Bimbo!reader - Tumblr Posts

Bimbo!Reader that is so convinced Pushover!König has no sexual interest in her, she doesn't mind when he walks in on her masturbating

Konig knew his love life with you ended before it even started when he just walked in on you jerking off, and you just asked if the porn you were playing was too loud. You asked if he wanted to parallel-play masturbate with you later, and he fucking agreed because why not. It's not like he didn't want to whip his cock out and shower you in his cum a while ago, and it's not like he didn't want all of this and something even more. It's just that he can't believe you would seriously not see a problem in his seeing you naked. That you can simply change in front of him and ask for a comment on your bra size without it being flirting. That you're not just taunting him - you're genuinely this naive. Konig offers to help you masturbate, and you use his rough, calloused hands as a soft surface to grind on, your pussy leaking juices all over his knuckles. He doesn't know how he managed to hold his cock from cumming the second he felt the heat of your pussy lips pressing against his skin, but it must have been years of training to resist torture...and still, he would take a hot metal rod showed up his ass than seeing your bright eyes with no thoughts behind them, looking at him like he was your pet dog. Konig doesn't understand how you can touch his dick and make him cum with just your fingertips, and still believe that he is not interested in you. He never thought he could be this whipped for a woman who doesn't even realize that he is a man for half of the time, but he holds your picture in his chest plate pocket when he is at deployment and suffers through dumb jokes of his recruits about "his wife" looking like a bimbo. Little do they know that he will make you his wife eventually - whether you like it or not.

Can we get some Sugar Daddy König X Sugar Baby Bimbo!reader that actually is a little oblivious to the fact she is a sugar baby, "oh the colonel? He's just a fwb who likes to pay for dinner and buy me expensive gifts that's all, he's just like really nice"

Konig really doesn't know where to put his money. He bought a house, a car, and a collection of guns that already go over legal limits. He was thinking about buying a second house somewhere warm, but then he thinks about having to take care of that property too, and his head starts to hurt. He wants to put his money into something nice - he has investments, usually something that Hutch is telling him to invest too because he knows more about tech and crypto and other useless stuff. And the colonel still has a huge chunk of money lying around every month. He didn't even notice that he started to pay for your...everything, at first. Even when you were just friends, you were playing this perfect little game of him bringing you money and you never taking your wallet out of the bag. He likes to spoil you. Gifts, food, new clothes - he doesn't knows anything about clothing brands and expensive gadgets, but you start to chirp about wanting new heaphones or a brand of lip gloss that is sooo trendt eight now, and he likes to listen to you speak. Maybe he is playing his old-school fantasy of having a hot, popular girl actually talk to him instead of bullying and yelling. Maybe he is trying to compensate for his lack of female attention. Maybe he is trying to buy you. He knows that you aren't using him because, by god, your pretty little head is too empty to conjure such a scheme. You're always so surprised when he brings you gifts, and you thank him so cheerfully. Bouncing on his cock like a good girl, not because he is asking you to, but because you really just want to cheer him on. Sucking his cock and spreading that expensive lip gloss all over because he is such a cool dude, much better than your friend's boyfriends. Your friends are so jealous about you having such a great sugar daddy, but you don't even realize that Konig is one. Honestly, if you weren't the one initiating sex, he probably wouldn't even ask you to. He brings you gifts and pops a boner whenever you hug him, and then you get sad because he is lonely and rich and so so miserable, you'll just straddle his hips and ride him until you both see stars. He never asked you to have sex in exchange for gifts. You just...like to accept them. And you like sex. Konig simply likes you too.

HOPE AND DESIRE!

warnings: somewhat bimbo!reader, suggestive content, use of y/n, reader jerks rafe off

bimbo!reader who loves getting her nails done x rafe who absolutely loves when she asks for his opinion!

m.list 🌷 nav 🌞 rafe m.list 🪐

“rafe” you said looking at him across the room with a cute little pout on your face

“what’s wrong my sweet girl” cooed rafe while stalking over to you

“oh it’s nothing..” letting out a small sigh you looked down, trying your best to sound upset

rafe had already crossed the room by the time you looked down, nudging your chin up with his large hand he murmured “tell me what’s upsetting you”

“well.. if you insist rafe.. it’s just.. my nails! they’re absolutely hideous! earlier while you were out with topper and kelce i was scrolling on pinterest and found the cutest set! which i think you’d love- oh! i can already imagine your face when you see them! please rafe we have to go to the salon!” you quickly let out in one breathe looking up at him with those sweet innocent eyes he loves. “look! wait no! don’t look!” you said as you quickly shoved your phone into rafes face but snatching it back as soon you remembered you wanted it to be a surprise.

“breathe, bunny. you’re about to pass out on me” chucked rafe “if my girl wants something, then what else can i do other then fulfill her every hope and desire” he said as he quickly kissed my cheek and led me out the door.

-

“yes, i love them! thank you so much!” you squealed happily as you handed rafes card to the girl at the register.

it didn’t take you as long as you thought to convince rafe to go to the salon, but then again it never did. it seemed that rafe would go the the ends of the earth for you, if you so much as thought of it.

the whole drive over you spent it gushing over the set, but making sure rafe didn’t get one peek at it. telling him that they weren’t that pretty for him to be looking at and “it’s whatever, you’ll see them later” even going as far as telling rafe to wait in the car claiming it was “girls day only sorry!” while you hadn’t been lying earlier, you really did see a cute nail set while browsing on your phone! just not exactly on pinterest.

you had been scrolling on some app when you landed on a video of a girl with a fresh set of nails obviously showing them off. thinking nothing of it you liked it and scrolled, but after a bit you went back thinking it was a bit odd for the girl in the video to be posing the way she was. the girl had her hand splayed out showing her pink nails decorated with a jeweled “T” on her ring finger but the scene changed as her hand turned into an ‘O’ seemingly moving on top of a man’s lap. the more the you watched the more you were entranced as the video progressed your panties grew wet, the video quickly turned from innocent to sinful. the girl started unzipping the man’s jeans and all you could think about was rafe. and how much rafe would love for you to have his initial on your finger.

taking the card back from the woman you exited out of the salon and saw rafe leaning against the door of his car, waiting for you “there you are i was starting to worry, let me see” he said drawing out the ‘e’ for effect, reaching out to grab your hands.

“no! you have to wait,” you said trying to come up with a lame excuse so he wouldn’t ask why “they’re not dry yet!” you said jumping up and looking away you hoped rafe wouldn’t ask because he always knew when you were lying.

eying you suspiciously rafe nodded and said nothing as he helped you into the car. the car-ride back was spent with you asking rafe about his day while blowing on your nails for effect.

-

after arriving home you finally decided enough was enough. while rafe was sitting on the couch watching tv you leaned over and accidentally brushed your fingers over his lap murmuring a soft “sorry” while simultaneously shoving your barely concealed cleavage in his face.

not that shocked by your antics rafe only reacted by kissing and nibbling on your chest “nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, doll”

leaning back and settling on your plush thighs you slowly started to run your hand down rafes chest, softly moaning as you feel the soft outline of his abs under your fingers and his shirt.

“god you’re precious y/n. you’re so good for me, such a good girl” rafe let out light grunts as you started to palm him through his dress pants, his grunts only spurring you on.

after what seemed like hours you finally got to his pants and boxers off, his cock slapping up against his stomach as you stared at all of him in wonder.

“rafe..” you moaned as you started to pump his hard cock in your hand, sticking out your tongue to kitten lick his aching tip.

you made sure of making a show, your hand purposefully being adjusted to show off the diamond encrusted nail that shined with the letter “R”, which was now being coated with his pre-cum and your saliva.

you and rafe made eye contact as he looked down to see you try take all of him, god he was so big, noticing the slight bling on your finger he cocked his head to the side and pulled his brows together.

his somewhat formed frown was quickly replaced by a smirk, his chest beaming with pride as he realized what the shine was caused by.

it was pretty widely known by everyone on the island that rafe cameron was possessive, if you could even call it that it was borderline obsessive. so when he saw that you, his sweet innocent y/n had gotten his initial on your ring finger he practically lost it.

summary: harry potters bimbo girlfriend secretly knits him a sweater.

warnings: hufflepuff!reader. bimbo!reader. female!reader. set in mordern times. reader and harry are super close (she tells him when she’s pooping) a little short

notes: my request are open soooo pls send me harry potter request <333 request rules are in my pinned post !! i’m like kinda (totally) falling back into my harry potter phase >:> the ending is a little rushed and i apologize for that ! comments, reblogs and likes are all greatly appreciated :) finished while watching: good girls episode 2

harry potter masterlist

you were hiding something from harry. he doesn’t know what. but he knew it was something. you were not by any means a secretive person, especially not with harry.

he first noticed when he had walked in on you in his common room, hunched over the couch angrily muttering to yourself. “what’s wrong love?” he walked over to you with concern.

you yelled up in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes and quickly placing whatever was in your hand under your butt. “hi harry!” you blinked up at him with wide eyes, voice still bubbly.

both of you were now in your third year in hogwarts, and while you were a pureplood hufflepuff with rich parents, you didn’t act like the stereotypical  “rich snob” and your parents absolutely loved harry. so much that when he had run away, they welcomed him into their mansion with welcoming arms.

you spent most of your time in the gryffindor  common room, saying it “fits my aesthetic more than the yellow hufflepuff common room.”

“what’s that?” he trailed his eyes down to your bum. “hm?” you tilted your head up at him. “oh nothing….” you looked around the room with a pout, not being able to look your boyfriend in the eyes.

but after a few seconds, you blinked up at him, as if you wanted him to read your mind. but for some odd reason, he knew exactly what you were asking.

“do you want me to close my eyes, so you can hide what’s under your bum?” he sighed. “i’m not hiding anything harry,” you shook your head side to side widely, a fat pout on your lips, “but yes please…” you whispered.

with a sigh, harry lifted his hands up to his eyes and firmly placed them there. he didn’t try to peak, knowing if you caught him, you would lose trust in him. and harry rather die then let that happen.

it’s not like he genuinely thought you were doing something bad. you told harry everything. from drama in the hufflepuff house, to when you were texting and pooping.

the last time you kept something from harry was when you had bought him a nimbus 2000. it was awesome.

he had heard you quickly stand up and run away, once he had heard you leaving the common room, he removed his hands from his face and leaned back into the sofa with a lovesick smile. how he loved you.

it was later that week when harry had walked into great hall, he had instantly spotted you on the gryffindor  table, talking your mouth off too both ron and hermione.

with a smile he had started making his way towards you. he hadn’t talked to you all morning, and that automatically made his day horrible.

you peaked up from your soup, only to make eye contact with harry. you instantly began to panic, your gift wasn’t ready yet, and if harry sat down, you were sure you would spill all the beans.

so as soon as you made eye contact, you let out a small squeal before hopping over the bench and gracefully running away, ignoring harry’s calls behind you.

harry looked towards the doors you had just walked out of with disappointment as he sat down in front of hermione and ron.

“what’s wrong harry?” ron questioned, noticing the sad look on harry’s face.

but before harry could even open his mouth, hermione beat him to it, “harry’s sad y/n won’t give him attention,”

ron turned to harry, looking for confirmation, but all harry did was drop his head into his hands and mumble a small, “she’s right.”

it was later that night, harry was having a dream about you, you were standing above him, poking him widely? and then he woke up, and realized, it was in fact, not a dream.

you were standing above his bed, looking down at him with a smile, it made a small one appear on his face, “what are you doing here?” he mused standing up straight and pulling you to sit next to him.

“i brought you your present!” you whispered shouted. in your hands was the cutest blue knitted sweater he had ever seen. he instantly took it from your hands. “you made this for me?..”

you proudly nodded, placing your legs under harry’s covers, “you can compliment me tomorrow, i’m sleepy now!” and with that, you laid down on harry’s bed without a care in the world.

harry placed the sweater carefully on his bedside table, before slowly and carefully laying down next to you, “thank you…” he whispered to you.

“‘course harry, anything for you.”

"Insatiable" - Politician!Coriolanus Snow x Bimbo Wife!Reader

Part 2 HERE.

a/n: a birthday gift to my beloved @hopelesswritergall 🩷

Summary: Coryo doesn't like it when people look at what's his.

Word Count: 2,500

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, daddy kink, semi public sex, shoe riding, oral m receiving, deep throating, dacryphilia, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, biting

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

No matter how one feels about Coriolanus Snow, he has one thing to his credit that no one can ever take away from him.

His devotion to his wife.

He’s cold, calculating, and the exact opposite of you, the sweet, bubbly young woman who has no problem capturing the hearts of everyone she meets. You’ve lived in the Capitol all your life, coming from an affluent family - one of the richest in the city in fact, spoiled rotten by your parents. Coryo knew from the moment he saw you, at the tender age of seven years old, that he needed to have you. And eventually, he made it happen. You became his adoring girlfriend, all throughout your years at the Academy and University, his staunchest supporter day in and day out. And, after graduating, he asked you to marry him, which you eagerly accepted.

The two of you haven’t been married for very long when Coryo is appointed to the position of Minister of War, inserting himself as President Ravinstill’s right hand man. A lavish ball is to be held in his honor at the President’s residence, indicating the fact that he has truly arrived in high society. Coryo sighs, checking his watch, calling out to you that the limo has been pulled out and the two of you are going to be late if you don’t leave soon. Knowing you, you’re probably busy dolling yourself up, the thought making him smile. He hears you call out that you’ll be down in a moment, glancing up when you clear your throat.

His jaw drops when he sees you, dressed in a strapless baby pink gown, paired with a pink fur stole and impossibly high stilettos, again, pink of course. You look divine, he muses, watching you make your way down the stairs, the picture of beauty and femininity. He takes you into his arms the moment you reach the bottom floor.

“You look beautiful, my love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your jaw, “Absolutely beautiful.” His gaze falls to the hollow of your throat, eyes lighting up as he remembers something unknown to you, “Close your eyes, baby.”

You acquiesce immediately, long lashes fluttering shut as you wait for him to tell you to open them again. You feel him lead you to the mirror in your entrance foyer, his hands deftly fastening something around your neck before he tells you to open your eyes. You gasp at what you see - a beautiful silver necklace, inlaid with pink diamonds and fine crystals. You trace the extravagant piece with your fingertips.

“Oh, Coryo, it’s beautiful!”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped around you, whispering, “Everyone’s eyes will be on us tonight, my love. Let’s give them something to stare at.”

You smile at him, giggling softly as his hands move to squeeze your hips, lingering near your ass, “Okay, we should go, I guess?”

He nods, taking your arm, but not before presenting you with a white rose to place on your dress, making you smile. Coryo opens the door to the limo for you, ever the perfect gentleman, admiring the way your dress hugs your plump little ass as you climb inside, him coming in after you. The lights of the Capitol pass you by as your chauffeur takes you to the President’s residence, but the only thing you can think about is the feeling of Coryo’s hand, moving up your thigh, dangerously close to where he wishes to touch you the most. You give him a pout, shaking your head, stopping the path of his hand.

“Nope.”

He looks at you, surprised, “But, darling-”

“Last time we did this, all the press talked about for a month were the hickeys you left on my neck!”

He smirks at how adorable you look when you try to stand your ground and say no to him, squeezing your thigh, “Maybe we can make headlines again…”

“Coryo,” you whine, making him snicker, “We said no more limo quickies!”

“Come on,” he teases, “Let me have a little fun before I have to shake hands with all these assholes.”

He loves how innocent you act, squirming when his fingers ghost along your core. You’re so sweet, so pretty and adorable on the outside. But he knows you like it just as filthy and nasty as he does. You shake your head again.

“Nuh uh. I’m showing up looking perfect. No messed up hair. No rips in my dress. No hickeys.”

Coryo grumbles to himself, crossing his arms and pulling away from you. He leans back in his seat, thinking to himself that he’s going to get at what’s underneath that dress before the night is over, one way or another. You look too damn good for him to resist. And tonight’s supposed to be a celebration for him after all. He deserves this. He deserves everything you can give.

It’s not your first time here, but when you pull into the driveway of the President’s residence, you are once again struck by the sheer opulence of the place. You’ve grown up in the lap of luxury, sure, but this is another level. Your high heels click along the marble floor as an aide takes your stole and you and Coryo are led to the event hall, already filled with guests and journalists, and of course, President Ravinstill himself, along with the rest of the cabinet. You stand at his side, playing the part of the adoring trophy wife to perfection. He keeps his hand on your lower back, loving the feeling of your soft body against him as the two of you meet and greet everyone who is there in his honor. You charm everyone you meet, but none more so than the President.

Coryo hates it. How the dirty old geezer keeps eyeing you up and down, his gaze lingering on your cleavage, the curve of your hips, your bare shoulders. He wishes he could wring the old bastard’s neck, his jaw ticking as you do your best not to cringe when the man all but drags you to the dance floor, his paws all over you. How fucking dare he? You belong to Coryo. No one else. Only him. The President be damned. He can tell how uncomfortable you are, the tiny amount of fear in your eyes as the man continues to flirt with you. No one else can tell, but Coryo can. He’s always been able to read you like an open book. Yet, for his sake, you keep up appearances and continue the dance, only to be whisked away by your husband the moment it’s over.

He drags you to the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind you before rounding on you. You look up at him, brow furrowed in that way he’s always found so goddamn adorable.

“Coryo, what’re you doing-”

You gasp as his hand moves to your neck, just above where your necklace rests. He grips your throat, just enough to restrict your airflow, holding you in place. You can feel his cock throbbing against your thigh as he presses himself up against you. His voice is a low snarl as he finally speaks.

“Mine. No one looks at my wife like that.”

You whine softly, his thumb grazing against the hollow of your throat. You rub your thighs together, desperate for friction as you nod and mumble an affirmative, earning a smirk from your husband, his eyes blown so wide with lust that the blue of his irises is almost completely black.

“That’s a good girl.”

You remain silent as he turns you around, both of you facing the mirror. You feel his fingers tracing your shoulder blades down to the top of your dress, feeling him undo the clasp that holds it together. You allow it to fall to the floor, stepping out of it and turning to face him, gazing up at him. You chose to forego wearing a bra or panties tonight, not wanting to ruin the look of your dress, something that Coryo is endlessly grateful for. You look so perfect standing in front of him, wearing nothing but your high heels and the jewels he gifted you. His breathing grows heavier as he admires every inch of your body, his eyes roving over you ravenously.

Before he can even ask, you sink down to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. You move to mouth at his cock over the fabric of his dress pants, giggling at the groan he lets out. Coryo moves to undo his belt and pants quickly, freeing his cock from its confines, watching as you take him between your pink lipstick-stained lips, eyes on him all the while. His hand moves into your hair, watching with delight as you move to grind yourself against his dress shoes as you suck him off, caressing his balls while he fucks your mouth. You moan against him, eyes filling with tears when he pushes himself far enough down your throat that you gag. But he knows you’ll tell him to stop if need be. You just gaze up at him with those watery eyes, holding your breath until he finally pulls out of your mouth, lifting you up onto the sink counter.

“Someone could see,” you giggle breathlessly as he lines himself up along your cunt, running the fat head of his cock against you, slapping it against your clit, reveling in the little whimper you let out.

“Let them,” he rasps as he pushes inside you with one fluid thrust, moaning at how wet and warm your sweet little pussy feels around him as he splits you open, “Let them all see and never forget who you belong to.”

His gaze falls to the jewels on your neck, the ones he gave you, as you breathe, “I belong to you, Daddy.”

Coryo chuckles darkly, lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist, “That’s right, baby. You belong to Daddy. And Daddy’s going to take what’s his.”

He loves the feeling of your stilettos digging into his muscular back as he begins pistoning his hips against yours, the sound of your whimpers filling him with a perverse pleasure he can’t even begin to describe. He’s wanted you all fucking day, and you’ve made him wait. So now? He’s going to take what he wants without any mercy. Your head falls back against the mirror as he ruts against you furiously, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the large bathroom.

“Going to fill this pretty little pussy up,” he hisses, “Watch my cum leak out of you. Going to fuck you so hard you’re going to feel me all week.”

“Yes, Daddy, fuck,” you manage to choke out, heels digging harder into his back, spurring him on to slot his hips against you even faster, harder, the head of his cock rubbing up against your sweet spot, making you whine pathetically, “Fuck, yes, Daddy, right there, oh my God!”

One of his hands moves to your throat again, eyes locked on yours as he squeezes slightly, fucking into you with abandon, knowing that it’s entirely possible you can be heard back at the party. But he wants them to hear the noises his pretty baby makes. Noises that only he can get you to make. Your tits bounce with each snap of his hips, making him smirk as he thinks to himself how pretty they’ll look when he knocks you up, all full, his lips wrapped around them, fuck, he can hardly contain himself. He’s going to breed you, his pretty little wife who he’s fucked so stupid all she can do is gaze up at him with parted lips, gasping for breath.

He lets out a low groan as you squeeze around him, squealing his name, spilling himself deep inside you mere moments later, his hot spend coating your walls, making you moan softly.

You stay like that, eyes locked on each other for a long moment, before you hear someone knock, asking if the bathroom’s occupied. Coryo quickly helps you off of the counter, back into your dress, both of you fixing yourselves up to make it seem like nothing happened. That’s when you see it.

You hadn’t even noticed him kissing your neck while the two of you were fucking, too blissed out by the feeling of being stretched open on his cock, but there it is.

“I look like I got mauled by a muttation!” You whine, giving him a pitiful look, “Coryo!”

He chuckles, kissing your neck right over the hickey, “You look like your daddy took what’s his.”

You giggle, nuzzling up against him as he leads you out of the bathroom, knowing eyes following the pair of you as you question, “How long till we can go home?”

Coryo presses a kiss to your temple, “Let’s just say a few more hello’s and then we can head back for round two.”

You nod, smiling to yourself happily.

As the night winds down and you get into the limo, you seat yourself in Coryo’s lap, sighing, burying your face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrap around you, “You should be President.” You giggle, “Then people will be too afraid to look at me or dance with me.”

Coryo arches a brow, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing your supple flesh, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? You’d make an adorable First Lady.” You nod and yawn softly, nuzzling up against him, prompting him to ask, his voice a bit more gentle now, “You sleepy, little one?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, “Mhm.”

“Then close your eyes and sleep,” he coos, stroking your face with the back of his hand, affectionate evident in his gaze, “Daddy has you.”

“Wake me up when we get home?” You request, “You promised round two.”

He chuckles, nodding at your words before pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “I did promise that, didn’t I?”

“Uh huh. And since you’re a big fancy government man now, you have to keep your promises,” you say, your voice so adorably innocent that it makes his chest ache, “It’s illegal if you don’t.”

Coryo laughs, kissing your cheek, letting his lips linger against your skin, “I’ll always deliver on my promises to you, baby. Don’t wanna risk getting arrested,” he jokes, loving the soft little laugh you let out.

“Love you, Coryo,” you mumble as you drift off, “Congrats, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

He holds you tight, gazing at you with all the love he possesses. The subtle rise and fall of your chest fills him with excitement as he thinks of what’s to come when you get home, but he can’t stop thinking about what you said.

That he should be President. That no one would dare look at you if he were.

A smirk crosses his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

oh nothinggg, just thinking about Spooky x Bimbo! Reader

god, Spooky can’t stand you. always wearing those shorts—the ones that your ass cheeks hang out in. running around with your flimsy tube tops, nipples peeking through. Somehow being mixed into his brothers friend group, but not being involved in their messes. You were kinda just the friend they kept around cause your daddy sells weed to the people in Brentwood, so they got major discounts! but of course they loved you.

god, the amount of times he’s gotten a flash of the thin little hot pink thong straps you wear—or when you bend over to pick up something right in front of him; he thinks you’re doing it on purpose at this point! So he’s puzzled when you stand back up and whip around with an oblivious smile and innocent look in your eyes. He always has to do the thinking for you cause your silly brain can’t really comprehend what’s going on with the freakin roller world money your friends keep blabbering about that spooky wasn’t supposed to know about! Too bad, you already told him when you were mindlessly yapping about your day!

he would totally say something like, “didn’t know I was gettin a free show, baby.” After he walked in on your trying to shimmy off your skin tight, mid thigh dress. You blushed and weakly tried to shove him out of the room, only in your panties and matching bra. But it was like pushing a brick wall, and the way your clothed breasts pressed against him had him going crazy! So he felt like his body acted on its own when he grabbed the flesh of your ass with one hand, and your throat with the other.

He inhaled your scent, muttering a string of profanities in his mother tongue as he kissed the side of your jaw. “Been tempting me too much lately, cariño. M’only a man at the end of the day.” He breathed against you, watching the way your shorter body trembled under his touch. “I have needs. N’ it’s your job to take care of them like I always take care of you, ma.”

so of course as soon as he said that, his hand harshly pulled your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. He pinched one of your nipples, pulling it a little before releasing. Soon, your knees collided with the hard wood beneath you’d, and his cock was slapping against your cheek, leaving a trail of his sticky pre-cum. “S’right, niña. Put that pretty mouth to better use.” He smirked—that fucking smirk. The one that made you week in the knees.

You knew you were done for.

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Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

Teammate’s sister - Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

also low-key bimbo!reader

fluff

approx. 1100 words

warnings : boobies hehehe.. not even re read this not checked it don’t even know what i wrote about actually .

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You and Lando were worlds apart in terms of style and interests. You had your hair done religiously every month, your nails and lashes tended to bi-weekly, and you shopped for clothes with an almost impulsive fervor. Your wardrobe was a parade of skimpy outfits and vibrant hot pinks, drawing attention wherever you went.

Lando frequently invited you to his races, though you didn't always make it. He didn't mind much; you were there for his first podium, his first pole, and his first win—those moments were what mattered to him.

In your own way, you were part of his triumphs, a bright spot in the whirlwind of his racing career.

However, it was more than common knowledge that Oscar was practically in love with you. He would go to any lengths, even risking his health, just to be in the same room as you for a moment. The truth was, he'd gladly trade his own comfort, his own needs, just for a chance to catch a glimpse of your smile or hear your laughter. It was as if being near you filled him with a sense of purpose that eclipsed everything else in his life.

He'd sit through long, grueling days of racing with a knot in his stomach, unable to eat or drink, all for the hope of running into you in the paddock. His heart raced at the thought of you, and he found himself lost in daydreams about what it would be like to hold your hand, to share a quiet moment away from the chaos.

For Oscar, it felt as though he would gladly die for you, surrendering everything just to keep you close. He'd stand in front of any danger, facing it without a second thought if it meant protecting you. Your happiness was his sole reason for being, and he would sacrifice anything—even his own heart—to see you smile.

At the Hungarian GP, the paddock buzzed with frenetic energy. Mechanics swarmed around the cars, making last-minute adjustments, while the roar of engines warming up filled the air. The scent of burning rubber and fuel permeated the space, mingling with the tension and excitement that crackled like electricity.

Cameras from Sky and F1 TV frequently cut to you, capturing your every move. You were fairly certain this was because audience attention spiked whenever you appeared in your little outfits, your bright smile lighting up the paddock. Amidst the organized chaos, your presence was a splash of color and warmth, drawing eyes and increasing viewership with every glimpse the cameras caught.

You watched intently as Lando breezed through to Q1, finishing on pole position and greeting him as he got out the car with a running hug.

Oscar watched as you ran, your tits bouncing with each step. God he loved your boobs. He was zoned out... thinking... when he noticed you were getting closer. Now running towards him in your mclaren jersey with the number 81 on the back.

You had his number displayed prominently on your body.

He could have died right there and then. The fabric of your tight-fitting jersey clung to your curves as you surged toward him, pressing your body against his with a forceful, yet intimate impact.

"Well done!" you breathed, your lips close to his ear as you wrapped your arms around him.

"You raced really well!" you whispered.

He could feel your tits pressed against him, the sensation overwhelming.

"I'm really proud!" you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

His heart raced, his face flushed with a deep crimson. "I- erm- yeah- thank you," he stammered, trying to regain his composure. "Your brother did better, though..."

You shrugged nonchalantly, a playful smirk curling at your lips. "But I'm not talking to Lando, I'm talking to you," you purred, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint.

It took every ounce of restraint for him to release your waist, where his hands had lingered a moment too long. When he finally let go, it was with a reluctant, almost desperate reluctance, his fingers brushing against your skin as they withdrew.

You smiled bashfully, your gaze dropping to your feet as you blushed.

"Go out with me," he blurted out abruptly, his mind racing to catch up with the reckless words he had just thrown at the most captivating woman he'd encountered in his 23 years. "Sorry! Oh god, sorry. I didn't mean to say that." He stumbled back, almost as if trying to escape his own audacity.

He didn't get far before your giggle stopped him in his tracks. "Sure," you said softly.

He spun around in shock, his heart pounding as he took a few quick strides back toward you. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," you nodded, your smile growing warmer.

All he could manage to utter was, "Wow," his voice barely above a whisper, before his manager swooped in, dragging him away for interviews. The sound of your laughter lingered in his ears, making his heart race with anticipation and excitement.

#

Oscar couldn't focus on the questions being thrown at him by reporters. His mind was spinning, replaying the moment over and over again. He kept glancing over at you, where you stood chatting with Lando, your smile brighter than ever.

As soon as he was free, Oscar made a beeline for you. He found you leaning against the McLaren hospitality suite, sipping a drink.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"Hey," you replied, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

"So, um, about what I said earlier," he began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"You mean asking me out?" you teased.

"Yeah, that," he said, his face flushing. "I wasn't kidding, you know. I'd really like to take you out. Properly."

Your eyes softened, and you nodded. "I know, Oscar. And I'd like that too."

"Really?" He sounded almost incredulous.

"Really," you confirmed.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Okay, great. How about dinner tomorrow? After the race?"

"Sounds perfect," you said. "I'll be waiting."

Oscar couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "I'll see you then."

As he walked away, he felt lighter, like he was walking on air. He had a race to focus on, but now he had something even more exciting to look forward to.

#

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The next day, Oscar raced amazingly, but his mind kept drifting back to you. When the race was over and the celebrations had died down for his first win, he found you waiting for him, just as you promised.

"You ready?" he asked, trying to keep his nerves in check.

"Ready," you said.

As you walked out of the paddock together, Oscar couldn't help but think that this was the start of something incredible. And for once, he didn't feel shy around you.

RING-POP

PAIRING. sam monroe x f!reader

SYNOPSIS. sam makes you try a different version of your favorite candy; bigger and bitter.

WARNINGS. NSFW themes (18+), pet-names, cursing, dirty-talk & too many puns (i swear this punk cannot shut up), name-calling (brat, dumb girl), brat-taming, degradation, slight dacryphilia, perv!sam, clueless!reader, oral sex (m! receiving), face-fucking, bondage, slight slapping (with a belt, with his cock), hair-pulling, sexualising food?

SMACK, SLURP, POP. the sounds filled sam’s humid room. his brow furrowed further, a look of disdain washing over his pale features at the noise. the videogame in front of him needed all his heed, but it seemed like his brat, bambi, demanded some of that attention, too.

“stop that,” he groaned, frustrated. the sound of his thumbs assaulting the buttons on his controller should’ve been all that was heard, had you not been deep-throating the candy sam made the mistake of getting you. “what— i’m just having my candy,” you whined before continuing, “—and besides, if you have a problem, why don’t you let me sit away from you—” he was quick to shut down that idea, gripping the flesh of your thighs. maybe sam was in the wrong for getting you the cherry ring-pop, your favourite, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have you perched on his lap, sitting comfortably (cluelessly) on his aching boner, but in his defence, he just wanted to feast his eyes on the sight of your plump lips wrapped around the toy candy, sucking and slurping, just as you are now like the good girl you are, but once he switched his playstation on, the competitive side came out.

you shift to your comfort in his lap, feeling the tent in his pants poke directly into your mound. you had an arm crossed over sam’s neck, bringing the ring-clad finger to your mouth and sucking. at the taste of the sweet cherry juices dripping into your mouth, you groan in sam’s ear.

the sounds traveled straight to his cock, his mind tuning out his reality— the game at hand— just to focus at your skilful tongue, stained red by the candy. “if you don’t quit it—” he sighed, his voice strained. the next thing you know, his character is being obliterated by the enemy. you stifled a giggle, your plan worked.

sam had left you so, so worked up. choosing to take out his frustration with his family on some stupid toy, rather than your willing pussy. ever since that day at the playground, you couldn’t go a day without sam pounding into your drooling cunt. even if it was always him starting it, he got you to finish, and you were forever grateful for it. but today? when you dolled up in all black— tank top and skirt— with red lingerie, he decided to pick up that gaming console and not let go.

“alright, bambi, i’ve had it with you,” he gets up abruptly, causing you to hit the ground and land on your knees. you gasped, offended.

his hands, full of real, crude metal were quick to move, undoing his belt, unlike your delicate hand that was motionless with the toy ring perched on it. the leather of his studded belt flicked across your cheek, causing you to look up at sam through wet lashes. he only smirked at the sight. your eyes flicked to the bulge revealed in his boxers, and now your mouth watered for a taste that wasn’t cherry ring-pop.

“‘like to suck your candy, huh, brat?” he squeezed your cheeks together. “since you’ve been practising in my goddamn ears all day,” he continued, pulling out his cock, “let’s see how good you’ve gotten.” his cock was slapped against the same spot at the belt. you only stared at him through your long lashes, unwilling to satiate when you’re unsatisfied yourself. “come on, bambi, open up,” he squeezed your cheeks again, causing your mouth to gape open. “i can’t guarantee it tastes like cherries, but you’re open to trying sweet-n-salty, aren’tcha?” he giggled, amused at his own snarky comments.

the fat tip of his cock pressed into your plump, gape lips, and instinctively, your tongue stuck out to lick it. “there we go,” sam sighed, ready to return to cloud 9.

you sheepishly swirled your tongue around the bulbous tip of his cock, relishing in the taste of his precum oozing into your tastebuds. oh, yeah, you’ve found yourself a new favourite flavour.

“hands up for me, bambi,” he sighed, breathless already. you oblige, eyes widening when his belt snaked over your wrists, tying them in an unholy matrimony. your hands rested in your lap, preventing you from pleasuring yourself like you intended to. “now, open wide f’me.” you’re obedient, eager to please, for you know if sam’s satisfied he would overlook the ‘punishment’ and stick his cock into you. your pussy flutters at the thought of being full again.

as your throat relaxed around him, you started taking more and more of his length, looking up at him through your lashes to seek his validation, and the mere sight was rewarding. his brows furrowed, a pink flush crept into his pale skin, while his lips were plump and agape, marks of his teeth etched into the skin. “your mouth was made to suck cock, y’know that— my cock. you’re only gonna squeeze my cock with that fuckin’ throat, y’hear?” he nods, authoritative yet cooing, “is my girl understanding me?” so you bobble your head along with length. “fuck yeah, brat. going dumb on my cock,” he moans, and you were eager to illicit more of those sounds.

you relax your jaw, inhale deeply, and let him take charge. when sam realises this, the little devil smirks, running his fingers through your scalp to tug at your hair.

his cock pistons in and out of your throat, your eyes watering and your breath haggard. your pussy clenched around nothing but the flooded dampness of your cotton panties.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—” incoherent grunts and groans filled the room along with the delirious smell of your arousals. “fuuuuck, bambi,” sam’s thrusts got sloppier.

“you know,” he spoke, breathless yet mischievously, “this candy comes with a creamy centre,” he chuckled, grunting as he came undone in your mouth. “sweet n’ salty, yeah?” he stroked his cock, relishing in the sight of his heavy load dripping down your plump lips. you were quick to swallow every drop, selfishly devouring your favourite candy. you wondered if this was gluttony or lust?

when satiated, sam pulled away, tucking his cock away. you, too, get up from the floor, wincing at the pain of kneeling down for too long.

you shimmy out of your clothes, making your way towards his bed. sam sees you in the corner of his eye, an eyebrow irking at your actions, “what do you think you’re doing,” he asked plainly, leaving you confused. “i- you’re fucking me, right?” you had a pitiful look on your face, so eager to chase your own release with his assistance. “like hell i will, dumb girl,” sam scoffed, “brats don’t get pleasure after punishment,” he shrugged coldly, grabbing his gaming console.

he pointed towards his thighs, “sit your ass back down,” you whine, “but i’ll be so boooored,” yet perch on his lap, still.

“—and i finished my ring-pop,” you sigh in frustration. sam chuckles, “don’t worry, i’ll have your new favourite out in a minute,”

“this flavour never finishes, just keeps on coming.”

THIS PUNK—

SEE ALSO. playground [PRELIMINARY FIC]. more of Sam Monroe [MEAN!SAM, BIMBO!READER AND OTHER TROPES].

doo-be-di-boy — simon (ghost) riley

simon (ghost) riley x fem bimbo!reader

> simon and his unabashed adoration for his princess <33

!! suggestive - minors dni (ratings change but overall, simon’s thirst is unmatched); age gap (30s v 20s); no chronological order (loosely-tied worldbuilding)

: another series i didnt expect to gain traction or for me to actually write so much for!! i adore bimbo!reader, she deserves the world :’>

for all posts, pls click at the bimbo!reader tag <33

part 01 - intro post; smut

part 02 - strawberry shortcake perfume

part 03 - simon sonny; ask

part 04 - his thumb on her lips; ask (p link!); smut

part 05 - reduced to whimpers; ask (p link!); smut

part 06 - boo tomato tomato tomato @fratboy; suggestive

part 07 - christina n kisses; smut

part 08 - instagram account <33

part 09 - trembling hands and crochets

part 10 - his darling petal; ask (p link!); smut

part 11 - do you love me?

part 12 - simmy, penguin, rocks!; ask | recent

-

extra 01 - her hyperfixations; ask

extra 02 - jewels n cuffs; ask

extra 03 - super shy!!

extra 04 - chupi chapa

extra 05 - johnny as her bff; ask

extra 06 - dick grabbers <3; ask

extra 07 - kuromi pillow for u!!; ask

extra 08 - their radio (a ramble); ask | recent

extra 09 - clingy!!; ask | recent

i have a short taglist so pls lmk if you would like to be tagged too ^v^

(updated 20 jan 2024)

MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

i agree with the prev anon about shiu 😭 i just can't get bimbo reader x shiu out of my mind after that

OH MY GODD that made me froth :< // prev; alt !! f!reader; daddy kink; shiu's big horny always teehee // divider by @/plutism!!

shiu loves you so much; he loves spoiling you lots.

you're a sight for sore eyes, round and sweet, but that's not what only gets him going—you're kind to a fault, looking up at him all starry-eyed like he's not a bad man. like he's not broken and angry, and all mangled from within until it has him toying with people's moralities.

his empire stands firm from the shadows as proof of that.

you curl in his arms, so giggly and bright, almost like you're unknowing of what he does, of what he's capable of, but you've always known better than anyone else. after all, shiu trusts no one more than he trusts you.

you are so, so lovely; stoking his desires, filling him up with this miasmic need that burns from within. he aches every time, so desperate to feel you. to touch you. to have one more taste because you've turned shiu insatiable, his hunger constant, burrowing deep in the yawning of his stomach.

he wants more from you. he will always want more.

.

"daddy?" you call, pattering out of your room with a little pout. shiu's quick to drop the call, not bothering to say any goodbyes to toji, and turns all of his attention to you.

he gulps, feeling himself chub up underneath his slacks. you've got your neon green tube top on, the fabric taut as it clings to your skin. there's a little slip of cut by the front of it, and all that's keeping the fabric twined together are the little straps that converge in an 'X', framing your pretty tits in a way that has his throat constricting, his thirst palpable as it rolls off him in waves.

you don't notice of course, eyes turned to the baby blue slip of a dress you're carrying.

"hi, sweet'art," he croaks out, pulling your attention back to him, almost pleading.

you look up, blinking like you've forgotten he was there or that you were even asking for him, before a smile dances on your lips, tugging that kissable pout away.

"shiu!" you say, giddy, bouncing in your place and it—

jesus, it makes your tits wobble, your tight tube top not really doing anything to hide the fact that you don't got a bra on.

you tryna kill him or somethin', doll?

"c'mere," he grunts, patting at his lap.

you fall on top of him with a squeal, all your tender parts dimpling as you nuzzle close, humming in delight when shiu brushes his lips on your forehead. he adjusts himself on the seat, arm curling around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"so what's got you into a tizzy?" shiu asks, rubbing his hand atop your belly, his cock chubbing up even more at the softness of your pudge.

"oh," you murmur, breathless, your eyes tracking his caresses. "was jus' wonderin' if i should wear this top or the blue dress, s'all."

"yeah?" shiu begins peppering kisses along the shell of your ear, huffing when you squeak, body jolting at the ticklish feeling that his stubble makes. "and y'wanted daddy's thoughts, s'that it?"

"mhmm." you sound distant. distracted.

shiu trembles, just as dizzy with his need. he wonders if he can coax you out of that outing you were planning with your friends. he wonders if he can ask you to stay because there's something else he'd rather do than pretend he can stand toji.

(maybe he'll have you kiss his cock and have you smear that lipgloss all over the leaking slit; or have you sit on his face since it's been a while since he's got a taste, and shiu is parched.

or maybe he'll have you ride him, give him a view of those pretty tits bouncing, your nipples hard and in need of being sucked on. maybe he'll make a mess out of that top, yeah? lick you through it, watch it go damp and see-through, until the green of your top is muddled with the colour of your areolas.

or maybe he'll breed you, huh darlin'? you'd want that, wouldn't you? have him fulfill his promises—make a mom out of you?)

"well, baby," shiu begins, his voice gruff as he pulls himself out of his imaginations. he kisses the slope of your neck, and breathes in the smell of your body wash. "i do love that green top—shows more of y'r girls, doesn't it?"

you giggle, almost a touch shy, before nodding. shiu's heart swells, the aching need in the pit of his stomach peaking, bloating. he can't help himself—his darling love is warm on top of him, beautiful and soft. a lesser man would've crumbled faster; pawing at your body, hand rough as it fondles your tit—

really, shiu deserves a goddamn award for how saintly he's acting; holding back like he's not leaking in his boxers.

but he remembers how excited you've been about this night out and shiu would rather fuck his fist than ever be the cause of your disappointment, so he takes a ragged breath in, leashing his desires back in the pit of his stomach, weaving it beneath his blood, and taps your hip to send you off.

you climb out of his lap with a huff before you twirl, bending forward and planting a sloppy kiss on his lip. they go away sticky, marked by your lipgloss.

"see you later, daddy," you trill, waving, before you run back to the room. shiu can only grunt, unable to trust his weakened voice.

.

driven by his deprivation, shiu fishes a lingerie out of your hamper and pockets it. he'll need it for later—the night is young.

-

john’s version

yummy

Possessive! Dom! Ethan Landry x Sub! Reader (smut)

Synopsis: You make Ethan jealous after a party, so he had to take out his anger on you somehow.

A/N: This isn’t the first smut i’ve ever written but it’s the first one i’ve ever publicly posted. 😭 My notes app is full of them lmfao. I hope y’all enjoy this bc this gets pretty nasty lmfao. ALSO USE A CONDOM YALL.

This Fic Contains: spit kink, degrading, slight dumbification, slut shaming? idk?, ETHAN RIPS YO CLOTHES OFF, choking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, choking on fingers hehe, face grabbing, spanking, creampie, hair pulling, fingering, squirting, mentions of alcohol, reader is a bimbo in this too, size kink hehe, face slapping, wholesome aftercare

The door being slammed behind you is what made you realize, you were fucked.

“Listen, I didn’t want to make a scene back there but if you would’ve just stopped playing dumb, then maybe I wouldn’t have had to!” Ethan yelled as he hightailed you while you sped over to your bedroom.

Earlier, you attended a college party with Ethan and the rest of your friends. You weren’t even drunk but the alcohol helped you be less nervous at that party. You were dressed in the tightest mini skirt ever that even the slightest movement showed off your lacy white panties, and Ethan wasn’t going to have any of that especially with you on the dance floor.

He noticed that a ton of guys were captivated by you and your outfit, so they took the chance to dance with you. You thought nothing of it and simply thought they were being nice.

But of course, Ethan knew what was going on through their heads. They just wanted a chance to have their way with you.

Ethan couldn’t watch his girlfriend get between a bunch of guys, so he instead shoved through the people at the party and grabbed your hand.

“We’re leaving.” Ethan urged in a very low tone.

“Woah! Already? We just got here E!”

Ethan was already pissed off and you did not need to make it worse.

“We’re leaving Y/N!”

You swiped your hand away from him and stood there. “Hey! What’s your deal?!”

Ethan turned around and glared at you. “My deal?! You’re letting other guys touch up on you while you’re dressed like that!” You were fuming at this point.

“Fine. You can leave then! You’re no fun at all.” You we’re about to turn around before Ethan grabbed your wrist this time and pulled you through the crowd of people which caused you to get weird stares as you were dragged out.

The entire walk home, you were complaining about how Ethan just embarrassed you.

Eventually that led to him snapping at you back at your dorm.

You tried to close the door behind you before Ethan got into the room first.

“You’re my girlfriend. Not anyone else’s. Got that?” Ethan growled as he grabbed your wrist again, this time tighter than before.

You whimpered slightly at the pain. “E-Eth’ that hurts-“

He then pulled you in by your throat, shoving you onto your bed and quickly sliding down your skirt. You sit up on your elbows in surprise as you watch him rip off your panties. You squeal out in surprise and are quick to try to cover yourself from the cold air.

Ethan grabs your wrist again and pins it aside as he stares at your extremely tight top.

“I bought you that didn’t I. I don’t think all those other guys would spoil you like I do.”

At first, he gently slid his hand on your breast, staring at your hard nipples, noticing you weren’t wearing a bra before ripping off your top too.

“That was my favorite!!“ You whined.

He scoffed and threw it aside. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He then sat up on his knees, towering over your small frame. Ethan then grabbed your hair by the scalp and pulled you up toward his face as he growled in your ear. “If you fucking move, or try to touch yourself, I swear you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You could feel your tight hole already soak at the thought of that. You could feel yourself pulsing as you breathed heavily.

Ethan took his toned hand and gently pressed one finger against your already pulsating pussy. He then slid it down your slit and felt the wetness between your folds.

“Fuck. Aren’t you just a sweet dumb thing. Already wet by my words? Or are you thinking about what i’ll do to you next?“

You couldn’t even speak as he kept your hair in between his knuckles and kept sliding his index finger up and down your slit.

“Answer me.” He then slapped your pussy, causing you to jolt and bite your lip, holding in a moan.

“Y-Your words Eth’…”

Ethan grinned as he slowly shoved his index finger into your tight pussy.

“Such a good cumdump.”

You tightened around his index finger already as he shoved his middle finger in as well.

He gave no warning as he suddenly sped up and started fingerfucking you. You wailed out as he rammed his fingers in and out of you making your body arch and squirm as you could do nothing but hold onto the bedsheets. The way he would drill his fingers in and out would make you go insane. He then grabbed you by your face and squeezed your cheeks.

Your eyes glimmered as it signified pleasure and you, already fucked out, rolled your eyes to the back of your head.

“F-Fuck…fuck…fuck..!!”

Ethan grinned at you and shoved his two fingers into your mouth, still keeping a tight grip on your face meanwhile darting his fingers in and out of your tight and gushy pussy, constantly hitting the spots that made you jolt and yelp the most.

His index and middle fingers went deep into your mouth that it hit the back of your uvula, making you slightly gag and choke on them as tears already formed in your eyes, ruining your mascara.

You were now like a piece of artwork to him. He was so satisfied with what he created out of you. He was so captivated by your beauty that he couldn’t help but just force your mouth further open just to spit in your mouth. He then forced it shut, signaling for you to swallow it.

Ethan then slapped your face and grabbed your hair again, facing your head down towards the mess that he was making and made you watch as he jackhammered his fingers in and out of you, watching you lift your lower body from the mattress.

“Oh fuuuckkk…Ethan! M’gonna-“

“That’s right. Go ahead, whore.”

He continued to hit your spots at full speed as your wetness flew all over the bed and even onto the floor.

You wailed out as you felt your orgasm wash over you, making your body shiver and twitch. Ethan watched as you squirted all over his hand and the bedsheets.

He smirked at the sight of you squirting all over him then unbuckled his pants, pulling down his zipper and then revealing his boxers. Ethan then pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his very toned abs and you could feel yourself getting turned on by the sight of his very well built body.

You continued staring at him as he pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard, twitching cock. He then smacked your ass, signaling you to turn over onto your stomach. You looked up at him, doe-eyed as you nodded and followed his exact commands.

He then grabbed your face again, forcing you to make eye contact with him with your head faced upwards as he towered over you again.

“God, you’re so pretty.”

You blushed at his comment before he forced yourself to arch against him. You were about to lift your head up until he pushed your head down into the mattress.

He then gave no warning as he completely shoved himself inside of you causing you to whine out in pain and pleasure. Your feet curled as you could feel his tip graze against your cervix.

He then thrusted himself in and out as he pulled your hair, forcing your face down into the pillow, completely ruining your makeup as it stained the bedsheets. Your moans were so pornographic and loud that anyone could hear next door, but it didn’t matter because all this heart racing pleasure is what kept you from thinking about anything else.

“Think all those other guys can fuck you like me? Make you squirt and cry like me? Hell no.”

You loved being his. And he loved being yours.

He then pulled out to flip you on your back again as he pulled you by your ankle towards him to line up his cock on your dripping slit. Examining your wet cunt, he then spat on it, making you gasp and your pussy twitch at the sight of it.

“Such a pretty sight from such a pretty cumdump.” He marveled at your glistening cunt.

You lightly giggled at his comment before he practically folded you in half and shoved himself deep inside of you again. Your mouth was agape as he began thrusting in you again.

You could feel and hear the slamming of his hips as it echoed throughout the room.

“M’ gonna fill you up so good, princess. And I want you to look directly at me when I do it.”

You struggled to even reply to him so all you could do was nod. Your poor pussy was already bruised by the time he began shoving himself in you that you couldn’t help but cry and squeal out in pain and pleasure.

He then took you by your throat as he started wrapping his hand around it, squeezing as you gasped for air. he then took his other hand and shoved it in the back of your throat, making you gag again and watching your tears flow out again.

It wasn’t until he leaned in and kissed you so sloppily that all you could feel is his tongue swirling around your mouth and trying to slide it’s way to your uvula, that you felt yourself tighten more and more around him that you were practically milking him. You both moaned into each other’s mouths before he pulled away, your tongue sticking out as lines of saliva connected your mouths.

You looked so gorgeous. Having your insides fucked like he absolutely hated you, and you just taking it like a good girl.

He continued choking you as you grabbed onto the bedsheets, feeling a sort of coil in your stomach.

“Oh- Mmmff!! I’m gunna cum!!”

Ethan only went faster after your words and continued drilling himself into your cervix as he grabbed your face one last time.

“Do it. But don’t take your pretty eyes off of me. I wanna watch you, my bunny.”

“M-Mhm!! S-Shit…!”

You nodded and let out more moans and whimpers as he continued to thrust in and out as the squelching noises of your fucking filled the room.

“Ohhhh!! Ethannnn!!!”

You let out a few more wails of pleasure as you kept eye contact with Ethan before you felt your orgasm unravel again and the feeling of cum gushing out of your pussy onto his cock ran through your body as it convulsed and shivered.

Just a few more thrusts later, Ethan then released his hot and thick load inside of your womb, filling it to the brim. He kept himself deep inside you so that almost none of it would fall out. He groaned out and slightly whimpered at the overwhelming pleasure of your tight cunt cumming all over his fat cock mixed with his orgasm.

You both were now panting messes. Ethan then looked down at your completely fucked out face as it was stained with makeup and mascara. He smiled and gently kissed your forehead.

He then lifted himself off of you, picking up his boxers and putting them back on. He noticed you were practically unresponsive to him, so he picked you up off the bed and carried you bridal style to the bathroom. He set you down on the cold sink, causing you to shiver as he started up a bath for you. He waited until the water was warm and filled the tub before he carried you and gently sat you inside.

He was now bathing your entire body and helping you clean up your face. You gazed lovingly at your boyfriend as he did all of this, meanwhile he was complimenting you.

“You did so well today, bunny. You’re my perfect girl.”

Your heart fluttered at his comments. He really was the man you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

After your bath, he helped dry you up and then carried you back to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around your body. Watching him rummage around your clothes, you twirled your hair and gazed at his back muscles. Ethan then came back with panties and one of his shirts for you to wear. He slipped it onto you and smiled as it draped over your body.

Ethan then crawled onto the bed next to you, waiting for you to rest your head on his chest. Once you did, you were quick to fall asleep on it, listening to his heartbeat as he toyed with your hair.

Hot to Go!

“It’s Chappell Roan Day!” you nearly screamed at the crack of dawn. You’d been waiting for this day for a month and a half, eager to see your newfound idol. “Cakey, baby, it's 6 a.m.,” Vernon mumbled into your chest, still half-asleep. “But I’m so excited! I can’t believe I’m going to see her!” you say, a little quieter but with the same enthusiasm. “I’m excited too,” he says, lifting his head. “But we need to sleep.” You give him the cutest pout, clearly not wanting to go back to sleep. “If you wanna be the loudest in the crowd, you gotta rest, Cupcake,” Vernon says with a soft chuckle. You let out a scoff but obey, snuggling back into bed. Vernon places a light kiss on your forehead, and soon, you both drift back to sleep.

“We’re going to be late, Babycakes,” Vernon calls from the doorframe. You’ve been getting ready for the past three hours, determined to look your absolute best. You’re currently putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Glitter decorates your eyelids, and a bit on your puffy cheeks—everything has to be perfect. “One sec,” you whine, applying shiny lip gloss to your pillowy lips. You glance at your outfit in the mirror for the hundredth time that evening. You’re wearing a pink mini skirt, a leopard print top with pink detailing, and your signature gold necklace—Vernon’s gift—with “Cupcake” written in cursive. Vernon can’t help but admire how beautifully everything fits you. “My heels!” you exclaim, grabbing your thick leopard print heels from the closet. As you bend down, your mini skirt rides up, revealing your pretty pink panties. Vernon walks over, scoops you up, and places you gently on the bed. “I can do it myself, Bononie,” you protest, handing him the heels. “Can you, though?” he teases with a smirk. You roll your eyes, but he just smiles and gives you a quick peck on the cheek as he helps you with the heels.

5, 6... 5, 6, 7, 8! A loud shriek escapes your lips. “It’s Hot to Go! She’s playing Hot to Go!” you yell with all your might. Vernon smiles at you, watching as you jump up and down, singing along to the song. While Vernon likes Chappell Roan, it’s obvious he doesn’t adore her as much as you do. H - O - T - T - O - G - O Snap and clap and touch your toes Raise your hands, now body roll Dance it out, you’re Hot to Go “H - O - T - T - O - G - O,” you scream the lyrics, moving your arms to form the letters. You glance over your shoulder for a second to see your "npc" boyfriend. Vernon is standing there, smiling back at you. “Baby, you have to do it,” you yell over the music. “Okay, okay,” he laughs, brushing it off. “Do you know the choreo?” you ask with a giggle. “Yes,” Vernon laughs with you. “H - O - T - T - O - G - O,” you sing again with all your might, moving your arms to the choreography. Vernon stands slightly behind you, doing the same. You can take me Hot to Go “Louder! Sing louder!” you yell at him. “H - O - T - T - O - G - O, you can take me Hot to Go!” Vernon’s now singing much louder, making you smile from ear to ear. “I love you, Bononie!” you yell. “I love you too, Cupcake,” he replies with a grin.

Authors note: OMGGG if you’re seeing this, this is my first ever drabble!! I’m so excited to see how people react to it. This post is also the first ever appearance of a lil character of my own, Cupcake!reader who is almost like a golden retriever character that will most likely only be used when I write abt Vernon. But that may change in the future. Anyways thank you sm for reading it and i hope you liked it 🩷🩷