Kyle Seducing The Cold Detached Woman Who's Levels Above His Station 😔

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

• I love this trend sm!! 💫

This might be a wild one.

But hear me out okay.

Simon has his hand somewhere intimate at all times whenever it’s the two of you together.

NOW okay stay with me…

At first, it was somewhat innocent. You’d both be watching a movie on the sofa, he’d deliberately have you lie across him just so his hand can rest on your ass. Casual couple things y’know.

But as your relationship progresses and he’s very used to being able to touch his pretty girl whenever possible…he tends to stray to more intimate places.

There would be one time, you’d be standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner for him on the rare occasion he gets to have a home cooked meal for once. And he’d stand behind you, humming some dumb song that’s been stuck in his head for days. But his hands will be on your tits.

Now, there’s nothing sexual about it really. He just likes holding them. Likes touching you. He’d probably give the occasional squish now and again because let’s face it he’s a man and they’d all do it.

But the only time his need to be touching you would turn sexual, is by complete accident.

(Hear me the fuck out okay?)

So you’d both be lying in bed, you’d be scrolling through your phone as he’s reading beside you (he reads, it’s obvious).

But his hand, would be down whatever pants or shorts you’re wearing for bed, underneath your underwear if you are wearing any at the time…and his hand would simply be resting on your cunt.

Like I said, it wouldn’t be sexual at first and it was an accident this time around.

Because this man can’t sit still at home, it’s too quiet…too calm…he needs something to do.

So what does he do? Play with your cunt.

The pad of his middle finger would idly rub up and down over your clit, not even trying to put any effort in all whilst he focuses on reading. Even if you’re there slightly squirming from the pleasure that the rhythmic motion of his finger creates, he wouldn’t really notice straight away.

He’d circle it a few times, all the while you’re trying to keep quiet as to not disturb him. Having to hold in every moan or soft sound your body aches to let out.

And for the most part, he seems completely focused. Even when his finger would slide down and gather every drop leaking out of you and bring it back to your clit just for more stimulation.

It’s only when you’re close to cumming from the lazy but constant stimulation that he’ll lean down slightly just to whisper in your ear.

“C’mon…give it to me love…please…”

He knows.

He always knows.

thinking about task force 141 during the roman empire but it’s reversed

you are the gladiator in the arena, someone made a wrong assumption, put you in, and you somehow make it out of the 26 person brawl ALIVE

after the fight is over, you lay all the bodies out in a traditional manner, arms crossed eyes closed; because even if they all tried to kill you and each other you think they deserve a proper resting place for having to go through this

the crowd at first was screaming, some cheering others were not at your win but it all settled into silence when they realized what you were doing

the emperor was impressed with the fight and your compassion so you’re treated like a true winner; a line of 4 men standing to be your ‘spoils for the night’ you deserve it the translator had said after realizing you didn’t understand their language.

so as to not upset the emperor, you take all 4 beefy and broad men; all of them undressing, but your quick to stop them. motioning that they don’t have to do this and you just want to sleep in the bed that’s big enough for all 5 of you.

they spoke together later that night, all agreeing that you would never go into the arena again.

You're both already wrecked, sweat slicking your skin, your hands clawing at his back like you're trying to pull him deeper, even though he’s already buried to the hilt.

You’ve been at it for a while now—lazy, slow thrusts that feel more like worship than fucking, his mouth hot on your neck, murmuring filth and little nothings in that rough voice that always makes your stomach flip.

He’s so deep it’s making your head spin. Every drag of his cock feels like he’s carving himself into you, like he wants you to feel him long after he’s gone.

And maybe that’s why it slips out. Maybe that’s why you say it.

You don’t plan to. You just feel so full, so warm, so ruined, that it tumbles out between moans without warning.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Everything goes still.

Simon stops mid-thrust. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

You blink, panting, your hands still on his shoulders, confused by the sudden tension in his body.

“…Simon?”

He pulls back.

Not just his hips—his whole body. Just enough to look at you. His face is blank, eyes wide and dark and unreadable.

You feel cold all of a sudden.

“I—what?” he says. But he heard you. You know he did, because he’s already pulling away.

You try to keep your voice steady. “I said I love you.”

He’s quiet for too long...too fucking long.

Then he exhales, low and shaky, and steps back like you just slapped him.

“Don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

You stare at him, still half-naked, still aching, still open. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

You feel it start to break—something inside your chest, something you’d been holding together for weeks with sex and silence.

He grabs his shirt off the floor without looking at you. “This was never supposed to be that.”

“And what is it supposed to be, then?” Your voice is rising now. “Just convenient? Just something to do when we’re lonely and bored and pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just pulls his shirt over his head and avoids your eyes like a fucking coward.

“So that’s it?” you breathe. “I tell you I love you and you just… leave?”

Simon finally looks at you.

His mouth opens like he’s going to say something—maybe explain, maybe apologize—but then he just swallows, jaw clenched, and turns away.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says.

And then he walks out the door.

You don’t call after him, you don’t chase. You just sit there, still aching from where he was, still wet, still shaking, with the taste of I love you still on your tongue like it’s poison.

PART 2

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

Cw: handjob, pillow talk, casual sex but not in the “no strings attached” kinda way more in the “wanna quick wank before work?” Kinda way. gn reader x soap smut!!!

Had this brain worm where you are giving Johnny the best handjob in his entire life while you lay next to him and vent about your day…

“I just don’t get it, you know?” You lamented to him, your head propped up by your hand as you laid on your side. “Like, I’m not trying to be greedy, I just wish I could be acknowledged for the work I’ve put in.”

All while, your other hand was lazily stroking up and down his length, using the slickness of his precum to smooth the friction between his hard cock and your fingers. And he’s trying his best not to throw his head back and cry out into the wind but you make it really hard to concentrate when all the blood in his skull has rushed down into his balls.

“Aye…” he strained out between gritted teeth. The only word that was able to escape his lips without releasing the throaty moan building up in his lungs.

“So, should I say something? I want to be acknowledged but it’s so hard to rock the boat.” You continued to vent as if you weren’t single-handedly (literally) ruining this man.

“Do…what…you need to…luv…” he choked out, feeling your hand glide up to rub over his red needy tip, the bulbous head leaking out desperately as you caress it.

“Are you sure? I don’t know…”

he bit his knuckle as you mused, trying not to let out the deep guttural cry that was threatening to bubble out of his throat.

“Mhm…yeah…oh fuck yeah.” He had no idea what he was agreeing to anymore, so lost in the pleasure of your touch his mind had gone foggy.

He felt his balls tighten eagerly as your angelic hand continued it’s assualt on his cock. He felt his release impending like a tidal wave, legs shaking with anticipation and pure overstimulation.

You said something to him but it didn’t quite reach his ears, his body flushed hot against your welcoming palm as it jerked him, fast and tight. He could feel that familiar bubble of warmth in his pelvis, the chase of a release close to come.

“Fuck…gah, fuck!” He groaned out, his head thrown back and his mouth forming an O in a silent scream. The tidal wave of his orgasm came crashing down, his sensitive dick pulsating and spitting hot white strips of cum across his shirt.

He was left panting on the bed, entire body a rosy red as his hips jumped as even the slightest brush of your fingers was enough to keep him sensitive and aching. His entire body felt weak and boneless, all the energy he has left now a stain on the front of his shirt.

“Okay, I think I’ll try that.” You said, almost triumphant and pleased in your decision. “I’ll say something to her once I get to work. Put myself out there.” You leaned over his flushed body to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, a rather tame and loving moment compared to what had happened seconds prior. ”I’m gonna wash my hands and leave for work. you want to me put your shirt in the wash before I head out?”

He shook his head weakly and raised his hand to usher you away, in a sort of “I’ll be fine” gesture.

You smiled, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before standing and leaving the poor weak man on the bed

simon riley pisses on your leg when you shower together and he either does it and has a smug little grin when you turn around with a blank stare (unamused but also unbothered, used to his antics by now) or he’s standing super close, one hand on the back of your neck to force very direct eye contact, and the other holding his dick to your thigh… he might even aim the stream just below your belly button

he's marking his territory. he's probably ticked off because some asshole smiled at you when you were out running errands and you didn't immediately snap at him that you already had a man.

thinks it's funny when you squirm and try to pull away because it's gross, you say. that's the point. he's gonna get it through your thick skull that if you're gonna entertain men by being cutesy and flashing your pretty smile at them then you have to deal with the consequences.

I just know its a pain to get that face paint off…🥲💀

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

tbh i need more freaky johnny like whatever you got …. im obsessed 😌

You know I was thinking about this in the shower. I think that if you were to ever jokingly say you’d considered a type of plastic surgery to “fix” something you’re insecure about he’s the type of dude who would actually wrestle you to the floor and put you in a headlock growling at you to take it back 🥴