Deserved. Good Job.

Deserved. Good job.

Link to PT1

Your Ex-Orc’s life has been going great since you broke up. He had been skirting around ending things with you for a while, and the relief of you breaking up with him crashed over him like a tsunami.

He’d forgotten how amazing it was to have his home to himself, to be able to sit in his front room without having to keep up a drab conversation with you about whatever happened at work, or to come home with a ‘shut up’ gift, just to make sure you didn’t complain about his prolonged absence.

However, there were times where we would walk into his flat and catch a whiff of your signature scent, or of a dish being prepared. He would ignore the way the pit in his stomach would open up and would head straight to his bedroom to go and get ready for a night on the town.

This feeling began to wake him up in the mornings too. When he rolled over and instinctively reached out for your figure, to drag in the smell of your shampooed hair and see your sleepy smile.

Every time this happened, your Ex vowed to go out that night. Going out and bringing home random women he met at bars and clubs always made him feel better.

And so, like clockwork when that all too familiar feeling kicked in, the pit reopening like a cut that just won’t heal, he would get on his best clothes and head out.

Tonight, he wanted to check out this new bar that had just opened up in town centre, named ‘Poena.’

Apparently, the drinks were all named after Roman and Greek plays, generals, philosophers and the like. 

It just begged for him to go in there tonight.

As he stepped through the front door, your Ex was greeted by Roman arches and Greek pillars with vines that wound around, up and over the bar itself, fake grapes dangling from the ceiling while the bartender was dressed in a white toga, a golden leaf wreath adorning his brow.

Taking a seat at the bar, your Ex Orc straightened out his blazer and began to scour the place for tonight’s lucky lady.

It was still early in the evening and the only other woman at the bar had her back to him and was admiring a statue of Venus, so your Ex decided to wait a little while longer and ordered a drink named ‘The Bloody 23’

After his drink had been given to him, your Ex’s attention went back to the woman at the bar, where he recoiled in shock. The woman… It was you.

He was stunned that he didn’t recognise you at first, but you just looked so… different. 

Had you done something new with your hair? Was your Make-up different? Or was it the clothes? 

You never normally wore club attire, you even said yourself that that kind of environment wasn’t really your thing.

But here you are, wearing a skin tight, red wine coloured dress. It was like you were a different person.

In front of you on the bar's counter, was an empty glass.

Your Ex smirked, and called the bartender over with a snap of his fingers, “would you kindly refill that lady’s drink? I’ll pay of course,” he said, almost lazily. 

Your Ex lifted his drink to his lips as he imagined your pleasantly surprised face when you realised he was there with you. Who knows, maybe even the pair of you could talk about what happened, make up and even-

His train of thought broke when somebody collided with him. Your Ex’s drink drenched his front, ruining his last good ‘going out’ shirt, staining it dark red.

“Whoops!” The collider said. It was another Orc, younger than your ex. This Orc had his hair tied back into a fishtail braid that went down his back and reached his waist.

He wore a leather jacket, black skin tight shirt and black jeans to match, boots undone, laces loose and unkempt. 

Your Ex Orc gave him a disgusted expression. “Watch where you’re going.” He snarled as he patted his front dry with a tissue the bar had provided.

The younger Orc held his hands up in defence, “sorry, must’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Digging into his pockets, he pulled out some cash and held it out to your Ex, “here, for the drink and… the shirt.”

Snatching it from the Orc, your Ex grumbled, giving one last disgusted glare up and down the collider, “and wear something more appropriate next time, oaf.”

The younger Orc didn’t seem to hear him however, as he continued on and to-

Your Ex froze.

Your face lit up at the other Orcs, jumping to your feet and throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

Eyes twinkling, grinning widely, your eyes darted over to your Ex. The pair of you locked eyes for a moment.

Your smile faltered slightly, the spark in your eyes went out.

The other Orc beside you looked over his shoulder, at his elder and then back at you. His hand reached out to your face, held it in his hands.

Heart thumping in his ears, your Ex stared. You hadn’t replaced him, had you?

The pair of you broke up only a few weeks ago!

You locked eyes with the Orc who held you and just as quickly as your light had faded, it reignited. 

The Orc said something, and it made you burst into a fit of giggles. 

You no longer had eyes for your Ex as you leaned forward and kissed the Orc in front of you. 

And this younger bastard, he kissed you back.

Like the pair of you had completely forgotten about your Ex, sat at the other end of the bar. 

When the kiss broke, your new lover looked over his shoulder at your Ex again and smirked.

Piercing pain shot through your Ex’s hand and he let out a gasp of shock. Looking down at his hand, he found the glass had been crushed by his grip.

He wanted to get up, rush after you and your lover, but the bartender stopped him, already trying to stem the bleeding from his green palm. He looked back up just in time to see you and your new Orc get up and head for the door.

As you and your new lover left, anger, frustration and remorse hit your Ex like a ton of bricks, one after another. 

And suddenly, the pain in his hand was gone. The pit in his stomach consumed him whole as he dissolved into tears.

He didn’t need more time out in bars or clubs, or to meet new women. 

Your Ex needed you. 

And he’d lost you, over a stupid woman at a club.

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@serendipitous-fernweh @seungfl0wer @sammywo @sunndust

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NINE TO FIVE, FIVE TO NINE Yandere Married Boss x Office Siren Reader

AN: RAHHH. IT'S FINALLY HERE. This took me way longer then it should have but I'm really proud of it. I hope it lives up to the expectations of the 400ish people who liked the original post. This ones filled with shitty people all around. TW: 18+ ONLY, NON-CON, Older Male/Younger Female (mid 30s, mid 20s), Abuse of power (Boss/Employee), Infidelity, Face-Sitting, Cunnilingus, Switch Man, Switch Woman, PIV sex, Manipulation, Roofies, Kidnapping, Mentions of Divorce, Mentions of Pregnancy

Every quarter, your company’s HR department sends out an employee satisfaction survey, and every quarter when you reach the “What is your favorite part of working for our company?” question, your answer is the same.

You love the community. Your colleagues are respectful and hardworking; willing to go the extra mile to ensure deadlines are met. You feel as though your work contributes to something larger and that your efforts don’t go unnoticed by your employers. 

Very cute. Very professional. It would be the perfect answer if it wasn’t all bullshit. 

Your coworkers are fine, but not worth a twenty minute commute and shitty benefits. What actually keeps you slugging into work every morning is far less… admirable. It isn’t something you could write on a company survey without consequences, at least.

Your favorite part of your job is bouncing on your boss's cock.

Yes, you know, “shame on you” — but it’s not like you intended to be an office siren. When you applied for the job all you wanted was to make rent. This was your first “adult” job, so in adult fashion, you tried to keep things professional. 

Emphasis on tried.

It's just... how could you work to your fullest when you were spending all day fantasizing about those toned forearms pinning you down? How were you supposed to answer emails when you were busy wondering if he looked better in or out of his suit? Everyday he sat five feet away from you looking so pent-up and fuckable, could you really be blamed for getting distracted? The hit to your productivity was a detriment to the company. You were just being a responsible employee by fixing the issue.

Yes, he’s ten years your senior. Yes, there’s a blaring ethical issue with a boss fucking his secretary. But he’s a man of childrearing age and you’re a fertile young woman; it’s not your fault you have biological urges.

Besides, it’s not like he’s absolved from blame. You certainly don’t force him to lie down on the couch in his office and pull you onto his face. The desire for you to cum on his nose is entirely his own.

“Fuck, Y/N.” his groan vibrates up into your core, pulling the knot in your stomach tight. One rough hand lies at your waist, following your hips as they roll against his mouth. The other works at his perked up cock, lazily tugging up and down as he devours your cunt. “That’s it baby, ride my fuckin’ nose.”

He’s been at it for nearly half your lunch break now, lapping and sucking at your folds in lieu of his actual meal - not that you’re complaining. How could you, when his tongue is so adamant? It flicks through your folds greedily to earn more of your juice, savoring the salty-sweet taste he’s become so addicted to. Every slurp, lap and suck is catered specifically to your preferences.

You've done well with him. When you first took him under your wing he’d never even eaten pussy before, in fact, he’d only ever slept with two women. Not for lack of desire, he told you, he just never had the time or confidence to flirt in his twenties. Before he knew it, time got away from him and he was past the age where hookups are deemed socially acceptable. 

Your heart broke for him. A man as handsome as him shouldn't be having mediocre sex. So you, being the selfless woman you are, offered to help him make up for lost time. 

It only took one blowjob for him to overlook the ethics of the situation.

With a gentle hand, patience, and lots of encouragement, you’ve turned the businessman into a first rate manslut. He fucks and eats pussy like a veteran now and he’s always eager to get more practice, he drags you onto his face nearly every time he calls you into his office.

He’s come a long, long way, your little pet project.

Inadvertently, you thrust your hips forward, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose. His tongue burrows itself into your hole, and that’s enough to send you over the edge. Your belly goes taut, your thighs clamp around his ears and you bite your lip to stifle your scream as the contractions roll through your body. Each one sets off fireworks. Fizzing and popping like sparklers in your tummy. Mind-numbing, toe-curling, perfection.

He’s an absolute mess when you climb off of his face. Completely blissed out, face dripping with juices and saliva, glistening in the light pouring through the window. The collar of his pristine white dress shirt is drenched and wrinkled, most likely ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. No, his hungry eyes haven't left that cute little mound between your legs.

“Bend over the desk.” he growls, leaving a smack on your ass as you pull yourself up, and despite the sting you can’t help but smile at his confidence. He’s a far cry from the man he was before you got your hands on him.

You decide to reward him with a little show; swaying your hips teasingly as your stilettos click across the floor, obediently laying yourself over the smooth mahogany, keeping a light arch in your back so he has a nice view of your ass. 

You smile coyly at his reddened face, “You coming, Boss?”

His adam's apple bobs and he makes his way over, eyes dark and dilated, cock leaking beads he positions himself between your legs.

“We only have fifteen minutes before my lunch ends,” you purr, “You think that’s enough time to make us both cum?”

"That’s more than enough~" he growls, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking back so he can purr in your ear, "Do you want my cock in this tight little cunt, Y/N? Do you want me to fill you up?"

You frantically nod, accentuating the act with an exaggerated whimper and needy roll of your hips.

"Beg for it then." he hisses.

If you were in a sadistic mood you might test how long you could make him hold out, but you feel like indulging him today, so you look back at him all teary and doe-eyed. "Please, please, please, Sir. I need your thick cock in my tight little cunt! I can't - Ah! - I can't take it anymore!"

A loud groan tumbles past his lips as he lines himself up, tracing the fat head up and down your slit,  “Slutty thing. That’s alright baby, I’ll give you what you—”

The clink of something falling off his desk interrupts the thought. The object in question rolls a few feet across the wood floor before wobbling in circles and finally lying flat.

His wedding band glitters innocently in the afternoon sun, silently mocking its owner and his mistress.

Ah, the elephant in the room.

Yes, you know he’s married. If the ring wasn’t enough of a tell, the picture of the two of them on his desk is. He's about a decade younger in it, grinning wide as she presses a kiss to his cheek. They took it in France during their honeymoon, he told you. 

You’ve never met his wife, but you can tell from the picture that she’s the quintessential college sweetheart. The type of girl who’s never drank, smoked or had a cavity. The kind of girl you propose too at the park and settle down with in a white picket fence suburban neighborhood. The kind of girl who says “Not tonight, honey.” when you ask to have sex at the end of a stressful day.

In layman's terms, she's boring.

And clearly, she isn’t taking care of him correctly. He was so obviously pent up when you started flirting with him, just a glimpse of your cleavage was all it took to get him rock hard.

Of course it’s morally reprehensible, but you could argue that making him work his dull 9-5 everyday for nothing in return is wrong too. Somebody had to help the guy out. If she wasn’t going to do her job then you’d have to do it for her.

The guilt nearly killed him at first. The day after the first blowjob he dragged you into his office and furiously—or maybe desperately—started pacing up and down the room. Giving you the “We can’t do this. For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m married.” speech, whether he was lecturing you or himself, you aren’t entirely sure.

Still, you listened patiently as he rambled, and eventually you decided it was best to back off. It was a disappointment for sure but you'd get over it. You were too hot to be meddling in people's marriages anyway. 

At least directly meddling.

You didn’t make any more blatant advances, but you did start wearing dresses and skirts that fell a tad too short to be considered work appropriate. The necklines of your tops started plunging too, showing off as much cleavage as you could without HR getting up your ass. And you suddenly became very clumsy. “Accidentally” dropping things whenever he was around, or leaning over his desk just enough to give him a nice look down your shirt. 

Not even a week later he pulled you into his office, all but begging on his knees for you to fuck him. That was your green card. You aren’t to blame if he’s the one who instigated. So you rode him like a mechanical bull, chest filled with pride as you looked at that stupid picture of him and his wife.

You always get what you want in the end.

Dispite your victory however, his wife remains a thorn in your side. Your boss has gone completely soft staring at that dumb ring, thinking of his dumb wife who probably couldn’t suck a dick to save her life. No wonder he’s cheating, the bitch pisses you off and you’ve never even met her.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, you give his tie a gentle tug. You soften your face as he turns back, gently--teasingly tracing your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin to gently tilt it up. And though he obeys the silent command, the shame swimming in his eyes makes your smile waver.

It irks you, for some reason, how upset he is by this. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe you should have more sympathy, but you can’t push past the desire to keep him for yourself. You may have won, but did you really if his heart is still hers? 

That’s something to address another time. Getting him hard again takes precedence right now, you’re not going to let that bitch get between you and his dick.

You pull yourself off of his desk, grabbing his hand gently. He follows you to the couch—far more hesitantly then you’d like—but he doesn’t complain when you lie him down and climb on top. He never complains when you climb on top. You leave a sweet kiss between his eyebrows and the cute, attention-starved thing burns bright red. Adorable.

“You’re alright.” You caress his stubbled cheek, slowly coaxing him with honey-sweet kisses, like a siren luring a sailor to his doom. “It’s not your fault you have urges, remember? You’re a grown man, it’s not healthy for you to be so pent-up.” 

His throat clicks with a heavy swallow when your hand moves down, gently wrapping around his soft penis, stroking it lightly, teasingly, all while flashing your big, lust-blown eyes and quivering lip. The rod in your hand fills out shamelessly, and like a bad habit, his eyes flick back down to your pretty cunt. You can tell he’s itching to touch, his morality holding on by a thread, but he’ll always fold to you in the end. You, and your torturous little pocket of bliss.

“That’s it baby.” you purr, picking up his trembling hand and placing it over your clit, “Little circles, just like I taught you.” As soon as his hand starts moving he’s putty in your hands again; any remaining penitence completely snuffed out. He’s hypnotized. Pussy-whipped. Rubbing your little pearl with rough pads, working it like a joystick and groaning licentiously as you trace the head of his cock up and down your folds. You line yourself up, leaning forward so you’re hovering just a few centimeters away from his face, close enough to feel his hot breath on your lips.

“We both know she can’t give you what you need. But I can. I’ll make you feel so good~” you purr, letting one hand find it's way up his shirt to trace over his trembling torso. Little bumps erupt all over his skin when the tip of his cock catches in your little divot. You can't help your lips from curling up.

You lower yourself so your hole swallows just the tip, and his breath hitches beneath you. You clench in response, just a little squeeze to remind him who makes him feel good, who his cock really belongs too, and if the bubbling moan that passes his lips is anything to go by, he got the memo.

You ghost your lips over his neck, nibbling lightly at his sensitive pulse point, teasingly tracing a little heart over his pecs, “Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” 

He all but whimpers as you drop yourself down, white-knuckling the sofa, so overwhelmed you swear his eyes start tearing, and when you finally reach the base he groans like he’s seen heaven. You don’t think about his wife, or his ring, or morality while you bounce on his cock. Not a flicker of guilt passes through your mind when he bucks and fills you with his cum. Why should it? Your job is to ensure your boss's needs are met while he's in the office, and you’re doing just that. His life after five pm is none of your concern, really.

—

About two months later you find an unassuming sticky note on your desk, scrawled over in his chicken-scratch handwriting.

Come to my office at 5, we need to talk.

It strikes you as odd. Normally he’d just come talk to you about any arrangements, lay a gentle hand on your shoulder and bend down to whisper something filthy in your ear, but your boss is nowhere in sight. Not on the office floor checking up on his employees, not in the break room making idle chatter while he refills his coffee, your boss stays holed up in his office all day, and when you walk in to give him his schedule for the upcoming week he only grunts in acknowledgement, never looking up from his computer.

Something is clearly wrong. Normally, he can’t keep his hands off of you—you never leave his office without a slap on the ass and a promise to make you regret wearing whatever curve hugging skirt you put on that day—but he seems to want nothing to do with you, or rather, he seems to be avoiding the fact that he does. The blatant disregard pisses you off, frankly. You put effort into your makeup today.

But more than that, his sudden indifference is unsettling. You can’t put your finger on why; he’s never given you reason to believe that he’s resentful, and despite his dour, professional persona he’s about as intimidating as a newborn kitten. Still, the tension in his office is thick. Thicker than you realize. When you step out you're surprised to find your lungs are aching from holding the breath you walked in with.

You spend the better part of your day trying to convince yourself that you’re just feeling ill. You aren’t nervous. There’s no reason to be. The gut feeling telling you to walk out at five today is just the byproduct of spoiled eggs at breakfast. You’re in control. You always are.

Still, when five o’clock comes your heart is pounding. Alarm bells clang in your head, screaming that something bad is going to happen if you walk through that door. Briefly, an interview from a true crime documentary you once watched plays through your head—the victim was lamenting how she regretted not listening to that “gut feeling” before she got kidnapped—but that’s ridiculous. You know your boss and you’re certain he’s not a kidnapper. The notion itself is ridiculous. You’ll be fine. You’ve been fucking him for three months, him acting weird doesn’t mean today will be any different.

After a few deep breaths you open the door and as promised, he's waiting for you, but not how you expected him to be. Normally, he’d be rolling his hips into his fist by now, impatiently demanding you get on your knees in front of him, but today he’s fully clothed, penis nowhere in sight. Instead, his hands cup a white mug of steaming liquid—an identical one that you presume to be yours sits on the opposite side of his desk—and he seems… tired. Pale and weighted; certainly not aroused in any way.

“You can sit, you know. I’m not angry at you.” he calls vacantly from across the room, not looking up from his cup.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, realizing you’ve been staring. With a thick swallow, you make your way over to him, mustering up as pleasant a smile as you can. When you finally sit and get a good look at him, however, the grin drops. 

He looks… awful. Weary and bleak, with red, puffy circles around his eyes like he’s recently been crying, his hair is mussed and a five o’clock shadow is growing on his chin. It’s jarring, to say the least. He’s normally so put together, you can’t remember if you've ever seen him disheveled. He’s a hard man to shake typically, his job demands it, but he looks utterly distraught. For a brief moment, you feel kind of bad.

Gross.

A halfhearted chuckle leaves his mouth, “I’m sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh?” 

Immediately you straighten, rectifying your smile. You can’t show cracks. There are no cracks, “Not at all Sir. What can I help you with?” 

A meaty hand waves you off. “Don’t bother with professionalism, Y/N. We both know we aren’t here to talk about work.” he runs a hand through his already mussed up hair and shuts his eyes. He pauses a moment, taking a long breath, thinking deeply or maybe steeling himself, before slowly exhaling, pushing the second mug towards you “Here, take a drink. This might be a lot.”

“Oh no, I’m not thirsty–”

“Drink.” he interrupts, and you’re startled by how sharp the command is. It’s far cry from the playful orders you’re used to receiving when he growls at you to get on your knees or bend over his desk. Instinctively, you find yourself rushing to obey.

When you bring the mug to your lips, his face relaxes. The alarm balls start jingling in the back of your head again.

“I’m going to be blunt about this,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My wife found out about the affair and she wants a divorce.”

Oh. That is a lot.

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s saying, a few more for it to sink in, but when you’ve finally got a stable grasp on the information, the faucet of emotion is turned on. It doesn’t twist off until your body is on the verge of overflowing.

But not for the right reasons.

Your heart should be sinking, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. You should be on your knees, groveling in shame; apologizing with your whole chest for ruining this poor man's marriage—but you aren’t. Not a flicker of remorse fills your body.

You feel positively giddy.

Elated. Euphoric. You are on cloud fucking nine. Months, you’ve been waiting for this day; when you could finally take your medal and put it around your neck. It’s not really a matter of him being yours, moreso confirming that you’re hot enough to break up marriages. Fuck the morality of it all. You did it. She’s gone. You won. 

You aren’t tactless enough to start jumping for joy, however. You do your best to put on a genuine-seeming soberness and reply, “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, eyes down-turned, “I’m equally if not more to blame. What’s done is done.” 

He stands then, aimlessly walking to the window. It’s all rather dramatic, you feel, but you're not the one who’s marriage just got destroyed. Quietly he looks across the skyline, face clouding with regret as he speaks, “You should have seen her, Y/N.” You wish you had, “I-I could see her heart breaking in her chest when I admitted to it.”

Oh, the delight that runs through you when you hear that crack in his voice—it makes you dizzy.

“I managed to find an apartment somehow between then and now. I’m in the process of moving in. I thought it was only right to give her space. God, the poor girl…” His cheeks are wet when he turns back to you and another jolt of glee zips through your body. But this one is stronger than the first one. It makes you wobble a little in your chair; you have to clutch the armrests to keep yourself upright.

The bells have started clanging again—painfully loud—and your heart beats in time with each stroke.

“Seven years. We’d been together seven years.” he laments, walking back to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Despite the touch's innocence it’s searing hot, burning into your skin like an iron, only serving to make the bells louder. You try to jerk away but your body goes slack and when you try to pick yourself back up again, you can’t; no matter how hard you strain and lift, your muscles won’t move.

Your heart is pounding in your head now. His large hands hook under your armpits, hoisting your limp body back up onto the chair like a ragdoll. 

A sick, crawling feeling of dread fills your chest, like when you get to the very top of a rollercoaster. It creeps up your spine and wraps around your chest, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His face… he looks like a madman. Pale and wild; eyes manic and pupils dilated. He swallows heavily, breath shallow and frenzied as he desperately rasps, “I don’t think I could live without a wife again.”

The bells are deafening now and any ounce of joy you might have felt earlier has been drained to oblivion. You aren’t fine anymore. You need to run. You need to scream. Anything.

But you made the realization all too late. Your vision is going spotty and he’s already hoisted you up in his arms. Despite every muscle in your body fighting with all its might, you can’t make yourself move.

For the first time in your life, you’re completely powerless. 

The last thing you remember before being swallowed by the dark is his hot breath puffing against your ear:

“You promised you’d take care of me, didn’t you?” 

—

You wake up to the feeling of something warm and wet on your clit.

In your groggy, half-conscious state you don’t have the capacity or desire to figure out what it is, all that matters is that it feels good. It flicks lazy little shapes over the twitching bud, enveloping it and your folds in a warm, welcoming heat, and for a moment, you think you could die happy just like this. Your hips instinctively buck up towards the source and a low, wonton moan passes your lips. 

“Mmm, thats it darling. Good girl~”

Your eyes fly open.

Every ounce of blood drains from your face when you see his head bowed between your legs, cheeks messy and shiny with your slick, hips rutting needily against the mattress. Your kidnapper.

Your first instinct is to fight, but your limbs still won’t obey you—even if they would, a shift of weight reveals that your hands are bound tightly to the headboard of the bed.

The bed. There’s no bed in his office. Where the hell are you?

It’s all you can do to let out a low, displeased whine. Weakly shimmying your hips away from him only to have them immediately yanked back. He peaks up from your legs, “Shh honey, calm down.” he purrs, not breaking eye contact as he gives your clit a sweet peck, “Just relax and let your husband make you feel good.”

Husband.

Husband.

Your heart picks up in your chest, galloping like a racehorse as you try to process his words. “W-what?” you choke, even drugged your voice is sharp with terror.

He noses gently over your inner thigh, carefully pressing a chaste kiss to the soft plush before addressing you, “Your husband, dear. And you’re my wife~” he hums pleasantly, licking a long lazy stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, “I’m sure you can feel the ring, right?”

Your heart drops as you wiggle your fingers. On your left hand, a cold band of metal topped with some kind of stone wraps around your ring finger. A bout of vertigo flashes through your body. He must notice the horror on your face because he chuckles.

“It was kind of short notice so I had to use hers, but I’ll buy you a new one if you want…” he trails absentmindedly, too focused on laving at your cunt to give the thought his full attention. 

He’s doing it just like you taught him too. The irony could make you cry.

A knot the size of the watermelon grows in your stomach. Whether it’s from the panic or your equally distressing impending orgasm you’re not sure. Regardless, it’s there, and your head is spinning, and he’s starting to climb on top of you and take off his—oh god.

You cry and struggle as much as your leaden body will allow but he easily counters it all with one steady hand on your belly, the thumb of which he moves down to nurse your spit-soaked clit with easy circles. “I know it’s sudden,” he coos, paying no mind to your cries and pleas for mercy as he pulls out his rock hard cock, “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You’re the one who chased after me so desperately after all. I know you were just jealous of her.” 

Loud, wet sobs curl up your throat as he rubs his cock up and down your dripping folds, hypnotized by the lewd, clicking sound your juices make. “P-please.” you beg, trying your best to buck him off of you, “M’ sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—Please let me go.” 

A displeased hum then, “It’s too late for that, honey, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll take good care of you.” his frown flips to a soft smile. “You’ll take good care of me too, won't you? just like you promised.”

You feel like you might faint. The blunt head is pushing against your entrance now, threatening to sink into your heat, and though you’ve taken his cock hundreds of times, you’d rather stick your hand into an open flame then take it again. “P-please.” you blubber, “I’ll do anything, just please—Ah! S-stop!”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, only continues his rambling. “You’ll take good care of our children too, I'm sure.” those deranged, lovesick eyes bore into your skull, “Oh, baby. You’re going to look so beautiful when you’re pregnant, I can already tell. So, so pretty, all swollen and glowing~” he groans.

Your eyes blow wide and you start screaming. Half of it is incoherent, but what else are you supposed to do when you can’t fight? You nearly choke on your own sob as he leans over your body, starting to push in with a low, heady groan. “You can’t!” you cry, near hysterics, “Please, you can’t! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! I’ll-”

“Shhhh,” he cuts you off, clamping a rough hand over your mouth, then bottoms out inside of you with one languid push. You feel like you’re on fire, like a million ants are crawling up your skin and down your throat.

Beads of cold sweat trickle down your back as he rocks into you. Behind his mitt you plead for him to let you go, but he doesn’t notice, or more likely, he doesn’t care. “I think I want three." he muses, "Two girls and a boy. But we can have more if you’d like. What do you think, darling?”

He removes his hand then, you greedily suck in air. It proves to be a difficult task, however, with his dick poking it all back out again with each snap of his hips. Finally, you collect yourself enough to make one final attempt. You stare up into his eyes, hoping to somehow access whatever humanity might remain there. “Please. I don’t want kids. I want to go home.”

He pauses, ceases his thrusting, and stares back down at you. For just a moment, your chest swells with hope.

But then he laughs. A sick, evil chuckle that rings through your bones, punctures your lungs and splits your heart straight down the middle.

“Oh honey, you are home.” he croons, a snap of his hips punctuates the sentence. “And of course you want kids. All husbands and wives who love each other very much become Mommies and Daddies. Besides—”

His hips start driving into you with a brutal sort of ferocity, and he grins so wickedly you swear you can see the devil in his eyes.

“--Won’t it be cute to tell them how Daddy and Mommy fell in love at work?”

higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, satoru gojo, izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, kaminari denki, kotaro bokuto, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, erwin smith, armin arlert

The Innocent Dragon

What if the history had been changed?

What if there is more to the Aegon's prophecy?

What if the Dance of dragons never took place?

What if the union of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower never took place? what if Rhaenyra Targaryen had a Older sister who was kept hidden in the palace by the Targaryen family due to her innocent soul and ethereal face?

What if she was finally introduced to the realm only to be betrothed to the rogue Prince who had his eyes on her from the beginning?

Read "The Innocent Dragon" to know all the answers to these questions.

Aesthetic Part One Part two Part three

Part four Part five

@rosecentury @queenbrownie18

All are so good

My Favorite Soulmate Fanfiction (Part 1)

@purpleyoonn

Petrichor

BTS x Reader, CEO, omegaverse, soulmate au, polyamory

You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

baby (you complete us)

BTS x Reader, disabled reader, soulmate au, idol au, polyamory

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. 

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

The Line Between Love and War 

BTS x Reader, autistic reader, soulmate au, idol au, polyamory

Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Dance of Time

BTS x Reader, vampire BTS, human reincarnated reader, soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere

You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

enchanted 

Min Yoongi x Reader, dragon King Yoongi, soulmate au, royalty au, fantasy au

The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

@bluemari23

New _World 

Choi Seungcheol x Reader, soulmate au, idol au, neurodivergent reader

the night of your 18th birthday left nothing to be desired; waking up to no hint of any soul bond left you one of the unbonded. almost eight years later, however, you find out that you are very much not unbonded, and that your soulmate is someone who you admire. very much.

Dar+ling You 

You were on your way to South Korea, leaving your life behind to follow your soulmate back home. Your anxiety runs amok, and Seungcheol tries his best to get to know you better.

Soul Glow 

Choi Seungcheol x Reader, soulmate au, idol au, neurodivergent reader

You were on your way to South Korea, leaving your life behind to follow your soulmate back home. Your anxiety runs amok, and Seungcheol tries his best to get to know you better.

Soul Haze 

you had just gotten home after leaving the seventeen concert early, only for your phone to start ringing with what you think is the biggest joke of the century. it turns out, that maybe you left too early.

Dazzling Light

Kim Hongjoong x Reader, soulmate au, idol au, autistic reader

your soul bond activates at a concert and you seriously doubt your actually going to be able to meet them, not when they are on the stage and more than likely can't see the soul light that surrounds you. 

It was strange for your Orc Boyfriend not to pick up his phone.

He was normally available at all hours of the day. Usually, you’d never call him unless absolutely necessary - the last thing you wanted was to be one of those overbearing girlfriends.

At the start of your relationship, everything was amazing. 

Every time you met up at the end of the week for a date, he always brought a freshly cut bouquet of flowers paired with a broad smile across his usually intimidating face.

After the six month mark of being together, he suggested that you move in with him and you gladly accepted the invitation.

It was nice to come home to a partner, who greeted you with open arms, a kiss on the cheek and an, “hi honey, how was your day?”

But the past few weeks had become… strange.

It was the change in the air when you woke up, the way that whenever you tried to display any kind of physical affection, your Orc would shrug you off, grunt in annoyance.

It was fine the first few times - sometimes people just aren’t in the mood for that kind of thing. But the tense air never left your flat, and your boyfriend’s company became less and less frequent in the evenings.

Maybe he just needed some time alone, you’d reasoned. Even you needed alone time, and since you both now shared a living space, that became more important than ever. 

You knew you shouldn’t place a timer on these things, however the need for his ‘time alone’ became longer and longer. So, you asked him when he got back from work if you’d done something wrong.

You had already searched your mind for things that you might have done to annoy him, but nothing came to mind.

He just gave the same, nonchalant grunt, “no. Why would you think you’d done something wrong?”

Well, if it wasn’t you, then maybe it was work? He had been staying out in the evenings more often. 

That was your follow up question, to which he also replied, “no. What makes you think that?” After which, he gave you a glower and stalked to your shared room.

Not wanting to start anything, you’d just left it at that. 

As Boys Night went on, you began to bite at your fingernails, staring at your phone on your coffee table.

The screen was black, blank. What were you watching it for? A call? A message? A DM from him?

Usually, your Orc would text you when he was on his way back home or would let you know that he and his friends were going to be staying out later than initially planned.

As the evening got later and later, you knew something was wrong. Picking up your phone, you dialled your boyfriend’s number.

Nails still in your mouth as the dial tone went on, once, twice, three, four- 

“I’m sorry,” the robotic voice said from the other end of the line, “but the person you’re trying to reach-“ you hung up the phone and tried again.

This time it went straight to voicemail.

You flinched, frowning at your phone. Did he intentionally hang up on you?

Not being able to stand the lack of communication any longer, you tracked his phone to a club called ‘Eden’, picked up your coat and keys, and left your flat.

There had to be an explanation for this, there had to be. You’d get to the club, and find your Orc absolutely hammered. 

Your heart ached at the image of his face lighting up at seeing you… the way it used to when you were first seeing each other. 

You wished he’d look at you like that again.

Sucking in deep breaths, you drove to the club and found the line outside it to be relatively small.

After waiting in line for what seemed like an eternity, you were let in and greeted by the thudding music, sweaty clubbers dancing and swaying to the beat.

Navigating through them, you looked down at your phone, which guided you to the bar, where you stopped dead in your tracks.

A smile you hadn’t seen for weeks, was plastered on your Orc Boyfriends face as his arm was slung around a human woman, glitter decorating her cheeks, dark hair and revealing outfit on, hand on your boyfriends chest, her eyes half-lidded and looking at him as if he was the most attractive Orc in the room.

They chatted animatedly, your Orc getting closer, and closer to her face, as if he was going to kiss her.

It took a moment for the both of them to notice you, but when your Orc did, his face fell.

You were too stunned to say anything, and so you turned and walked straight back to the exit.

The night's cold air stung your cheeks as you freed yourself from the humidity of the club atmosphere, eyes stinging with hot tears.

You bit your lip, trying to fight them back as you heard your boyfriend's voice behind you. “Love, what are you-”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me!” You spat at him. Wheeling around on your heel, you glowered at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I was worried sick about you, and here you are, chatting up some woman at a club!”

Your Orc flinched at your harsh words, as if the accusation was completely and utterly false. 

He recovered quickly however, his usual glower returning. “You aren’t even supposed to be here,” he growled, jabbing a finger at you. “It’s Boys night, the one night of the week I get to have time to myself!” 

“Really?!” You shrieked. “Because it seems as though every night of the week you ‘have to yourself’!” 

“Yeah and maybe I need that time to myself, because I have such a clingy girlfriend at my side all the fucking time!” He snapped back at you. 

You recoiled at the harsh words. Staring at him, you searched his face for any kind of regret for what he just said. 

But his tirade continued, “‘have I done anything wrong?’” He imitated you, “‘you’re not mad at me are you?’ ‘If there’s something wrong you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’ I’m fucking sick of it!” 

The tears rolled down your cheeks as the Orc opposite you rubbed his face with his palms, frustratedly, letting out an irritated sigh.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracked, “that I wanted to make sure my boyfriend was okay. I was only asking, because you’d been pulling away from me,” wiping the tears from your face, you raised your own voice, “I’m still trying to make this work, because I love you!” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t?” The Orc snapped back.

“Then why did you ask me to move in with you?!” 

“Because I didn’t think you were going to be this annoying!”

It was like your already fragile, glass heart had been shattered.

What happened to that friendly, loving Orc you’d first met? The one who played with your hair when you first woke up in the morning? The one who would bring home gifts and say, “I saw this and thought of you.”

A wave of clarity hit you, like calm waters after a chaotic storm at sea: this Orc never loved you - at least, not in the way you did.

It surprised you how steady your voice was when you spoke, “fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go and get my stuff.” Turning on your heel, you walked back to your car, parked just across the street from the club.

For a moment, the Orc didn’t say anything, but still followed after you. “(Y/N), come on I didn’t-” His voice came out soft, weak.

“No,” you opened the car door, looking back at your now ex-boyfriend, “no, it’s fine, I’ll gather my stuff up and I’ll never annoy you again.” 

And with that, you got into the car and drove off, away from Eden.

Away from your Orc.

Patreon - I now have a 7 Day Free Trial enabled! Come have a look at what I've been writing recently!

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Request: Male Boss Minotaur x Fem Skinny Friend x Fem Chubby Reader: So basically the Reader and her Friend both like their Boss but the Reader doesn’t think that their Boss likes them. But what the Reader doesn’t know is that both the Boss and her Friend want her (and their Boss wants both of them). Sorry this is kinda short but this is the idea I hope this is okay. 😁

Are you stupid?

Minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader || body worship, oral sex, sharing is caring, MFF threesome, spanking (lowkey), soft sex || tw: internalized fatphobia

“I want to have dinner with you,” your boss said as he approached the table where you and your bestie were eating lunch. You looked directly at her, obviously he liked her, why wouldn’t he? She was skinny and pretty and everything any human or monster would like (even you). Of course he would ask her out. You tried not to be hurt about it, you both liked him, and he made his choice (the obvious choice, you thought).

“Okay, when?” Your friend instantly asked, hiding her excitement and surprise as if it meant nothing that the hottest and most amazing minotaur just asked her out. But you knew her better, you knew the tilt on her eyebrow meant she was surprised. You knew her better than you knew yourself.

“Tonight. Wear something casual,” he told her. “And you…” He looked straight at you when he said it: “Wear something tight.” You gaped at him, confused. What the fuck did he mean?

“What? Me?” You asked. And then it clicked, he wanted you there so it wouldn’t be weird when he finally asked her out and they made out, you were the buffer. It made sense, but why would he ask you to wear something tight?

“Yes,” he answered curtly and left, leaving you looking at his back with a gaping mouth. What the fuck just happened?

“Yas girl, we just got ourselves a hot date!” Your friend rose her hand to high five you, and you did without thinking, not fully processing what just happened.

You laughed at her, dark thoughts crossing your mind. “You got yourself a date, I’m just the buffer,” you clarified.

Your best friend looked at you like you were stupid. “What the fuck are you saying? He has the hots for you,” she sounded so sure that you almost believed her. Almost.

“No he doesn’t. He likes you, and I get it, you are… perfect.” Your soft tone let out a lot of truths that you weren’t ready to release out in the wild yet.

Again with the incredulous eyes as she almost spit out: “What? Are you insane? You are funny and all soft and pretty and have the greatest tits in the universe.” You looked at her confused, what the fuck was she talking about?

“I- What?” You asked, completely thrown back by her words. Did she really think that about you?

“We got ourselves a date, both of us. Stop arguing,” she added as she got up and left you there, even more confused than before.

You couldn’t think about anything else for the rest of the day, anticipation and dread building inside of you at the same time.

You were back at home (you shared a house to save some money on rent) when she entered your room. “Put this on,” she ordered, giving you a piece of fabric that probably wouldn’t cover your ass cheeks.

You looked at her with skepticism, but you put it on just to shut her up. It fitted you like a second skin, your tummy and ass squeezed with the fabric. Your boobs looked fantastic, though, but it wasn’t you. You looked at the mirror and almost didn’t recognize yourself in that kind of outfit. You couldn’t bend down without exposing your whole pussy and ass, it was that short. And you… kind of liked it.

“I can’t go out like this!” You told her exiting the bathroom, trying to pull down the hem but there wasn’t enough fabric to cover you anymore.

She gaped at you, her eyes big as plates. “You look… You look phenomenal,” she let out after a pause, licking her lips as she checked you out slowly. “Come here,” she asked, and you complied, still self-conscious about all the rolls the dress showed. “You look perfect, he’s going to lose his mind the same way I just did.” She grabbed you by the waist and plastered her body to yours, her face millimeters away from yours.

You looked at her with a tiny smile, thinking she was just playing. “What are you doing?” Your tone was amused.

“I’m kissing you senseless so you stop thinking you aren’t the hottest girl in the whole world,” she said before she closed the distance and attacked your mouth with desperation.

You were shocked for a total of two seconds before you were responding the kiss with equal fervor and need. She parted and squeezed your ass, the tip of her fingers caressing the lower part of your ass cheek, the dress was definitely way too short.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, dizzy.

“Because I’m tired of pretending I’m not in love with you and want to bury my face between your tits until I suffocate,” she let out. You stared at her, gaping like a fish and probably looking stupid, but you couldn’t stop.

“I- I…” You didn’t know what to say. “I love you, too,” you finally let out, baring your heart to her and feeling like a thousand kilos lifted from your chest.

“Now come on, let’s blow his mind so we can be a power thruple,” she joked to reduce the tension in the air. But you didn’t laugh.

“He wants only you either way, he only invited me because I was there and it would have been weird otherwise,” you said with a self-depreciating laugh.

She turned around and looked at you with anger flaring in her eyes: “Are you stupid? Do you like being stupid?” She asked, her tone accusing.

“I only tell the facts.” You were sure of it, there was no way your hot as hell best friend just kissed you because she liked you AND your hot minotaur boss also liked you, you couldn’t be that lucky, not a chance in hell.

“Okay, dummy, if he gapes at you like a fish when he sees you in that outfit I get to spank your ass tonight,” she threatened and you shivered. A whole body shiver.

How did she know you were into spanking? You never discussed your sex life with her… Or maybe you did when you were drunk at the last Christmas party. Shit, you definitely did tell her that. Oh goddess, you were going to die of embarrassment.

“And if he doesn’t?” You asked, your face red as a tomato at that point.

“If he doesn’t, you get to tell me I told you so.” You did love to tell her that when you were right.

“Deal.” You were going to win for sure.

But she was right, and you fucking lost.

He not only gaped at you, but as soon as you entered, he reached to grab your waist and pulled you to his body to devour your mouth. As your friend (girlfriend?) cheered and patted you in the back, his roaming hands groped your ass until your panties were wet and uncomfortable, and your heart was about to explode from your chest. He pulled back and grabbed your friend in the same way, kissing her senseless until she was groaning and you were dripping wet just looking at them.

He was breathing hard when you three pulled apart. “You both look fantastic, I’ve been waiting to do that since you were hired,” he confessed in a low tone.

“But you… You are the boss,” you told him, dizzy from arousal and confusion. Your brain didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Was that really happening? Good goddess, were you dreaming? Was all that a dream? Were you in an accident?

He didn’t even blink before saying: “Which means we all should visit the HR department tomorrow morning.”

“Why?” You asked, still not knowing what was happening.

“Because you two are now mine,” his growl made you shiver as you felt your girlfriend’s hand on your leg, comforting you.

Oh shit, you just got yourself a boyfriend AND a girlfriend, what the fuck?

You three joked and had fun until midnight, when he, being the gentle minotaur he was, walked you two to your shared apartment and kissed you goodbye. It was the hottest and most decadent kiss you ever received, and when he kissed your best friend you whimpered. She chuckled and grabbed your neck, devouring your mouth, too. Good goddess you loved when she got all controlling like that.

“You,” he pointed your minotaur boss (boyfriend?), “need to go home. And I, need to spank her ass because I won a bet.” She pulled the back of your dress up, exposing your ass to the night and groping you until you groaned. She smirked at you as your boss groaned like it pained him.

“Don’t do this to me, now I will have to jerk off twice before going to bed,” he whined, readjusting what looked like a huge erection in his pants.

“Have fun with your hand, big guy. We’ll see you tomorrow and if everything goes well… You might get lucky and get to spank her ass, too.” The fact that she was offering that without even considering you about it shouldn’t be hot, but you couldn’t contain the groan that escaped your mouth.

“Oh goddess, I might have to do it three times… You two are going to kill me,” he lamented without any sadness behind it, kissing your forehead and hers and going back to his car.

You two watched him go, and when you were safely back inside, you felt a hand squeezing your ass in a very naughty way. She guided you to your bedroom and spanked you until you cried, and then fucked you with your favorite dildo until you came all over yourself, your poor sheets not making it. You had to sleep with her as she complained jokingly. But it was her fault, after all.

The morning after, everything felt happier and brighter, and when you two had breakfast in comfortable silence you couldn’t avoid having horny thoughts about your girlfriend and boss going at it over the counter. She winked at you like she knew what you were thinking, and slapped your tender ass as you walked to the car. You whimpered as she laughed, you never felt more desired.

Your boss was waiting at the door of the HR department, looking handsome as hell as you walked to him. He looked like he wanted to kiss you senseless again, but he refrained and opened the door so you two could go first. You had to sign some papers about not suing the company and all that law stuff, and when everything was set, he grabbed your waist and bent you back, kissing you like in the movies and leaving you breathless. He did the same with your girlfriend (now shared girlfriend), and walked out saying he had some calls to make but he would meet you two later.

You walked to your desk in a daze and the work tasks seemed impossible for a long while.

“We have a meeting in five minutes,” your girlfriend said as she stopped next to your desk about an hour later.

“We have?” You looked at her panicked, you didn’t have any meeting in your calendar. You didn’t prepare. What was the meeting even about?

“Yes. Move your pretty ass, come on.” You were still panicking when she dragged you all the way to the meeting room, where your boss was already sitting on his big chair, legs far apart and cock out, slowly stroking himself. You almost swallowed your tongue.

“Wha- what are we doing here?” You asked, your panties already wet just seeing his huge juicy cock disappearing in his fist. It was the most erotic sight you’ve ever seen, you wanted to fall to your knees and swallow him to the root (which was very hopeful because you probably couldn’t even get half of him in your mouth without choking).

“I heard that my girlfriend didn’t think I was into her, so I decided we needed a team meeting to rectify that,” your boss-boyfriend explained, his hand working non-stop over his shaft.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“Get naked and bend over the table. Now,” your girlfriend ordered and you looked between the two.

“What?” You couldn’t comprehend anything. Did they talk about you? Did your girlfriend told him that? You felt your face getting redder and redder.

“Now, darling,” he repeated in a softer tone.

You complied, still confused about what was happening. When you were face down on the table, you heard them whispering behind you, not sure about what they were saying. Soon after you felt rough hands caressing your sides and your ass, such a soft touch that you shivered. Two softer hands joined, touching you everywhere. It was like a combined massage and you were rapidly losing your mind.

A hand pushed your legs apart, and a tongue found your center. You wanted to look over your shoulder and see who it was, but they didn’t let you, a hand in your back pressing you against the table. The tongue was replaced with another, and then both of them were licking your pussy in tandem, worshiping you as they groaned. Their hands were groping your ass and tummy, you could feel them everywhere.

“Please…” You begged, almost there but not quite. They were playing with you, getting you almost to orgasm and backing down. You were desperate.

“I know darling, I know… Just let go.” Your minotaur said, a finger entering your pussy slowly and tenderly. You groaned again, and let yourself surrender to pleasure.

They were everywhere, they surrounded your body with caresses and kisses, hands roaming everywhere as you laid there, unable to move as they worshiped your body. It was the softest and most intense experience of your life. The orgasm kept building, slowly and surely, and by the time you were about to come, a harsh hand landed on your ass, making you cry out as you fell apart under their attention.

You were still panting when your girlfriend whispered against your ear: “You did great.” She kissed your cheek and caressed your hair softly.

“Such a good girl for us,” your boyfriend added, kissing your forehead.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you responded, half joking, half telling the truth.

“Good thing my penthouse is right at the top of the building,” your boyfriend said, taking your body off the table like you weighted nothing. You were about to protest that you were too heavy when he talked again: “If you say you are too big, I’m going to spank you until you can’t sit in a week,” he threatened.

“Don’t tempt her, she’s a good girl, but she loves to be a good slut, too.” You blushed hard, hiding your face against your boss’ neck as they both laughed.

“Let’s go to my house so we can finish what we started,” his tone was rough and deep, like the sea at night.

“What?” You asked, as the same time your girlfriend said: “What do you mean?”

“Oh, darling, if you think you aren’t going to be full of cum when I’m done with you, you are heavily mistaken. And that goes for both of you,” he added, bending down to kiss your girlfriend’s open mouth.