I don't know what to title this. Mike hits it from the back. (18+)
Mike Schmidt x fem reader
1.6k words Tags: 18+, fem reader, brat reader, brat tamer mike, creampie, mike is an ass man, head (reader receiving), fingering, brief plug use (pussy), just pure filth, porn with no plot
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Since the events at Freddy's a year ago, things were finally starting to look up for Mike. His new job as a contractor and the subsequent new house he was able to afford after took a huge weight off his shoulders.
For once in his life since his dad left him at eighteen, he didn't have to scrape and claw his way through the month to pay rent and put food on the table. Who would have guessed poverty could be so stressful?
Still, there was one more little addition to his life that easily topped the other two: you.
Mike still couldn't believe he was dating you after all this time, that you were really his. Some days, he swore you were an angel sent from heaven, helping him with the house and Abby when things got overwhelming.
Other days, like today, he was sure you had to have been a test from Satan, a temptation of the highest degree, luring him to sin.
Mike stepped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from you tonight, but it certainly wasn't something this calculated and seductive.
His eyes went to your ass first, a sight that made him groan as he sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to let you see his obvious arousal under the towel.
You were laying tummy-down on his bed in an obnoxiously tiny skirt that showed your bare ass and thighs beautifully. Mike's eyes trailed further up your body as his hand reached to squeeze your thigh, and saw you were also wearing his sweatshirt.
"Really?" he asked, giving you a playful smack on the ass as you pretended to read a book, your disinterested façade slipping away the more he touched you. "Is that my book, too?"
"Dream theory," you smile, making eye contact with him through the mirror on the wall in front of you. "Interesting stuff."
Mike's face flushes with a twinge of pink as he coughs out a reply. "I- that's old. I bought that when I was in high school."
This gets a giggle out of you, thumbing through the pages of his "old" purchase. "Mmm, well I'm on chapter three. Really enjoying your annotations."
Mike heard enough. He couldn't let you read any further. He snatched the book up with one hand and lifted your skirt with the other, fully exposing you to him.
You try to roll over in protest, but Mike is already holding you in place with strong hands.
"Nuh-uh," he starts, dropping his towel and positioning himself behind you, cock already herd and twitching. "In my bed, wearing my clothes, reading my book. 'Sgonna cost you."
"Oh, I didn't realize this was your skirt, Mike." You turn your head to look back at him with mock-innocence as he cages your body in with his own.
"Smartass." He smacks you again on the rear, this time with enough force to sting for a second.
With a yelp, you try to squirm out of his grasp, but it's too late. He wraps an arm around your neck, laying halfway on top of you with his hard dick pressing against the curve of your ass. His bicep puts a delicious pressure on the sides of your neck, and you have to bite back a moan.
"Safe word," he growls, breath hot and heavy against your ear. "Or I'm taking you right now. Just like this."
You just moan in response, eyes fluttering shut as you melt under the pressure and warmth of Mike's body.
He doesn't take well to this, reaching up under your his sweatshirt and tweaking your nipple in a way that always makes you squeal. "Words."
"Ah- just- ah! Fuck me!"
Mike doesn't stop to ask twice, he simply grabs his cock and begins to guide it in with one hand. That is, until, he feels his tip hit something hard and foreign.
Startled, he backs up off the bed as you giggle, reaching out for his hand and guiding it to your cunt. "Just keeping it warm for you!"
Mike groans as he pulls something out; a plug. It's burning hot to the touch, and he has to fight the urge to pop it straight in his mouth.
If he gets a taste for you, he'll easily spend an hour licking and sucking at your perfect pussy. Which, he'd be willing to do on a normal night, but right now? His dick is protesting the thought of anything but fucking you here and now. He feels a jolt, a painful throb shooting up from the base to tip, and quickly gets back into position.
He wants to put it in slowly, tease you inch by inch, but your greedy cunt sucks up his length so easily he sinks balls deep in one quick thrust. You moan beautifully in response, a pornagraphic sound that Mike can barely hear over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. He's unsure how there's even enough blood left for that with how much must have rushed to his dick when he felt just how perfect and wet you are.
"You're so hot," Mike whispers reverently, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "M'gonna cum too fast if we do it like this. So tight this way."
Your cunt clenches around him at the words, and he buries his face in your neck in a pathetic attempt to cover the whine that draws out of him. You'd picked this position for a reason, laying flat on your stomach with your legs closed.
Prone bone. His favorite. You'd already known he wouldn't last long, but that's half of why it was so hot. The other half was the guilty apology head he'd undoubtedly give you after, making you cum over and over with expert fingers until your legs shake.
"Then come." You clench around him again, intentionally this time, daring him to spill right now.
Mike groans and finally begins to move, growling out a couple words between each quick thrust. "So... damn... tight..." he marvels at how good your pussy milks his cock.
Its hard to keep your legs closed, as part of you wants to spread them open as far as they'll go, give him easy access. You hold back, though, knowing closed legs makes it even tighter for him. It'll all be worth it when he comes in a minute flat.
Each thrust has you arching into it, trying to wiggle your hips to his rhythm in hopes he'll go deeper than he's ever been. At this angle, it already feels that way, and you try to let him know with an incoherent fucked-out stream of babbles and curses.
As predicted, Mike can't keep up the pace for long. His thrusts grow more shallow, and as you look over your shoulder you can see him holding the base of his cock, face contorted in a desperate attempt to focus and keep from coming. The sight is too much, nearly drawing out your own orgasm despite the sloppier rhythm.
"Mike, come." You command him, tone switching from playful to stern in an instant.
His doesn't protest. His weight shifts as he let's go of his cock, planting both hands into the bed for better leverage. In just a few deep thrusts, he's coming, hot spurts that fill you to the brim and then some. He pulls out far too late, painting your ass and lower back with the last few ropes of pearly white cum.
Its an obscene amount, and Mike almost feels bad for the mess. Almost. Instead, he simply wipes you off with his discarded towel, planting a few quick kisses to your back as he does.
"Fuck, you didn't... did you...?" He can barely make eye contact, staring at your ass instead as he kneads at your thighs in an apologetic manner.
"Nope." Slowly, you lift your hips, pulling yourself up onto your knees and elbows, back arched so he can get a good view of the mess he made. His spend dribbles out of your cunt and down your thighs, and you can see all the shame leave his face in an instant as he's faced with your lewd display.
Mike shoves two fingers in your cunt with a groan, trying to keep his cum plugged up inside you. Where it belongs.
You moan a response, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get some friction going. You were sooo close when he was fucking you, just needed a liiiitle more from him...
That's when he adds a third finger, and though not as long as his cock, it's definitely thicker. A heat spreads through your abdomen and you can tell what's coming next before it happens.
Mike latches onto your clit, sucking hard as you ride his fingers. When he feels the fluttering of your orgasm, he sucks harder, squeezing your hip with his free hand.
Its not on his cock, but it may be the hardest you've ever come in your life. All the time spent teasing yourself on that plug while he showered had riled you up, and Mike practically edged you with how short he lasted inside you. His fingers are deliciously thick, and he guides your movements with his free hand on your hip as you ride them.
"Fuck, Mike..." You collapse on his bed, all but panting from the stimulation.
He isn't finished with you, though, and you squeal with a mixture of fear and delight as his body cages you in again once more. His dick is hard again, pressing into you as he yanks your hips back up to meet his own.
"M'not done here."
From the intense look in his eyes, you can tell he means it. This won't be your last orgasm tonight.
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Reminder that you should follow me on @stop-talking-vtwo if you only want to be updated for new fic drops and not my shitposts <3
A/N:
I went off my depression meds that were KILLING my libido like 3 days ago and now I'm horny and inspired again. God bless America god bless vibrators and god bless the FNAF 2 movie 🔥
You're the golden child of Mondstadt, the untouchable Ragnvindr heir. He's the big bastard who had you begging after one drunk night. Three weeks later, you're back in an alley, and Varka is never going to let you forget what you really are.
warnings: smut, rough sex, degradation, power dynamics (obvious ones), hints of prey and predator, praise kink, semi public sex, orgasm control, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie, brat training, dubcon here and there
notes: big bad Varka fucks (implied) Ragnvindir golden child. They hate and love each other. It’s implied they’re fuck buddies but long distance. I can fix him but worse. I support soft!varka but I neeedddd this man to fuck me UPPPPPPP! 😋
You saw him three weeks later.
Not on purpose. Mondstadt was not that small, and you were not that unlucky. You had told yourself firmly, repeatedly, in the voice you used for closing arguments —the one that made seasoned merchants wither and Fatui diplomats check their contracts twice— that the first time had been an aberration. A lapse in judgment. A single, regrettable data point in a lifetime of making better, safer, more sensible choices. You had filed him away under unrepeatable, locked the drawer, and thrown away the metaphorical key. You had moved on with your life, returned to your meticulous ledgers and your carefully curated reputation.
Then you turned a corner near the fountain, and there he was.
Varka, the Titan of the Knights of Favonius, the man who wrestled bears for sport and drank lesser men under the table, was leaning against a wall. He was smoking something that was most certainly not a cigarette -something dark and herbal that curled in lazy, blue-grey ribbons from between his teeth. His broad shoulders, wide as a doorway, were relaxed against the stone. His broken jaw, now healed but with a faint, gloriously crooked line that spoke of a brawl he'd clearly won, caught the afternoon light. He wasn't doing anything. Varka was simply existing. And that existence was enough to hitch your breath, tighten your stomach into a knot of hot wire, and send a flood of something molten through your veins that you refused— refused— to name. He looked up. Those light blue eyes, the color of a winter sky just before a blizzard, caught sight of you. And then he smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was not an apologetic, fancy-meeting-you-here smile. No, this was the smile of a man who remembered exactly what you had sounded like when you said please, your voice cracking on the vowel. The smile of a man who had replayed those sounds in his head during long rides and colder nights. The smile of a man who was already imagining, with vivid, obscene detail, what you would sound like this time. You should have walked away. You should have turned on your heel, crossed the street, retreated to the safety of Dawn Winery, and spent the evening reorganizing Diluc's ledgers by grape varietal and soil pH level purely to irritate him. You should have done any of the hundred sensible, logical, survivable things that your position, your reputation, your carefully constructed armor demanded.
Instead, you glided forward. You did not walk. Walking was for merchants and tourists, for people with destinations and timelines. You glided, your feet carrying you across the sun-drenched cobblestones without your explicit permission, your body remembering what your mind had tried so desperately to forget: the weight of him, the scrape of his stubble, the low, rumbling sound of his laugh in the dark. Varka did not move. He stayed against the wall, his casual smile widening into something sharper, his gaze tracking your approach with the lazy, coiled patience of a wolf who had all the time in the world and knew the deer was walking right into his jaws.
“Y/nn," he said, when you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body like a furnace. He drawled your nickname, rolling the syllables on his tongue as if tasting them. You did not correct his use of it. You did not tell him that only your family called you that. You simply stopped in front of him, close enough that your coat brushed his boots, and you looked up into his face. The healed jaw. The light eyes that held a permanent glint of amused chaos. The mouth that had said such terrible, wonderful things last time.
"Hello," you said. Your voice was steady. You were proud of that small victory.
Varka chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his broad chest. "Back so soon?" He took a long, slow drag from his herbal stick, the tip flaring orange.
“I'm always here. Monthly visits. Family."
"Ah." The Grand Master nodded sagely, blowing a perfect smoke ring that drifted past your cheek. "The family. The brother with the fire vision and the permanent scowl. Master Diluc. What's he up to these days? Still brooding in his cellar like a grape with a grudge?"
"He's... Diluc," you said, which was answer enough.
"And the younger one,” Varka's eyes crinkled before continuing, “The one with the eyepatch and the smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Kaeya. I heard he's been causing trouble down at the Angel's Share. Something about a tab and a diplomat from Snezhnaya. My most trusted knight, that one.”
You didn't say anything. Archons, you didn't know if you could. Your throat had closed up entirely.
Varka flicked the remains of his smoke away. It landed in a shallow puddle and died with a soft, final hiss. He pushed off from the wall then, and the casual air vanished. He loomed over you, all six-and-a-half feet of him, and his voice dropped to a gravelly murmur. "There's an alley," he said, nodding his head toward a narrow gap between two buildings. "No windows. No witnesses. Just brick, shadow, and me."
You should have said no. You should said I have to get back, or Diluc is expecting me for dinner, or this was a mistake the first time and it would be a catastrophic mistake again. You should have said any of the thousand sensible things screaming in your head.
Instead, you looked up at him, at the hard line of his jaw and the terrible promise in his pale eyes, and you said, “Lead the way.” His smile widened. He clapped a heavy hand on your lower back: proprietary, possessive-and steered you toward the darkness.
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The alley was exactly as advertised. No windows. No witnesses. A single, rusted door that led to someone's storage room, locked and bolted from the other side. The walls were close, close enough to touch both at once. The ground was damp, the air thick with the smell of old rain and newer secrets. The golden light from the main street barely reached the corners, leaving everything in a murky, intimate twilight. It was the kind of place where things happened that people did not talk about over wine.
Varka wasted no time. He turned you, pressed your back against the cold, rough brick, and caged you in with his body. His chest was hard as a shield against yours, his thighs bracketing your hips. His hands -big, calloused, scarred from a hundred forgotten brawls- were already on you. One gripped your hip with bruising certainty. The other found your waist, then the buttons of your coat, undoing them with a dexterity that belied his size. He did not kiss you. He did not ask. He simply pinned you there, his weight an immovable force, and he looked at you. His gaze traveled down your face, your neck, the line of your collarbone exposed by your loosened coat, with an expression that made you feel like you were being unwrapped, layer by layer, for his personal inspection.
"You came back," he said. Not a question. An observation. A fact.
You swallowed. "I was in the city-“
"You came back," he repeated, cutting you off with a low chuckle, "because you wanted this. Because you've been thinking about it. Because you've been touching yourself at night, remembering the way I made you cry." He leaned in, his stubbled jaw scraping against your ear, his breath hot and smelling of herbs and smoke. "Haven't you, Y/nn?"
You did not deny it. You couldn't. The truth was a living, writhing thing in your chest, and he had already seen it, already named it, already held it up to the blinding light. Your silence was all the confirmation he needed. He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his smile turning cruel and beautiful. "You want me to degrade you," he said, matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather or the price of grain. "You want me to tell you what you are."
You swallowed again, your throat dry. "And what am I?"
"You're a brat." Varka laughed, a short, sharp bark of a sound. "A spoiled, entitled, fucking brat who's used to getting what she wants. You walk into rooms and people move aside. You open your mouth and people listen. You think you're untouchable." He tightened his grip on your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. "But you're not untouchable. You're here. In an alley, in the dark, with a man who doesn't give a single shit about your name or your title or your perfect little record." His pale eyes bored into yours. "You're here because deep down, under all that armor and attitude, you need someone to remind you what you really are."
You should have been angry. Furious, even. The old you, the one who ran boardrooms and intimidated merchants, would have knee'd him in the groin and walked away with a scathing remark. But you weren't angry. Instead, you were feeling something else. Something that burned low in your belly, something that ached in your chest. Something that wanted him to keep talking, keep pushing, keep taking you apart piece by glorious piece.
"And what am I?" you asked again. Your voice was not steady this time. It cracked on the last word. You didn't care.
"You're a whore," Varka said. Flatly. Easily. The way he might have said you're from Mondstadt or you have pretty eyes. No judgment, no malice. Just a label. A truth. "You're a pretty little whore who came back for more because the first time wasn't enough. Because you're greedy. Because you're empty inside, and you think if someone fucks you hard enough, you'll finally feel full."
The word hit you like a physical slap. A ringing blow to the cheek. You have been called many things in your life. Prodigy. Menace. Golden child. You had never been called a whore. You had never been called anything that reduced you so completely to this: this body, this wanting, this desperate, nameless need that had no end and no satisfaction.
“Say it," he commanded, his voice dropping lower, harder. "Say what you are." You looked up at him. Your eyes were wet. You didn't know when that had happened. A single tear tracked down your cheek, and he watched it fall with an almost clinical fascination.
"I'm a whore," you whispered.
“Louder." His hand moved from your hip to your jaw, gripping it, forcing your face up to his.
"I'm a whore!" you gasped, the word echoing off the brick.
"Whose whore?”
"Yours." The word came out broken, a half-sob, a half-laugh, ragged and raw. "Yours. Here. Tonight. Just—please." He kissed you then. It was not a kiss. It was a claim.
His mouth was rough, demanding, all teeth and tongue. He bit your lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of copper, then soothed it with a swipe of his tongue. His stubble scraped your chin, your cheeks, leaving a pleasant, burning abrasion. You kissed him back with the same ferocity, biting, pulling his lower lip, giving as good as you got. You tasted smoke and him: a wild, masculine taste that flooded your senses. He pulled away first, his chest heaving. He was smiling again. That terrible, beautiful, infuriating smile.
"Good girllll," Varka cooed and drawled, the praise a warm balm after the degradation. He patted your cheek —a condescending little slap— and then turned you around with a rough shove. "Now turn around and put your hands on the wall."
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He made you work for it. That was the thing you had not expected. The first time, three weeks ago, Varka had done everything: pinned you, held you down, taken you apart with his hands and his mouth and the relentless, driving pressure of his body. He had been the hunter, and you the prey.
This time, he did almost nothing. You stood there, palms flat against the cold brick, your forehead resting on your forearm, your heart hammering. You heard him shift behind you. You waited. Nothing happened.
"Get to it," he said, his voice casual, almost bored.
You didn't understand. You shifted your weight, trying to look back at him over your shoulder.
He was leaning against the opposite wall, his beefy arms crossed over his massive chest, his expression one of pure, amused anticipation. His belt was still buckled. His pants were still done. He hadn't touched you at all. "I said move," Varka repeated, tilting his head. “You want it? You work for it. I'm not your servant, sweetheart."
You understood then. The heat that flooded your face was not shame-you had left shame behind in the first alley, three weeks ago, probably in a puddle next to a discarded cigarette-but something else. Something that felt like being seen. Being known. He wasn't going to give you anything. You had to take it.
You moved. You pressed back against him, grinding your hips against his crotch, feeling the thick bulge beneath his trousers. You arched your spine, pushing your ass against him in a slow, deliberate roll. Varka simply stood there, letting you rub against him like a cat against a scratching post, his arms still crossed, his expression still that infuriating, lazy smile.
"Pathetic," he murmured, watching you squirm. “Is that the best you can do? I've seen drunk hilichurls with better rhythm."
You tried harder. You bit your lip, arched your back until it almost hurt, and pushed your ass against him with more force, making a sound that was supposed to be seductive but came out as a desperate, needy whine.
He laughed. The laugh was low, dark, rumbling up from his chest, the laugh of a man who was enjoying himself immensely and had absolutely no intention of helping you. "You're going to have to do better than that, princess. Much better." You ceased your frantic movement. Frustration, hot and sharp, clawed at your throat. The brat in you -the part that had never quite been tamed, the part that argued with Diluc until he slammed the door in your face and provoked Kaeya just to watch him smirk- rose up like a snarling beast.
Fine. You turned around to face him. In an impulsive, reckless move, you dropped to your knees on the damp cobblestones. Varka raised a single, light brown eyebrow.
"Oh?"
You didn't answer. You reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle. You got it open, then the button, then the fly. You pulled his cock out -he was already hard, had probably been hard since you first glided towards him in the city center, the bastard- and you took the flushed, heavy tip into your mouth without preamble. Varka let out a sound. It was almost a groan, almost a compliment, almost enough. A low, guttural "ah" that vibrated through his thighs. You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting salt and him, and took him deeper. Then his hand was fisting in your hair. He didn't pull gently. He pulled with a wrench that was barely a hint of his true strength, dragging you off his cock with a wet, obscene pop.
"Not yet," Varka said, his voice rougher now, the casual amusement giving way to something darker. "I didn't say you could." You looked up at him from your knees. Your lips were wet with pre-cum. Your eyes were watering from the force of his pull. Your knees ached on the stones. You were, you realized distantly, having the absolute tease of your life.
“You're a fucking tease," you hissed, the words venomous. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back at an angle that bared your throat.
He let out a sharp, short laugh. "And you're a fucking brat." He hauled you to your feet by your hair, ignoring your indignant yelp. "Get up. Turn around. Hands on the wall. Now."
He turned you around again, pushing you easily against the brick, his body caging you in. His hands were on your hips, rough and impatient, pulling your dress up to your waist, yanking your underwear down to your thighs. You heard him spit —the sound was obscene, intimate, a wet promise of what was coming— and then he was inside you. You weren't ready. The stretch was too much, a burning, perfect pressure that forced a choked cry from your lips. And exactly enough. Before you could voice your displeasure, before you could even draw a full breath, Varka was holding your hips in a bruising grip, setting a brutal pace, and fucking you the way you had been rubbing your clit to every single night for the past three weeks. He was not gentle. He was never gentle. He drove into you with a groan and a force that slammed you into the wall, your cheek scraping against the rough brick, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the unyielding surface. He pulled you back by your hair-again-making you arch your spine at an obscene angle, changing the angle of his thrusts so that he was hitting something deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes and drool drip from your open lips onto the wall.
“Look at you," Varka crooned, his voice a low, admiring growl in your ear. He punctuated each word with a deep, grinding thrust. "You're so fucking greedy. You came back for this. You walked across the whole city center for me."
"Yes," you gasped, the word torn from your throat. "Yes, yes-"
"Yes what?"
"Fuck! Yes, I came back for this! I wanted-l wanted-"
"You wanted to be fucked in an alley like a common whore."
"Yes-" you panted, your fingers curling against the brick.
"You wanted me to put you in your place."
"Yes-ngh-"
"You wanted me to degrade you."
A hastily nod. A murmured soft plea to get him to stop speaking.
Varka only scoffed in response. "You wanted to go back to your brother's house tonight with my come dripping down your thighs and pretend nothing happened."
The word brother should have stopped you.
Should have iced your veins, sobered you up, reminded you of where you were and who you were supposed to be. Diluc's knowing glare. Kaeya's probing questions. The family dinner you were already an hour late for.
Instead, it pushed you higher. Pushed you closer to the thing you could feel building in your belly like a summer thunderstorm, all pressure and lightning and imminent, violent release.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-" you whined, the sounds coming out in rhythm with every brutal thrust. “M'so close-ah-"
He pulled out.
You almost screamed. The emptiness was worse than the fullness, the sudden absence a physical pain that made your inner walls clench around nothing. You tried to press back against him, tried to pull him back into you, a broken, desperate noise escaping your throat.
Varka laughed. That terrible, beautiful, cruel laugh. He held you still with an iron grip on your hips.
"Did I say you could come?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern.
"No," you cried out, the word ragged.
"That's right. I didn't." His hand came down on your ass. Hard. The slap echoed off the alley walls, sharp and wet, and you let out a sharp, shocked gasp. He did it again. And again. Three, four, five times, each strike landing on the same tender spot, making your skin burn and your thighs shake. You were so close you could taste it, a copper tang of frustrated need on your tongue.
“Please," you sobbed. The word came out without your permission, the same way it had three weeks ago, the same way it always seemed to come out when you were with him. Begging. Broken. "Please, please, please-"
"Please what?" He leaned over you, his chest hot against your back, his mouth at your ear.
"Please fuck me. Please let me come. Please, I'l be good, l'll be so good, l'll-“
"You'll what?"
"I'll do anything." You were crying now, tears of frustration and desperate, aching need streaming down your face. "Anything. Just-"
Varka pushed back inside you in one smooth, devastating thrust. You let out a sharp yelp, your body bowing. Then he stopped. He didn't move. He stood there, buried to the hilt, and he waited.
"Then do it yourself," he said. You didn't understand. You tried to move, tried to fuck yourself on him, humping back against his hips. He held you still, his grip like iron, not letting you get more than a centimeter of movement.
"No," Varka laughed at you, the sound breathless now, his own control fraying. "Not like that. You want to come? You work for it. I'm not moving an inch. You are." You looked over your shoulder at him. His face was flushed a deep red, his light blue eyes were nearly black with want. A vein throbbed in his temple. Despite his mocking smile, despite his cruel game, Varka was watching you with an intensity that made you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a dragon.
"You want me to-"
"I want you to bounce on my cock like the desperate little whore you are," he said, enunciating each word with vicious clarity. "I want you to do all the work. I want to watch you fall apart while I do nothing but stand here and enjoy the show." The brat in you rose up one final time. It grinned, sharp and feral.
"Fine," you hissed. You started to move. It was awkward at first. The angle was wrong, your legs were shaking uncontrollably, and he was absolutely no help at all, content to just stand there like a statue, his hands resting on your hips, letting you do all the labor. You pushed back against him, lifted yourself up on trembling thighs, and dropped back down. The sound was wet, obscene, exactly what he wanted to hear.
"That's it," Varka groaned, the praise torn from him despite himself. "That's a good girl. Keep going."
You found a rhythm. A pace. A way of moving that made his cock hit that perfect spot inside you every time you dropped down onto him. Your vision blurred. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto the brick. Your hair was sticking to your face, your carefully applied makeup was surely ruined, and you had never felt more completely undone in your entire life. His hands tightened on your hips. And then he started to move. Not much. Just a little. Just enough to change the rhythm, to throw you off, to push you closer to the edge with every shallow, teasing thrust.
"Come," Varka commanded, his voice a ragged growl. He patted your head condescendingly, a mockery of affection that made you let out a frustrated, keening whine as he yanked your head back. "Come for me. Now." You came.
The orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave, like a wildfire, like something you had been holding back for weeks and simply could not contain any longer. You cried out-loud, far too loud, the sound echoing off the alley walls and probably into the street beyond-and he fucked you through it, not gentle, not kind, but exactly what you needed. His hips snapped against your ass, driving into you as you clenched and spasmed around him. He came a moment later, his own control finally shattering. You felt him shudder, felt him empty into you in hot, pulsing waves, felt his forehead drop to your shoulder. A low, guttural groan vibrated against your skin. You stood there for a long moment, breathing ragged, sweating, pressed together in the dark silence of the alley. Then he pulled out. Stepped back. The sudden loss of his heat made you shiver. You leaned against the wall, your legs shaking violently, your body humming like a plucked string. You heard him tuck himself away, the rustle of fabric, the click of his belt buckle. Then a heavy hand landed on your ass one last time-not a slap, just a possessive, lingering pat.
"Good girl," Varka said again, his voice warm, amused, utterly satisfied. "Now get cleaned up. You're gonna be late for dinner with my knights."
BRAT TAMER CLARK X BITCHY READER HEADCANONS
|kinktober masterlist|
brat tamer!clark who lets his mouthy, spoiled girl talk to him however she wants in front of other people; calm smile, hands in his pockets, letting everyone believe he’s too soft to put you in your place. but behind closed doors, that smile fades, and he has you trembling, voice breaking on apologies he coaxes out of you in whispers.
brat tamer!clark who knows people wonder how a man like him, polite, kind, gentle, could handle someone like you. they’d never believe what happens when that front door shuts, when his voice drops low, and your defiance melts right out of you.
brat tamer!clark who makes you repeat every sharp remark you threw at him during the day, voice shaky as he pushes deeper. “go on, sweetheart,” he drawls, “what was it you said about me earlier?”
brat tamer!clark who understands that every bit of your attitude is just a plea for his attention. and he always gives it, slow, deliberate, until you’re soft and pliant again, his name spilling out instead of sass.
brat tamer!clark who pretends to be annoyed by your stubbornness, the eye rolls, and the teasing, but secretly adores it, the contrast between his calm steadiness and your fire. it keeps things interesting, keeps him chasing that look on your face when you finally give in.
brat tamer!clark who murmurs praise between every correction “good girl,” “that’s it,” “knew you’d come around for me” until you’re nothing but shaky breaths and quiet yes sirs.
brat tamer!clark who loves you too much to ever truly punish you, but just enough to make sure you remember who you belong to.
It started off as a sniffle. Then you threw up mere feet away from the toilet. Needless to say, your morning was off to such a terrible start.
“Remember to drink water, birdie,” Kyle called from the common area couch, sipping his tea. You trudged to the armchair, giving him a nasty look.
“‘Remember to drink water’—“ You sneered before succumbing to a coughing fit. You curled up on the chair, sipping your water like a gerbil. “Of course I will.” Kyle raised a brow.
You always got insanely snappy, and bitchy, when sick. You knew you were being mean but man, you couldn’t stop yourself. You were just tired of everyone hovering over you.
“I can fuckin’ take care of myself. I’m not a child.” You continued, glowering at Kyle with glazed over eyes. You reminded him of a petulant child. It would’ve been adorable, if not because of the circumstances.
“I never said you couldn’t take care of yourself, sweetheart,” Kyle replied calmly. He puts his mug down on the coffee table. “I just think you merely forget what your body needs at times.” You were about to protest, yet again, when he placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Hm…not as warm as you were earlier. Not the best either.”
You blinked. His warm brown eyes just looked so inviting, it made you melt like a puddle. He smiled a little before ruffling your hair. “You messed it all up.” You pout.
“It was messed up before.” Kyle countered, draping a blanket over you. You sneezed in response. “Poor thing.”
It wasn’t a huge surprise when you fell asleep shortly after, clutching onto Kyle like he was your lifeline. Kyle, as always, didn’t necessarily care. It’s not like he had better things to do.
Description: Ghost retired from the military after soaps death, instead taking up private protection, his latest client? A wealthy tycoon owner who's hired him to protect his only child
The only problem? Said child is spoiled, entitled brat and used to getting away with it all. Well that all changes with the introduction of Ghost into their life, he doesn't do well with disobedience.
MINORS DNI you will be blocked
Warnings/tags: slightly dubious consent, rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, vaginal sex, p in v, unprotected p in v, not safe or sane, fingering, slight daddy kick if you squint, age gap, unprofessional behavior, unprofessional relationships, reader is ftm, reader is curvy/plus size, bodyguard!Ghost, Brat!reader, spoiled!reader, reader is afab, reader has a pussy, reader is a player, unrealistic (99% of porn/smut is).
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A/n: first post and first time writing smut! Lemme know how I did, or not. This has been sitting in my head for a while, I just finally got it out of head and onto paper. Enjoy. I apologize if its not the best writing, again it's my very first time writing smut, tusualty write other shit and it tends to be way better then this since thats what I'm used too. If you see spelling mistakes, no you don’t:)
─── ─── ── .✦
Wc: 4000+
It's been two weeks since you were introduced to Simon Riley, aka: Ghost, your new bodyguard. Much to your annoyance, you hadn't asked for a bodyguard let alone did you need one, but you're father had insisted, said it was for your benefit. It felt more like a punishment for the weeks before of backtalk and tipsy scandals ending up in the tabloids. Ones that could effect your father's reputation and the company's.
And that just wouldn't do would it? Not if he wanted to stay at the top of industry. Before he'd pay reporters off, threatening legal action, but he was growing sick of your repeated behavior, never learning. Eventually there'd be a reporter stupid enough— or brave enough, to refuse a bribe and push out a story.
Thus, Ghost. First place winner for pain in your ass!
He was big, intimidating and all muscle covered in a layer of fat, taller then tall the bastard. He felt more like a handler or a nanny a role you have experience with from when you were a child. But ten times worse, he's so much more commanding.
Ghost barks orders and expects you to follow them blindly, getting obviously agitated when you continue to blatantly ignore them. You watch as his jaw ticks to the side and a vein in his neck pops out every time you do so.
Pressure between the two of you has built over the last two weeks, neither of you particularly thrilled with the others existence and the disruptions in routine it causes. Last weekend he kept you from going out as you normally do to bar hop with friends and act drunker then you are, flirting shamelessly with guys only to leave them high and dry in the dumps.
Tonight the tension is building to a head, its friday night and you're looking to get back on routine to hang out with you're friends, one of them holding a party.
The only thing stopping you? Ghost.
He stands in front of the penthouse's elevator, preventing you from getting to it.
You stand almost toe to toe with him, arms petulantly crossed over your chest and glaring daggers at him, you have to raise to your tip toes to even begin to be somewhat eye level with him. Even in your thick soled boots.
Ghost stands much the same, his own arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder width apart, he's like a brick wall, talking to him isn't much different.
"Move," you say after a moment when he doesn't immediately do so.
"No.'" He says, unimpressed with your tone.
You scowl further, and if looks could kill yours would be damn well trying.
"No? Excuse me?" Annoyance leaks into your voice.
"I'm going to be late. Now Move." You demand, poking a finger into his chest.
A brow raises under the skull print mask he insists on wearing all the time, like a challenge as he stares down at you.
"You'll be more then late, you're not going." He replies, not budging.
"You already kept me from going out last week, I humored you then, it won't be happening again." You're not backing down either, everyone who's someone will be at this party, and you're someone. You have to be there.
"You're a bodyguard, not my father or boss or anyone with authority over me, you're supposed to follow me around like an obedient dog. Thats you're job." You remind him, eyes narrowed, "You're an employee, my employee."
Ghost laughs a dry laugh, like he finds your words humorous, your annoyance grows jaw clenching as he doesn't take you serious.
"I'm your fathers employee." He Clarifies, "He has me under strict orders to keep you out of trouble and out of the press."
"and I'm much more inclined to listen to orders from the person who writes my paychecks then the spoiled brat in front of me." You're frustration only grows at his words, your jaw clenching.
Ghosts eyes runs over outfit, scrutinizing the pieces of fabric that can barely be considered clothes.
"And a party where you dress like— that, screams trouble."
You're eyes leave his covered face for the first time in minutes, looking down to you're own outfit. Mesh long sleeved top with rhinestones sewn where the mesh crosses over it self and shorts small as sin, knee high boots.
To you, its a outfit like you were normally, something fitting to show off, usual attire for when you're bar hopping and playing people. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes, everyone there will be dressed similarly." You insist, and Ghosts brow raises again. In his eyes your dressed for a strip club or a juvenile college party, not one held by heirs to million if not billion dollar companies.
And while you're old to be finishing college you never went and don't have to, you're life is secured for well, the rest of it. You'll be given a position at your father's company at his command, something high up but easy, barely could be considered work, and when he retairs ownership will fall to you. Something you've been trained for since birth.
Though you don't act like it, you know how to run a business, could build one from the ground up if so had to, which you never will. Ghost suspects the way you act is your escape before you're forced into a role you never asked for but can't refuse.
"Don't matter, you're not going, sweetheart." He affirms, the petname mocking, and some how you're glare gets icy-er then it already was, Ghost wouldn't be surprised if icicles started to form on your eyelashes from the intensity. He doesn't falter.
"Now go change out of those things you call clothes." Ghost orders, not leaving much room for argument.
Your scowl deepens, locking eyes with him in a staring contest, narrowed icy eyes boring into his, again standing you're ground. Not ready to give in, but you also know there's little chance you'll win against an ex-military man whos more then twice your size. You're not delusional.
He doesn't back down either, keeping up the brick wall act.
Eventually something has to give, and it won't be him. You make a noise bordering on a frustrated growl.
"Fine." You grab the hem of your mesh shirt, pulling it up and over your head, you throw it at Ghost and it lands over his face as you walk away.
He pulls it off of his face, watching your back almost amusededly as you stalk into the living room and dramatically flop on the luxurious couch, not at all doing what he told you to do and going to change.
Ghost makes his own way over to the couch, he walks around the back of it, looking at you laying stomach first on said couch.
He put you're discarded shirt on the arm of the couch before squatting down to be eye level with you, thick thighs straining against the material of his tactical cargo's in the position.
"Stop yer poutin'." He says gruffly, and you turn you head slightly from where its buried in the couch cushions to look at him, one eye visible.
When you simply turn your head the opposite direction after a moment Ghost huffs irritatedly.
He stands up and grabs your ankle, pulling it to spin you slightly, forcing you to sit up and look at him.
"I told ya' to change."
"And I don't want to."
He clenchens his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest, corded muscles in his arms pulling taught and pushing out.
"Don't care, I told ya' to do something, so yer gonna do it or I'll do it for ya', sweetheart."
Your glare doubles in force, like you're trying to explode him with you're mind or erase him from existence.
He gives you five seconds to cooperate before he's leaning down faster then you can register and wrapping an arm around you middle, hauling you up and over his shoulder with minimal effort.
"Hey!" You protest, smaking a hand against his back, and kicking your legs. He moves his fore arm to the back of your thighs to keep you from gaining enough leverage to put any actual force behind your squirming legs.
"I warned ya." Is all he says in response, walking you up the stairs, through your room and into the walk-in closet.
He sets you down on your feet in the middle of the racks of clothes and you have a disgruntled look plastered on your face when he meets you're eye once again.
"Last chance, change or I'll change for ya'." He repeats, blocking the way back out of the closet.
You give in, or at least it appears you do as your hands go to the button of your shorts, undoing it and pulling the zipper down.
You begin to push the shorts off of your hips and down your legs, right in front of him, immediately his eyes raise to the ceiling, and his jaw ticks to the side for what has to be at least the fifth time tonight.
"Yer walking a very thin line." He warns, this isn't the first time you've pulled something like this, malicious compliance. He's unsurprised by your brazen behavior used to it, you have a complete lack of shame as you strip in front of him.
"What? Can't handle seeing a naked body, are you a prude or something?" You mock, continuing to strip, flinging the shorts off to the side and then beginning to unzip your knee high boots.
"Or maybe its that if you see me you're carefully maintained control will snap and you'll give in and be wrapped around my little finger trying to get more then a look." He takes a deep breath at your words and you can see as he closes his eyes like he's praying to whatever god in the sky to give him patience and strength.
"Yer getting on my last nerve, Doll." He says, hands curling into fists at his sides as he continues at stare at the ceiling like its the one in the Sistine Chapel.
you kick the boots of to the side to join the shorts, shrugging innocently even though he can't see it, and even if he saw it he knows better, you know exactly what you're doing.
"Maybe you're just weak minded." You throw back and watch in satisfaction as his eyes snap back to your form, obviously having hit that last nerve somewhere there. You assume it has to do with the fact you called him, an ex-military man, 'weak,' mind or otherwise.
"What?" You ask like you don't know what just happened, like you're not pushing his buttons on purpose and trying to get him to break. You put your weight into one hip, popping it pop to one side, still completely nude.
His gaze sweeps over you, taking in the visable curves of your body, your soft hips and pudgy stomach, thick cushy thighs. In his eyes burns a dark fire, you can't tell if it more of a desire to put you ‘in your place’ or a desire for you. You don't think it matters as long as he's falling into your trap.
"You little—" he hisses out between clenched teeth, muscles straining in his arms.
"Whats wrong? Cat got your tongue?" You tease, smirking victoriously at what you perceive to be a win in your favor in what has been a two week long battle.
You startle slightly when he grabs your wrist, pulling you directly in front of him as he stares down at you, the fire in his eyes burning brightly. You lick your lips in apprehension, nerves lighting up with the look in his eyes.
"Do I need to teach ya' how to behave, Brat?" He almost growls out, and heat swirls in your body settling in your navel, its not like you haven't traced over his body with your eyes appreciatingly before, not like you haven't had more then a few dreams where he's a starring in it and you wake up with damp thighs.
You pull slightly at where he holds your one wrist above your head, testing his grip which he only tightens when you do, narrowing his eyes at you more.
"I think I do, since ya' obviously don't know how to behave yourself when left to yer own devices, no one must've taught you."
He pulls one of your scarves off of its hanger with his free hand.
"What're you—"
He's then grabbing your other wrist and joining it to the first, using the scarf to tie them together above your head.
Ghost holds your wrists in one hand after he's tied them together, his now free hand grabbing your face.
"Do you want me to stop?" He asks, leaning into speak into your ear, face next to yours.
shake your head quickly, you can feel the heat in your stomach growing already.
"Use yer words, I know ya' know how." Ghost orders.
"No." You say shyly, redness growing on your cheeks, isn't exactly how you intended this to go, but, you could work with it.
"No what?"
"No, don't stop." You answer, looking away from his face, only playing up your flusteredness a bit.
"That's what I thought." He chuckles, and color in your cheeks darkens, feeling a crumb of shame finally, now that you're not fully in control of the situation like you had been. Or least thats what you thought, maybe you never were.
"Hey—" Faster then you know what's happening you're back on his shoulder, his hand resting against the back of your now bare thighs.
He walks out of the in closet and into the main area of your room, he tosses you off of his shoulder and onto your four poster plush bed unceremoniously.
You sit try to sit up on the covers but he just pushes you to lay back again with a look.
"Did I say ya' could sit up?" He says, wrapping a hand around your leg pulling you towards the edge of the bed, calfs now hanging over the side.
Ghost leans over you, the hand that grabbed your leg traveling up your leg to rest between where your thigh meets your pelvis in the dip of fat there, his other hand goes back to your wrists, pinning them above your head against the bed to make sure you can't move them.
"Yer awfully quiet now, Cat got yer tongue?" He mocks repeating your earlier words, watching as you stare up at him, "If i knew all it bloody took to shut ya' up was to tie yer wrists and pin ya' to a bed I woulda done it a whole lot sooner."
He uses the hand resting on your thigh to spread them apart, raising a brow at what he finds.
"Oh? Whats this then?" He teases meanly, staring at the slick that's started to gather at you're crotch, when you try to close your legs again he pinches the fat of your thighs, forcing them back open.
"None of that." He tells you, a underlying warning in the words. He would not be hunoring disobedience from you any longer.
Ghost runs a finger through your folds, gathering slick on it, you gasp and squirm a bit when he brushes over the bundle of nerves at the top of your crotch.
"You were getting off on pissing me off weren't ya'?" He asks, and you shake your head. Lair.
He scoffs, obviously not believing it, he continues to run his fingers through your pussy, only brushing lightly over where you want him to touch most.
"Don't lie, Brat." He says "You like making me mad, you like pushing my buttons."
He doesn't expect a response, watching as you squirm when he finally begins to rub circles over that bundle of nerves. He lets go of your tied wrists to push down on your hips to stop most of your squirming.
You swallow gasps when he rubs just right, sending sparks up your spine, you bring your tied together hands to mouth, biting into the meat of your plam to muffle whimpers.
Ghost continues to circle your clit, building up pressure in your stomach, he watches as the muscles in your legs pull taunt and your pussy pulses around nothing.
"Ghost—" You whine in your hand, and he inserts two Fingers into your hole in response, thumb continuing to rub over your clit while his middle and pointer finger prod around inside.
"Close already?" He huffs amused, and he can tell he found the right spot when his fingers curl and you whine.
"Come on then boy. Cum around my fingers." Ghost continues to curl his fingers into the spot in side you, building you up to the edge faster combined with his thumb on your clit.
Your legs shake and your eyes slam closed when you finally tople over the edge and come, pussy convulsing around his fingers.
He stops rubbing the bundle of nerves but doesn't pull his fingers out, now scissoring them inside you, stretching you out.
"Good boy." He coo's meanly, pushing down harder when you try to pull away from his hand when it starts to get overstimulating.
"Behave for me, Doll." He reminds, and you whimper into where you bite into your plam.
He spends another minute stretching you out before removes his fingers and you gasp, unable to decide if the loss is better or worse then the edge of overstim he was working you towards.
He looks you dead in the eyes as he lifts up the bottom part of his mask making you watch as he licks his fingers clean of your slick, your blush spreads from your cheeks to your collarbones and ears.
Ghost stands up fully after, hands going to his belt and pant zipper, he unbuckles his belt and pulls it from its pant loops in smooth motion, you sit up slightly to watch as he undoes the button on his tactile cargo's and unzips them.
You see as he reaches his hand into his boxers, pushing them and his pants down just enough to free his cock, already chubbed up.
It's thick and long, a happy trail leading to it that disappears under his shirt, he does give you much time to look before he's wrapping his hands around your legs again, pulling you right up to the edge of the bed.
He grabs a throw pillow that must have fallen off of your bed earliler in the day from the floor, forcefully lifting your hips and stuffing it under them to prop your hips up at angle so their level with him.
"Be a good boy and take it all." He murmur's giving his cock a few strokes with his hand, having collected some of your slick and spreading it over it.
"Deep breath, Baby." Is all the warning you get before he's notching his dick at your pussy and starting to push in. He watches as your slick walls suck him in easily.
You mewl when he's fully inside you and he chuckles, giving an experimental thrust.
"All it takes to make ya' behave is a good fucking isn't it? Just need some attention, hm?" He teases, voice mean as he begins to rut into you shallowly, one hand grabbing your tied wrists again, pinning them back above your head so you cant bite you palm to muffle yourself, so he can hear your sounds.
You try to swallow whines and moans, but he only starts to thrust deeper and harder, drawing them out of you.
"Wanna hear ya' sing for me, Doll." Ghost says, beginning to pant softly.
"G-Ghost—" you manage out between sounds, voice breathy.
"Just need a big man to fuck some manners into ya'?"
You nod dumbly, thoughts already in the process of melting into mush in your head, any plan you had now gone.
His free hand goes back to your clit, beginning to circle it again, you moan in response, and he laughs at you again.
"Look at ya', the little Brat melting away into the good Doll I knew ya' could be with just some attention." He murmurs, leaning over you to talk into your ear, before he begins to kiss at your neck.
"Bet ya' were all pent up, none of the little boys you play at the bar do it for ya' do they?" He says into your skin, "Need a real man to put ya' in yer place."
You only whine in response, the pressure in your core beginning to build a second time as he rams his length into that spongy spot inside you that he found earlier, making your toes curl.
He continues to whisper words into your ear, but as he continues to pound into you and you brain continues to melt into slop at the pleasure all the words blur to together, becoming one string of sounds that vaguely sounds like praise for being good and listening.
"All you need is someone to take control, hm? Let you sit back and look pretty, someone to make the big decisions so you can be dumb for once? Tired of being smart?" He mumbles, sucking marks into your neck between words and panting breathes, even though he knows you're drowning in to mush pleasure to really hear him.
Ghost feels as the muscles in your thighs begin to tighten up again, pussy fluttering around softly. His fingers speed up on your clit.
"Gonna cum on my cock Boy? C'mon, sweetheart, cum all over my dick." He encourages, cooing at you once again as he does, honing in on that spongy spot, making sure to hit it every time he thrusts in.
"Si-Simon," you moan when the coil snaps and for the second time tonight waves of euphoria wash over you, he fucks you all the way through it, only slowing down to help you ride it out.
"Good job, Doll," he kisses your cheek, before he's pulling out, only to flip you over onto your stomach, forcing your knees under you to hold you up and pushing between your shoulders blades to create a pretty arch in your back.
He pushes back in slowly and you whine high and long, trying to pull away from him to which he chuckles darkly and grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him.
Like this he reaches so much deeper into you, veins in his cock dragging against what has quickly become his favorite spot within you and his tip kisses your cervix.
Ghost begins to thrust again, pulling out almost all the way just to slam right back in, cause you to mewl, tears gathering in your eyes as he quickly works you into overstim.
"Poor baby," He coos mockingly at you, not letting up at all.
Hot tears run down your cheeks and onto your bed sheets, leaving a damp spot on them as he sets a deep and hard pace, working you up to the edge of a third high quickly from it and the overstim.
"Let me feel you cum around my cock again sweet heart, c'mon." He snakes his hand around your waist, fingers immediately finding your sensitive and abused clit and starting to circle it again.
Your quickly thrown off the edge again, crying out as you squeeze around his cock agian, and again he keeps fucking you through it, but instead of slowing down this time he speeds up, he holds you in place when you squirm and try to crawl away from where he spears you on his dick, he only pulls you back against his hips.
He chases his own high, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
Eventually his hips still and he lays his weight over you, cock twitching inside you as he cums himself filling you up with his warm seed.
You whine when you don't feel him even begin to soften inside you, eyes wet and voice starting to go raw. He laughs before he's back at it again, picking up where he left off.
He places a kiss between your shoulder blades with a promise of 'Just one more lovie,' which you shake your head at, it only pulls another dark laugh from him.
"Use your words if you want me to stop baby." He tells you, and you shake your head again, its all to much, but you don't want him to stop either.
Lair, thats what he is, he brings you over the edge a fourth time but doesn't stop, going for a fifth and sixth with more empty promises of 'last time, only one more, Doll.'
“Not As Subtle As You Think”- Percy Jackson x Dionysius Reader
Summary
You and Percy Jackson are not dating.
You’re just sneaking into each other’s cabins.
At night.
Repeatedly.
While actively being the least subtle people at Camp Half-Blood.
It’s fine.
It’s under control.
Right up until your father, Dionysus, finds Percy under your bed—and decides to not keep that information to himself.
And then Annabeth Chase gets involved.
Which is worse.
Much worse.
⚠️ Warnings
all characters aged up & consenting
sneaking around / secret relationship
getting caught (almost… and then socially 😭)
mild threats of divine punishment (mr. d energy)
secondhand embarrassment
camp-wide gossip spiral
chaotic humor
light romantic tension
mutual pining but they’re idiots about it
protective annabeth (scary but valid)
Camp Half-Blood had rules.
Important rules.
Rules about curfew, about weapons, about not summoning anything that could eat your fellow campers.
And then there were the unwritten rules.
Like:
Don’t sneak into other cabins at night.
Don’t get caught sneaking into other cabins at night.
And, most importantly—
Don’t get caught sneaking into the Dionysus cabin specifically.
You were currently breaking all three.
Again.
“We’re going to get caught,” Percy Jackson whispered, pressed close behind you as you eased open your cabin door.
“You said that last time.”
“And the time before that.”
“And yet,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder with a grin, “we’re still alive.”
“Barely.”
You slipped inside first, silent and practiced. Percy followed, shutting the door with careful precision.
The cabin was dim—low lamplight, soft shadows, the faint scent of something sweet and sharp lingering in the air. Your space. Yours.
Safe.
You turned toward him.
He was already looking at you.
That was the problem.
He always looked at you like that.
Like this wasn’t a game.
Like this was something heavier.
“Hi,” you said softly.
“…Hi.”
You stepped closer, fingers catching in the front of his shirt, tugging him just slightly off balance.
“You’re late.”
“I had to dodge Grover,” he said. “And your father’s general existence.”
You snorted.
“Valid.”
For a moment, the world narrowed—just the two of you, breath close, tension easy and familiar.
Then—
“You know,” Percy murmured, hand settling lightly at your waist, “one of these nights, this is going to go horribly wrong.”
You tilted your head, stepping even closer.
“Or,” you whispered, “it’s going exactly right.”
He laughed under his breath, forehead dropping briefly to yours.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem.”
Neither of you moved.
You could feel the shift—subtle, but real.
The teasing ease softened into something quieter. Heavier.
Your fingers were still curled in his shirt. His hand still rested at your waist—but now it tightened, just slightly, like he’d realized how close you actually were.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” you murmured.
Percy huffed a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite land.
“I think,” he said slowly, eyes flicking down to your mouth and back up again, “I stopped thinking about five minutes ago.”
Your breath caught—just enough for him to notice.
Good.
“Dangerous,” you whispered.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t step closer.
Didn’t pull you in.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Because now it was a choice.
Your choice.
So you made it.
You rose onto your toes, closing the last inch of space between you.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Just shared breath.
Warmth.
The quiet hum of something neither of you was pretending was casual anymore.
Then—
You kissed him.
Soft.
Testing.
Just the brush of your lips against his—enough to ask, not take.
Percy stilled completely.
And then—
His hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you closer in one smooth, certain motion.
The kiss deepened—not rushed, not overwhelming—but sure. Like he’d been holding back and finally decided not to.
Your fingers tightened in his shirt as he angled slightly, his other hand coming up to steady you, thumb brushing lightly along your side.
There was a warmth to it—steady, grounding, like the ocean pulling at the shore instead of crashing over it.
You exhaled softly against him, and he answered it, breath catching just enough to betray him.
When you pulled back, it wasn’t far.
Foreheads still close.
Lips still brushing when either of you spoke.
“…Still think we’re getting caught?” you whispered.
Percy let out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Oh, we’re definitely getting caught.”
You smiled.
“Worth it?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“…Yeah.”
His hand tightened slightly at your back, like he meant it.
And gods—
That was the problem.
Time passed the way it always did with him.
Too fast. Too soft. Too easy to forget everything outside the room.
You were halfway through telling him a story—something ridiculous about Castor and Pollux sneaking wine and blaming it on a nymph—when Percy snorted, shaking his head.
“They actually got away with that?”
“Briefly,” you said, grinning. “Until Pollux tried to flirt with the wrong person and—”
Knock.
Everything stopped.
The sound didn’t echo—it settled. Heavy. Intentional.
You froze.
Percy froze.
Another knock.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Knowing.
“You’re awake,” came the voice.
You closed your eyes.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Percy mouthed: who is that
You mouthed back: we’re going to die
A third knock—lighter this time. Almost bored.
“Open the door,” the voice added.
You moved fast.
“Under the bed.”
“What—”
“NOW.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate.
Percy dropped, rolling smoothly under the bed just as you straightened, forcing your breathing to even out, smoothing your clothes like that would somehow undo everything about this situation.
You opened the door just enough to lean casually against the frame.
“Hi, Dad.”
Dionysus looked at you.
Then at your face.
Then at your posture.
Then—very slowly—at the room behind you.
“…Why are you sweating?”
You blinked. “I’m not—”
“You are.”
From under the bed, Percy made a tiny, doomed noise.
You coughed. Loudly.
“I was sleeping.”
Dionysus stared at you like he was deeply, personally offended by that statement.
“…Right.”
He stepped forward.
You blocked him.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
His eyebrow lifted. Just slightly.
“…Are you hiding something?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“…I didn’t say anything.”
You froze.
From under the bed:
“Don’t laugh,” Percy whispered.
You kicked the bed.
Silently.
Violently.
Dionysus tilted his head, gaze sharpening just enough to be dangerous.
“…There is a boy in here.”
It wasn’t a guess.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It was a statement.
You inhaled slowly, folding your arms like you weren’t one wrong breath away from disaster.
“Define ‘boy.’”
Dionysus blinked once.
“…I’m going to define it as the demigod currently attempting to control his breathing under your furniture.”
From under the bed—
“…wow,” Percy muttered.
You closed your eyes briefly.
“Traitor,” you whispered toward the floor.
“I am not the one who invited me,” he whispered back.
Dionysus’s gaze flicked downward.
Then back up.
Then he sighed. Long-suffering. Ancient. Exhausted.
“…Come out, Jackson.”
A pause.
A long, painful pause.
“…Do I have to?” Percy asked faintly.
“Yes.”
“…Okay.”
There was a shuffle. A thud.
Then Percy rolled out from under the bed, hair completely wrecked, shirt twisted, dignity left somewhere beneath the mattress.
He sat there for half a second like he might simply stay on the floor forever.
Then, slowly, he stood.
“…Sir.”
Silence.
Dionysus looked at him.
Then at you.
Then back at him.
Judgment settled over the room like a storm cloud.
“…You,” Dionysus said.
“…Me,” Percy agreed weakly.
“You have remarkably poor instincts.”
“That’s—uh—fair.”
“And you,” he added, looking at you, “have worse.”
You smiled sweetly.
“Genetics.”
He looked unimpressed.
“I’m not dealing with this,” Dionysus muttered. “I have endured war, tragedy, and theater festivals in ancient Greece. I refuse to add teenage stupidity to that list.”
You opened your mouth.
He held up a hand.
“Don’t.”
You closed it again.
Smart.
Then, quieter—just slightly—his gaze shifted back to Percy.
“If you break my child’s heart,” he said calmly, “I will turn you into something deeply inconvenient.”
Percy swallowed.
“…Like—”
“I haven’t decided,” Dionysus said. “It will depend on my mood.”
“…That’s fair,” Percy said quickly.
“Good.”
Dionysus turned, already halfway out the door.
Then paused.
Without looking back—
“…Next time,” he said dryly, “use the window. Even I had standards.”
The door shut behind him.
Just like that.
Silence flooded back in.
You stood there.
Percy stood there.
A beat.
Two.
Then Percy exhaled hard, dragging both hands down his face.
“I cannot believe that just happened.”
You looked at him.
Then at the door.
Then back at him—
And started laughing.
Full, uncontrollable, breathless laughter.
Percy dragged a hand down his face.
“I almost got turned into a dolphin.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
He stepped closer again, quieter now.
Less teasing.
“…Still worth it.”
Your laughter softened.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And gods—that was worse.
Because he meant it.
You should have known it wasn’t over.
You should have known.
Camp Half-Blood did not do subtle.
It definitely didn’t do secrets.
You were halfway through breakfast when someone dropped into the seat across from you.
Black hair pulled back, sharp gray eyes already locked on you—calculating, precise, and far too observant for your current situation.
Terrifying.
Annabeth Chase.
“…So,” she said calmly.
You froze mid-bite.
Across the pavilion, Percy Jackson choked on his drink.
Hard.
Several heads turned.
Grover patted his back like this was a normal, everyday occurrence.
It was not.
“…So?” you echoed, slowly setting your fork down.
Annabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table like she had all the time in the world—and like you had nowhere to run.
“Elaborate on why Percy left his cabin at 1:07 a.m., avoided three patrol routes, and entered yours.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The kind that spread.
Because people noticed.
They always noticed.
A couple Hermes kids at the next table leaned in—subtle as a brick.
A Demeter girl froze mid-sip.
From across the pavilion, Percy went completely still, like if he didn’t move, no one would see him.
You blinked.
“…You tracked him?”
“I observed patterns,” she corrected smoothly.
Percy looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and let the earth claim him.
You leaned back slowly, crossing your arms like this was just another conversation.
“…And?”
Annabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“And,” she said, voice calm but sharp, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
A snort came from somewhere behind you—one of the Stoll brothers, probably.
You didn’t turn.
You smiled.
Sweet.
Dangerous.
“And you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
A beat.
Annabeth studied you.
Then leaned back in her chair.
“…He likes you.”
Percy choked again.
Louder this time.
Grover winced. “Dude.”
Someone laughed.
You didn’t look at him.
Didn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Yeah,” you said lightly. “I know.”
That did it.
Now people were really looking.
Whispers started—quiet, quick, spreading like wildfire.
“Wait—”
“Are they—?”
“Since when—?”
You could practically feel the attention shift.
Clarisse, across the pavilion, narrowed her eyes like she was about two seconds away from demanding answers the violent way.
Selina leaned forward beside her, already grinning like she’d just been handed gossip on a silver platter.
Annabeth didn’t react to any of it.
Of course she didn’t.
Her focus stayed on you.
Steady.
Evaluating.
Then, quieter—just enough that only you could hear—
“…Don’t hurt him.”
Your expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Not the smile.
Not the posture.
Just something underneath it.
“I won’t.”
Annabeth held your gaze for a long moment, like she was weighing that answer—turning it over, testing it for cracks.
Then she nodded once.
“…Good.”
She stood.
Just like that.
Conversation over.
Like she hadn’t just set the entire pavilion on fire.
Like she hadn’t just confirmed everyone’s suspicions in under thirty seconds.
She walked away without another word.
Silence lingered for half a heartbeat.
Then—
Chaos.
“WAIT—”
“Are you serious?”
“Since when?!”
A Hermes kid actually stood on the bench.
Grover buried his face in his hands.
Clarisse stood up like she was about to march over—only for Selina to grab her arm, laughing.
“Sit down,” she said. “This is getting interesting.”
Across the pavilion, Percy was staring at you like you’d just walked through fire and come out untouched.
“…You survived that better than me,” he said when he finally made his way over, voice low, slightly breathless.
You looked up at him.
Then at the absolute mess of attention now focused on both of you.
Then back at him.
You grinned.
“I always do.”
A beat.
Then, leaning in just slightly—just enough that only he could hear—
“Besides,” you added softly, “if we were going to get caught…”
Your eyes flicked briefly around the pavilion—at the whispers, the stares, the chaos—
“…might as well make it interesting.”
Percy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, but there was something else there too.
content warning: sex toy, public play, blow job, eating out, sex, degrading language, daddy kink, brat, dom/sub, choking
Masterlist
Minors DNI 🔞
word count: 3906
All of the guys were on stage accepting their award. Cameras flashed and Chan handed the trophy to I.N. to hold before giving a speech thanking everyone for their support over the years.
You could barely hear any of it, though, thanks to the pressure building from your cunt to your ears. It was all too much.
Lee Know smirked at you, noticing the effects taking place, and slyly reached into his pocket, pressing a button that made the device between your legs grow that much stronger.
You gripped your glass of champagne and saluted him with it. He was playing dangerously...and winning.
When they got off stage, you stood and went to meet them where they would be taking photos. You hadn't expected the complete and utter incapability of walking with this thing, though, and you sat back down in your seat to wait for them to come to you instead.
They didn't.
It was hours of sitting there, cumming again and again with quiet whimpers against your palm while they did interviews backstage. You squeezed your legs shut, trying to hold back, but you couldn't anymore. It was mind-numbingly good.
Once the event ended, people around you began to file out, but you were stuck in the chair, afraid to try to stand again, worried that this time you'd actually crumble to the floor.
Only when the room was nearly deserted and cleaners began to come in, did you hear the familiar sound of Chan's steps walking over to the table. He placed a hand on the back of your chair before pulling it back so that you were looking up at him.
"Having so much fun you don't want to leave?" he smirked.
You whimpered in response, too exhausted to come up with something witty to say.
Lee Know was behind him, chuckling as he sucked on a lollipop, his favorite award-show snack. "How many times have you cum?" he asked bluntly.
You tried to answer but he turned it up even more. "Fuck!" you squeaked out and dropped your head to the linen tablecloth. You held up both hands in the air.
"Ten?" Chan asked.
With flushed cheeks, you shook your head and then flashed 7 more fingers.
"Seventeen?" Lee Know chuckled.
You came again and added another finger, your body shaking in the chair as you tried not to give away what was happening to people stacking chairs a table over.
"Eighteen?" Chan rubbed your back soothingly. "Turn it off Lee Know," he instructed.
The moment it clicked off, your entire body relaxed. You hadn't realized how tense your abs were from trying to hold off orgasms all evening. You then yawned and reached for Chan's hand to help you stand.
After all, you had to get out of here at some point.
He was patient while you stood. You wobbled a bit and he placed a supportive hand on your hip.
When you started to walk, your legs were shaking like a baby deer's, moving so slowly that Lee Know complained, "Even old JYP will be back home before we make it to the car."
"This is your fault," you scolded him.
Immediately he wrapped an arm around you from behind, kissing your neck and murmuring in your ear, "You're right. I'm sorry bunny." Before you could think he was lifting you off the ground, cradling you against his chest. "But I'm too impatient for that right now."
Chan chuckled as Lee Know carried you the rest of the way to the car that was waiting for you. They situated you between them in the backseat. Chan's arm slung around your shoulder while Lee Know buckled your seat belt on.
"Safety first," he winked as he secured it and then did his own. Once through, you slumped against Chan, feeling exhausted. Lee Know reached over and held your hand, stroking gentle circles on the back of it.
You let your eyes close, feeling so close to sleep. Chan kissed your forehead and whispered to Lee Know, "So 18 is her limit?"
"Seems that way," Lee Know chuckled.
"Mmm," you disagreed, weakly shaking your head and squeezing his hand.
Chan huffed out a breathy laugh and caressed your cheek as you lay against his shoulder. "What was that, baby? Gotta speak up if you want to be heard."
You whined in complaint before taking a deep breath. "I don't have a limit."
"Is that so, bunny?" Lee Know laughed.
"Mhm," you nodded while you removed your hand from his and reached over to palm his dick. The fabric of his pants did little to hide the shape and firmness of his cock. You stroked it slowly but firmly.
Lee Know groaned causing Chan to look over in surprise before making pleasured hums himself as your lips found his neck, sucking on it with little nibbles. You reached your other hand to his chest and pinched his nipples as his lips met yours for a sloppy needy kiss.
"You're very sexy," Chan muttered in a deep voice. "Have I told you that lately?"
"Not enough," you smirked.
"Shit," Lee Know hissed. His pants had grown uncomfortably tight and he shifted, trying to make room for his erection.
You turned to kiss him too before reminding him, "We're almost home, bunny."
Lee Know shook his head in disbelief as Chan chuckled behind you. "Who are you calling bunny, bunny?" he scolded as he slid a hand into his pocket.
The button clicked, and the toy was turned back on again.
"Fuck," you leaned back against Chan letting yourself fully feel it now that you'd recovered a bit.
"We're here," Xavier, their driver, announced.
"We'll get out once (y/n) is done," Lee Know told him.
Xavier was no stranger to the boys' behavior and chuckled as he got out of the car. You were shy the first few times this happened, but now it was so common you didn't care if he saw.
"Lee Know," you whimpered, spreading your legs out across his lap.
Chan undid your seat belt and pulled you against him, holding your back to his chest while palming your breasts.
"Come on, baby. Hurry up. I'm ready to celebrate," he groaned against your ear.
"More," you begged either of them.
Lee Know smirked and pressed the button again just as Chan began to kiss your neck and nibble your ear.
"Be good for Daddy and finish," he demanded.
Your stomach churned at the words, feeling warm and inflamed. Chan never pulled the daddy card. Fuck. It was so hot when he did, though. Even Lee Know raised his eyebrow and watched as you came for a 19th time on the toy, squeezing Chan's hands that were on your chest. You whined and begged for him to turn it off for a second.
When he did, Chan moved out from behind you to open the door.
"Come on, baby. Time to test that limitless nature of yours," he winked. You took his hand and let him help you down, almost falling thanks to the dangerous mix of a cobblestone driveway and stiletto heels.
You gripped his arm tightly, squeezing his bicep for dear life all the way into the house, at which point Lee Know slung you over his shoulder as you laughed.
"Put me down!" you screamed playfully as you spanked him.
He didn't listen though and carried you all the way to the bed. Only then did he carefully place you onto the mattress and crawl over you.
"Hey bunny," he murmured, running his hand up your thigh, displacing the slit of your gown so that he could actually touch you.
"Hey, Lee Know," you smiled before pulling him in for a kiss. It was slow and deep, full of romance and passion. He hummed into your mouth, gathering the fabric up to your waist so he could slide off your underwear and remove the toy.
He tossed it somewhere to the floor and pulled away to look down at you. "Aren't you beautiful tonight?" he whispered before sinking two fingers into you.
You arched in surprise and grasped for something to hold onto. Luckily Chan had joined you on the bed. With a firm finger to your jaw, he urged you to turn towards him and captured your lips with his before trailing his hand to settle around your throat.
He pressed just enough to make breathing labored, just enough to make you dizzy as you came around Lee Know's fingers. You gasped into the kiss, trembling from orgasm number 20 of the evening.
"Hasn't even been fucked yet, poor thing," Chan cooed as he caressed a flushed cheek.
You somehow managed to sit up and push yourself off the bed using Lee Know's thighs for support.
"Where you going bunny?" he chuckled. "Find your limit?"
You turned around with a smirk. "No..." you began as you reached behind you to pull down the thin zipper of your dress. "Just thought it would be easier for you to fuck me if I were naked," you added as you released the fabric to the ground, letting it immediately pool around your feet.
You stepped out of the heels on the walk back and rejoined them on the bed, straddling Chan right away. "Congratulations on the win," you told him while pulling on his necktie.
"Thank you," he sighed as he ran a finger down your spine to your back dimples.
He kissed your neck and nibbled your ear while Lee Know complained, "You didn't tell me congratulations."
You almost laughed at how pitiful his expression was. You reached out and ran a thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it down to make his pout even more exaggerated. "Is bunny a little jealous today?" you teased.
He shook his head in frustration. "How come you're only being a brat to me today, hmm? Need to be put in your place?"
"Maybe," you shrugged and turned back to Chan. You kissed him deeply with a moan. When you pulled back minutes later he was breathless. "Daddy?" you asked. "Want to put me in my place?"
A smile tugged on Chan's lips at your rebellion against Lee Know. It was amusing really how riled up he got.
"Bunny I swear to god," Lee Know scolded as he began to undo his belt buckle threateningly. He stripped out of everything but his boxers, but removed those too when he saw the eagerness in your eye to continue messing with him. "Come here. On your knees," he pulled you off of Chan to the floor where he'd got a pillow out for you to kneel on. "Open," he ordered as you looked up at him.
You did as he asked and felt him slap his dick on your tongue while you fluttered your lashes at him, seeming perfectly innocent. "You look so pretty like this. So behaved," he groaned. "Now, suck," he instructed as he pushed his cock down your throat.
You gagged. Lee Know was so big that anyone would, but he held himself there, letting you choke on it until tears welled. "Good bunny," he praised and took a fistful of hair to control your movements with. He forced your head to bob up and down his length quickly, sucking the way he liked and vibrating around his cock with every thrust.
"Fuck, right there," he grunted as he continued. Your makeup must've smeared by now from how many tears fell, and you gripped his thighs to steady yourself. You wanted him to make him cum...wanted to hear his high-pitched whines.
You ran your tongue firmly on the side of his cock as you sucked, watching his jaw go slack. "Mmm," you hummed enthusiastically.
"I...I'm close," he cried out before increasing his pace. He mouth fucked you even harsher, driving his dick down your throat until the choking was constant. You slapped his ass, finishing him and swallowing all of the cum that spurt out of his cock.
Lee Know's whines were higher than normal, labored from how tired he was. When he pulled out, he helped you to stand so he could give you a kiss. It was a little sloppy but nice...your favorite kind. He held you gentlemanly with a hand on your lower back and rocked you from side to side.
"You did so good bunny," he hummed as he pulled away and wiped a dribble of cum from your chin.
"Another?" you asked him, reaching out for his cock.
"No, no, no," he pulled back with a chuckle. "Little Lee Know is sensitive right now," he warned.
"Mmm. I'm sorry," you apologized with a kiss and then pulled away to scan the room for Chan who was unbuttoning his shirt in the corner.
"Channie!" you called. He turned around curiously and you shouted out, "Lee Know's limit is 1."
"You've got a mouth on you today." Lee Know sucked in a frustrated breath and gripped your wrist before you could head off to Chan. "My limit may be 1, bunny," he said menacingly. "But don't forget how many times you've had to beg me to stop because you couldn't take how good I was."
"Oh Lee Know," you sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. "If I begged you to stop, maybe it wasn't good."
His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open.
Chan laughed loudly from the corner and watched Lee Know back you against the bedpost. "Take it back."
"No," you shrugged. "If you think you're so good you should've reminded me instead of wasting your one time on a blow job."
"Bunny..."
"If I had a one-limit tolerance I wouldn't waste it on getting head," you told him. "I'd make sure Chan got to fuck it out of me instead."
"Oh Bunny..." Lee Know uttered, his tone dark and malicious. "You're going to regret that tomorrow."
You squirmed out of his reach and winked at him, "Hope so."
He shook his head again, in constant surprise at you, and left. When he did, you skipped over to Chan, ignoring the bounce of your chest as you did so.
"Hey Channie," you wrapped your arms around him from behind.
He let out a breathy laugh and turned to embrace you. You immediately began undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Damn," he chuckled as he watched you in awe and amusement. "You're not tired yet?"
"Nope," you told him and pushed the shirt off so you could kiss his chest, his beautiful muscular chest that he spent hours every day perfecting.
"Let me fix that for you," he grunted and lifted you off the ground.
You yelped playfully and wrapped your legs around him as he sat on the bed. You ran your hands across his broad shoulder blades, soaking in the pure size of him.
"How do you want me tonight, baby?" he whispered against your neck before leaving a kiss. "Hard? Soft?" he murmured before leaving another kiss. "Sweet? Mean?" he offered. "Dominant? Submissive?"
You pushed him back on the bed with a smirk. "You want to be submissive, baby?" you asked teasingly.
"I want to be whatever you want me to be," he sighed as he placed his hands behind his head to relax.
He was so fucking hot. And way too casual about it.
You held a finger out and pushed it into his mouth, watching him suck it with a cocky wink. You almost wished for a minute you had a dick he could suck. His pretty plump lips would look so nice wrapped around a thick cock.
You popped your finger from him, watching his sparkly eyes wait for you to decide what was next. You crawled forward until your cunt hovered above his mouth.
Hungrily, he reached for your thighs and pulled you down. Immediately, his tongue began lapping up everything he could. You squeezed his hands on your thighs to try to keep yourself upright. He worked quickly and sloppily, and his large nose tapped against your clit ever so often making it feel even better.
After a few minutes of that, you began to grind against his face, seeking out your release. Chan moaned, thoroughly enjoying being used, as you slid your slick from his chin to his nose. He even squeezed your thighs to hold you still and sucked your clit harshly, nibbling it until you finally came and drowned him.
You gasped and gripped his hands, looking down to see his happy gaze staring back at you. When you pulled off, he wiped his face on the sheet and sat up so that his chest was against yours.
"Still want more?" he asked with a devious smirk.
"Nobody's even fucked me yet," you reminded him playfully.
"I only have one or two in me tonight, baby. Do you want to test your limits or would you rather be fucked?"
At least Chan was upfront about it. You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling when his eyes closed as he enjoyed the feeling. "I need you to fuck me, Channie," you whispered.
His eyes snapped open, darkness and desperation in his irises. Even more than his daddy kink, Chan loved being needed and praised.
"How badly do you need me baby?" he asked, seeking more validation of your desire for him.
You began to ground your hips against him and felt his hands move from your back to your hips to encourage you along.
"I need it rough, Daddy. Need it so hard I can't take anymore."
Both the daddy kink and his being needed kink? Chan was hooked. He flipped you beneath him while biting his lip and looking over your body.
"21 orgasms and still such a desperate little slut, aren't you?" he growled.
Your insides tingled at the words. This was the side of him you'd wanted. He always knew just what to say.
"Desperate for your cock Daddy," you told him, watching his eyes light up.
"Don't worry baby, Daddy's here to help," he promised and sank into you.
"Oh fuck!" you cried out. No matter how many times you fucked Chan, he still stretched you so good.
"God you're taking me so good," Chan groaned.
His dick filled you completely, reaching your cervix. When he pulled out, he slammed back in, making you yelp.
"Waited all night just to get this cock, didn't you baby?" he grunted.
"Needed it. Only yours," you moaned as you held his shoulders. His pace, while slow, was harsh and perfect. You were already shaking.
"Not Lee Know's?" he chuckled.
"No," you vowed. "Bunny doesn't do it as well as..."
Chan pinched your nipples harshly, interrupting you. "Don't disrespect your other Daddy, baby."
"But..."
Chan slapped your tit now. Drawing another orgasm. You cried as you came around him, shaking harshly. Just like the toy earlier, though, he didn't stop.
"Apologize for your behavior," Chan demanded.
"I...I'm...oh fuck, Channie that feels so good," you whined when he started choking you, his careful hand wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure.
He pulled it off though, the second you spoke. "Apologize and you'll get it back."
He thrust even harsher, stealing away your words. It took a moment for you to finally find them, "I'm sorry I was a brat to Lee Know."
"Good girl," he praised and pressed his hand back to your throat, making you delightfully dizzy.
"You're going to cum again, aren't you?" he chuckled.
You nodded with flushed cheeks as he increased his pace even more, your body twitching around him as you came again.
This time, he paused deep inside to let you recover. You pulled him in for a slow, needy kiss, your body arching into his.
Chan's hand left your throat to travel up your sides, feeling and exploring all of your skin.
"Nobody does it like you, Channie," you praised him between kisses. "You always fuck me so well."
"Are you done yet, or..."
Your eyes snapped open to meet his. He looked worried for you but you shook your head enthusiastically. "I'm not done til you're done."
That was all he needed to finally move his hips. He was still cautious, but even careful Chan fucked better than an average random guy.
"I'm so glad Lee Know and I found you," Chan hummed as he lightly palmed your breast.
He had turned on his romantic switch. There were so many sides to him, each better than the last.
"I'm happy you did too," you told him with a kiss on his neck.
His dick twitched inside you, the words driving him closer as he picked up speed, growing a little less careful. He bit his lip and looked down to watch where his dick entered you.
"God you look so sexy like that," you told him.
Chan's jaw dropped, and his eyes turned to you, obviously holding off for your benefit. He took his hand from your hip and moved to rub your clit, trying to force another orgasm from you before he came and had nothing left to give.
"Harder!" you begged.
He snapped his hips forward and back, making your legs shake. Your mouth opened to moan and your eyes pinched shut. You felt something warm enter your mouth and looked to see Chan had spit into it.
"Be a good little slut, and swallow," he instructed.
His dom sides were all over the place today, but you listened and opened your mouth to show him the proof.
"Good girl," he uttered.
"Kiss me," you begged, needing that last moment with him before you exploded.
He obliged, a small smile tugging on his lips as he met yours in a whirlwind of passion. Your entire sensory system blew up. You whined against his mouth, trembling harder than you had in weeks as you came. Your vision was blurry, your hands shaking as they tried to find some piece of him to hold onto.
All the while, Chan's hips came to a sudden halt inside you where he emptied himself in your cunt. His moans were loud, but yours were quiet as if you had no more energy to give.
You could vaguely feel his fingers in your hair, could vaguely make out some comforting words being whispered to you. It took minutes before anything was remotely coherent.
You first wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer which made him chuckle. He rolled to his side to lay beside you and whispered, "There's my girl."
"I'm tired Channie," you yawned and cuddled close to him.
He ran a soft hand up and down your back as he asked with a chuckle, "Did we find your limit, baby?"
You shook your head, "I could've gone for more..." a yawn interrupted you. "Just not from your cock, Channie. You're just too good."
He smiled and kissed your forehead before pulling out of you. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, okay?"
You nodded and hugged yourself to his chest while he carried you. "I need to sleep with Lee Know tonight. I was a brat to him."
"I know baby," he comforted and set you down in the tub.
warnings: smut (mdni), soft(?) dom(?) toji, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink for a split second, other stufff, reader egging toji on, toji is too sweet to reallyyyy punish reader, i think thats it
you knew what you were doing, you alwaysss knew what you were doing. flirting with tojis friends across the table at dinner? check.
toji sat next to you, hand gently placed on your thigh, until you started to piss him off. each comment you made to another individual at the table, his grip got harder, hard enough to leave marks. you didn’t stop though, you keptttt pushing.
toji was furious and you could tell.
dinner was over and everyone went their respective ways.
your car was silent.
toji drove home silent. not a word out of his mouth. his hand however, did remain gripped onto your thigh. the closer you got to home, the tighter the grip got.
you squeaked a bit as his nails were starting to hurt, which just made him scoff and grip harder. tears brimmed at your eyes because of the constant sting on your thighs. but, toji didn’t even spare you a glance.
you arrived home and toji let go of your thigh, turned the car off, and walked into the house. he didn’t wait for you, didn’t say anything to you, just left the car with you in it.
you didn’t immediately go into the house either (which you’d regret later on). after waiting 5 minutes too long, you walk into the house. toji was on the couch, tv on, he seemed fine.
you headed up to your room to change out of the dress you wore to dinner. you set your stuff down and faced the bed to change. your back to the (open) bedroom door.
you reached for the zipper on the back of your dress before something pushed you forward onto the bed.
you yelped at the sudden force. toji just scoffed the same way he did before, hand holding you down flat against the bed.
“toji let me up,” you begged
still holding you down, he leaned forward near your face, “no” was all he said before moving the hand holding your back to yank your hair up to look at him.
“gonna apologize?” he asked, grip still tight on your loose hair.
“i-im sorry toji” you squeaked out.
“thats nice,” he dropped your head and lifted your dress up over your ass. purple lace panties on full display.
using two fingers, he rubbed over your panties, making you whine. he kept teasing slowly, making you squirm.
still no sounds or words out of him though, he stayed completely silent.
toji then slid off the lace, gentle in his actions, he was being careful.
he tapped onto your waist, “hips up please”
so you listened.
your upper half was still flat on the bed, ass in the air with your legs parted just enough so he had access.
and with zero warning at all, he shoved two fingers into your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a fast pace.
“ah! toji t-too much” you yell, half of your face pressed into the mattress.
he doesn’t say anything though, he just laughs. still pumping his fingers, curling them to hit your spot every few pumps.
you cry out from pleasure but also overwhelmed at the sudden rough and fast fingers abusing your pussy.
you were getting close already, “t-toji i-” you tried to tell him but he cut you off with a sharp “shut up.”
“but i-” he cuts you off again, “no.” and gets faster with his movements.
tears are falling down your face. you try to hold out your orgasm until you get permission but as soon as you try to make out another sentence, you squirt all over tojis fingers, screaming, and drenching the bed in the process.
his fingers immediately leave your pussy. you gasp, tears still falling. tojis eyes meet yours, “i-i im sorry i tried-” you try to explain before he shoves his fingers into your mouth.
“suck” is all he says, so you do.
he removes his fingers, and flips you over onto your back.
no warning, he shoves his cock into you. you yelp but he reaches towards your face and wipes your tears.
“you’re a fuckin brat. you know that?” he questions, still pounding into you.
you don’t respond, you can barely get words out.
“stop actin out like that.” he grabs your jaw gently, making sure you look him in his eyes, “ya hear me?”
you shake your head yes, “no, use your words, you’re a big girl, yeah?”
“i-im sorry” you’re able to mutter out in between your moans.
“tell me you’re my good girl baby, takin my cock so good,” you don’t know if you didn’t comprehend his words, but you didn’t listen, making him pick up his pace. “hey brat. look at me,” he grabs your jaw again, this time a bit more rough, to make eye contact.
“tell me you’re MY good girl,”
tears are still falling from your eyes, you’re overstimulated, but god it felt so good.
crying harder now, in between sobs, you’re able to muster a up a quiet, “i’m your good girl toji,”
he smiles, quickening his pace one last time, his hands intertwined with yours.
“gonna cum baby?” he wipes more tears from your face
“y-yes daddy” you whimper
“cum on my cock baby, be my good girl,” his hand moves to rub circles into your clit. “come on sweetheart, that's it,”
you cum hard, screaming, tears still falling. toji isn’t far behind you, he cums a few seconds after you with some deep grunts and whispering “my good girl” really putting emphasis on the ‘my’ part.
he pulls out of you and lays down beside you. he pulls you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, “gotta stop actin like that in public sweets,”
you shake your head in agreement.
“im serious love, shits embarrassing,”
you laugh a little into his chest, he kisses the top of your head again, “don’t know why i can’t bring myself to punish ya more, little brat,”
still holding you close, rubbing your back, he whispers a quick “i love you,” before you both fall asleep.
toji could never be too rough and mean with you but he could never pinpoint why.