🤤🤤🤤🤤

(Tw: personal sexual experience below so please delete if you aren't comfy!!! Just thought I'd share bc it's total Smut material) but like. In reference to the 'just the tip' post. I had a guy once tell me "i just wanna feel you" then dip in and out a few times before putting the condom on. That shit was SO FUCKIN HORNY AND GOOD. Never saw him again but i still think about it sometimes bc holy fuckin' hell, dude. 🥴😮‍💨

fuuuuck🫠🫠🫠 bestie, you're so fucking lucky

i know i said the "just the tip" troupe inherently belongs to Soap but this exact scenario goes to Gaz because he has the good sense to put the condom on, even tho he's so tempted to say fuck it we ball.

Gaz would so be the type to rub his cock between your folds just to make you so fucking wet and he'll tap your swollen bud with the tip to make you whine because he's such a fucking tease. and that smug smirk on his face tells you that he knows it. he's reluctant to put on a condom (as anyone else) but he obliges your wishes anyway and he knows the risk of an unplanned baby even though he'd sometimes secretly fantasize about putting a baby in you

Soap? nah, once his cock touches your pussy, it is game over. "just the tip" turns into your legs over his shoulders with his entire shaft sinking in deep until he groans into your neck and your eyes roll. he forgets all about his promise of not fucking you, that "it'll just be quick, it's just a little bit" and he rails you like it's the only thing he's ever meant to do.

it's the hottest thing ever. the risk, knowing the possible consequences, but doing it anyway.

and don't count on him pulling out either.

꒰ྀི 𝒲𝐻𝐼𝒫𝒫𝐸𝒟 𝒞𝑅𝐸𝒜𝑀 ꒱ྀི

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 3.8kay word count , fem reader , daddy kink , oral sex [ r. receiving ] , könig punches someone , pet name usage [ reader callz him koo , könig callz her little one , little girl , princess ] , mentions of reader bein physically smaller than him , pussy wedgie , creaming + squirting , size kink ? i dunno , he gets kind of jealous + possessive . .

𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 . . . jus take dis ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა . hvnt posted anythin in like , ovaaaa a month so 🧁 ennnnjoi ! ! Minors + Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch ! ! ! ! !

“sechsundachtzig . siebenundachtzig . achtundachtzig.”

you’re a sweet girl.

you know this. he knows this — everyone knows this. doesn’t mean that he necessarily likes just how chasmal your warmth and comity goes, but, könig supposes he can’t complain. he won’t complain. it was the very thing that drew him to you . . no, rather, wrenched him in to you. the sound of your laughter, a gentle, pleasant thing in which a cute snort, an eccentric titter counterbalances near the end of. it’s obvious that you may have gotten teased for it during your early years because it’s never overly loud, you snap your hand up to your nose and determinedly guard a pretty, gleeful gleam with your fingers before it can expel fully into the air, and könig will be honest, he’s not anything if he’s not an honest man, if there’s anything that he loathes about you, it’s that . . only that.

he’s seen you giggle at fawning children, an aberrant one liner he’d retort underneath the tide of his breath, from your favorite movie’s dialogue — he’s never really seen you give that cute, quirky huff of a snort anywhere else however, until tonight.

the annual modern military association gala.

“too many people,” he grumbled into that warm twill of skin beneath your neck the night before — that area that smells most like you, unrefined of perfume and lotions scented of gilded iris and praline amber, but just you. “fuck no.”

you had given him a short whine and clutched tighter onto the index finger of his hand that laid directly upon the area of your womb with a small fist, “they’re decorating you though — you’re gettin’ three medals koo’, y’gotta go.”

fuck the medals. ornate and encrusted with gold and silver, admired and respected for shoving a bk-1 claymore into the sweat ridden flesh of another soldier or bulling the barrel of 98k sniper rifle past their teeth until the slimy pads of their tongues got corded inside of the cable of their throat — könig likes to watch that split second of panic fill their eyes, gives him an refreshing kick of adrenaline, before his index finger is pulling back the trigger and making brains splatter against the canvas of a wall . . . a picasso of red and pink, no, a könig. made uniquely by him, for him, not anyone else.

getting a medal for doing so, sure, he’ll take it, however, not in front of six hundred people. ridiculous.

but, he’s forced to — by you and the general.

he’s forced to stand beside you and hear the incredulous whispers of his colleagues’ wives and friends ask if ‘that’s him?’ ‘is that really him?’

“he’s the one that . . — oh, oh wow.”

“jesus f. christ, why does he look like that?”

“you don’t talk to him, honey, right? do you?”

then there’s you. sweet, precious you. you remain a step ahead of him at all times, his own, select, darling bodyguard. your head reaches his mid torso, the difference span of his fingers against yours racks up to about three inches, and you’d probably tip over with the weight of it if he were to let you hold one of his guns but, you’re cute. you squeal and clap, bouncing on the tip of your toes after his medals are collected, outstretching your arms for him until he’s there, blanketed, within your embrace.

you give him a small kiss, a treasured one, over the fabric of his veil and murmur that you’re proud of him, you’re happy for him. and really, fuck the medals, they don’t compare to you. not by a long shot.

könig’s ready to go, and you see no point in staying after he’s gotten his praise, nevertheless, you’re stopped right before exiting through the doors.

by some fucking . . rookie — his name is something stupid. lars . . . lester . . laird. könig recognizes him sometimes on the field. he’s not bad, but he’s not good neither. the greens of his eyes twinkle when he looks at you. he congratulates könig, compliments his work, says something fairly funny because you give a giggle. könig notices it, but he doesn’t think you do, laird seems to like that — your laugh, that is. because he quips something else and you giggle a little louder, give that precious snort near the tail of it. shrewdness frays the edges of his smile . . it begins to teeter the blurred line of flirtation and könig feels the familiar skip of his heart. it starts to hammer against the cage of his ribs, sends his mouth dampening with an influx of saliva.

“—but i’m sure you’re used to it right? colonel here always gone, gets lonely, no?”

his inquiry makes you give a small hum. you genuinely seem to think about it. “sometimes. but i know he’ll always be right back,” you lean back into him after answering. könig’s a pillar — a man carven of stone. to establish a boundary, a strong arm circles around your hip . . his forearm rests within the sink of your waist, drawing attention to the flowing silk of your evening gown. it’s pink and flowing with a thigh high slit and cowl neck. könig waits . . and he waits, until he sees it — the flicker.

with the weight of his arm, your dress obeys the laws of gravity and the neckline dips a little lower, flaunting off the crease that splits your plump tits into two.

laird asks another question and waits until you hum again and lift your eyes up towards the ceiling to ponder an answer before his own gale down to take a small peek.

könig thanks him — truly, he does. he gives him a reason to draw both his arms back. his left, the one holding you rotates behind himself so that you’re shielded behind the great expanse of his shoulders and to protect you from the few feeble splatters of blood that shoot out into the air and onto könig’s cloak after his right arm ricochets back forward with enough strength to rival a bullet bouncing off of steel. the sound of knuckles colliding with a nose bridge is loud — soft music is screeched to a halt, the entire venue goes silent.

with a quiet spout, “dummer hurensohn,” könig takes hold of your hand and steps from over laird’s unconscious body, uncaring if a heavy boot knocks against the side of his head as he does so. your heels quickly pitpat after his strides, and weirdly, you’re quiet. you remain silent on the drive home, when you both step over the threshold, when you shower together, and as könig rubs an exfoliating sponge across the scope of your body. you don’t speak and könig doesn’t make you. he lowers himself up then down on the pull-up bar, muttering his count with each one. he sees you, seated upon your shared bed, both legs laid down and folded at the knee, soles of your feet pressed up against one another. you thumb with the dangling chain of your gold anklet, twirling it around and ‘round your little finger, prior to letting it go for just a second, then doing it again.

he keeps staring at you — your face is blank, eyes dim, muscles relaxed.

then the plump cushion of your bottom lip starts to billow.

“awh, no, no, no.”

it’s a demand.

mightily, he falls down onto his feet and is at the bed in two long strides. you’re still pouting when he leans down, swoops a sturdy arm underneath the bend of your knees and at your lower back. he takes a seat, you upon his lap, and like a babe, he holds you so, “no pouting. kein schmollen.” he touches it, with one large, scarred finger — delicately presses upon your lip, as if it were a peds candy dispenser, capable of slotting back to its normal shape.

“you shouldn’t have hit him, könig.”

“i did what needed to be done.”

“he’s probably dead.”

behind a hood of ink, eyes of blue waves glimmer with relish — akin to the golden rays of the sun against the foamy brine. “mm.” he says nothing more.

you huff and straighten yourself out until you’re seated upright, facing him and legs spread around his hips. “this is serious. what if you get fired?”

there it is — a smile. a big one. it creases the corner of his eyes. he stares at you as if you were but a wiseacre child, thinking you know everything. “not going to happen, kleine.”

“mm.” it’s your turn now. you look away from him, still frowning, still pouty.

könig doesn’t understand. why are you upset? his mouth twists in a firm scowl, “. . . looked at your tits. stupid fucker — i’d do it again,” he bites out.

“hittin’ him doesn’t make it right.”

“don’t care.” huffing, he looks down at your breasts himself. yeah, he can see why laird gravitated towards you. they’re pretty . . sit nice and full, even with no support. you wear just a camisole and shorts to bed tonight, both are textured with some sort of scallop fabric, and laced with pink along the edges with a bow threaded snug in the middle of the top trim. könig palms one and you give a small inquiring croon. when he starts to roll it within his heavy paw is when you go to smack his hand away. “no,” you grumble.

“ ‘s my tits,” he grouches in reply, lifting his hood a few inches above his lips. lowering his head, he then begins to suckle a line of wet, tongue filled kisses along the globes of them. “not yours, neither.”

“y’so,” your back curves in and you grasp for balance with your hands on his knees when he sharply tugs your camisole down so that they spill from over it and into his awaiting mouth and hands. “so mean, koo’.”

“es ist mir egal.” i don’t care.

he doesn’t get you. you’re nice, too fucking nice. you confuse him, bewitch him, mystify him, entrap him in your hold, your smile, your voice, your touch. he engulfs his mouth around your nipple — nearly devours your entire tit. it’s as though he’s trying to swallow you whole, you wouldn’t doubt that he is. you mewl as he frees it from his lips with a slick pop. he doesn’t even swallow his tongue back inside of his mouth, like a weir, saliva drips from the tip of it as he pants and hauls it over to your other breast to lave it across the opposite nipple. it’s soft, puffy . . cute. “mm,” you sigh and with a hand, coast it underneath his hood, scratching your nails across the short strands of hair near the nape of his neck. “b-be . . more . . nice.”

again, he pops off to murmur one word — a gruff “no.”

the fucking nerve of that guy. the nerve of you. there isn’t a person you belong to on this earth that isn’t solely him. könig’s put a lot of work into this, a lot of long nights and even longer days, trying to better the more worse parts of himself, all in efforts to have you. he’ll be damned if some rookie, some fucktwat of an amateur attempts to come in and mess it all up — innocent flirting or not. “my tits,” he shifts, turns on his side, lets you fall back against the bed with him atop of you. “my ass. my pussy. all of you, mine.”

his fingers find the crotch of your shorts. he slips them underneath the fabric at your mound until it squidges into a slim line and fits between the fat, pudgy lips of your cunt. your gasp is quiet, reflexes forces you to lift your legs up and hold them at the knees. “mmm,” he grunts at the sight and with his opposite index finger, stokes it quickly from left to right across the chubby skin of them, watching how your pussy jiggles and quivers. “pudgy. fett.” fat.

warmth whelms the surface of your cheeks, “you’re gross,” you whimper.

he knows.

decent, refined men don’t smack pussy just to watch it bounce off of their palm. they don’t lean their head down and make out with a clothed clit, suckle and nibble on labias until they’re a second away from nutting in their sleep bottoms. you’re a whiny thing — hiccuping and whimpering, pulling at his hood until it goes askew. it’s always sudden . . . you never know when he’s going to take it off because könig doesn’t ever know himself. he realizes that he needs to tonight though, if he wants to eat you out the way he wants to, fuck you the way he wants to, he needs all obscurities out of the way.

it’s torn off and tossed upon the lamp on the nightstand.

he hears you give a little coo of happiness. you’re tugging on him harder now, wrapping your legs around his neck, curling your pretty toes against his shoulders. “greedy thing,” a finger probes against the hole of your cunt through the fabric of these tiny, little sleep shorts. “feels good?” he drags it up to your clit then back down, pressure firm.

you inhale, eyes closed, palms weakly cupping your tits, “mhm.”

you’re so sweet. you’re so good. you need a man like him by your side . . someone a little bit more mean, more rough and vile. balances out, no? that’s how it goes. opposites attract and what not. könig knows he needs you, too.

when you relax again, he takes that split chance to pop another firm smack against your pussy, knocking you out of that space of contentment. you wince and give another sweet whine and really, okay, he’ll stop. tugs your shorts to the side, slips his tongue right where you need him most. he swallows the horribly sweet sap of your love within the back of his throat — fucks his tongue sloppily inside that little hole, splits it open, forces it to gape and take, take, take. the bulbous knob of his crooked nose knocks against your clit as he does, he makes sure to sway his head from side to side occasionally, nuzzles, makes sure she gets some well needed attention, too.

“o-oh,” your voice is stuck in your throat. you keep trying to speak but they sound like little squeals. “oh g— . . oh god.”

“mm ,” he coarsly murmurs. “süsse muschi . . rub it, princess. rub it on m’tongue.”

you know what he wants you to do. you’ve both done this before.

your legs fall, feet planted flat against the bed, and you rise to your toes and lift your hips when he elevates his head an inch then keeps it still. könig lets you do the work, makes you stroke your pussy across the open plane of his wide, long tongue, up and down. already so delirious — your mouth is brimmed with drool, eyes closed, you work shyly at first . . slow and careful, “h-hah,” you breathe, quiet and tender. “daddy . . mm, d-daddy.”

when he closes his mouth to swallow, he lets his lips enclose around your clit, nice and tight. “mmmm,” you whimper and push yourself faster, holding onto his hands that he gives for stability. “d-don’ stop . . koo, don’stop.”

“i won’t,” he breathes. he needs your cum on his tongue just as bad as you want to give it. with an extended opened mouth comes an immoderate amount of drool — it dribbles off of it, makes your pussy that much more of a mess, the sounds are disgusting. wet and slick, slimy and thick. “mmph . . fühlt sich gut . . . no? pussy’s crying,” the volume of his voice is but a mere rumble, he’s cautious of you, doesn’t want to fuck up your pace too much. “needs cock in her.”

your tummy trembles. your nails, layered with smooth acrylic, long, and sharp, burrow inside the stoutness of his flesh and soon, you’re cumming — thighs quivering and pussy creaming onto the welcoming mat of his tongue. he groans, you sob. “yeah, good girl,” fiercely, he swallows it, licks into you for more, similar to the way a person would bury their tongue inside of a canister for more meringue. “good girl, good girl.”

you fall flat onto your back and he’s on you without another second lost. sweat shorts are kicked down strong thighs and soon his hands are parting your legs wide enough to accommodate his stature. “ptuh.” you watch him spit . . marvel the mostly healed scar that runs about four inches diagonally across the thin skin of his lips flex as he does so. he polishes it across the thick, long column of his cock, smooths the pre cum down, cups his balls, “mm, keep still.”

one of your legs is thrown across the ridge of könig’s shoulders, the other remains pinned to the mattress. you watch as he strokes his cock between your lips, dowsing it with his saliva and your cream. “filthy, lil’ pussy . . cock hungry, isn’t she?”

you react to his words — clench and another ripple of slick blesses the tip of his cock. at his responding chortle, you cover your face and shake your head, “könig.”

“ja, ja . . i know. papa knows.”

when he first pushes into you, you groan and turn your face away to pull the fabric of the comforter between your teeth. big. so big. too big. his face dips in low in order to bury it against your neck and in him doing so, he effectively bends your leg back further against your shoulder — god, it burns. he doesn’t stop. he sheaths himself in, nice and deep . . basking in warm, gummy tightness. he feels at home. “oh f-fuck,” you sound about two seconds away from crying, soft, sweet voice thin and warbled. “ungh.” he suddenly slams in the last inch, lets his fat, woolly balls plop against your winking hole, indulges in the pulsing rigged cordage of your insides. “god, yes. fuck, yes,” he rolls his hips, nice and slow and this is where you melt and finally give in. “yes, yes, yes.” könig saves lovemaking for special occasions. anniversaries, your birthday . . veterans day.

he can never help his instincts — the ones that demand him to fuck and fuck and breed. with his weight, he keeps you still after his hips pick up an immediate, smooth, quick momentum.

god it’s so good. you feel so good.

his balls plap against the soft skin of your ass and he keeps you still with only a hand. he’s so big, in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck,” you sob, arm thrown across the back of his neck, face buried in the crook of it. “deep . . daddy— . . shit, awe.”

könig thinks of how pretty you are. how sweet you are, how kind, and precious and dear. he thinks of the looks you’re prone to receiving each time you step out of the house, how much you love him. “like that, eh?” he asks quietly, reaching a hand down and away to let it firmly fall back onto your ass. he smacks it again and again. “feels good for m’kleine, mm?”

your toes crack when they curl, it nearly hurts. “y-yeah,” you squeak beneath shallow breaths. “k-könig, please.” you don’t know what exactly you’re pleading for — him to slow down? no, you’re already on the brink of something phenomenal. you need him closer, you think. he’s already as close as can be, both your sets of tits pressed up against one another but, you need him even closer. you squeeze him tighter.

“muschi’s . . sloppy,” he huffs a heavy breath. “hear her? — n-nice an’ wet. ekelhaft.” disgusting.

the headboard pounds ceaselessly against the wall. you lift your hips, beginning to meet him halfway, making your pussy swallow him to the base. könig groans out a loud sound — similar to a snarl. “yes, yes, yes — good, little fuckin’ pussy . .”

the both of you feel you creaming — making a hell of a mess. it smears across the front of his balls, drips down the puckered button of your ass.

his breath is against your ear and yours against his. you whimper and cry and squeak. he pants and huffs and groans. the air seems vapid. you can’t suck in enough, even though you try your hardest.

his cock is fat, your pussy lips are fatter. they split far apart to take all that he provides and it leaves open access to the throbbing, wet nub of your clit which the thick patch of his pubes stroke against. “good girl,” he groans. “good, little girl — mm, jus’ give it . . give papa yr’cum. make me a mess.”

your eyes lift on their own accord — they lift and then they cycle back inside of your skull when you feel the fat mushroomy tip of his dick kiss the sensitive ridge of your cervix . . once, twice, thrice. “uungh god,” you breathe. you’re completely out of it, voice gone, brain empty, breath lost. he adores you like this and you know it. there isn’t another reason that’d make sense as to why he’d be fucking you this way. “m gonna . . d-daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you sound scared almost, as though you’re fearful of it. so, könig kicks it into high gear — maintains his pace though implements a pivot of his hips with each stroke in to caress his cock across that tender of nerves angled near the roof of your squelching cunt.

that’s enough for your legs to seize, for your back to arch, arms squeeze that much tighter around him. forthwith, his cock is forcibly pushed out of your cunt with a lewd ‘pop!’ as a vulgar scene of liquid is gushed from out of your gaping, little hole. “aaaahh.” he drags it out through a low chuckle and taps his tip within the mess, willing more of it out. “mm, there it is. there we fuckin’ go.” he’s pushing himself back in before it completely diminishes — fucks you with more vigor, more strength. you’re so sensitive. tremble all over, bite onto your own fingers to muffle your squeals and blubbering of overstimulation.

“ja,” he heaves. “ready for it? . . gonna . . j-ja, fuck.”

with firm circles of his hips, könig presses himself up flushed against you, soon allowing his cock to erupt eight, long jets of cum deep inside your womb. “hng . . . mein gott.” my god. his dick swells with the influx of it, balls jump in time with each one that gets released and buried inside the warm depths that is you. and he doesn’t even stop there — continues to slowly sway his hips back and forth, as if he were trying to work it in deep, make sure it sticks. you feel the product of his love, of his adoration, and care, and sweetness. it’s thick and hot, white and runny . . dribbles out of your battered pussy when he pulls out with enough slowness to rival molasses off a spoon — seems like it hadn’t wanted to leave. he kisses you and you kiss him back, weak though enthusiastic. you feel how tight he holds you and he doesn’t have to say it because you know it regardless. mine.

Good night jjk nation

BACKYARD BARBECUE, SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY.

— dadsbestfriend!simon, age gap (r is 19-20), size kink, fingering, p in v, praise kink, choking, brusing, nipple sucking, nipple play, outdoor sex, tummy bulges.

you knew he was coming. 

simon is your father's best friend, the two met while stationed. you’d met him enough times to call him an uncle, about a year ago, getting more and more comfortable with him as the months passed.

your skirt billowed in the slight wind, the sun shone as you spoke to family. 

you heard your father chuckle before seeing simon, a few words being exchanged before he made his way over to you. 

he’s taken a liking to you out of all your siblings, making this extremely obvious to you just by the way he treats you. he gets closer to you and immediately hugs you, taking in your smell and planting his large hand on your back.

“hey there, sweetheart. how’s my favorite girl doing?” his scruffy beard scratching your face as his hands moved further down, stopping before breaking the hug.

“hey, si,” you gave a smile, not breaking eye contact for even a second. to anyone, this would be flirting. but it’s not like that. you’re greeting a family friend, attending to your daughterly duties.

“look at you, kiddo, so grown up now.” he stood back and looked you up and down, eyeing your body perversely. 

you two talked, having to practically yell because of the number of people speaking. he knew he had your attention, and he liked it.

“but,” he grinned, taking another step closer. his hand slid down your hip, fingers grazing against the bare skin of your thigh. "why don't we find a nice quiet spot to talk?" he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

this wasn’t completely new for him. there was an incident before when you had to drive with him to the beach, your car was broken down, and your parents' car was full. you sat in the passenger seat in your bikini, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, a little desperate. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing the supple skin back and forth. you could’ve sworn he was inching closer to your inner thighs as he drove. 

you waited for a second before answering, your head tilted before speaking, “‘kay.” a brief answer, no teasing this time. 

simon leads you to a secluded corner of the backyard, away from the bustle of the barbecue. he sits on an old, wooden bench, patting his lap invitingly. "now then, love," he began, his voice low. 

you sat promptly. 

simon's large hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and tracing the curves of your waist. his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties.

he groaned grossly under his breath, not getting enough of your body. the way you’d melt under his touch, so disgustingly needy for contact, made him want to take you even more.

his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties. your clit was so puffy, you were just so ready for his cock. “i’ve been watchin’ you, you know,” his thick accent making your thighs burn.

simon's lips were inches from your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. he brought his other hand to your throat, squeezing before moving it toward your breasts. “i've always thought you were such a pretty little thing.” he whispered.

his hands pinched your nipples through your thin shirt, in turn making you grind down on his bulge. :(

“mmm, really?” your poor clit twitched under his finger. he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and nipping gently, “so grown up now… hm?” he purred. his hands traveled lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips. you had nothing to say, words failing to escape your lips.

both of his hands were circling your pulsing cunt by now, a finger finding you already wet with excitement. you whimpered as he pressed his finger against your entrance, rubbing teasingly. “you want this, don’t you, doll?” you nodded, “i do.”

without hesitation, simon pushed his fingers inside you, feeling your tight cunt grip him perfectly. he began to move them in and out slowly, picking up speed as he felt your wetness coat his knuckles. “so fucking tight.” he moaned.

you writhed underneath him, tears already starting to roll as your legs trembled. you babbled and shook as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you. 

simon used another hand to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. your back rubbed up against his chest before he pulled his fingers from your cunt, lifting and turning you so you were facing him.

he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while pushing his fingers back into your starving little cunt. your mascara ran down your face as you pouted and cried, senses becoming overwhelmed.

he sucked hard while continuing to finger you. “you’re gonna make such a pretty little slut.” he groaned against your skin. “mhm! f-feels so fuckin’ good, si. m’gonna cum.” stupidly nodding and biting your plump lip.

he chuckled darkly, his fingers pumping faster and harder inside your velvety walls. your cunt constricted around his knuckles as you cried out, legs quivering as the knot in your tummy threatened release.

salty tears rolled down your face before he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving a trail of your juices on his hand. his fat cock pushed up against his slacks, straining against it, emphasizing every curve in his bulge. you cried loudly, lips puffy and slick, clit twitching pathetically.

your fingers curved around his clothed cock, being pushed away before he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants down, pre-cum leaking through the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his waistband away from his hips, freeing his cock pressed up against his stomach. 

he pulled his pants off as you stood and watched, salivating at the sight of his cock. you’d do anything for him, getting more and more greedy at the thought of him finally pushing his cock into you. 

finally, he had you on your knees on the bench, facing away from him, cunt burning, waiting for his thick length. you waited, breaking the silence with a question, “you usually like college girls?” 

it was an honest question, you were serious. 

he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slick hole, teasing. “i like what i like,” he grinned. “and right now, i like you.” he pushed his cock into your tense cunt, causing you to dig your nails into his thigh.

simon thrust his hips forward, burying his cock inside you up to the hilt. you felt his chest rising and falling against you as he groaned against your neck. how badly he wanted to bruise it up.

“take it,” he grunted, “take all of it.” his cock stretched your cunts walls, filling you up with his thickness. you felt a hand trail up to your throat, another gripping your hips tightly, guiding him in and out of your soaking hole.

he was rough with you, increasing the force with which he pounded into you. his hips snapped forward which each thrust, making your ass ripple. “s-si, can’t take it n’more! agh–cock s’fat, go slow, si, please, hurt s’bad!” he laughed at your attempts to stop him.

his grip on your neck tightened with each thrust, surely creating small bruises to deal with later. “fuckin’ delicious. takin’ me so well.” he said breathlessly, continuing to pound into you without mercy. 

“s’too much… si, fuck!” he was hunched over, both of you a mess, hair stuck to his forehead, you, crying ‘cause of his fat dick! 

“g-go deeper, deep–mmf!” you begged.

simon hissed, pulling out almost completely before slamming his huge cock back in with a force that made your poor tummy flip. he continued this pattern of deep thrusts, grunting loudly with each one as he dove his cock deeper into your wet hole.

he brought a hand to your clit, thick finger lousily rubbing and rolling it roughly between his thumb and forefinger. “m’gonna cum!” you pushed yourself onto his cock more, greedy for his length.

“cum–cum for me, love.” he urged, thrusting into you even harder. you gushed around his cock, thrashing while your cunt showed its appreciation, orgasm crashing over you, causing you to clench tightly around his cock. you moaned like an animal as he continued his abuse on your walls.

“fuck–like that,” simon grunted, groaning loudly as he felt his cock shudder violently inside of you. with one last thrust, he let go and came inside of you, filling you with his hot seed. it spilled out of you before simon sloppily thrust a few more times, making sure to fuck his cum deep into you, like there were no consequences. 

he didn’t let go of you, still hunched over your body, small in comparison to him, tummy slightly bulged by his oversized cock. panting heavily, he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. his cock twitched inside of you, releasing a few more spurts of cum. 

he helped you to your feet, smoothing your hair, drying your tears after wiping the cum from your inner thigh with his thumb, and sticking it in your mouth. you sucked his thumb hungrily, warm tongue making him softly groan. 

he’d heard your father call for him from the grill while he buckled his pants, kissing you before walking back into the yard. 

“good talk, sweetheart.”

daddy kink with older-boyfriend könig

tw/cw: daddy kink, age difference/age gap, afab!f!reader, dom!könig. MDNI 18+ — photo credits: @glutt_r on x/twitter.

”that’s my girl. look at you, taking my big cock so fuckin’ well, isn't that right, little lamb?”

könig's words are full of depravity and pleasure. the sight of you on your back, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, with your swollen cunt swallowing every inch of his large, hung dick. it's a sight for sore eyes that leaves könig's breathing laborious and strained, fitting himself inside of your tight, warm stickiness.

“fuck, daddy-- hurts ‘s bad, but feels so good...”

your eyes are rolled to the back of your head at his pace, with each thrust knocking your body forward. your eyes glisten with delirium and delectation, unable to explain the way he leaves your pussy feeling. your cunt drools around his thick girth, with each inch splitting you open. your weeps are pitiful, yet go straight to his lengthy dick. he grabs your jaw tightly, forcing you to look into his eyes as he slides his wet boner back and forth into your tight, gummy, and smooth hole.

his heavy, full balls slapping against your puffy pussy leave you mewling out—a mutt in distress, a pathetic dog in heat. you look so gorgeous while you're getting your cunt fucked by an older sicko, treated like a slut by your older boyfriend. he's so experienced; he knows exactly how to treat you right, and it leaves your sweet pleasure coating his shaft in your glossy juices. 

“don’t cry, little mouse. you’re taking daddies’ fat dick like a good girl. just be quiet and take it nicely.” you don't fight it. you lean back, your back arched and your folds wrapped around his shaft. you clutch and clamp around his dick repetitively, the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of your wet sex leaving your chest falling and rising rapidly. each pump of his hot load inside of your cunny leaves a tear rolling down your cheek, left as a shaking and whining mess in könig's bed.

so stuffed, and so fucking full of daddies thick, potent cum. might as well make him a daddy, yeah, baby?

✰ don’t take your panties off | satoru gojo

synopsis: you made a mistake and didn’t wear panties to bed, now you’re facing the consequences.

contents: cnc, smut, lowercase spelling.

don’t take your panties off when sleeping; just don't. it’ll create a problem in the middle of the night that you aren’t ready to solve.

this particular night was a little too warm; only a gust of wind passed by every few seconds, and the fan was broken.

the electrician didn’t come until thursday, and it was tuesday night, and wearing an oversize shirt with nothing under it wasn’t a big deal.

you slipped under the covers and drifted off to sleep. satoru was working late that night, so there was no need to wait for him.

a few hours later, you were awakened by a hand smoothing and caressing your thigh, a hand nudging against your ass, and something sticking to your entrance.

you blinked a few times, clearing out the blurriness, before turning your head. all you could see in your peripheral was white hair.

“satoru?” you let out softly, just to make sure that was actually him. it was already dark, but the bright moon was letting out some illumination through the blinds.

the response back was just a hum; his hand was still caressing your side, and the “stick” that was poking your entrance was finally entering.

“the polite thing would be to respond back when i ask if it was you.” a defeated sigh ripping past your lips, and his forehead tapping your shoulder.

“sorry, im a little tired.” his rough voice and the warm vanilla scent, letting you know he just got out of the shower.

your thoughts were interrupted when he thrust into you with full force, your hand scrambling to hold onto the sheets.

“so am i, so why do you wanna do this now?" his length deep inside you from the position the both of you were in.

fucking from the side always made his dick go further, especially when you fucked back.

it was true that satoru just got back home not too long ago, and it’s also true that he was tired, but he couldn’t resist you.

when he first came home, his first priority was to eat, but not before checking if you were dead or not.

when he opened the door, there you were, sprawled on your side of the bed, one of your legs spread up, exposing your bare ass.

a lump forming in his throat from the sexy sight. he didn’t expect you to be this bold; whenever you wore an oversized shirt, you wore panties, so this was different.

swallowing the lump inside his throat, he quietly walks to your side of the bed, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek.

your sleeping face making him blush was always so cute when you slept; too bad he was going to ruin that.

sleeping so innocently, he felt bad for what he was about to do. yeah, he could’ve woken you up, but it was already late, so why not make it quick?

of course he wasn’t going to fuck you when he just came home from working and sweating all day, so he hopped in the shower and came out.

quickly sliding into bed and pulling his briefs down, not before sticking his fingers in your heat, sliding them out, and looking at them.

an amused scoff erupting from his mouth. you were wet. as hell, what in the world were you thinking about?

he took no time to line himself up with your entrance, your body jolting from the random touch.

“i just love you so much," he says, laughing softly, responding to your previous question, and pushing into you again, the wet noise making him even harder.

a moan slips past your lips, your eyes still closed, and satoru’s touch sends shivers down your spine.

your body is now more sensitive since there was no time to prepare, even though your pussy was practically leaking.

his head moved to the crook of your neck as he kissed, then slid his tongue over a spot, your hand clenching the sheet even more.

his warm breath traveled down your neck to your shoulder, placing a few small kisses there. the softness of his kisses made you smile.

the pace is getting sloppier and harder as he pushes into you deeper, causing you to gasp and cough. the change in pace is making your eyes roll back.

“softer.” your hand reaching back to push his stomach, so he slides out of you, but he takes your wrist, gripping it.

a whine coming from your lips as you squint your eyes shut, your thighs clenching, and your stomach turning from the pleasure.

“you can take it.” he grunts out, his jaw clenched and his face still on your shoulder.

another whimper comes from your mouth, then a moan follows as he presses into your sweet spot, the tingly feeling dispersing all around your body.

his hand gripping your wrist even harder, your shoulder and wrist aching from the tightness he was putting on, causing your walls to clench.

satoru kisses your shoulder again, then licks over the spot, his eyes flicking to your face, your lewd expressions making him harder.

“i’m sorry.” he lets out, pushing deeper inside you, repeated sloppy thrusts into your wet cunt.

tiny curses escaping his mouth as he gets faster, your breasts bouncing up and down from how fast he’s going.

the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, his tip getting deeper and deeper inside you, and your eyes opening from the final thrust.

a cough falling out of your mouth as you feel warm liquid feel you up, his dick slowly sliding out of you.

his body that was previously pressed against you, leaning back and letting go of your wrist.

leaning down, he takes a finger sliding over your opening, cum coating his finger and a smile dancing on his lips.

you quickly get up, spreading your legs, and looking at the sight, a vein could be seen popping up in your forehead.

“fucking dick!” you scream out, quickly sliding the pillow behind you and hitting him repeatedly, cursing him out.

he’s laughing, curled up, and holding his stomach, deciding to just suffer the consequences.

you’re never going to go to bed without panties again.

‘𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭!’

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! period sex, vampire!choso, oral (choso eats you out on your period), some fingering, thumb in ass, praise, slut used once, daddy/mama, pussy drunk/cock drunk/hints of mindbreak/overstimulation, light dacryphilia, squirting, creampie, choso is a lil cocky in this one cause he knows he is rocking your coochie

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 MY FEELINGS, cause if these leaks are true I'm crying, Imma make myself feel better with choso smut

Fey: @maxellera the speed at which I wrote this, the way this consumed my body soul and cookie coochie 😫

Choso softly licks your puffy sore clit eliciting a whine from you as you twist your hips away. You’re trembling, tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt dripping cum and blood onto the soft fluffy towel.

He sweet croons, “One more princess please you taste so good.” You spread your legs, and grab onto the pillow trying to brace yourself. When he gently spreads your lips apart to admire your beautiful soaking wet cunt.

“Good girl, you look beautiful crying with your legs spread apart like a slut. I can't think about anything other that what I want to do to your pretty lil’ cunt.” Choso kisses your clit and lips, gliding his tongue into bloody cunt with a loudly groan.

Choso slowly strokes your sensitive clit the perfect pressure pressure. You’re quivering, moaning, toes curling with your sloppy wet cunt clenching his soft tongue. “‘S too good! Daddy!” Your cheeks burn and your heart pounds a little faster when he pulls away.

Choso sits up with a cocky smirk that looks hotter bloody. “Is your soft wet n tight cunt daddy’s?” He nudges two thick fingers into your soaking wet cunt. “Hear her sqeuchling? I think she’s answering for you.”

“All yours’ daddy! Wanna be yours.” Choso pulls his thick fingers out, smearing your blood onto his cock. He grabs your hip with his clean hand flips you over and pulls your ass in the air.

Choso swipes his hard cock between your soft lips and you push your hips back taking his fat veiny cock. His jaw drops with a beautiful deep moan, “Fuucckme lil mama! Nnn! That’s it, fuck your sloppy wet cunt on ya daddy’s thick cock.”

Rocking your hips faster taking his cock with deep fast strokes. “Nnn daddy please! You feel so good, I love my daddy’s thick cock ‘s much.” Choso groans as he admires the way your lips tug when you pull away. Your sloppy wet cunt looks so good split open by his bloody pale cock.

The sight is consuming him as he forgets to let you move. Tightly grabbing your hips and meeting your thrust back with a harsh rut. If not for his grasp you would bounce forward and hit your head on his headboard.

“Nnn lil’ mama you’re too warm and wet, fuck ‘s too much! Nnn! I wanna cum in both your holes. Your sweet little asshole is so tempting.” He pulls on your cheek, swirling a bloody thumb over your soft hole.

He moans, “I wanna fill you up in every way I can, plug you up so you can walk around with my cum inside you.” He glides his thumb in slowly, You’re making me a pervert, I’m becoming obsessed with watching your lil holes stretch to take me.” He probs up one leg and the strokes start hitting deeper.

His hard fat cock is too much for your sensitive cunt. It’s perfect you can’t think of anything else. Every single worry fucked out of your head as you cry into his pillow.

Grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. “Don’t muffle yourself lil mama, it gets me off hearing you moan knowing that I'm making your sweet lil cunt feel so good there isn't a thought in your pretty head.”

His balls are hitting your clit as he fucks you from behind. Your cheeks jiggling with each deep fast stroke. “Nnnn I'm gonna fuck ya into a cum filled princess who needs her daddy’s help 'cause she can't walk.” Gushing on this thick cock, your thighs tremble and your cunt is quivering over him sending Choso over the edge.

Warm thick cum fills your cunt up but he doesn't stop as he fucks you harder. Fucking his cum deep into your needy soaking wet cunt. “Sweet lil mama you're getting too tight! It feels too good! Fuck! I can't stop! Don't wanna stop! Wanna keep feeling your soft hot cunt soaking and squeezing my cock.”

all work

This… is stupid, but you know what, it delighted me to draw and that’s the most important thing <3

a/n: i have no clue what this is, i just fucking love ghost man 😭 (ALSO YES I STILL STAND BY THE THEORY HES MITSKI CODED SO MORE MITSKI) simon was finally back. after 4 months of deployment, he was back in your arms again, familiar smell of nicotine, bad cologne and iron filling your lungs as you inhaled. it felt like home. your mind had been on little else since he left, and now having him back? it felt better than you could've possibly imagined. "missed you, luv." he crooned softly into your neck as you almost refused to let him go, fingers knitted together at the back of his head as a couple of stray tears flitted down your face, careful not to wet his uniform. just one swipe of his gloved thumb erased them from your pretty face, a smile sparkling in your eyes as he regretfully unhooked himself from your embrace, hand grabbing your chin, "gonna go take a shower, mkay? so, i don't stink like horse piss for the rest of the day." pressing his lips to your forehead before exiting your shared bedroom, your cheeks red and a grin on your lips as you lay back on the bed. lifting your head as you heard a muffled song coming from above your ears, you noticed his phone and his pair of airpods beside them. he'd forgotten to turn them off.

"christ, simon, it's a wonder you can hear anything with the volume these are at." you muttered to nobody in particular as you went to pause what he was listening to. it was my love, mine all mine by mitski. a quirked eyebrow ensued as you then skipped to the next song which was dark red by steve lacey. then i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys. they were all love songs. this was... highly out of character for him. anytime you put on a sappy love song when at home, he would call you a big sap. but here he was; listening to those same songs he told you off for listening to. you did a double tap to open spotify and then the playlist name hit you like a smack in the face. it was simply your name. and a picture of you as the album cover. closing his phone again, you lay back on your bed, hand over your mouth and butterflies in your stomach. when away on deployment all he did was think of you. your smell. your smile. the way you said his name. with every beat of his heart, he thought of you. he left ghost on the battlefield. he brought simon home. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ taglist: @lalamac125

simon riley x fem!reader

cw: oral - f receiving, simon eating pussy to apologize!

18+ MINORS DNI

simon apologized with his mouth, and tongue, murmuring softly against the skin of your belly as he shoved down the fabric of your underwear.

“m’sorry, baby. just lost track of time.”

he had gotten home later than anticipated due to finalizing a mission report. cursing at himself as the clock read past 22:00. rushing home as quickly as he could, knowing how upset you’d be.

and when he saw you teary eyed and pouty he was immediately on his knees. kissing over every part of exposed skin he could see.

nipping at your thighs as he spread your legs further apart. his tongue flat against your clit as you squirmed beneath him.

“promise it won’t happen again.”

you just tugged on his hair, refusing to speak to him as you pushed him closer to your cunt.

“you’re not gonna talk to me, pretty girl?” and he laughed when you turned your face away from him.

running his tongue between your slick folds before circling your entrance. his nose pressed tight against your puffy clit.

he grunted softly as your fingers dug into his scalp, looking absolutely debauched as he gripped at your thighs, yanking you closer towards the edge of the bed as you began to squirm away from him.

mumbling about how pretty your pussy was, and how it belonged to him. drunk off the taste on his tongue as he devoured you.

“ain’t that right, baby? all mine, this pussy belongs to me?”

and you had been doing so good in giving him the silent treatment, but as he sucked and licked at your cunt, it felt as though you were about to explode.

so you gave him a short nod, the first moan ripping from your throat as your back arched off the bed, rolling your hips against his mouth.

“say it.”

you refused, biting down on your lip, but you were met with a soft slap to your clit that had your body jolting.

“say it, sweet girl.”

you whined softly, shoving his face deeper into your slick folds when you cried out the words, “yes, si’. this pussy’s yours.”

and you could feel him smiling against you before he refocused his attention on your clit.

your body tensing under his as you came. white hot pleasure that had your mind turning to mush and your fingers and toes tingling as you cried out his name.

your body loose and hot as he crawled over you. his chin shiny with your slick as his kissed you.

pulling away reluctantly but using the time to catch your gaze, “i really am sorry, love.”

and he knows you had forgiven him when you trailed your hands down to the waistband of his pants, tugging him closer as you kissed him again.