in the morning, you wake in an unfamiliar bed with an arm slung around your middle, warm and familiar even if this was your first night together. there's a surety to it, a safety to the way azami holds you, even as you turn to look at him. there's a vulnerability about him that you haven't seen since before the war, his features softened by sleep. soft, not unlike the fluttering beneath your skin at the sight. his hold tightens, bringing you closer, and you nearly feel loved, though you're sure he's been this way with the others that have come before.
(you know of them, fleeting things that have always ended after too short of times because it's obvious that he's waiting. someone in his peripheral who guarantees that none of this will last. it's why you've never pursued him yourself; so obvious is he with his patience that it sparks a quiet jealousy in your throat.)
as you pull away, uninterested in letting this feeling fester, he shifts.
"where d'ya think you're going?" his head lifts, eye squinting at you through the blanket of sleep that still engulfs him.
"nowhere."
"y'sure about that?"
"yeah, i'm sure."
the corners of his mouth quirk as his head falls back into his pillow, arm bringing you flush against him. "good."
"good?"
"wanna enjoy my day off."
it rises within you, his words an ember catching flame on the kindling by your heart. "how do you figure you're going to do that? gonna waste your day with someone not your soulmate?"
(only too late do you realize the bitterness in your voice, dripping from your words.)
he offers no answer, merely tutting in your ear, still content to watch you with the same unbothered expression that usually adorns his face with you. the skin to skin contact burns, and you can't tell if it's your ire or his warmth that's the cause.
"why're you always spending your free time with me anyway? shouldn't you be looking for them?"
his hand drags across your back, fingers coming to trace the line of your jaw before lightly gripping your chin like he did last night. "you're cute when you're pissed off. are you jealous your mark hasn't appeared yet?"
heat warms your cheeks and nose and you narrow your eyes, only serving to make him smile. "jealous that you've had yours since we were kids. frustrated that you're... the way that you are without actually searching."
"the way that i am?"
"yeah, the way that you are. fucking... like you're content. full, while the rest of us are empty. fuck, why can't you just answer my question?" it was only supposed to be a one night thing, so why's he holding you like it's something more?
"cause your question doesn't make any sense."
"fuck off." wriggling out of his grasp proves easy enough, but escaping him does not, him rolling until you're firmly trapped beneath him, unable to look away from the unusual intensity in his stare.
"i am right where i want to be. you think after everything i'm not going to be where i want to be?"
it's suffocating, his attention, the sincerity of his words. he's always been like this, painfully earnest even while being mischievous with the rest of you, but his evasiveness when answering your question is... new.
"you could just say that you didn't want to answer me."
he presses closer to you, his hips placed perfectly between your open legs as he leans in to press his lips just beneath your ear. "or maybe you're just too stubborn to hear me when i say that i am right—" (and he rolls himself into you, making your eyes flutter shut as your mind blanks, almost as though all he needed was a single night to learn how to apply pressure to you) "—where i want to be. i want to be here, with you. the quicker you accept that, the happier both of us will be."
hello my loves! this has been on the brainspace forEVER but i only recently got the inspiration to actually write it, hehe
WARNINGS: MDNI, smut, priest jester x novice (nun in training) reader, AFAB reader, heavily implied to be female reader but no pronouns are actually used (ofc), GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CATHOLICISM, like dont read this if u got catholic trauma, corrupt priest, innocent reader, virgin reader, shame, guilt, repressed sexuality, jesters a freak, corruption kink, no actual fucking in this one lads (yet), humping, shoe humping, improper use of prayer, god complex jester, uhh jester gets called 'father' but in a priest way not a daddy way, orgasm control, praise, slighttt degradation. umm i think thats it
WC: ~4.1k
The cathedral walls surrounding you seemed to close in around you the closer you got to the confessional. It was well past sunset, and the moonless sky was not kind enough to offer light for your path, leaving you walking only in the flickering light of the lanterns adorning the walls.
Normally, your busy schedule could always find the time for confessional during the offered times. In fact, you’d confessed a handful of times to thinking unkindly of those who could not leave time for the asking of grace, instead choosing to bother the priests during hours better spent. Shame gripped at you as you rounded a corner for falling to what you once looked down upon. I’ll confess to that, too.
Truth be told, you were there at the last confessional, but despite the grille separating you and the priest, you knew who was on the other side. You’d know his voice, the light, melodic tone he carried no matter the occasion, anywhere, and confessing the thoughts that plagued you to the subject of those thoughts somehow felt worse than not confessing at all. Still, you knew you needed to ask forgiveness for the lust that found you late at night, when your mind began to wander. You knew you needed to ask forgiveness for how tightly you clasped your hands in prayer to avoid them trailing down, down, where your need concentrated between your legs. You knew you needed to ask forgiveness for your awkward gait when leaving his lessons, your arousal slicking your thighs together with each step.
You entered the confessional, facing the grille as, on instinct, your eyes strained to see beyond. You never realized how dark it was in here without light shining between the wood planks. Your fingers toyed with your veil anxiously, wringing it between your fingers as you tried to will yourself to relax.
Father Jester is a busy man. He would not break his routine for a novice requesting confession during abnormal hours. Perhaps it is Father Bilheteiro, he does do what he can to leave Father Jester to the more authoritative manners.
Truth be told, you didn’t care who was on the other side; so long as it wasn’t him.
You squirmed in your seat for a few moments more before finally clearing your throat. Your voice came out high, shaky, the prayers you’d given beforehand doing nothing to strip you of the shame that filled you. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” you choked out, touching your index and middle fingers to your forehead, sternum, left and right shoulders, just as you were taught.
As expected, the priest on the other side stayed silent, giving you the smallest bit of relief. Even though it was improper, Father Jester would often greet you from his side of the grate, that feeling of feeling special not helping your lust. You took another deep breath before continuing. “These are my sins. I have found myself unable to control my lustful thoughts in relation to one of the members of the clergy. These thoughts have distracted me from my lessons in Scripture and Biblical History, and have led me to feel disconnected from the Lord My God,” you said, sighing once the words left your mouth. You hoped whichever priest was listening wouldn’t put together the connection between who taught those lessons and your thoughts.
You let silence fall over the booth after you spoke, trying to cope with the weight of what you just confessed. After several quiet moments, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Admittance always made you feel better, knowing your troubles were in the Lord’s hands.
Whatever peace you felt was interrupted as the priest spoke from the other side before you could continue.
“Is that all you wish to confess, my dear novice?” came the teasing lilt that tormented your mind. Cold dread washed over you as you heard Father Jester’s voice ring from the other side of the confessional, and you were sure he wore a grin on his face watching you pale with terror.
“I- um-” you stammered, fingers tangling once again in the white veil framing your face. You heard a soft huff of amusement leave Jester’s lips, and you found yourself fighting the urge to fix the soft tuft of your bangs peaking out of your veil to something more appealing. Instead, you forced whatever words you could find from your lips, anything to break the tension you were faced with. “I’m- I wasn’t talking about you,” you blurted, wincing as the words left you. Lying during confession…
“Of course not,” he purred out, making you grind your teeth together. Fuck. “I can tell you feel a great deal of shame surrounding these thoughts. Perhaps more detail will help you release that guilt?” he offered.
You nodded before you could think not to, clearing your throat as you sat up just a bit straighter. “I find myself… daydreaming during, um, certain lectures,” you spoke, just barely above a whisper. “About things the Lord warns us about,” you explained.
A shift of fabric from the other side echoed in your ears, then, “And what might those daydreams entail?” he asked, his tone coy, as if he was enjoying teasing you, despite how absurd you knew that sounded.
“Sins of the flesh,” you stated simply, but from the silence that greeted you, you knew he wanted more information.
For my salvation.
“Y- this member of the clergy,” you quickly corrected, hoping he didn’t catch your almost-slip up. “He finds me late at night, in my mind. In these sinful thoughts, I find myself dwelling on how his hand ghosts across my waist when he walks by. I find myself wondering what… what that touch would feel like in other places.” You couldn’t help the slight airy tone in your voice, brain flooding with endorphins as you recalled your deepest fantasies.
“I see,” Jester said. “And have you done anything to relieve yourself of the tension of these daydreams?” he asked. You nodded, choosing to ignore the breathy note hanging on to the edge of his words.
“Of course,” you said quickly. “I always make sure to pray before I am overwhelmed by my sins. I wouldn’t want to be tempted to give in to these thoughts,” you said, almost proud of your self restraint. Sure, you sometimes have to hold your hands hostage to avoid giving in, but so far your track record was spotless.
Your pride was interrupted by a soft huff from Father Jester. “That is not what I am referring to, dear,” he murmured. “Have you truly never tried to gratify these thoughts?”
You were speechless for a moment, before Jester’s voice rang out once more. “Lying is a sin, little one. Even more so during confessional,” he chided lightly. “Tell me, my sweet- has your hand ever wandered to your sweet, virgin cunt late at night?”
A whimper tore through your throat at how vulgar his language was. You tried so hard to convince yourself he was just worried for your soul, your eternal life, but you couldn’t miss the soft panting from beyond the grille no matter how hard you tried. You knew it was the workings of King Asmodeus whispering in your ear, telling you he might want this just as badly as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to shake the idea, his heavy breaths cut through the thick of your rationale.
You shakily leaned forward, lips poised mere centimeters from the grille. “...Self gratification is a sin, Father Jester,” you said softly, though despite your innocent words, you made your voice that much more gentle on purpose, hoping, praying he was as affected as he sounded. Perfect, poised Father Jester, always one for quick quips and known for never losing his graceful image even in the depths of irritation. A man who was the spitting image of self control, unable to quiet his breathing hearing about your nightly fantasies about him, it was nearly too much for you to handle.
“Father?”
“Are you untouched?” he asked. Your cheeks bloomed with warmth at the question.
“Of course. I am saving myself for the Lord,” you assured.
“Untouched, by even your own hand?” he challenged. You hesitated.
You had gained self control in your studies of The Word, but, as embarrassing as it was, there were times before you proclaimed yourself a child of God. Times in which you didn’t feel the guilt you felt now letting one hand trail between your thighs, pooling as much friction as you could get against your most sensitive parts before your world exploded in streaks of color, leaving you panting, shaking in place.
“Before my studies,” you admitted, leaning closer until your lips brushed the grille, straining to hear more of those sinful breaths from Father Jester.
“Walk me through it,” he commanded. Sensing your hesitation, he continued. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear novice. This is confession, correct?” he asked rhetorically. “Then confess.”
Now, you were the one panting, unabashedly against the grate. It was wrong, so wrong, but the thrill you felt from walking the object of your desires through your most intimate moments sent a shiver through you. “Before I came to stay in the novitiate, before I knew Christ as I now do, some nights my sin would get the best of me,” you started. “My hand would find its way to my sex without much thought, and my legs would close around it as I sought release,” you said. You weren’t familiar enough with the vulgar terms like the one Father Jester had used to trust yourself to use them correctly. Unbeknownst to you, your innocent language only made your priest that much harder.
“And what would cross your mind during these bouts of sin?” he asked, his voice sounding further away, as if he was leaned back in his chair. You pouted a bit, realizing his composure had come back once more. You pouted more realizing you were the one who was affected, now.
You thought back to those nights. The thoughts weren’t foreign to you in recent weeks, but you often managed to filter them out through a chorus of Hail Mary’s before they got much further than simple petting. Still, fantasies of days past rang in your mind in a familiar manner. “Thoughts of my wedding night, what it might look like…” you took a breath to steady yourself, bringing your gaze to where you thought Jester’s might be beyond the grate. “Whoever my husband might be, pushing himself into me, as he tells me how good it feels for our souls to be united as one.”
The thought alone was so debauched to you, Jester almost laughed thinking about the depravity he had imagined you in. On your knees, begging for his cock down your throat, or begging for his cum to flood your virgin cunt, chastity be damned. How many times he found himself idly dreaming about you pleading for him to ruin your innocence, to pledge your eternal soul to him instead of some flimsy deity above, would surely appall you.
Jester watched with hungry eyes as your thighs squeezed tightly under your habit, accentuating the swell of your hips that was already so deliciously visible thanks to the tie around your waist. Your hand shook as it trailed down the edge of your habit, pressing against the seam of your thighs, just barely tipping the edge of obscenity.
“First Corinthians. Chapter six, verse eighteen.” His voice cut through the tension in the booth, halting your thoughts as you remember exactly where you were.
“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, the realization of your behavior slamming into you. Gosh, you’d never felt so humiliated in your life.
“Despite your claims of a wandering mind, you are in fact my best novice in Scripture. Recite for me, little one, First Corinthians, 6:18.”
You swallowed as you recalled the verse, pulling away from the grille, failing to hide your pitiful display of lust. “1 Corinthians, 6:18. F-flee… sexual immorality. Every other sin that a p-person commits is outside- outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body,” you quoted, the words feeling sinful thanks to the slick pooling under your habit, threatening to soak through the light fabric and stain the chair below.
“Once more, novice, and without the stuttering this time,” he commanded. You nodded, your heart racing wildly in your chest. You clenched your hands into fists, bracing yourself.
“1 Corinthians, 6:18. Flee sexual immorality. Every other sin that a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body,” you said, speaking slowly in an attempt to keep your voice steady. Silence greeted you when you were done, Father Jester no doubt deciding whether you appeased his request or not.
“I will accept it,” he finally decided. You heard the creak of wood from his side as he leaned forward. “Now, is that all of your sin you are to confess?” he asked.
You blinked, everything having moved so quickly. Did he, too, stumble into lust during your admittance? Were you going to Hell for causing a priest to stumble?
“Yes sir,” you responded quietly.
“Good,” he responded. “Now, after we pray for Contrition, be a good disciple and take yourself to bed. I do hope you can manage it without sin, this time,” he said.
Gosh, you’d never been so humiliated in your life. You’d never been so turned on before, either.
…
You thought confession would make you feel better. You thought the absolvement of your sins would make it easier to avoid your wandering hands. But, as you sat at the foot of the cross in the empty sanctuary, having had to flee your room to escape your greedy hands, you realized that confessing only made you feel worse.
The footsteps falling behind you didn’t register in your mind until they stopped just behind you, dread running up your spine.
“Having trouble, my sweet?” Father Jester purred. You didn’t open your eyes, instead clutching your rosary harder, until the metal links between the beads dug into the flesh of your fingers.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you answered, your voice shaky, uncertain. You heard his footsteps round you, then, a shift of fabric, You peeked an eye open to see him sitting on the pedestal in front of you, just under the cross.
“Oh, well, we can’t have that, now can we? You need to be well rested to serve the Lord,” he cooed. His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted your head up, forcing you to look up at him. Both eyes opened as you stared at him, a deer in headlights look on your face. “Mmm, such pretty eyes, darling. I think I quite enjoy them focused on me,” he purred, his thumb tracing your cheekbone in a way that was almost hypnotic.
“I must finish prayer,” you said, nearly whining, pleading silently for mercy.
He did not grant you mercy.
“What prayer were you reciting?” he asked curiously. You bit your lip.
“Gloria,” you murmured. Father Jester’s grin sharpened.
“Start over for me, since I dared to interrupt you,” he commanded. You swallowed nervously, letting your eyes slip shut as you bowed your head once again. You were interrupted by his thumb tapping your cheek, bringing your gaze to him once again. “Eyes on me, darling. I want to see the devotion written on your face.”
You weren’t entirely sure he was referring to the Lord at that moment.
The prayer wasn’t terribly long, so starting over wasn’t the worst thing he could have asked you to do. Maintaining eye contact as per Father Jester’s instructions, you let the prayer slip past your lips.
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. We praise you, we bless you, we adore you, we glorify you.” Jester’s hand slipped from your face to cross over his lap. He never once broke your gaze, greedily drinking up your praise, as if your devotion was to him instead of the Lord. “We give you thanks for your great glory, Lord God, heavenly King...” You watched in your peripheral as he shifted his foot meeting the ground before slowly sliding forward. You jumped, your voice trailing off into nothing as the leather of his dress shoe pressed into your center. You found yourself pressing against it without thinking, a moan finding its way past your lips at the sheer relief you felt.
“Continue,” he said lowly, looking down at you through his lashes.
“O God, almighty Father. Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son,” the words came out high pitched as you struggled to keep from mewling. You fought as best you could to not hump the leather between your thighs, the nightgown you were glad in giving him more access than your habit would, but even so, you were helpless against the small bounces that sneaked past your defenses, pressing your clit rhythmically against the leather. “Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us- on me.”
You felt shame for how you looked up at Jester with such wide eyes, but that shame quickly melted away in favor of something more carnal as he rocked his shoe up against your clit, giving steady friction to your most sensitive area. You whined, biting your lip as your hips humped against him involuntarily. “Please…”
“Oh, my sweet,” he sighed out. “Such a sinful little thing. What ever will you say at the next confessional?” he cooed, pouting down at you mockingly. You whined, opening your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Father Jester. “If you don’t want to restart your prayer, I’d suggest you continue,” he ordered. You bit your lip, nodding as another whimper slipped through.
“Y-you take away the, ngh~ s-sins of the world, receive our prayer,” Jester quickened hit pace against your cunt, and you gasped hearing the slick noises coming from between your thighs, no doubt having soaked through your flimsy nightwear and staining his leather.
“Such filth,” he sneered, the disapproval in his voice making your walls bear down against nothing. “Do you get this wet during your little nightly distractions?
You whimpered, looking away before nodding, clutching your rosary tighter in your hands, hoping, praying it would ground you against the waves of pleasure that threatened to drag you under. Jester tutted, reaching a hand out and tugging your rosary, your gaze snapping back to his. “I won’t tell you again, novice. Don’t look away,” he hissed out quietly, using the tone he reserved only for corrections of more grave offenses. You’d only been on the receiving end of that tone once before, having said an instinctive goddamn when stubbing your toe. Back then, it terrified you. Now, it only made you feel more needy. “You’re almost there, darling. Keep going,” he said. His instruction was vague enough, you weren’t sure exactly what you were meant to finish, but you continued on with the prayer, even as the pressure between your thighs threatened to burst.
“You are seated at the- the right hand of the F-Father,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “have mercy on me.” Your eyes fluttered as you shuddered, fighting to bring your gaze back to his. Father Jester grinned as you looked at him unsteadily, pleasure written on your every feature. He was enjoying your struggle, and he made no attempt to hide it. “For- for you alone are the Holy One- hahh~!” a breathy moan interrupted you, your thighs trembling as release toyed at the edge of your senses.
“Do not. Not until you’ve finished prayer,” Jester instructed firmly. You whined, shaking your head as your eyes rolled back.
“I can’t- I can’t,” you said, your tone pleading with him for mercy, of which Jester offered none.
“You can, and you will.” He watched as you groaned, a shudder wracking your frame. “C’mon, keep going. The faster you go, the easier it’ll be,” he said.
That was who Father Jester was. He was firm, cold to some, but even amidst nearly impossible tasks, he still did his best to guide you to succeed. Thats what you chose to tell yourself, at least. Maybe this was a test? Yes, a test! Of my resolve, my temperance!
You felt silly, for thinking of this with such dirty thoughts. Your beloved priest would never lead you astray. He simply wanted you prepared to commit yourself to the Lord.
“You alone are the L- the Lord, you alone are the Most High,” you continued. You no longer tried to fight the shake in your voice, no longer tried to hide the warmth in your cheeks, your attention devoted to holding your peak back long enough to appease Jester. You held eye contact as best you could, even as the edges of your vision twinkled with stars, your orgasm inevitable. “Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit…” your brow furrowed. “Jesus Ch-Christ, with the Hhh- Holy Spirit…”
Jester grinned as your mind slipped from you, the prayer falling silent as you struggled to remember the last final words. “Please.”
“Come on my sweet, you’re so close for me,” he purred out. You nodded, looking up at him pleadingly. “Just a little more, and then you can cum. Go on,” he cooed, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. He kept up the constant friction against your clit, not helping your mind focus any. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you felt a bead of sweat form on your forehead. Your thighs trembled as your rosary glinted in the light as it swung thanks to your shaking hands.
“I-I’m-”
“Not until you finish,” he reminded. You groaned, nearly doubling over with the effort it took to not cum. Your eyes squeezed shut as your desperate mind finally managed to come up with the missing words.
“InthegloryoftheFatherAmen~!” you squealed, your orgasm crashing into you. Liquid gushed from your cunt as the ground disappeared from around you, the metal links of the rosary fading from your palms. The only things in that moment were you, Father Jester, and the waves of pleasure crashing into your helpless form, leaving you shuddering, shaking over Jester’s shoe.
Father Jester watched as you fell apart, a grin on his lips seeing you so helpless against such simple stimulation. At this rate, he wasn’t sure you could even take what he had planned for you.
Your orgasm faded, leaving you soaking wet against the leather between your thighs. Jester pulled back, the cold air of the room hitting the sopping mess between your legs. Realization of what just happened, what you did slammed into you as your arousal faded, making you wrap your arms tightly around yourself in shame.
“No, no, my sweet. You did so good, such a smart little novice for me,” Father Jester assured. You looked up at him shyly, biting your lip.
“That- that was indecent,” you insisted. Jester tutted.
“How so? You did not commit sodomy, nor adultery.” He leaned forward, grabbing hold of your rosary once again, bringing your arms towards him. Your skin never touched, the only connection he allowed between you two being the glinting metal you clutched so tightly. “As a member of the clergy, I would never lead you astray, my sweet. You have a bright future in the monastery here. Everything I do is to drive you closer to that goal.” He paused, looking between your eyes with a sincerity you were sure couldn’t be faked. “There was no sin committed here, my dear novice,” he assured.
Though guilt still plagued you, you felt some of the pressure released at your words. You couldn’t help but trust him- he’d given you no reason not to.
“Yes, Father Jester,” you nodded, smiling shyly at him.
“Go wash up and get to bed- it’s far too late for you. I’ll see you in the morning," he said. You nodded, standing up on shaky legs. He released your rosary to let you walk away. You got to the doors of the sanctuary before you turned around, smiling.
“Thank you, Father Jester. You truly bring me closer to the Lord,” you said, your tone genuine.
“Of course, sweet novice,” he grinned. You turned, walking away towards the novitiate.
“Such a sweet, stupid lamb,” he murmured to himself. Once he was sure you were gone, he stood, smirking at the evidence of your arousal still shining on his leather dress shoe. “How long until you fall for me..?”
Just re-read my post about Enjins pants falling down because I think it’s funny as fuck and thought about something. (link here if you wanna read that one first)
Imagine that happened and your Jinki is your shoes and they help you run hella fast. Like, his ass is NOT catching you as you tell literally everyone at HQ that the supposedly super cool and always calm Enjin got pantsed by a trash beast. By the time he finally ‘catches up’ to you (aka, you stopped running away), he is a sweating, panting mess, bent over with his hands on his knees to try and get some air back in his lungs.
“You’re….fucking…evil…” He is barely able to get that out before collapsing into a chair.
“Ease up on the cigarettes and you might be able to keep up."
“You know that’s bullshit. You’d be faster than me if you smoked as much as I did and I never smoked. It ain’t about my lungs."
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make it any easier having shit lungs.” He looked miserable in his chair. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he had taken off his jacket. It makes sense. He had been running for almost an entire hour, trying to keep up with you. Plus you knew the jokes about what happened were well on their way which would just add to his misery. You felt a little bad. So, you reached into his pocket, which earned a slightly shocked and inquisitive look from him, and pulled out his cigarettes and lighter.
Carefully, you lit one up and held it to his lips. The look on his face told you that this was for sure a turn on for him. He didn’t hesitate for more than a second before taking it between his lips. As he took a drag, you kept your hand there. Only when he started to breathe smoke through his nose did you move your hand to cup his chin, tilting his head up to face you a bit more. You leaned in close to his face, watching as his eyes relaxed a bit till they were half lidded.
“If it makes you feel better, those abs and that happy trail were a real sight for sore eyes. Plus your legs looked real good.” He could feel your breath on his ear and it sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t have time to react before you pulled away and started to leave. “See ya!” You called out, already turning a corner.
Enjin let out a groan while standing up, getting a second wave of energy to chase after you even more. This time, for a completely different reason.
tw: pussy eating, use of toys, fem!reader, mentions of period sex
a/n: cunnilingus is such a silly word, we need a new one.
enjin:
enjin is a messy eater. he’s rubbing his face all over your pussy, spitting on your clit, trying to see how far he can get his tongue in you. he likes having you on your back so he can push your knees up by your ears because it gives him more room to work. he’ll grab your hands and place them in his hair to encourage you to yank him around. definitely a mattress humper, too
gris rubion:
gris is such a tease. he loves using just the tip of his tongue to flick over your folds, maybe pinching your clit over and over until it’s all red and puffy. he likes to take his time when he eats. it’s a meal, not a race. i also think gris is into chubby girls, so of course he’s grabbing your tummy and squeezing your thighs around his head.
tamsy caines:
tamsy is so mean about it. i would say he’s a tease as well, but the way he eats is more akin to torture. he starts out super slow, lightly grazing his finger tips up and down your mound, blowing cold air over your poor cunny. big fan of edging and even complete orgasm denial. oh and he absolutely uses toys like vibrators and clit clamps.
follo tunito:
follo is not very experienced, but he is a quick and enthusiastic learner. he’s constantly asking you if he’s doing it right, if it feels good when he does this or that. another bed humper, he just loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head and you taste so good, mommy baby. after the first time, he’s absolutely hooked, asking you if he can go down at all hours of the day and night.
arkha corvus:
big daddy arkha knows what he’s doing. he’s also a certified service dom, so as soon as you ask him to eat your pussy with those big puppy eyes of yours, he’s hoisting you up on the desk and instructing you to hold yourself open for him. he’ll tease you a little at the start, but he quickly loses himself in your pretty folds, making sure you’ve cum a few times before he stuffs his cock in you.
bro santa:
bro is so pussy whipped for you. all you have to do is softly push his head toward your thighs and he’s a man on a mission. he’ll eat for so long because he’s genuinely drunk off your slick that he doesn’t realize you’ve been weakly slapping at his forehead, crying that it’s too much!
august stilza:
august never shuts the fuck up, even with a mouthful of pussy. he’s whining, moaning, saying shit like fuck mama, your pussy tastes so good and want you to cum all over my face. he’s such a slut for you so there’s no way he’s not cumming in his boxers untouched, just from having your pretty kitty all up in his face. and he’s constantly begging you to sit on his face, no matter your weight. frankly, he’s another chubby chaser so to him, the bigger the better.
semiu grier:
semiu is the queen of eating cunt, dude. she’s so good at what she’s doing that she has you cumming within, like, five minutes. she’s a huge fan of overstimulating you, sometimes to the point of squirting. i saw a tiktok forever ago where a girl said she got eaten out by another woman for the first time and she came so hard she couldn’t hear. that’s what semiu does to you, except it’s every time.
bundus begalkeit:
bundus is such a gentleman. he’s taking his time, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs, telling you that yer so gorgeous, doll and ya got the prettiest cunny i ever saw. once again, chubby chaser, and he loves just about every position he can eat you in. from the back? he’s grabbing your round ass and plush hips, pulling you back on his face. missionary? he’s squeezing your thighs around his head and groping your tummy. sitting on his face? he’s pinching and pulling your nipples, taking handfuls of your soft tits.
zodyl typhon:
i am a munch zodyl truther. but, he really only does it for his pleasure, so he’s not that great at it. still, he’s eating your kitty for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, all of it. and he doesn’t waste anything, so of course he’s eating his cum from your puffy hole every time he’s too lazy to pull out, sometimes stretching up to spit it back into your mouth.
jabber wonger:
jabber loves, loves, to get nasty when he eats. he does not care if you’re on your period, if you’ve just finished working out and haven’t showered yet, if you’ve haven’t shaved in weeks. he’s particularly fond of eating your poor kitty when she’s bleeding, especially after you told him it helps ease that painful, swollen feeling in your clit. anything for his favorite girl! his favorite way to eat it is with you sitting your full body weight on his face, tugging on his locs and rocking back and forth over his tongue and nose.
very much so convinced that enjin’s favorite time to eat box is when you’re laid up on the worn leather of your couch, eyes glued to the flickering screen of your television—weekly episode drops for your most recent obsession being the reason as to why you barely even looked at him from 6-7pm on a friday evening.
it also turned out that this time was when your boyfriend wanted to gently spread apart your plush thighs, your hand absentmindedly pulling at his scalp to direct him exactly where he needs to be, sloppy kisses to each side of your lips making you sigh quietly.
“mpfh mwa—" he mumbled into you, your legs trembling slightly from the vibration of his voice.
“'jinnn don’t talk with your mouth full...” you murmured, his mouth moving to nip at the softness of your inner thigh before returning back to the warmth of your heat—alternating between teasing kitten licks and long flat strokes of his tongue, building you up with a quiet consistency that slowly crept up on you, nails digging into the peeling leather as the chatter from the glowing screen blended into a low drone.
“r-right thereee!” you sighed and you felt one, two thick fingers press into your slick walls, tight ring of muscle greedily sucking in both digits as he curled them up slightly, jaw going slack from both the internal and external stimulation.
he was always a great eater but it seemed like the fact that your attention wasn't completely on him only spurred him on further, dedicated to making it so that all of your attention was on him.
and it was working, back arching a little as his cheeks hollowed out, that low drop in the pit of your stomach making you groan as you let your eyes flutter shut—ready to fall of that metaphorical ledge, fingers scrunching even tighter in his hair.
then he pulled his fingers out with a pop!
“what the—"
“show’s done.”
you looked back up at the tv, white text scrolling against the black background.
“you ready to finally give me some love?” he asked as if he was some kind of neglected animal and not a fully grown man with enough responsibilities to make you gag.
you looked back up at the tv, advert for crunchy granola replacing the episode you had basically half watched.
you huffed.
"fine. but you're doing all the work 'cause you made me miss my episode. how am i supposed to know what samir did about the blocked toilet?"
"baby i always do all the work." and as if to prove a point he picked you up from the couch and tossed you over his shoulder.
"oh and he cut it up. like with a knife and fork."
"...seriously?"
"tried using conditioner first. did not work out."
a/n :: just finished s1 of adults and i quite literally cannot wait until s2 oh my godddd
He's literally grinding and pressing against your gspot, it's too good. He's making you feel too good.
You can't help the airy whimpers leaving your lips and if he doesnt stop fucking you right there....right there.....oh fuck right-
"UHHHN-MMF!!!!!"
He covers your mouth. Tightly. His whole hand firmly has the lower part of your face covered and you feel his warm skin and hand muscles flexing to keep over your drooling mouth.
It's all too much and you're so surprised that even though he's covering your mouth hes still fucking you through your orgasm.
The whole thing violently turns you on all over again and you cum a second time and scream behind his mouth.
── .✦ note and tags: had a thought about you in frank's fav sundress ..... and well!
nsfw content ahead, minors dn not interact, frank castle x fem!reader husband!frank goes kinda crazy over you in a sundress, public sex, reader has a v, fingering, squirting, brief oral sex (f/m receive) backshots in the backseat, dirty talk (frank running that mouff), use of petnames (baby, mama, papa, sweet wife, baby girl, sweetgirl), slight food play?? — excuse any typos I was excited to post and this is subject to be edited!
wc: 4k
Frank has a special place in his heart for that pale yellow sundress of yours.
Thin strapped, high split, delicate tie in the middle made into a perfect bow always drove him insane.
It's a Sunday morning and Frank is lacing up his boots in your shared living room. You told him about the annual summer farmer's market the night before, proclaiming you would go with or without him. He was half asleep holding you, assuring you in half lucidity he would go under one condition:
"Wear that one yellow dress."
Frank is finishing lacing up his boots when you descend the stairs. He looks up to ask you if you were ready but the question never left his mouth. His fingers stall his lacing, sitting up straight to look at you all over. He mirrors the same smile you have adorned across your face.
"You like?" You ask, giving a twirl and allowing the split to open up. The delicious curves of your thighs peak out at Frank who simply smiles and shakes his head, attempting to gather his thoughts.
"More than like, sweetheart. You know what the dress does to me." Frank's eyes sweep up and down your fame as you saunter over. His hands find your waist immediately as you look down at him, sharing a gaze as your fingers run through his locks.
"So you said half asleep last night." You chuckle, hand moving down to scratch gently along his beard. He hums.
"I don't remember, but i'm glad one of us did, doll." He admits honestly and you smile. You reach down, kissing him on the lips and he kisses you back. His hand slides gently down to cup your ass softly, earning a giggle from you. He laughs as you smack him on the shoulder, but you give him one more kiss.
"Let's go before we don't make it out the house."
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍋ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍋ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚
Frank surprisingly kept his hands to himself on the way there. Sure he had that gentle hand on your thigh while driving, but he truly seemed like he was going to behave.
But that keyword: seemed.
Because the moment you two were steadily walking through the market, your hips swaying at every step, the restraint slowly dissipates from Frank's body. His eyes were fixated on your lower back as you wander between booths. You're completely oblivious as you continue sampling all the different kinds of fruits and juices the vendors offered. Currently you have a strawberry offered by a local strawberry farmer in your hand. You bite into it, juices exploding as it dribbles down your chin and around your lips. The world slips into slow motion as Frank watches, seeing the juice pool around your lips and some from your chin landing onto your breast. His pulse roars in his ears at the scene, eyes flickering back to your mouth as you lick away the juice.
"Babe, you gotta try this. It's so juicy." You bring the fruit up to his lips, still completely unaware of your husband violently undressing you with his eyes. He says nothing, but opens his mouth as you pop the fruit into his mouth.
But then his lips close around your finger playfully, making a small show to suck the juice off of your finger, your breath gets caught in your throat. Especially when you saw the glint behind those brown irises, hinting that he was not on his best behavior this whole time.
And all it took was a strawberry farmer to ignite his worst behavior.
You move your finger from his mouth, face flushing from the heat that was not because of the sunlight beating down. You can only look at him, words lost as your brain short circuits.
"Juicy," he says. "but I definitely know something that's juicer, baby." Frank says, eyes flickering from your breast to your face. He reaches down and wipes the juice away that's still sitting on top of your breasts.
"Yeah?" You ask, almost in a drunken daze because you know where this is headed. Especially when he takes his finger and sticks it in his mouth, your insides twist and flutter as you squeeze your thighs together.
"Yeah," He says. "I do."
You two hold a stare, subtly forgetting that you were in the middle of a market. You begin to snap out of your trance slowly before reaching out to grab his hand.
"Come on, let's at least walk by everything before you start plotting further, Mr. Castiglione." You say, interlocking your fingers and beginning to walk, pulling him after you. He trails behind, chuckling at you but his eyes watch your ass bounce with each step.
"Lead the way, Mrs. Castiglione." He says, low in his throat as he plants a kiss to your temple. More heat flushes across your cheeks and you give his hand a squeeze.
You two continue to get through the market. Despite his behavior with the strawberry he managed to hold it together. Or so he wanted you to think.
Frank's mind stayed on you and that damn yellow dress. The same one that catches the wind at the right moments, split opening graciously and revealing your thighs again. And if it wasn't your thighs that had his attention, then it was your ass. You actually caught him staring several times whenever you turned around unexpectedly to make a comment or ask a question. And if it wasn't your ass he was staring at, then it was your breast. Many times while you were eating or talking you saw his eyes flicker down to your chest. His mind far from whatever produce you were rambling about at that moment.
And at this moment, his focus was on the delicate bow you tied to hold your breast in the brassiere of the dress. This particular piece was driving him crazy, and all he could think about was reaching down, taking one of the dainty strings by his teeth to pull it loose, springing your breast free for him.
Heavily considered it before remembering you two were in broad daylight in the middle of a farmer's market. So, with the last bit of his restraint, he brought his focus back to you as you pulled him over to the next stall ran by a vegetable farmer.
"I could use some fresh vegetables for dinner tonight." You hum, picking up a variety of different vegetables. Cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, you had them all as Frank watches your hips sway. He bit into his bottom as he coasts up behind you, pressing his front against your rear.
"Gotta say, I'm pretty hungry right now, doll." He says, voice thick with want. The deepness of his voice sending shivers down your spine before they settle into the pit of your stomach. A pool of want growing as he places a hand on your hip. You look over your shoulder, seeing that look in his eye as he looks from your eyes, lips, and settling on your breast.
"Frank." You shutter out, watching as his head dips lower to kiss behind your ear. Your knees damn near buckle as he licks hotly before biting down. A gasp escapes your mouth and you drop the vegetables from your hands. The farmer looks up, alarmed by your sudden behavior and worried something was wrong with the produce.
"Everything okay, miss? There's nothing wrong with the crops right?" He asks, standing up as you quickly apology.
"No no! Sorry I just saw a bee." You lie, bending down to get the vegetables but Frank was already gathering them. He turns his attention to the farmer.
"We'll take these." Frank says, looking briefly at you before giving you a look you know all too well.
Frank was tired of waiting and this was the last stall you would visit.
And he was not going to wait till you both got home.
And that is how you ended up in the backseat of Frank's truck.
"Frank." You moan as his lips move from the corner of your mouth to trail wet, tepid kisses along your neck. He groans, licking along your pulse before nipping gently. You gasp, opening your legs wider to allow him to settle in comfortably.
"Been wanting you since I saw you come down in that dress, sweetheart." Frank confesses as he licks along your neck. Your legs shiver in response before you roll your hips against him.
"I love wearing this dress for you." You find yourself confessing along with him as he lowers his lips to your collarbone. Your fingers come up, gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he bites along the bone. You whimper, rolling your hips again and feel the tightness in his jeans.
"Yeah, is that right?" He asks, continuing to shower you with kisses as he lowers himself to your breast. "Fucking love when you wear this dress you have no idea how much it drives me crazy, doll." Frank devotes himself to you while worshipping your body. You let out a squeak as he bites your breast, lips sucking to earn a illicit coo out of you.
"You're insatiable." You manage to chuckle out and releases your breast from his lips. He raises an eyebrow as dark chuckle escapes him.
"Can you blame me?" He starts, kissing the neglected breast, "fucking got me ready to take you in the backseat right now, princess. You do criminal things to me when you wear this dress you know that?" He says, kissing your breast before biting down. You throw your head back, moaning as pleasure consumes you. He licks an sucks, igniting heat within in your lower belly. Your cunt pulses and you roll your hips once more to feel pressure. Your clit is aching to be touched and his rough denim causes you to whimper at the contact. He releases your breast from his mouth, ready to move on as his bites decorate your skin.
And what he does next, leaves you breathless.
With his eyes never leaving yours, he lowers his mouth to the drawstrings in front of your dress. He takes one string between his teeth, pulling back to unravel the pretty bow you made early this morning. Your breast spring free and Frank licks his lips before divulging.
He takes one of your areola's in his mouth, the pert bud hardening within seconds in his hot mouth. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, tugging hard on his hair and earning a groan from him. He bites gently, causing you to gasp and your clit to twitch. His rough hand comes up to the neglected breast, cupping, squeezing, and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You begin panting in the backseat, heat increasing and you start to slide your sundress straps off until Frank slaps your thigh gently.
"Don't you fucking dare. Don't even fucking think about taking this dress off, you hear me, sweetheart?" He orders and you pull the straps back up, obeying without a second thought as he continues to worship you. He switches over to the other, trail of saliva in his wake and the scene of so lewd and disgusting but you love it. He earns another roll of your hips again but he grabs his hands and holds you still.
"Frank!" You whine, hating the restraint but forgetting momentarily when he sucks on your other nipple. Your thighs grow sticky with wetness that pools from your thighs. All this attention to every sensitive spot but the one place you craved him the most was driving you insane.
"Love how you did this bow sweetheart, but I love your breast more." He sucks harder, "so perfect, so beautiful, just like my girl." He praises and you sigh.
"Frank—" but he cuts you off.
"You know what I love even more?" Frank questions, fingers skating up underneath your dress.
"What?" You ask innocently, looking at him beneath your eyelashes into a look that you know drives him crazy.
"This pussy—fucking wet pussy. How drenched it gets for me, baby. Always a damn running faucet for me huh?" Frank confesses filithily, his fingers finding your naked pelvis. He raises an eyebrow at you.
"No panties today either? So that's why your ass was moving like it was all damn day, huh sweetheart? You tryin' to kill me with that perfect ass of yours?" Frank rambles as he slides a finger across the silky patch of skin above your clit. It's freshly shaven and Frank wonders if you did it this morning.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice." You tease as his finger slowly descends between your thighs.
"Oh I noticed," he says darkly, "and now I'm gonna give you what you asked for by wearing this fucking dress." His finger finds your swollen clit with ease, caressing it softly. The touch has you throwing your head back against the door as a pathetic mewl escapes you.
"I love when you play with my clit, Frank." You say as he continues his soft strokes. His rough fingers are so tender with their touch and the juxtaposition has your head spinning.
"Yeah, but I think you deserve a little more right now, huh doll?" He asks, finger circling your clit once more before dipping down unexpectedly. He curses under his breath as he feels how drenched you are and you cry.
"Please, please please," the begs come out of you before you can stop yourself, "I want you, Frank." You plea, core clenching around nothing and you were growing achingly desperate for something to fill you, stretch you. The desire to be full continues to consume your mind and Frank sees it in the way your eyes look at him. He knows that look means you're ready for him to be buried inside but he has other plans.
"I know you do, baby but I gotta take my time with this dress yeah? You wore it for me and I gotta thank you the best way, baby girl." Frank slides his finger inside your soaking cunt and your hips jerk at the feeling. You whine, rolling your hips to get him to stuff you with one more finger.
"Frank—oh fuck!" Another thick digit buries itself into you before you can verbally beg him. He curves up, hitting that gummy patch and your eyes roll back.
"S'tight I gotta open you up before I give you my cock, y/n. I can't be hurting my sweet little wife who wore this dress just for me right? I'd be a shitty husband, huh sweetheart?" Frank runs his mouth, continuing to scissor his fingers as you whine.
"Frank." You pant as he moves his fingers faster, hitting that spot deeper and harder, earning that lewd squelching noise. Frank grunts, moving his free hand to grab your breast before playing with your nipple. He feels your cunt flutter around his fingers, squeezing tightly causing him to swear.
"Christ, you're squeezing the hell out of my fingers doll," he says, "you think you're ready for me? Or should I add a third and play with you a little longer, hmm?" His filthy words and brutal fingering earns desparate mmm's and ahh's out of you. He stares down at you, watching your breast jiggle as you continue your pathetic whines and whimpers. Your lips are flushed, glossy with saliva.
"Another." You finally mewl out and Frank hums.
"You want another, sweetheart? Fuck, I'll give it to you baby. I'd be a shitty husband if I didn't give you what you want, huh?" He asks and you're nodding, whimpering as he slides a third inside. He stretches you deliciously and you cry out. Your nails find home on his bicep as you struggle to brace yourself.
"Frank—fuck!" His hand flies from your breast to your mouth, quieting your moans as he sees a couple walk by. You're turned on more, whimpering against his palm as he continues to finger you dizzy. Frank watches the couple disappear between cars and turns his attention back to you. His fingers are soaked and he knows your dress isn't probably too far from being like his fingers.
"You think you're ready for me, sweetheart," Frank says, "because I think if you get any wetter you'll soak through that dress of yours." And you nod enthusiastically. You pull your dress up, exposing your thighs and messy cunt. He sees your thighs are soaked, arousal shinny and sticky. His pupils blow the moment he catches liquid pouring out of your cunt.
“Nnnmmphh—fuck!” You squeal as you spray all over his fingers, definitely wetting your dress now. Frank lets out a low rumble that resembles a growl almost before diving between your messy thighs. His hot tongue swipes at your clit before trailing down to drink up your nectar.
“Taste so good, sweetheart,” Frank says after pulling himself from between your thighs, “I definitely think you’re ready for me now, hm?” He asks, hands going to his belt but you’re faster. He lets out a chuckle as you work quickly, unfastening his worn leather belt and then working on his button. You undo the zipper as he pulls his denim down, along with his boxers and his cock springs free. Your mouth waters, seeing the mushroom tip flushed purple almost with the tip leaking. You surge forward, taking the head between your lips and sucking. Frank hisses, hand going to your curls before gripping roughly.
“Shit, y/n.” He groans as you work sloppily. You slide your mouth further, taking more in and he jumps in your mouth. You moan around him, salivating and Frank grips your hair tighter. You run your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside and Frank’s hips buck, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You gag softly but keep him nestled in your throat and Frank damn near loses it.
“Fuck, I need that pussy now. Turn around f’me, pretty girl okay?” Frank says, pulling you off of him and you have a trail of spit from his tip to your bottom lip. You smile, leaning down to kiss the tip one last time before turning around. You hike your dress up, having it pool around your waist and you brace your hand onto the doorrest. Frank settles behind you, hands coming up to caress your awaiting ass. He slaps one cheek playfully before squeezing it, admiring how the fat jiggles and how soft it is. Frank always told himself it was the 8th wonder of the world because he was mesmerized every time he saw it.
“Baby, you're staring.” You giggle, wiggling your ass playfully and he slaps the right cheek. You gasp but then whine as he slaps the other one harder.
“Gotta give my favorite juicy peach some love first, sweetgirl.” He says before positioning himself behind you. You foot a leg onto the ground, opening yourself up and giving Frank an illicit view of your awaiting cunt. It’s dripping obscenely and Frank doesn’t waste a single second before sinking himself into you.
The two of you moan, hissing at the tightness of your cunt as he continues to bury himself at the hilt. You let out a salacious mewl, back arching just the way you knew Frank liked it before he eases out. He swears under his breath, sliding back in as he marvels on how well you squeeze him. He looks down, watching his cock emerge with a creamy ring and he swears.
“Barely started and you’re already creamin’ on me, baby, fuck.” His pelvis meets the curve of your ass and he grips your hips to anchor himself. His nails dig into the skin and you whimper at the sting that occurs. You grip the door rest hard, ashening your knuckles you’re sure as he continues to drill himself deep inside you.
“Frank, ohmygod–mmmph!” You whimper, hearing the sounds of skin slapping and your pussy creaming around your husband. Frank continues to grunt behind you, cursing whenever you squeezed him tight when he hit that spot that left you seeing stars. Your toes are curling in your sandals, roots sweating, and thighs shaking with each pound against your cunt.
“That’s my pretty little wife yeah that’s it baby,” he says, “keep moaning for me sweet girl, you’re so fucking good papa’s so proud of you yeah?” Frank says tenderly as he praises you. You wail at the praises, taunt feeling in your core pulling tighter and tighter as he talks you through it.
“I love you so much, Frank.” You whimper, eyes screwed shut as you give yourself entirely to your husband. The pleasure runs rampant through your body, pooling tightly and warming in your lower belly as his cock continues to kiss those deep parts of you.
“I love you too, baby s’good, so fucking good for your husband huh?” The praises tumble from his mouth as he continues to feel your cunt suck him in. The grip on his cock told him you never wanted him to leave and shit he was feeling the same. Your cunt was gushing, dripping down your thighs now and surely making a mess on the seat.
“Yes, daddy, I love being good for you.” You’re completely drunk off of his cock that continues to piston into you and he knows it. He hears the desperate whines you let out that only meant you were close. Especially with your thighs shaking, he knew you were only moments from coming all over him. He wasn’t too far behind you either.
“Ahh–fuck mama, you’re so perfect for me taking this cock,” he slaps your ass and you yelp but moan as he rubs the sore spot, “keep being good for me and cum on this cock yeah? I know you can do it sweet girl I feel you dripping and squeezing me sweetheart, fuck.” Frank continues to be filthy as he drills into you.
“Frank, I can’t, I can’t–” You chant, the pleasure becoming too much for you that you were almost scared. You already knew this orgasm was going to hit you hard and you knew no amount of bracing could prepare you for the pending wave about to crash over you. And Frank knew this too, especially with the way you reach back, holding onto his wrist to ground yourself. But he’s not phased by your words; he knows you can do it.
“Yes you can, mama. I know it’s so much and a lot for your little cunt but you’re so good,” he leans down, placing kisses along your back to soothe you, “you’re doing so good for me. Go ahead and come f’me baby girl.” He coaches you through it, placing more kisses and you mewl underneath him. You grow louder, body shaking as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.
“Oh—fuck!” You cum all over Frank, cunt clamping down and squeezing him tightly. Your body shakes violently as you let out a series of whimpers and moans.
“That's right cum for me sweetheart,” Frank grunts, hissing as his balls feel heavy. “Atta girl, atta fucking girl come for papa.” Frank groans, feeling his balls swell as the build up rushes to his tip. He’s groaning, thrusts becoming chopping.
“Go ‘head and come for me, Frankie.” You whimper as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He doesn’t need further encouragement with the help of your wet and slick walls coating him. He’s spilling in you within seconds, groans bubbling in his throat as he does. Frank gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out of you. The two of you hiss at the loss but let out a sigh of content. You look over your shoulder to see your husband staring at you, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Your legs shake as he lets out a final breath, chuckling.
ᢉ𐭩 — your boyfriend enjin is missing! but when you find him, something’s wrong…
a/n: 2p enjin hmu!!!
it’s one of your off days at cleaner’s hq, to which you’re content with just lazing around for the entirety of the day. team akuta’s got their day off, too, but something just doesn’t sit right with you.
their leader has been m.i.a. like, all day.
usually by now, enjin would be lazed on top of you, saying anything and everything to get underneath your skin. but his sudden absence and the fact that he’s quiet, no less, is worrying enough on his own.
so, you make the decision to go find your boyfriend. maybe semiu’s seen him.
“semiuuuu.” you call her name.
her gaze darts up to you, back to her adult magazine as she closes it, before back up to you. “what’s up?”
“have you seen enjin?”
she’s quiet for a moment, contemplating your question before shaking her head. “mm-mm. i haven’t seen him since this morning. but i did see him talking to bro earlier.”
“kay, thanks,” you throw over your shoulder, your feet immediately moving you to wherever bro may be. if you know him, he’s definitely with his team, team child. a team of little powerful monsters.
you wander the halls for a moment before finding him watching over dear and guita in the training room. his eyes find yours when you walk in, offering his gentle smile.
“hey, what brings you here?”
you give him a smile identical to his own. “hey bro, have you seen enjin?” you ask.
“i was just with him, actually.” he replies. “i heard him say that he was going to be in the common room.” typical enjin, wandering wherever his feet take him.
you head towards the common room once you give your gratitude to bro, pushing the doors to the common room open. the sight before you makes your breath hitch.
the team’s there. zanka, riyo, and rudo are all doing their own thing, dwelling in each other’s presences. but there’s someone there who’s completely different.
enjin.
he’s leaning against the wall, but instead of his golden locks, there’s raven in its place. amber is replaced with ruby red. his earrings are also red, and his tattoos are different— black in red instead of red in black. and the cherry on top?
his choker’s blue. since when are the chokers blue!?
“what the hell?”
all eyes in the room turn towards you.
riyo’s eyebrows quirk up. “what’s up with you? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “i might as well have,” you murmur. “enjin, what…”
his eyes narrow at you. “what? it’s just me.”
huh, his personality’s a little different too. a bit feistier than usual. “no it’s not.” you deny.
“what does that mean?” he barks.
“who are you and what have you done to my enjin??”
everyone’s staring at you like you grew two heads and four ears. zanka’s the next one to speak up. “he’s the same enjin. you sure you okay? didn’t hit your head?”
“how are you going to look at him and tell me he’s the same? he’s completely different!” you exclaim. “his hair’s black, his eyes are red, his tattoos are literally inverted?? look at him!” your hands gesture towards “enjin” frantically, frailing to make your point.
then another voice pitches in— rudo’s. “he’s… not?” your head snaps towards him in betrayal.
enjin finally decides to join the conversation, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “it’s literally just me, boo.”
you blink once, twice, eyes darting towards everyone before landing on the carbon copy of your boyfriend. chuckling nervously, you take a few steps back and quickly turn out of the room, “enjin’s” eyes following you the entire time.
“what’s up with her?” you can hear their voices trail after you.
“dunno. maybe exhaustion.”
that is not enjin. how can they look at him and say that? he’s literally different.
“maybe i’m just tired.”
your feet take you to your room, head spinning. are they all pulling a prank on you? they have to be. or maybe you’re just hallucinating this whole thing. yeah, that’s got to be it.
not that you’re really complaining though, ‘cause he looked good.
a knock pulls you out of your thoughts. “baby?”
fuck, it’s the doppelgänger.
“you don’t get to call me that.” your voice is loud enough to carry across the door.
a sigh. “i don’t know what’s gotten into you, darling, but you better cut it out. lemme in.” his tone is demanding, enticing even.
it has you swinging the door open.
he’s leaning against your doorframe, eyes glaring down at you with an intensity that has you nearly squirming underneath. “y’gonna tell me what’s going on?”
your nose scrunches. “i’m not talking to a copy of my boyfriend.”
he pinches the bridge of his nose. “what the hell are you on about?”
“you tell me,” you bite back, emphasizing your words. “you’ve never had black hair, red eyes, and your tattoos were never black in red, and everyone’s acting like everything’s normal.”
enjin the doppelgänger stares at you, unblinking, before finally speaking up. “yeah, you’re crazy.” he takes two steps to close the distance between you. you attempt to take you steps back, but one of his hands dart out and catches your wrist.
“enjin—“
he tugs you towards him gently, but firm enough to put you two chest to chest. his other hand comes to your hip, pressing just enough for you to feel the heat through the fabric. you start to squirm, but his hold locks you into place.
“i know you love playing these stupid stunts of yours,” he begins huskily, eyes locked on to yours. “but i’m not playing your games today, angel.”
“you’re the one playing games.”
your eyes find something else in your room to look at, but the hand that had your wrist trapped comes to your jaw, tilting your head back. “look at me.”
he closes the distance slightly, his breath brushing at the stray strands of hair across your features. “it’s always been me. i’ve never had golden eyes or hair, different tattoos, or whatever the fuck you decide to come up with.”
you’re silent, free hand remains still in the air, unsure of what to do with it. your body itches to touch him, but it doesn’t sit with you touching some alternate version of your man, even if he is yours.
yet, depsite yourself, your hand comes into his raven locks, caressing and playing with the strands. it feels just like his, and his expression softens as soon as you relax enough to let yourself have this. “you…” your voice trails off.
he shuts the door with his foot before returning his attention to you. “there’s my girl. you just love being difficult with me, huh? should’ve known.”
although your bones tell you that is isn’t your enjin, your heart knows it is. even if it’s some kind of prank or alternate universe.
he closes the distance fully, lips pressing against yours with a gentle reverence that has your knees weak. he tastes of cigarettes and something faintly sweet, just like he usually does while your lips move with his in a familiar rhythm.
you sigh into the kiss as it deepens, arms coming around his neck to pull him closer, though there’s practically no space between the two of you. once of his hands come to cup the back of your head and hold you there.
enjin breaks the kiss by barely pulling away from you, a string of saliva left behind as evidence of your little session. “baby, let me just…” his voice is hoarse, one of his hands trailing underneath your shirt. you nod without any words, your own touch moving across the visible tattoos on his chest.
and just as enjin comes close to your chest—
you wake up.
it’s a slow process— you blink blearily, trying to become aware of your surroundings. then you notice someone’s arms around you, red in black tattoos.
you look up, and he’s already looking at you.
golden hair, amber eyes. the corner of his mouth is turned up, one dimple flashing. “morning, gorgeous.”
enjin. your enjin.
you stay unmoving for a moment or two, just taking him in before you find your voice. “you should dye your hair black.”
tags | plug! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader, smoking, weed, smut, vaginal fingering, riding, creampie, not edited, brain worm I had
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The first time you ever bought from Ghost you were wearing a skirt way too short to be socially acceptable, stumbling to his beat-up car with a drunk smile plastered on your face. He remembers it all a little too clearly, the way you leaned into the passenger window, smelling like tequila and the minty mouthwash you used to try and cover the smell up.
“Hi.” You giggled.
“Hi.” He responded, raising his eyebrow at you.
“Um, my friends over there,” You pointed to a group of girls across the street, “Dared me to come buy some off you.”
He stared at you without responding, and there was a long pause of silence before your smile dropped into something smaller.
“Wait? Do you not sell?” You covered your mouth, “Oh my gosh that’s so embarrassing, they told me they bought from you before!”
“Relax, bird. I do.”
“Oh! Great, that’s great. Um, how much for an eighth?”
“On the house.” He smirked, digging through the back of his car.
“What?”
“First time buyer, gotta guarantee you like it.”
You caught the bag he tossed you with a shy smile on your face, humming. “Okay, thank you!”
Ghost watched you jog to your friends after that, holding the bag out to them with a proud smirk.
The next time you bought from him, you were all by yourself, jean shorts showing off your pretty legs.
“Hi.”
He chuckled, “You’re back.”
You leaned into the window, low-cut shirt clinging to the swell of your breasts.
“I am.” You smiled, “How much for an eighth this time, for real?’
“Already have some pre-rolls, you can just have ‘em.”
“Huh? No, I didn’t pay you last time!”
“No one ever wants the pre-rolls anyway,” He shrugs, he lies. “They’re cherry flavored.”
That sparks your interest, “Really? I didn’t know they did that.”
You hand him your phone then, “Put your number in, yeah? So, I don’t have to hope to randomly run into you to buy more.”
When he hands the phone back you laugh after reading the contact name, “Ghost? That’s your drug dealer name? Really?”
“Do you want free weed or not?”
You laugh louder this time, “Yes! Yes! I was just teasing. Thank you!”
You text him two weeks later, a stupid meme at that with beady eyes, ‘more, please sir?’
He hates the way it makes the corners of his lips twitch.
He’s mobile that day, and you send him your address with one too many exclamation marks tagged on the end. You run out in leggings and slippers, a giddy smile on your lips.
“Hi.”
He laughs, “Hi, bird.”
“I liked the pre-rolls!” You say excitedly, leaning into the window, “Never had those before.”
“Yeah? What you need today?”
“You have any more?”
He frowns a little, “Get in with me, I’ll roll you some.”
You open his passenger side door too willingly, “Oh good. I don’t know how to roll,” You confess, “My friends usually do it for me.”
His mouth dips into a smirk, “Yeah? ‘Ts not that hard, watch.”
You lean closer, eyes wide like he’s actually teaching you valuable information and not how to roll a joint.
“Gotta make sure to take out all the seeds and stems before you grind it.” You watch him grind it enraptured. “Gotta roll up the tip first, then, wrap the paper tight.”
You nod eagerly.
“Fill it with your flower, roll it upwards with your thumb to make your shape. Then,” He licks across the paper, “Seal it with the glued edge, and twist the tip.”
He holds it out to you, “There you go.”
You take it between your fingers with a soft smile, “Thank you.”
You text him three days later, a picture of a lopsided joint that he definitely didn’t sell you.
‘How’d I do?’
‘Looks like shit.’
‘That’s mean :(‘
‘Come over, let me help.’
‘On my way!’
You show up an hour later, the crooked joint in your hands. You sit on his couch with a frown.
“You know, I didn’t think it came out that bad.”
“Give it here.” He laughs, “You packed it up wayyy too much. Got too much at the end here too, didn’t tap it out.”
Still, he lights it, holding it out for you to smoke. You take it between your fingers, inhaling a small amount before coughing slightly. He smirks at your watery eyes, taking the joint from you to smoke it.
“Sorry,” You say, “I got my lip gloss on it.”
He chuckles, the tip glistening with the gloss, placing it in the corner of his lips, “Doesn’t matter.”
It tastes like your lip gloss. Strawberries and weed.
You take turns smoking it. Simon watches you the whole time, with lidded eyes, focused on the way your pretty lips curl around the joint. The way your chest rises with each inhale, your eyes becoming heavier and heavier, a lazy smile smeared across your lips as you lean closer to him on his old couch.
All he can think about is those lips wrapped around his cock and not the tip of the joint. And he’s definitely rock hard in his sweats, but he doesn’t care if you notice, not when you keep giggling at every bad joke he cracks.
He jerks himself off when you leave, promising you’ll be safe and text him when you get home. He finishes when your message pops at the top of his screen ‘made it safe :)’
He invites you over himself a week later because he’s got random inventory, he ordered them himself, of strawberry wraps and he’s certain you’ll like them.
You do like them. You’re melted into his couch, blinking lazily at him.
“How come you never charge me?” It’s a whisper.
He looks at you, the room dizzy with smoke and your pretty gaze.
“Never make pretty girls pay.”
“Oh?” You sound disappointed, “So, you give it free to other girls?”
He shakes his head, “Just you.”
You squint, “Are you only giving me free weed so you can get a lay?”
He smirks, “Is it working?”
You scoff, smacking him in the shoulder, “Unbelievable.”
He catches your wrist.
“You giving it to my friends for free too?”
“Careful,” He smirks, “You’re starting to sound jealous.”
You roll your eyes, trying to pull away from him. He keeps you close, tugging you into his lap so fast you have no choice but to slip onto his thighs. You don’t look at him, eyes focused to the side.
“Just you.”
You peer down at him then, “Huh?”
His fingers find your cheek, still burning from the embers of the joint, “You’re the only one I don’t charge.”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“C’mere already.” He murmurs, pulling you down to kiss him.
You make a noise of surprise, like you hadn’t expected your smoke sessions to lead to this, with his cock pressed between your thighs eagerly, grip on your chin and hip to keep you close to him.
You kiss him back earnestly, smaller hands finding his shoulders. He loves it, fuck he loves the way your hands shake against his skin, the vibrations that leave your chest and fill his. He’s been dreaming about this since the moment you walked over in your tiny skirt.
Your bottom lip pops away from his, glistening with his saliva and not the lip gloss you insist on wearing.
“Wanted you to do that for ages.”
He chuckles against your lips, “Yeah?”
Your hips grind against his then, “Only reason my friends made me go was because I wouldn’t shut up about how hot you were.”
He presses his teeth against your neck, fingers making quick work of your belt and pants. “Came over with your ass and tits out, been jerking off to the memory ever since.”
You inhale sharply, “Fuck.”
Your eyes flutter when his fingers find your cunt, squelching with the sound of your arousal. He dips one finger in, drawing a whimper from you, and god you’re so fucking warm. The weeds got you nice and lax, a small grin on your lips as he coaxes you with one thick finger and he's sure he's never wanted to fuck someone more.
Your grin turns into a broken cry when he adds another, lips quivering around the shape of his name. Ghost. Ghost?
His thumbs already on your lips, gaze strong on you, “Simon.”
You nod in quiet understanding, “Simon.”
There’s a sticky strip of arousal that clings to your panties when he slides them off your thighs and it takes everything in him not to bury his face below and smell.
You scramble to his sweats, tugging them down impatiently. He lifts his hips willingly, lets his strained cock smack against his abdomen angrily. You lick your lips when you see it, eyes wide at the sight.
He grips it by the base, thumb coming up to wipe at the precum spilling from the tip.
“Oh my god.” You groan, “Let me ride you, please.”
He slides lower on the couch, tapping your hips casually in agreement like he hadn’t been picturing you on top of him for weeks, “Go on.”
You rise to your knees above him, shaking hand grabbing his cock so lightly it makes his eyes flutter. You glide his tip along your seams until it snags at your entrance, and you make a soft noise when he pops through. You slide down eagerly as much as he holds your hips and grits through his teeth to take it slow.
Your head falls to his shoulder when you sink to the base, his head rolling to the back of the couch because you’re so fucking warm and tight, and the weed definitely isn’t helping because he’s feeling everything ten times worse.
And when you lift your hips, he swears he sees heaven between your thighs when you drop back down and your pussy makes an obscene squelch.
You bury your face in his neck, arms around his shoulders and just fucking go at it. Ass slamming against his so fast the room echoes with each slap. You whine high-pitched with each thrust like you aren’t the one setting the pace, like you aren’t the fucking yourself raw around his cock.
“Jesus, bird, slow down.” He grunts, fingers dimpling your skin.
He says it because your legs are shaking and there’s sweat beading on your chest, whimpers falling from your lips endlessly, but more so because he doesn’t want it to end this soon. When he hasn’t even laid you back properly to fuck you the way he had hoped.
You don’t listen well.
You just keep sloppily fucking yourself onto his cock because you’ve found the sweet spot, the one that has you on the brink of an orgasm.
His lips on your neck do it for you, your toes curling into his shitty ass couch when you break. You soak his balls then, pussy clenching so tight around him he has to bite down on his cheek so he doesn’t bust.
He’s already moving you to your back, finding a home between your thighs when you come back down. You don’t even argue, like the perfect thing you are, folding your own legs to his shoulders, and arching into the couch.
He slides in slow, and your pussy spreads for him so prettily.
“Fuck,” he drawls, “Listen to her, just fuckin dying for me to fuck her.”
You whine loud at that, hips bucking to get him to move. He doesn’t wait a second longer, thrusts so hard into you, you feel it in your toes and your legs straighten out in shock.
He fucks you slow and hard, pace languid from the weed pulsing in his veins. You like it, at least he thinks you do from the way you keep writhing under him, the beginning syllables of his name broken on your lips between every thrust.
When he leans forward, pressing your knees to your shoulders, you gasp in shock from the stretch, but then his tip snags against that spot in your cunt that melts your brain into mush, and your eyes just roll into the back of your head.
He smirks proudly, bullying his length against that spot until you’re pushing at hips, murmuring something along the lines that it’s too much.
He doesn’t stop.
You pulse around him when you cum a second time, sweet voice ripped from your throat, and turned into blinded pleasure when he stamps his thumb against your swollen clit. Your feet tense at his shoulders, fingers tight against the cushions.
He finishes inside of you then, head falling to your shoulder with a deep groan, hips fucking into you with each pump.
Enjin embarrassing himself by his pants falling down in front of you.
He just finished a job with you. It was the first time you both were alone on a job together and he was HELLA showing off. Like, it’s bad. He pulled out all the cool moves and tried to make sure you didn’t have to do a lot. Then, at the end, as he’s trying to aura farm and look cool while posing as a trash beast disintegrates behind him, his fucking pants fall down. He hadn’t realized that something broke his belt while fighting.
You try your best to not laugh. You really go the full nine yards; eyes closed, biting your lips together, covering your mouth with your hands, looking away. None of it helps. The image of him with his pants around his ankles and his white briefs in the middle of the battle field is just too funny. Not even the fact that he had a really hot happy trail could save him right now. The laugh comes out of you despite your efforts.
“Don’t laugh!” He yells, already holding his pants back up.
“I can’t help it! That was genuinely perfect timing!"
“You’re too mean to me, boo.” He complains. Once he is close enough, his hands are already reaching for your waist.
“Hey! Wait! I need that!” The belt was slid free from your belt loops.
“Not more than me. Besides, it would just be hot if your pants fell off.” Once the belt was secure on him, he got into the car. “Get in or I’m leaving you!” The ride was silent as he sat with his embarrassment. It was only when you got to HQ that he said something.
“Not a single word about this to anyone.” The two of you just stared at each other for a second before you flung your door open and started running. After all, he was much faster than you so you needed as much of a head start as possible. He quickly followed, desperate to keep your mouth shut about this entire thing.
simon's team finds out that he has a missus and she's heavily pregnant.
simon had never taken you to fancy galas before, and this time, he said he'd introduce you to his team, hence why you were so nervous.
he walked through the doors like he owned the place, a firm hand pressed on the small of your back.
everyone expected him to show up alone, like he always did, but tonight, he had a companion. behind him, clutching the fabric of his dark silky suit, was you. you were dressed in a flowing floral dress that hugged your body perfectly.
your cheeks were flushed, not used to all the attention on you, and you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, hiding behind his massive frame. you felt overwhelmed, completely out of place.
and then their focus shifted to your growing belly. you could hear the whispers and their gasps.
your bump was unmistakably showing. simon had helped you pick up that dress, let them see how beautiful you look, knocked up with my child. he had said, before leaving the house.
simon's hand rested possessively on your lower back, while his other hand was protectively splayed across your stomach.
lieutenant riley has a missus? and she's pregnant? was all you could hear.
gaz, who was exchanging words with a recruit, nearly choked on his champagne. soap dropped his glass. price just stared, his cigar forgotten in his hand, his eyes wide.
simon leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice so low that only you could hear. "you're doing well, love." he murmured, and there was a dark satisfaction in his tone.
simon's intention was clear. he'd brought you here deliberately, knowing exactly what the reaction would be. he wanted everyone to know who you belonged to.
it was a silent warning. let them talk. let them stare. at the end of the night, he would be the one listening to your sweet moans.
wait wait, better version of this, best friend enjin seeing how your boyfriend is treating you so badly, and on a night you finally, finally have had enough and go out with him, semiu, mildretta, gris, etc. they all are telling you what you need to hear, that it's time to dump the guy
but once you are with enjin one on one on the dance floor, he is telling you how pretty you look, that you look so much better when you are being you, having fun...and he finally cracks, leaning in and about to kiss you, but...he can't, swerving his head to your neck with a frustrated groan.
"i can't, i can't do this, baby, this is already pushin' it..."
he lifts his head and presses his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with a need and desperation that makes your hands feel sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck.
"if....if you really want this, really want to give me a chance, to show me everything i've been holding back for the past two fucking years, you need to make it official, doll," he says lowly, his hands trembling on your waist. "break up with him. tell him it's over, please. let me know this isn't gonna be a mistake, that you wake up in the morning and leave and go back to him, and we both have to hide what we did...please, baby, please."
cw: smut :: unprotected sex :: overstimulation :: degrading praise if u squint :: author's notes at the end :: wc - 900
tamsy caines ✗ fem!reader
"where do you think you're going?"
tamsy grabs onto your hips, sliding you back down the mattress until your lower body snaps flush against his hips, burying his cock all the way back inside your oversensitive pussy.
you’ve tried to run three times aleady, weak limbs trembling and scrambling on the sheets in pitiful attempts to break free from his torture, all to no avail.
“tamsy, please!” a whine tears out of you before you can stop it, followed by a sigh of pure exhaustion. your heart beats frantically against your ribs, the intense sensory overload causing more tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. “no more… n-no more,” you sniffle. “I can't— please, no more—”
“liar.” he taunts, his thumb finding your clit to rub it in fast circles while his hips continue to snap against yours, the wet, filthy slap of your bodies meeting echoing in the quiet room. he’s relentless, knees deep in the mattress as he reduces you to a cockdrunk writhing mess, each thrust meant to leave you with nothing to focus on except the pleasure he’s forcing into you.
“nononono i can’t, s’too much—” you whine.
“you can. you've done it before, haven't you? you're gonna keep coming for me until i say you can stop."
you're a complete wreck now - lightheaded and sobbing openly under him, every muscle in your body coiled tight and begging for a break. your inner walls pulse and clench rhythmically around tamsy's cock, swallowing the thick length with every ruthless thrust of his hips.
“i hate you!” you wail, your hands coming to hit and push at his scarred chest. “i hate you, i hate you, i hate you!”
"woah, woah—" tamsy’s eyes widen in false offense, his hips and thumb stilling altogether, allowing you a fleeting moment of relief. "no, no, no, don't be like that. don't say such things." he coos, reaching out to swipe his thumb underneath your eye, wiping away a stray tear. "you wound me, princess. all that screaming and whining but i don't recall hearing your safe word, do you?"
before you can gather a breath to retort, tamsy drives his hips forward, slamming into you so deep you swear it makes you black out for a second. a shocked moan punches out of you - your eyes rolling back in your skull and drool dripping from the corner of your lips as your mind goes entirely blank, thoughts turning into complete mush.
"besides..." he muses, holding himself on his arms and leaning down just long enough to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. "i think you’re enjoying yourself a lot more than you’re willing to admit." a slow, arrogant smirk curves his mouth as he smoothes his thumb over your lower lip. "you should be thanking me, i'm just being a good boyfriend and spoiling you.”
he's so infuriatingly calm as he taunts you, looking down as he brings his thumb back to your clit and goes back to toying with it, blinking calmly like the sight barely even affects him.
for the past hour, every time he felt himself edging too close to his own release you’ve watched him switch tactics - his cock withdrawing so he could torment your clit with his mouth or finger you instead, only sinking back in when his orgasm was successfully kept at bay.
he refuses to let himself come until he’s stripped away every last thread of your sanity, maintaining a terrifying level of restraint while you're trapped in the same continuous loop of torture, orgasm after orgasm being ripped out of you without mercy.
“no— nonono, it's too much!" you hiccup. "tamsy I can't take any more—” you try again, shaking your head furiously as your legs start to close and kick. your elbows dig into the mattress as you try to pull yourself away again, a fresh wave of tears blurring your vision and falling down your cheeks, your muscles trembling so violently you can barely control them.
a low, amused snicker bubbles up from tamsy’s chest as he watches you miserably fail another attempt to run from him, his hands clamping tightly around your hips to drag you right back where you belong.
“shh-shh-shh. either be good or say the magic word, angel. it's that easy.”
he starts fucking you again, giving a series of fast thrusts that immediately silence you. one of his hands wraps around your throat to keep you pinned firmly to the mattress, the other continuing to rub your clit, gradually building a fifth— or is it sixth? orgasm. your legs have a mind of their own at this point, shaking uncontrollably in the air, toes curling, the depth of his thrusts shattering whatever remnant of self control you had left.
his cock eventually slips free, dragged out by the sheer amount of slick between you. the sudden emptiness causes you to cry out, your hands flying down instinctively to shield your swollen pussy from his gaze.
“put it back in.” tamsy commands smoothly, still impossibly composed, chest barely even heaving.
a tiny humiliated whine escapes your throat but your hand responds to his voice like muscle memory, fingers trembling as they obediently reach further down to guide the thick, weeping head of his cock right back to your entrance.
tamsy watches you do it, that sadistic smirk of his spreading across his face as he sheaths himself all the way back into your warmth.
“see? you dumb little liar, can't even get enough.” he purrs, rubbing your clit one last time before bringing the slick pad of his thumb to his mouth to taste you. “come on now. give me another one so i can fill you up.”
an: writing smutty dialogues in english when it's not your native language is a whole new level of torture ngl,, anyways that man is so pretty it infuriates me.
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