly accepted your ask for a kiss.
It was really fucking hard to behave on the car ride over, though. Hard in multiple ways. Spy had used a sweet smelling perfume, which created a heady mix as puffed away on a cigarette. It made you want to shove your nose against him, lick along his ribs, lower too. You had to keep your hands neatly folded in your lap, a sensitive area for you. The only bit of relief was your underwear rubbing against your swollen clitoris as your mind raced with all the things you wanted to do to Spy right now, that you wanted him to do to you.
“Stop breathing so hard.” He demanded, parking a few blocks from the restaurant. “Panting like a bitch in heat…”
“I feel like one.” Nervous laughter bubbled up in you as you got out of the car quickly, moving to his door and holding it open. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. “You are just-”
“Perfect, I am well aware. You tell me it often.” He brushed a finger against your cheek, taking your hand in his. It was hard to tell whose was smaller, it seemed to change on the day. You liked how they fit together, and the way his palms were always a bit too cold when not covered by the barrier of a leather glove. His nails were well manicured, painted red. He’d bought you each a wedding band to wear for this mission, sending a shiver down your spine.
The clients, or whatever you’d call them, perhaps victims, had something to do with Spy’s employer. A rival company, maybe? Spy was vague on the details, just that he needed to collect some more information before taking them out. You didn’t really find yourself caring, too distracted by the sway of his lower half as he walked. He’d even sprung for heels, adding another inch and a half to his already impressive height.
You were seated across an older couple, man and wife with sour little faces and veiny, wrinkly hands. The man had a ring of hair but was otherwise bald on top, a thick moustache cradled his nostrils and wrapped around his upper lips. When he swallowed, his turkey neck swayed. His wife had tighter skin, especially across her cheek bones, and her fingers gently shook. Despite their pinched expressions, they were actually quite kind.
“Who’s this?” The woman asked as you sat besides Spy.
“Is it not obvious? We’re married.” Was Spy’s curt response, his voice more raspy than it normally was. “He’s my husband.”
“First?” The man had a hearty laugh on him, his stomach lifting and falling with it. Spy didn’t seem as amused with the joke, and moved closer to you, your thighs rubbing against his beneath the table. “He just looks a bit younger than you.”
“Women my age don’t entice me the way she does.” You responded, patting Spy’s thigh. His chest puffed out in pride, giving you a small smile. “I prefer someone who has a similar appreciation for the arts, languages, culture.”
“Well, love takes all shapes.” The woman tilted her head in your direction, before squaring her shoulders in a way that suggested her husband may want to watch his tone going forward.
For what was meant to be some high security intelligence mission, the conversation was mind numbingly boring. Spy was discussing business deals, something you couldn’t even begin to care about. Perhaps he was trying to buy them out? Either way, he was still pressed against you, one of his hands resting atop yours. You rubbed your forefinger back and forth against his knee, trying to make it seem like you were paying attention. The other couple had forgotten your presence by now, clearly you weren’t the entrepreneur in the relationship.
Your hand, with its pesky mind, slid a bit further up Spy’s leg, beneath the hem of his dress. You were sure he noticed, with the way his spine moved, but his flow of speech was not disturbed. A small smirk pulled at your lips, fingers now along his inner thigh. He’d waxed for this, which you’d protested a few times. But he wanted to seem ladylike, and any attempts to talk him out of it (“how sexist to say women needed to be hairless, Spy.”) had not worked. They were still his legs though, pin-like as they were, so it wasn’t all bad.
Up, up, up, your hand continued to creep, admiring the softness of Spy’s skin. He had an extensive body care routine, one that he was trying to impart on to you, as your skin had become rougher and oilier. Kneading away at his flesh, you’d become so distracted you missed the way his eyes laid upon you. The air of annoyance he held, his thin lips stretched into a toothy smile. He didn’t dare acknowledge what you two were doing beneath the table, though. His words had become higher pitched, losing the rasp.
Your fingers rubbed a lacey material. Committed to his disguise, wasn’t he. His hand still in his lap twitched, as if considering preventing you from exploring further. Ultimately, it went back to rest. You moved your hand a bit further until you could feel the outline of his testicles, and swiped your fingers upwards, now pressed to the base of his cock. He tightened his grip on his glass of wine, taking a careful sip. The evening was shaping up to be rather stimulating for you after all.
Spy shifted, his crotch pressed a little more firmly against your hand now. You rubbed your hand against the clothed shaft of his cock, steadying your own breathing. He hardened at your caresses, and you wondered how well the dress would hide his erection were he to stand up. Something you could explore later, perhaps. Your hand continued between his cock and thighs, almost rhythmic.
The waiter came by, after what felt like a rather long time, to take the orders of the 4 of you. The fun was over. You began to pull away your hand, just for Spy’s skinny thighs to clamp around it, holding you there. You swallowed hard, not even hearing what he ordered for you. You weren’t going to be eating much with how distracted you were.
Spy moved his hand to your thigh, perhaps in an attempt to steady himself. You found the tip of his cock through his panties, circling it with your thumb, relishing in the way the fabric began to dampen. Spy was just too damn good at keeping composure, though. Able to pass any odd noises off as laughter or the start of another playful comment, his cheeks covered to not reveal any sort of blush. You were less capable, just glad to hide in your food once it was passed on to you. Spy’s hand squeezed your thigh when you got a bit too bold, reminding you of your place in this arrangement.
Dinner continued much the same, though Spy did seem to be speeding things up. You had to bite back a grin, as he stopped entertaining certain queries from the other couple, giving only direct and curt answers to them both. As the waiter came to drop off the bill, Spy allowed your palm to depart.
“Nice of them to pay.” Your eyes kept glancing down at Spy’s groin as you walked back to his car. He was almost eerily silent, his gait not as wide as it usually was, though he avoided shuffling in those heels. “... Did it go well? I’m not really sure what you were doing back there-” You licked your lips, wondering if you’d actually done something wrong with how tense he seemed.
He opened the passenger door for you, and a comment about how he was meant to be the lady tonight died on your tongue. You sat sheepishly, face burning as he walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“... Spy, I’m so-” He grabbed the back of your neck roughly, pulling the skirt of the dress up and pulling his cock out of the lacey pink panties. You’d have giggled at the color, but he forced your head down before you got the chance.
“Suck my cock.” His voice was almost cold, but it sent a warm feeling through your lower half.
“Huh?” There was no simpler way for Spy to say it, but your head was rushing from the harsh actions, Spy tended to be far gentler in how he handled you.
“Have you forgotten English? Suce ma bite.” His grip on the back of your neck tightened as he growled out the demand. You let out a nervous bit of laughter, before obediently opening your mouth and taking the tip of his hard cock into your mouth. This seemed to relax him a bit, petting the nape of your neck with two fingers as he moved your head up and down around himself, sighing softly.
“You behaved like an animal in there.” He grabbed a cigarette from the glovebox, placing it between his lips as he lit it. The noxious smell hit your nostrils immediately, mixed with the scent of Spy’s crotch. His pubic hair tickled your lips as he worked you over himself. “Pawing at me, salivating into your food. What the Hell were you thinking?!” He thrusted upwards now, hitting the back of your throat roughly, his testicles slapping against your cheek and chin.
You mumbled an apology around him, focusing your tongue on his tip to show just how sorry you were. He hissed softly, running his fingers over your back, his manicured nails trailing downwards. “You could have blown that whole thing for me.” And now you were blowing something else. You snorted at the thought, which served to enrage him further. “You think it's funny? That was humiliating for me.”
Yet he had you keep going. Pointing that out would have ended badly, so you continued to lick and suck around him. He breathed hard through his nostrils, letting his head fall back. “When have you ever disobeyed me, my ass.” He muttered, hand running back to your neck. “You are such a man.” He pulled you off him, his cock still hard and weeping with pre-ejaculate.
“And you are quite the woman.” You breathed, wiping your mouth with your hand, getting ready to go back down again. Spy, at your comment however, seemed to have other plans. He pushed you into the back of his car, clambering awkwardly over his seats, the lack of grace he exuded made him curse, body warming. You let out a small grunt as he climbed on top of you.
“Perverted, deranged little man.” He breathed, tearing your pants off you. After he’d made such a fuss about what they’d cost, too. You heard the button fly off and hit the back of the driver’s seat. Your briefs were quick to follow, gasping as the cool air of the car mixed with the wetness between your thighs. “I have done nothing but teach you how to act like a gentleman, and this is how you repay me!” He pulled the pink lace off of himself, dropping the panties squarely on your face.
With a noise of sharp desperation, you clutched on to them and held them against your nose, inhaling deeply. “They smell so good- they smell like you…” You whimpered, grinning. He let out an offended sound, his cock twitching between his legs.
His eyes darted between your legs, his tongue poking out and swiping briefly. Elation bubbled through you, you knew what he wanted in that moment. To taste you. But he’d deny himself just to put you back in your place. He pulled his gaze away, and back to your face, spitting at you. You let his saliva roll down your cheek, grin widening.
Spy spread your legs apart, pushing them up against your chest, before lining himself up with your slick entrance. He rubbed his tip against you, perhaps a bit apologetic at his roughness now, though you were plenty ready for him. With a delicacy he had not deigned moments earlier, he split you open, a deep moan escaping his throat as his cock slid inside. You lurched up slightly, a small burn creeping through you. He let out a small shooshing sound, hand stroking your thigh.
He halted his hips, waiting for you to relax further. Your hand rested atop his on your thigh, lungs filling with deep breaths and the smoke from his cigarette as you untensed your body. He gave an appreciative hum as your walls complied around him, becoming looser and wetter. When he was satisfied that you could accept it, he pulled back before slamming back into you, the car jerking and rocking at the force of the action. You squealed and gripped at the headrest of the driver’s seat, toes curling.
“You’re a rabid dog.” He grunted, leaning over you. “You should be neutered. Treating a lady like some piece of meat. Boys like you never can control yourselves, can you?”
“N-no, Ma’am…” You crooned, lifting your hips up. He forced them back down, letting out a low noise from his chest.
“You need to be reminded of who’s in charge, don’t you? Of how to be a proper gentleman, how to treat a woman.” He panted softly, hips moving faster. “You let her cum first, don’t you?”
You nodded rapidly, hands twitching at your sides.
“It’s the kind thing to do, and I know you can be a very good boy for me.” Spy’s voice was next to your ear now, biting the shell before his tongue dragged down to your neck. You squirmed beneath him, trying to circle your hips to make things better for him.
“I can be very good for you, ma’am.” You assured, turning your head so your lips connected with the side of Spy’s face. “I’ll make you feel amazing…”
“You will, won’t you.” Spy agreed, his cock twitching inside of you. He wouldn’t last much longer, not with how controlled he’d had to keep himself earlier. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him closer. He smelled your neck, before placing a kiss there. You were wearing his cologne.
His hips became less organized, more primal in their movements. His hands moved to your hips, squeezing them roughly, before he pulled out completely and came outside your entrance, warm seed trickling down your ass and onto the car seats. He’d surely get pissy about that later too. You looked up at him and whimpered, knocking yourself against his now flaccid cock. “My turn?”
Wrong thing to ask. He scoffed and smacked your butt, making you yelp, before taking the panties from you and redressing himself, bunching himself inside the garments. It looked a bit uncomfortable.
“Maybe later, if you can prove as impressive in my private quarters as you did just now. In the meantime, shut up and drive.” He grabbed your trousers from the floor of the backseat, pushing them into your hands. You huffed, pulling them back on. It wasn’t the most comfortable sensation, sitting in his and yours combined fluids while he relaxed in the backseat.
You looked at him in the rearview mirror, frowning at his smug expression. Well, at least you’d probably never have to sit through another boring espionage mission.
A simple enough command, and one you were eager to adhere to. Your lips had been wrapped around Spy’s cock for what felt like hours; Your mouth was a little too full to ask just how long it’d been. You’d stopped trying to give an enthusiastic blowjob awhile ago, letting your tongue work its way over him languidly, maybe a gentle suction here and there. By now you two were relaxing together, his fingers gently petting through your hair as he flipped through this month’s edition of Dapper Cadaver. Drool escaped out from the corners of your mouth and down your chin, before landing on Spy’s trousers and creating a damp spot.
A pleasant numbness had creeped into your mind, blooming larger with each additional tick of the clock.
Whilst you got drunk off Spy’s manhood, his personal choice was wine. He’d had probably 3 and a half glasses by now, a healthy amount indeed. He knew how to hold his drink, performing a convincing sober act even when his only audience member was using his cock as an adult pacifier.
He’d cum a few times, you could still taste it in the back of your throat; feel residual semen sticking to your teeth, the roof of your mouth. You’d attempted swallowing it back, but it persisted, thickly lingering in your mouth. You couldn’t protest too much.
Your hands wrapped around his calves, kneading them gently to give yourself something to do.
With an abrupt sigh, Spy set the magazine on his desk, giving your hair one last pet.
“Get up.” He looked down at you, his voice flat.
Your eyes snapped up. For a brief instance you were forced to wonder if you’d done something incorrect, beginning to pull your head back, albeit slowly, to give him time to elaborate.
Sensing your worry, he let out a put out groan. “I just need to use the restroom, don’t look so frightened. You and your anxiety.” He tsked, giving your head a patronizing pat.
In a move that surprised even yourself, upon hearing he needed to use the restroom, you took his length back fully into your mouth. Properly this time, not the lazy, lethargic action like before. Your fingers tightened over his calves, your shoulders adjusting. Spy stiffened.
“Did you not hear me?” He leaned forward in his seat, eyebrow raising. “I need to use the restroom - Take a piss. Is that direct enough for you?” There was a small sneer on his features, which melted into an indecipherable expression as you refused to move - As you pushed him further into you. Your nose squashed against his groin, chin against his testicles, being tickled by his trimmed hair.
Spy took a deep breath, his brows furrowing together. You glanced up at him, trepidation from how bold you were being travelling through your body.
“You are a disgusting little thing, aren’t you?” He crooned, his hand tangling back in your hair, gripping your scalp. “You never fail to surprise me, my dear.”
He pushed your head down more firmly, leaning back in his chair. “You want me to relieve myself down your throat, is that it? You can’t get enough of me so you’re resorting to debasing yourself?”
You nodded around him, breathing heavily through your nostrils. He hardened in your mouth, glowering down at you. Even with most of his face covered, you swore you could detect the hint of a blush at the height of his cheeks. A pleased gurgle escaped your chest.
“Fine.”
Even at his approval, he hesitated. Maybe you were pushing him a bit too hard with this, it’s not like you’d ever discussed the idea. Really, it wasn’t something you’d thought too much about until he said he needed to use the bathroom, like divine intervention telling you to keep him there, just to see. Now you wondered if he’d really go through with this, or if he would tap out.
You got your answer moments later, as Spy looked away from you, squeezing his eyes shut, and fluid began to quickly fill your mouth. “Absolutely vile - repugnant.” He breathed, hand shaking. “What am I to do with you?”
Warm, bitter, and salty - Not exactly comparable to water, a bit thicker perhaps. The flavor flooded your mouth, causing you to swallow rapidly and repeatedly, to prevent any from dribbling out of your mouth. Your hands moved up to his thighs, stabilizing yourself as you continued to drink.
It was foul, though that added to it. It’s not like you expected some 52 year old smoker’s post-wine drinking urine to taste like juice, afterall. You’d of course heard the comparison to cheap beer a time or two, though even with that in mind you struggled to make the connection.
“You have…” He swallowed back a whimper, “No decency, no self respect. Letting me use you as some human urinal.” His biting words were undercut by how much this was clearly arousing him.
Your tongue rested just beneath his slit as you suctioned your cheeks around him. You could feel the steady stream of piss split into two, one aimed slightly more right than the other.
Spy let out a small sigh, his hand keeping your head in place as he relieved his very full bladder. He must have been holding it for quite some time. One of your hands cheekily slid up and pressed down, making him gasp and piss harder. “Putain!” The expletive slipped out before Spy could stop himself.
It was impossible to stop the bit of urine that escaped your mouth then. The intensity with which it came out caused you to swallow wrong and choke, pulling off of him. He was breathing rather heavily, trembling, no longer delivering any more insults to your person.
You were quick to close your eyes as Spy continued, his erect cock aiming the pee upwards and into your face, down your cheeks and nose. You shivered, unable to quell a deep inhale at the scent. Your tongue stuck out to catch what you could, to lick it from the areas of your face you could reach, Spy staring at you with his mouth partly open, his face fire hot.
His stream slowed to a soft trickle as the last few drops worked their way out. With a disgusted noise, he wrapped a gloved hand around himself, shaking his cock out, being sure to hit the underside of your face with his wet erection. You grinned up at him, as his essence dripped down your chin.
“It washed the rest of your cum out of my mouth.” You cooed, gripping his knees tightly.
“What is wrong with you?” He hissed, voice quivering as he pushed your head back with one hand. “You are filthy.”
“Learned from the best.” You kissed his tip, smiling more as you tasted the residual flavor of piss on him. “All of you tastes good, you know?”
He shivered, biting down on his tongue. Even his signature eye roll couldn’t fully muster just how worked up this scenario made him.
“You wanna join each other in the shower?” You leaned up, giving him a better look at your soaked face.
His head - The other head - bobbed with clear interest.
“Fine - Just don’t expect me to urinate in there as well… This already is going to be a nightmare to clean.”
Tmasc!Reader / Spy
WC: 2.3k
Rating: E, Smut, NSFT
Tags: Anatomical Terms Used, Clit, Breast, Thigh Play, Penis in Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Lap Sex, Cockwarming, Unprotected, Mild Unnegotiated Kink
Spy’s free time was a precious and rather rare commodity in this level of abundance - That being a pleasant afternoon to himself. A day off from the battlefield, zero trite espionage missions for Ms. Pauling, and ideally no trouble from his ever so bothersome teammates - if they could even be called such a thing.
Today, he could indulge; his coveted ritual on his days off included enjoying a nice fire in his private sanctuary, with a good book, a glass of wine, and a copious amount of smokes - although the latter was a trademark of all of the Spy’s days. Relaxed, he’d just gotten tucked into his chair, tie loosened and top button undone.
It was an enjoyable sight for you, who’d just so happened to slip into his smoking room. Uninvited.
You, of course, were just another precious commodity of his, and therefore must be exempt from his desire for total solitude. You weren’t there to give him work, and you weren’t a mercenary. In fact, you were able to provide the most pleasant distraction of all! Though the quirk of Spy’s eyebrows as he heard you snake your way in suggested otherwise. His expression made you stall, just feet away from his desk. His gaze fell to his book, and the room was filled with just the crackling of the fireplace.
“I believe your line is, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”” It was cute, flirtatious enough. Your eyebrows raised, giving Spy a grin, lips twitching and faltering at the corners.
“What pleasure?” His voice is a heavy sigh, head lolling to the side as his blue eyes examined you, with just a hint more appreciation than previously. “To be interrupted? When, as I remember it, I rather explicitly stated to leave me alone?”
True. But that shouldn’t apply to you.
“I thought you might like the company…”
“I am okay.” Spy responded, eyes back on that book. A groan escaped your throat, coming around the side of his desk.
“I can make you feel even more relaxed.” You offered, leaning forward, his space thoroughly invaded. You’d used a cologne he’d remarked on a few times, and by the twitch of his nose beneath his balaclava, he’d registered it.
Spy took a drag from his cigarette, rolling his wrist as he spoke, smoke filling the air between you. “I don’t think that’s possible, mon chéri,” He gave a faux sympathetic pout, “I have nothing more to relax over. Your services, while I of course value them, are not something I have a particular necessity for right now. I have everything I could possibly want.” Grinning up at you, his hand flicked in dismissal.
He was being a tease, he was not one to ever earnestly shoot down such an offer - not with so much verbosity. Playing hard to get was not part of your game plan…
“What are you reading?” You questioned, circling around the back of his chair, head propping on his shoulder. You pressed your nose against his neck, giving a deep inhale. The smell of oranges lingered on him, likely a treat from earlier.
“Camus.”
Of course it was Camus. He seemed to be the only author Spy ever read, though he owned the works of Proust, Foucault, Sartre… So on and so forth, his bookshelves were packed rather tightly. But it always came back to Camus, and specifically, “The Stranger?” You guessed, to which Spy gave a small hum
You’d read it a handful of times, on Spy’s recommendation… Sort of. You’d lied about having read it to impress him - because you didn’t have much going for you being some desk clerk - and the next time he had checked in at the Teufort motel, he handed you a “personal copy,” since you both enjoyed such “refined art” and you might like to read his annotations. They were all in French. You read the entire novel in one night, at least it wasn’t especially long.
“It’s his best.” Spy responded.
“And you have read it before.” You urged, plucking the book from his gloved hand and setting it down, being considerate enough to place it pages down so Spy wouldn’t lose his place.
“... If your standard is things I’ve done before, you’re not providing a unique alternative.” His hand found your hip, giving it a squeeze.
“Haha, very funny.” The scoff that escaped you was quickly swallowed by Spy’s lips on yours, pleased hums harmonizing between you.
Hand cupping your cheek, he used his other to clear his desk, setting his wine and book in a less precarious position, before his lips worked their way down the side of your mouth, jaw, and neck. He turned you at the waist, your rear against his hips now - and the speed in which he managed to get excited made you chuckle.
You moved to begin undoing your shirt, although he stopped you, shaking his head. He then travelled south, his fingers undoing the button and zipper on your pants, slipping beneath the waistband of your briefs. The fine leather of his gloves made you squirm as his digits made contact with you, circling your clitoris with a practiced motion, bordering on bored in quality. Though his body language suggested anything but, as his erection pressed and rubbed against you.
As one hand worked between your legs, the other moved its way beneath your shirt and to your chest, cupping a breast, thumb and forefinger pulling your nipple as it hardened between his fingers. Face growing hot, you leaned forward more on the desk, letting out a small gasp as he continued his ministrations.
“Perhaps this is more relaxing for you than for me?” Spy teased, lips brushing against the shell of your ears, stubble tickling the skin. You pressed your cheek against the cool wood of his desk, giving no other answer than an annoyed whine.
His fingers at your clitoris moved further between your legs, smooth gloved digits now pushing their way inside you. A stuttering gasp escaped your mouth, thighs squeezing around his hand, like you needed to keep him there. Far from it.
“Are you going to help me at all? My trousers, darling.” He requested, giving your breast a firm grope. Rolling your eyes, you moved a hand back, giving a teasing rub near the tip of his cock, before undoing his fly and fidgeting with the button until it came undone. Satisfied, he pecked your cheek, before pulling you into an open mouthed kiss, his tongue licking at yours. Breathing through your nose, you palmed his cock, relishing in the briefest hint of wetness that was beginning to collect at the fabric.
His fingers thrusted inside of you, ears pricked for the telltale signs that he was doing the right thing. As your breath picked up in the kiss, and you groaned, he began to curl his fingers inside you. His other hand moved to the opposite breast now, giving it similar treatment. Moaning softly into the kiss, his hips began to buck into your hand, and you firmed your grasp around him, thumb swiping over the precum collecting at his head. He pulled out from the kiss, saliva following his departure and breaking against your chin.
“Still against my company?” You asked, a bit breathless. Spy shook his head, pulling down your pants and underwear to your knees now.
“Always so good at changing my mind, mon cœur.” He wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you back against him, letting himself slot between your thighs. “Now, why don’t you join me in my chair, hm? After all, I was so awfully lonely in it before…”
Dragging you with him, Spy sat back in his seat, settling you in his lap, his cock still protruding between your legs. He let out an amused chuckle, giving a few experimental thrusts, which you matched, sliding your thighs in rhythm with him. Your hand moved to cover the head of his length, smearing the precum and your own wetness along the shaft and your thighs. He groaned approvingly, before moving your thighs a bit further apart.
“You’re clearly more than ready for me.” He mused, his digits back to slowly rubbing your clitoris to keep you aroused and pliant, as his other hand helped to line himself up with your entrance. Moving your arms behind you, you encircled his neck, pulling his torso down to give yourself easier access to his lips. Your mild groan of discomfort was swallowed by him as he pushed his tip inside you, his own moan much louder.
It’s exactly what you’d wanted when you came to disturb him on his day off. Went to show him how little he desired your company, with the way he was thrusting inside you, he couldn’t wait to get himself as deep as possible. You pulled out of the kiss, chuckling deeply as he worked his way in. His grin was equally mischievous.
And then he stopped. He didn’t pull out, he just stilled inside you
“... Something wrong, dear?” The edge of doubt that filled your tone was absolutely picked up by him, and he attempted to smooth it over by groping at your chest again
“Of course not.” His hands left you, and… He grabbed that damn book again. “You have been learning French?
“... Bits and pieces.” You responded, a look of dread crossing your features as the realization began to dawn on you
“Then let's read.”
--
Spy’s firm resolve was a well known trait of his, lurking in corners, in shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike. The only man who likely rivaled Spy in that sense of patience was Sniper, and that too could be debated.
It didn’t just extend to Spy’s work, either. It has been an hour, you’d read- rather he’d read- about half the book by now. And he didn’t seem close to cracking. Any wiggle of your hips, needy moan, teasing clench and he didn’t flinch. He seemed totally absorbed in the book.
“What did you think of that passage?” He asked, kissing your neck.
“Huh?” You had not been paying attention, you stopped around page 3 when the language had gotten too complicated for you to follow along with, when his still firmly erect cock was buried inside you.
“The passage. That we are reading. What do you make of it?”
Au large, nous avons fait la planche et sur mon visage tourné vers le ciel le soleil écartait les derniers voiles d'eau qui me coulaient dans la bouche.
“They’re swimming.” You responded, exasperated.
He squeezed your breast harshly, making you cry out and squirm again. “What the hell do you want me to say?!”
“You’re smarter than that, mon chéri.” Spy sucked his teeth, pressing his nose into your cheek. “What do you make of it?”
“It…” Was so hard to focus. Between Spy’s refusal to move inside you, and him now kneading your chest- Oh, you could kill him. “The- dichotomy of what the sun represents in the novel.” You managed, and the kneading stopped, his brow raising.
“And?”
Fuck. “The sun… The swimming! What it means for him to witness the sun with Marie? I mean, it's not as harsh when he's with her. But he's about to lose all of that… It’s his last embrace of the sun before it rejects him…”
Spy thrusted. Oh, what a sick, sick man he was. His groping became softer. More focused on your nipples again.
“Do you think Meursault can love Marie?”
“... I think he does. It’s-” He moved his hips again, grinding into you. “It… Isn’t a question of can or can’t- he just does.” You gasped, pressing back into Spy as he found your clitoris again, moving his fingers against it lightly.
“You think that’s an emotion Meursault is capable of?” Spy asked, voice a lot lower, directly in your ear. “A man like him can… love?”
“Sure he can.” Spy’s hand on your breast went to squish your hips, fingers pressing into the fat there. His teeth grazed along your neck. “I… its- Even when he's in prison- He can’t think of Marie, because he loves her… And.. ah- he doesn’t want to taint her memory with… imagination.”
“Good boy.” Spy said, sounding a bit breathless himself. “Smart boy.” He added on, pulling and squeezing, moving deeper inside you. “Tell me, my smart boy. Do you taint your memory of me with any fantasies?”
Choking a bit over a squeal, you turned your face as far from Spy as possible, but he was quick to follow after you, now moving your hips to force you down harder on his cock. “Do you?”
“I- Well yes! But that’s nothing- hmmgh, you don’t do!” You hissed, feeling wetness trail down your thighs, a combination of both your fluids.
“I hardly need fantasy when I can have you like this whenever I so choose.” Spy quipped, biting the shell of your ear.
“Not true-” You bit back, toes curling as he found the same spot he’d searched for earlier, his fingers moving vigorously over your clitoris as well. It just made him laugh in your ear, shaky as it was.
His hips were a bit more unsteady now, a sign he was close. Though, he was a gentleman. He slowed down, much more focused on stimulating your clit now, the leather material didn’t provide great fiction, so he slowed his movements.
Your mouth fell open, eyes squeezing shut; little sound came out. You clenched around him, hard, hyperaware of how he pressed into you. He was as well, gasping and moaning, cock twitching against you. He continued to circle you with his fingers as you came down, making you whine from the overstimulation, but he wanted to draw out your orgasm as long as possible.
He was quick to follow, pulling out as he began to cum, causing it to spill not only inside you but along your thighs as well, a bit of an annoying habit of his.
“Spy…” You groaned, wiping your fingers through his mess. He merely hummed, grabbing your wrist and pulling your fingers to his mouth, licking himself off them.
“I can clean you up…” He purred, blue eyes meeting yours. “If you wish to keep me company for a while longer…”
Well… His free time was a rare commodity. Might as well indulge.
Masc!Reader / Spy
WC: 1.7k
Rating: E, Smut, NSFT
Tags: Clothing, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Mild Foot Fetish, Showers, Mild French from Non French Speaker Author
Fingers coursing through your hair, Spy pushed himself out of bed, rousing you from sleep. Your arms were wedged underneath your pillow, a small patch of drool on the silk case. Not a terribly attractive sight, though Spy hardly seemed to mind. Head turning towards him, your eyes fell across his lithe frame, his back facing you.
Spy had several moles and freckles across his body, burns from Pyro’s ambushes, knife wounds from enemy teammates, and scars that were a few decades faded. The sight was enough to truly begin to rouse you as he peeled off his underwear from the night before, eyebrows raising appreciatively as the sight of his rear end.
Though you weren’t ready to get up yet, rolling onto your side to watch Spy disappear into the bathroom, depriving you of the rather attractive sight he provided. A groan escaped you, and you began to drift off once more, existing in the space between awake and asleep, fending off the beginning of new dreams.
When you heard the door open again, your eyes glanced towards the clock. About 34 minutes had passed, and Spy was before you in his nude glory.
“Good morning…” You mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Your eyes trailed down his frame, half debating him inviting him back to bed.
Spy clicked his teeth, he seemed to be in a bad mood already. There must be some sort of battle, which meant you were about to be kicked out, back to return to the civilian life of Teufort while Spy putted around the outskirts of the city, doing whatever it is he actually did at his job. He’d tried to explain it, but the concept of respawn was too much to wrap your head around and so you’d just shut him up by kissing him instead.
Still, his bad mood didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy yourself, eyes tracking his groin as he moved about the room. His morning routine still remained a mystery to you, it was only recently he’d let you see his face…
It started, as most people’s did, with him pulling on his underwear. You let out a small whine, pouting as he turned his head to look at you, which broke into a cheeky grin. Spy’s eyes rolled practically into the back of his skull. “Needy thing, it is 7 in the morning, you know.”
Something stirred deep in your gut when Spy pulled a thin, white undershirt over his head, smoothing it out over his frame. You’d actually never considered just how long it took him to get dressed- considering how often you were doing the exact opposite. His flesh was just barely visible through the material, you could make out the slightest hint of his nipples. Spy shrugged his dress shirt atop of it, fingers delicately working over the buttons, fixing the collar.
Your hand traveled down, fingers brushing against your sensitive tip, trying to be as discreet about it as possible. You knew Spy was meticulous, and given the amount of pride he took in his appearance, this was to be expected. The speed of his fingers, though, and the clear routine he had… You couldn't help but find it a bit erotic.
Next was a piece you actually didn’t pay much attention to until now, usually another piece of hardware to get out of the way. “You wear garters like a woman.” You giggled.
“They keep my shirt tucked in.” Spy responded, attaching the clips to the ends of his shirt. Satisfied that they were secure, he wrapped the buckle around his thigh. Your heart stuttered a bit. The accessory was not overly tight, and Spy was a thin man, but his skin ever so slightly bulged around the strap. You tried to adjust the blanket over yourself, so he wouldn’t see what you were doing, staying on your side to look more convincingly like you were just laying there.
“You don’t know how to keep your shirt tucked?” You continued to tease, voice a bit tense. Spy’s head turned to you, lips twitching into a small smile.
“I do a lot of running around, mon ami.” He purred, “There’s… Quite a bit of shifting around underneath, if I didn’t use these I would look sloppy. Undistinguished…” His voice dropped an octave, and he was much slower in putting on the next clip, adjusting it around his thigh a few more times, running his fingers over the material. You bit your lip, thumb focused on your slit.
“Can’t have that…” You breathed, rolling onto your back and propping your free arm behind your head. “The Spy, unkempt. What would the others say if you were… slovenly.”
“The horror.” A hint of earnest creeped into Spy’s tone, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. He opened one of the draws on his dresser, and the brightly colored and patterned socks caused your expression to bloom into a full blown grin.
“You’re cute.” Your hand moved down to squeeze your testicles, before moving back to graze against the underside of your cock. “How old are you, 50?”
“My age is irrelevant to my fashion choices.” He scoffed, grabbing a pair of socks with roses dotted across them. A far cry from his usual attitude, where different pieces made him look like “some kind of greaser” or “backwater beatnik.” Chuckling, you wrapped your hand around yourself, giving a few lazy strokes.
Spy rolled one of the socks over his left foot, pulling it taut over his ankle, before flexing out his toes. A soft breath escaped you, hand working quicker over yourself. His sly smirk was not missed. The right sock was pulled on even more slowly, leg hair covered up by the delicate floral fabric. You hadn’t expected Spy to be a hairy man the first time you got together, though it was rather appreciated.
“Aren’t you going to be late for work?” You asked, shifting on the bed, propping yourself up more against the pillows.
“They won’t start without me. Who’s going to give them a pep talk?” He breathed through his nose, squaring his shoulders. He grabbed another set of garters, for his socks this time. You thought about mentioning that he could likely use a different piece of hardware that would keep his shirt tucked in and socks up without having to put on 4 separate pieces, but… Well, if it ain’t broke.
Spy turned to face you as he put the sock garters on, placing his foot on the bed chest as he snapped it in place. Your eyes flicked between the outline of his cock in his briefs, to his fingers working over the straps on his ankle. If he was affected by your self pleasuring, he was rather good at hiding it. Your hand moved faster, squeezing tighter around yourself. The second garter was attached, and Spy’s behind was facing you again as he retrieved his trousers from his dresser.
“You’re just as excited by my dressing as my undressing.” He finally commented, slipping in one leg after the other. “I suppose I am just that irresistible.” He crooned, undercut by the sound of his zipper.
“You just put a lot of effort in.” You said, voice breathier as your hand moved. “I can’t think of another man who’s taken his entire outfit so seriously.”
“Most men are animals.” Spy sneered, unfurling his belt with a thick thwap sound, buckle clinking in his hand. Your cock throbbed in your palm. “If even half of them took as much pride in themselves as I did, well the world would be much better off.” He fed the leather through his belt loops, pulling it tight, perhaps tighter than he normally would. His belt seemed to strain a bit against his hips, not that you were complaining.
“And you’re my favorite animal of all.” You pursed your lips together as you spoke.
“Toi de même.” He adjusted his trousers a bit, before grabbing a tie next. It, too, had a floral pattern. A thought floated through your mind, it would look rather nice tied around some other parts of him… His hands were skilled over the fabric, pulling it into a 15-step knot, something that likely went unappreciated by everyone else until just now. You pressed your fingers against your balls again, groaning softly. Animal you were, indeed.
You quickened your actions, he only had a few more steps to his outfit after all. The balaclava was next, and it was perhaps the most disappointing aspect, although only briefly. You did rather like the mask, even if you preferred his face. He slicked his hair back, the mask being pulled over his head in a fluid motion, pulled just down to his collar. He faced you again as he pulled a glove on.
“Are you done?” He asked, approaching the edge of the bed. “I need to go.”
“Almost…” You assured, hand working faster, face heating up as you took in his freshly showered scent. He let out a tortured sigh, pulling the blanket away from you. You let out a gasp, which he cut off by kissing you, his ungloved hand embracing your stiff length. The kiss was rough, especially for so early in the morning, teeth scraping against lips, and you could taste his mint mouthwash, nostrils now overpowered with his shampoo and aftershave.
You whimpered into his mouth, the hand that had been around your cock now resting atop his, moving along with it. He pulled out of the kiss, narrowing his eyes at you. “Orgasm. Like you said, I will be late.” His tone was low, and he gave a rough squeeze. A hiss escaped you, and you took in another inhale of his scent, before cumming into his palm. Spy smiled, pulling away and shaking out his hand in your direction.
“Gross!” You glared at him as your own cum splattered your cheek.
“You needed to shower anyway. You smell like intercourse.” Spy remarked, pulling his other glove on, an action that was erotically disgusting in and of itself. “You best be gone before the enemy arrives, mon ami.” He warned, putting his jacket on as he blew you a mocking kiss and exited the room.
Gone before the enemy arrived, your ass. You weren’t about to skip out on the opportunity of Spy’s shower. And perhaps take the chance to leave him something to remember you by. But mostly, using his shower.
forcemasc that includes posture training to teach you to sit like you used to before people trained you to be "ladylike": legs spread, unafraid to take up space
starts with a spreader bar between your knees 'because why would you be allowed to keep me from easily accessing my toys?'
then, the next step: every time you forget to sit right, the inside of your thighs get swats from a belt or crop or cane until they're too sore to cross anyway
and when you finally get it right without prompting, legs falling open as you sit down, you get the best blowjob of your life
graduating college means applying for jobs, scary. it also means a whole new range of things to fantasize about.
Having to call in some kid's dad because of some behavioral issues or something. The why isn't that important. Just that it's this older man and me, first year in this field, I'm nervous and he can tell. and he's so apologetic, they'll work on it at home, someone like me shouldn't be subjected to his poor parenting after all.
And he can see how flustered he's making me. He's handsome, not married for whatever reason, he smells divine. He starts to brush his foot against my leg under my desk. I start to stammer, I can't even focus on the points I wanna make. He gives me his number and invites me out for dinner.
I go home after the meeting and alternate between almost texting him and touching myself thinking about what he could do to me. Eventually I build up the courage to text him and we set up a date. A few flirty exchanges, maybe some risque pictures.
When the date finally comes around we don't even make it inside the restaurant. He's too busy fucking me in the backseat of his car, telling me how good I'm doing for my first time. If he means this job, or sex, I'm not sure. But I'll accept the praise either way.
influx of v1nny v1nesauce fans on this account is making me giggle. we are imagining two very different men to the same post. i didn't realize my musings were so relatable to this group.
I'm more than a little bit obsessive when I like someone by the way. every picture I can get every chance to hear his voice and I take it. i want our bodies to be one in the same, and I want everyone to think of me when they think of him, and him when they think of me. inseparable. i want to make him feel the best he's ever felt. with my body, words, and mind.
