Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
MDNI: Teacher!Gaz implied age gap, teacher x past student, intoxication longish plot, smut,
Teacher!Kyle, or Mr. Garrick, first started teaching when you were in your last high school. The first week he was there, all the girls fanned over him. Tall, light skinned, young, genius. He was very invested with students writings, giving personalized assistance to each senior who cared enough for the help. He didnt assign heavy homework, but he was strict on following the school's curriculum.
The midterm in his class was a 4 page poem. Many students took a few days on this project, only starting it when told to. You read the syllabus in the beginning of the year, and had been perfecting this poem since day one. Mr. Garrick personally helped you after school everyday. Not only were you using this poem as a good grade in his class, you had planned to send it to the most prestigious colleges in the country.
You hadn't thought about writing as a career before your senior year. You were an overachiever, and loved the academic praise teachers gave you when your work was perfected. Starting a project early was not out of the ordinary for you, neither was asking for extra help from teachers. You had approached Mr. Garrick weeks before the midterm was due for help, and he gladly walked you through your writing and how to improve.
As the weeks went on, Mr. Garrick and you grew close, as appropriate as a teacher and student could be. He encouraged you further to pursue a writing career, and to send this poem and any others you had to any colleges in the country.
Very obviously you aced the midterm, and you were accepted into Columbia University shortly after sending the application and poem. You graduated high school with a weighted 4.25 GPA, and were on track to do great things in your future. You followed Mr. Garrick on Facebook to stay in touch, keeping a suitable relationship for the connection you two had.
Kyle kept a close eye on your posts. He noticed that you stopped posting about how excited you were to be going to college, any updates on short stories you made, and how your account slowly started to dwindle down. It was 2 years after you graduated when he finally sent you a text.
Kyle Garrick: Hey! How's college treating you? :)
Kyle watched as bubbles popped up and went away a few times. Finally, a response came through.
You: Didn't end up going.
Kyle stared at his phone for a few seconds trying to wrap his head around the reason why you, a perfect scholar, chose not to go to one of the best Universities in the United States.
Kyle Garrick: ..What?
Kyle didnt have to wait for a response this time, another chat sent right after his.
You: Couldn't afford it. Turns out the scholarship wasnt enough after all Mr Garrick :/
Kyle Garrick: Just Kyle. And I'm sorry to hear that. You were a fantastic writer.
After a few seconds of no response, Kyle started typing again.
Kyle Garrick: I was always caught up on your story posts. I was a very interested reader. I was dissapointed when the updates stopped coming.
Kyle set his phone down, a bit embarrassed by his actions. A double text? How old was he, sixteen? For God's sake he was almost thirty now, basically flirting with one of his old students. He was too busy wallowing in self pity to hear his phone ding with a notification.
You: Well I would love you fill you in over coffee sometime.
Kyle was stunned at this message. Was it bad that he was excited? No, its just a simple meeting between two people.
Kyle Garrick: Thursday at 3?
All he got back after that was a thumbs up.
Kyle was 30 minutes early to the meet up. He wanted to be early to pick a good spot for you, to ensure everything went perfect. He gave you details the day before of where to go, picking a spot you had posted about before your account went inactive.
He told himself it wasnt a date, just a hangout between people. You guys weren't friends, he used to be your teacher. It wouldn't be right to say "friends". Right?
You showed up in a linen skirt, a off the shoulder blouse, and that crocheted bag you made in his class during your free time. He had to clear his throat before standing up. He reached to shake your hand, but you lifted your arms for a hug. He stood shocked for a second, before cautiously putting hands hands around your middle back. He was barely touching you, keeping a comfortable distance.
"It's so nice to see you again Mr. Garrick!" You were as cheerful as ever, keeping a pleasant smile on your face.
"Oh please, call me Kyle." He smiled back, pulling out a chair for you. He took his own seat, and handed you one of the menus the waitress had left.
Kyle ordered a plain black coffee, and you ordered one of the special fruit refreshers they had at the moment.
"The teacher special, huh? Plain black coffee to soothe the soul."
You laughed, shooting a wink his direction. That caused a chuckle out of Kyle, making his face light up with the playful banter. The conversation was kept light, up until the drinks came. Kyle wanted to know more about you, since you graduated. What you were up to since you didnt go to college, what you really wanted to do once you got a bit older.
"So tell me. How old are you now? Gotta be atleast able to drink."
"Just turned 21 a few months back, though im not a fan of much. Alot of it just taste like piss if you had to ask me." You responded, rolling your eyes. "I dont get how people can just drink something and say, 'This is the best thing since sliced bread!' Or whatever you old people say."
This drew another laugh out his Kyle.
"Gosh you must think I lived with ancient Roman's or something." He joked back, trying to make you laugh. Which to his success you did, but in the process you dropped your bag off the table. Books, pencils, and a few random scraps fly out, and you jump to pick them all up.
Kyle helped by picking up a small book, but the label caught his attention. It read "Untitled Idea." He didnt open it, but he placed it on the table.
"Is this notes for the story you were writing?" He asked, not pushing but definitely curious.
You look up, and your eyes go wide. You snatched the book from his hands, stuffing it back in your bag. You sit back down in your seat, nervously laughing.
"Yeah, but its just ideas. I dont even have a plot lined out."
Kyle looks at you for a second longer, but decides to change the subject.
"So I checked the menu for food and it kind of...doesn't look too great. Would you want to-"
"Oh my gosh I know the best dive bar we could go to. Let's carpool!"
Kyle smiles, flattered by your eagerness. He leaves a twenty on the table to cover the bill and a tip.
He opens the door for you on the way out of the coffee shop, and then the passenger door to his car. He drives, following your directions to the dive bar. There is quite music playing in the background, to make the silence less awkward. By the time you get to the bar, its almost 7 P.M and its packed. People crowd together, the music is loud and very country, and there's the smell of food everywhere.
Kyle leads you to the nearest open spot, which happens to be on the bar. He orders himself a coke, keeping his role as the driver clear.
"What for you, something sweet to satisfy your young soul?"
"I'll just have a Cosmopolitan. Stick to what I know."
"Alright then sugar, whats 200 more grams of sweetness."
He gives the bartender his card and your ID's while you wait for your drink. You go to sit on a stool, and a guy accidently bumps into you. Kyle instinctively places a hand on your back to steady you. The guy apologizes and offers to pay, but you insist it was okay.
The drinks come and Kyle nurses his coke. He watches as you down two more drinks, and he can avidly see the change in your behavior. You drag him to the dance floor as music glares around. Kyle grabs your bag to make sure it doesnt get stolen before letting himself be taken to dance.
You run your hands through your hair and move your body in rhythm. He grooves with you, letting the music bresk the tension. Your hands start to wander as the music gets heavier. You move your touch towards his belt line, and Kyle has to take a deep breath. You're tipsy, it doesnt mean anything, he reminds himself. But as you lean in close to him, not yet whispering but speaking quietly, he finds it hard to resist.
"Kyle, I really wish we were together. alone. not in this stupid bar."
"Wasn't the bar your idea, sugar?"
You giggle, dropping your head to his chest. You run your fingers down lower, and he inhales sharply. He grabs your fingertips gently and pulls them up.
"Seems youre a bit too tipsy to handle, hm? Let's get you home."
"Your home. I don't want you to see mine."
Kyle goes to laugh, but your face is stone cold sober. He creases his brow but doesnt fight it.
"Alright, im sure I can make something work."
Kyle drives slow back to his own house. He wasnt sure how this would play out tomorrow morning. He was sure you'd be quieter again, probably force him to go pick up your car so you could go straight home. Or...maybe you'd stick around a bit longer. Talk to him, sit and eat breakfast. Maybe go out for more coffee. Plan a second date. But then again, you were quite unpredictable.
Once he got you inside, He showed you through his humble apartment. It wasn't a mansion, thats for sure. But it had character. It was small and comfortable, was obviously lived in and taken care of. He watched as you looked around for a bit, before planting yourself on his kitchen counter. You fidgeted with your skirt and emptied your bag next to you, as if sorting your things will make it any less obvious that your in Kyle's house.
"Make yourself at home. im going to go wash up in the bathroom, I can take the couch so you can have the bed if youd like. Just let me know what your most comfortable with."
With that he disappeared into the bathroom. He took a few minutes, so you did what he said. You made yourself comfortable by changing into a pair of shorts and a t shirt, both very obviously too big on you. You sprawled out onto the bed, marking your territory by bundling in the sheets. They smelled of pine and something dark, like Bourbon.
Kyle came out to see you almost lights out, so he took a pillow and a throw blanket from his drawer and make a bed on the couch. The couch was already much too small for him, but he was not about to crawl into a bed with a drunk woman. It wasn't right, no matter what he wanted his mother raised a good man.
That's what he thought. When he saw the red alarm clock read 2:00 A.M., he decided the best option would be to get a glass of water. However, his mind, clouded by drowsiness, thought the best idea would be to snoop in your things. He wasnt proud of it, but curiously would've killed the cat. He kept remembering how you acted when he took your notebook. How nervous you got when he held it up, as if there were nude pictures drawn throughout it.
Instead, when he picked up the note book, thousands of words filled his vision. He went to the most recent page and saw little squiggles that tied together. As he read, his face got more and more red. It was about him. Teenage thoughts about what him teaching you, about how it would be like to sit under his desk why he worked, riding him as told you how fantastic of a writer you are, it went on for pages.
Kyle sat up all night. He couldnt stop reading. His mind was flooded with everything you had thought and wrote about him. He was blushing more than the once schoolgirl who wrote it. He couldnt believe his eyes. When you stirred in the bed, its almost like his senses knew. He sprinted to the kitchen to put the note book where it was last found. His mistake; leaving one of the corners creased.
You came out to the kitchen in his clothes, yawning and running your fingers through your bed head. You acknowledge Kyle's presence on the couch, yet dont notice how hes sitting perfectly still with no distractions. You walk over to your things and grab your brush. As your de-tangling your hair, you notice your notrbook has a bump in it. You freeze, brush in hair. You never creased your pages. It was the biggest pet peeve you had.
You turned, face as pale as a ghost.
"No."
The only word you could say.
"Im sorry."
He responds. He already knew you knew and there was no point in denying it. He wasnt even ashamed anymore, the only thing he could sense was attraction. He couldnt hide the tent in his pants. He knew it was wrong, knew it could ruin his career if someone found out he went on a date with his ex student, let alone her staying in his house.
"I wanna talk about it. Please."
Behind the manners there was barely held restraint. He watched as you walked over, sitting on the floor in front of him. He wanted to groan at the sight of you sitting beneath him, looking up with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath, gathering anything to keep his cool.
"Baby I need to know when you first started writing those...stories."
Kyle paused, taking a breath. He goes to speak again, but you interrupt him.
"You read them without my permission."
He nods.
"And I said I'm sorry. I know it may not cut it, but I truly mean it. Now please, answer my question baby."
"First day of class."
He audibly groans.
"Yeah? Getting off to me that whole senior year? To your teacher?"
You shake your head.
"Tsk, I don't like liars. Youre much too smart to lie to me."
He shifts, adjusting himself. He looks down at you again. He pats his lap.
"C'mere."
"m'not an animal. I'll sit wherever I damn want to-"
"wasn't asking, sugar."
You hesitate, weighing your choices. You decide fighting wouldnt much help, so you give in to his demand. You straddle his lap, looking anywhere but his eyes.
"Why're you nervous? Didn't you write about this? No...'s more like..."
He moves your hips back and forth, rocking you in his lap. You stiffle a whimper into his shirt, grabbing with both hands like its life or death.
"You're an amazing writer...One of the best students I ever had. So incredibly intelligent. Such a smart girl..."
You can feel yourself dripping through his shorts. Sure enough, there's a damp spot where your body's were currently grinding.
"F-fuck Kyle.."
"Better be careful, too much swearing will get you in a lot of trouble. You dont want a detention to ruin your perfect record..."
He moves you down his body just enough to push his pants down. Eight inches stands proud in front of you, a bead of pre cum glistening down the thick length.
"Don't worry sugar, won't make you take all of it."
Kyle dips his hand under his shorts you were wearing. He runs his fingers up and down your slit gently. He rubs softly right above your clit, teasing you. He applies just enough pressure down to shoot sparks through your body. He uses his other hand to slowly stroke himself, getting off to the sight of you being pleased.
He rubs circles on your bud, getting you just wet enough to stretch one finger in. You weren't a virgin, but you hadn't taken something like Kyle's dick. He probably stretches you, now with two fingers in. He takes his time, feeling the ridges of your gummy walls. He keeps a strady pace, nothing too fast or slow. He stops touching himself so he can use his free hand to push your shorts farther down.
"I dont have a condom, I promise I'll pull out in time baby. I'm clean, I'll show proof-"
"I trust you Kyle. Please, I need it, need you..."
He takes the verbal consent and lifts you up, slowly placing you on his tip. He lets just the first inch in, taking everything as slow as he could. He waits for a sign of relief on your face before he brings you down a bit more. He continues this process till hes about half way, when you tense up.
"Oh...fuck sugar youre squeezing me tight.."
"A-are you almost fully in?"
"Yeah baby, just a..ngh! bit more..."
Once he finally has to seated down completely on him, a sweat bead drops from his forehead. He can hear your little whines of discomfort as you squirm in his lap. He puts his hand on your clit, feeling the warmth radiate off.
"Are you okay? I'll go when you're ready, sugar."
You take a few seconds to breathe as the stretch being a dull sensation. You nod, but Kyle still doesnt move.
"I need words, baby. C'mon, you got this."
"Need you...Kyle. Now.."
He takes this confirmation and slowly rocks his hips up into you. You match the space, rolling your own in tempo. Kyle's hands grip your hips, leaving behind little crevice moons from his nails. He was trying to hold on, but you just felt too damn good he couldn't think about anything but your tight gummy walls.
He moves his fingers to your clit and rubs looss circles as he picks up pace. He runs his hand from your hip to your neck, not squeezing but keeping his presence known. His hips buck up to meet you, growing desperate.
"Please...c'mon Sugar, need you to come with me okay? Can you do that? Just let go baby..."
You nod, whimpering and moaning as you try to keep up. Your orgasm comes quicker than you would've thought, blinding your eyes and causing you to scream. Kyle falls quickly after, picking you up and placing his dick behind your ass. He ruts himself up a few times. You feel the stickiness of his release coating your back. He breathes into your neck, whispering praise and affirmations.
"Did so well f'me...Are you feeling okay? Need anything?"
You shake your head, trying to catch your own breath.
"So glad I waited all that for you...Was worth the wait..."
MDNI: Teacher!Gaz implied age gap, teacher x past student, intoxication longish plot, smut,
Teacher!Kyle, or Mr. Garrick, first started teaching when you were in your last high school. The first week he was there, all the girls fanned over him. Tall, light skinned, young, genius. He was very invested with students writings, giving personalized assistance to each senior who cared enough for the help. He didnt assign heavy homework, but he was strict on following the school's curriculum.
The midterm in his class was a 4 page poem. Many students took a few days on this project, only starting it when told to. You read the syllabus in the beginning of the year, and had been perfecting this poem since day one. Mr. Garrick personally helped you after school everyday. Not only were you using this poem as a good grade in his class, you had planned to send it to the most prestigious colleges in the country.
You hadn't thought about writing as a career before your senior year. You were an overachiever, and loved the academic praise teachers gave you when your work was perfected. Starting a project early was not out of the ordinary for you, neither was asking for extra help from teachers. You had approached Mr. Garrick weeks before the midterm was due for help, and he gladly walked you through your writing and how to improve.
As the weeks went on, Mr. Garrick and you grew close, as appropriate as a teacher and student could be. He encouraged you further to pursue a writing career, and to send this poem and any others you had to any colleges in the country.
Very obviously you aced the midterm, and you were accepted into Columbia University shortly after sending the application and poem. You graduated high school with a weighted 4.25 GPA, and were on track to do great things in your future. You followed Mr. Garrick on Facebook to stay in touch, keeping a suitable relationship for the connection you two had.
Kyle kept a close eye on your posts. He noticed that you stopped posting about how excited you were to be going to college, any updates on short stories you made, and how your account slowly started to dwindle down. It was 2 years after you graduated when he finally sent you a text.
Kyle Garrick: Hey! How's college treating you? :)
Kyle watched as bubbles popped up and went away a few times. Finally, a response came through.
You: Didn't end up going.
Kyle stared at his phone for a few seconds trying to wrap his head around the reason why you, a perfect scholar, chose not to go to one of the best Universities in the United States.
Kyle Garrick: ..What?
Kyle didnt have to wait for a response this time, another chat sent right after his.
You: Couldn't afford it. Turns out the scholarship wasnt enough after all Mr Garrick :/
Kyle Garrick: Just Kyle. And I'm sorry to hear that. You were a fantastic writer.
After a few seconds of no response, Kyle started typing again.
Kyle Garrick: I was always caught up on your story posts. I was a very interested reader. I was dissapointed when the updates stopped coming.
Kyle set his phone down, a bit embarrassed by his actions. A double text? How old was he, sixteen? For God's sake he was almost thirty now, basically flirting with one of his old students. He was too busy wallowing in self pity to hear his phone ding with a notification.
You: Well I would love you fill you in over coffee sometime.
Kyle was stunned at this message. Was it bad that he was excited? No, its just a simple meeting between two people.
Kyle Garrick: Thursday at 3?
All he got back after that was a thumbs up.
Kyle was 30 minutes early to the meet up. He wanted to be early to pick a good spot for you, to ensure everything went perfect. He gave you details the day before of where to go, picking a spot you had posted about before your account went inactive.
He told himself it wasnt a date, just a hangout between people. You guys weren't friends, he used to be your teacher. It wouldn't be right to say "friends". Right?
You showed up in a linen skirt, a off the shoulder blouse, and that crocheted bag you made in his class during your free time. He had to clear his throat before standing up. He reached to shake your hand, but you lifted your arms for a hug. He stood shocked for a second, before cautiously putting hands hands around your middle back. He was barely touching you, keeping a comfortable distance.
"It's so nice to see you again Mr. Garrick!" You were as cheerful as ever, keeping a pleasant smile on your face.
"Oh please, call me Kyle." He smiled back, pulling out a chair for you. He took his own seat, and handed you one of the menus the waitress had left.
Kyle ordered a plain black coffee, and you ordered one of the special fruit refreshers they had at the moment.
"The teacher special, huh? Plain black coffee to soothe the soul."
You laughed, shooting a wink his direction. That caused a chuckle out of Kyle, making his face light up with the playful banter. The conversation was kept light, up until the drinks came. Kyle wanted to know more about you, since you graduated. What you were up to since you didnt go to college, what you really wanted to do once you got a bit older.
"So tell me. How old are you now? Gotta be atleast able to drink."
"Just turned 21 a few months back, though im not a fan of much. Alot of it just taste like piss if you had to ask me." You responded, rolling your eyes. "I dont get how people can just drink something and say, 'This is the best thing since sliced bread!' Or whatever you old people say."
This drew another laugh out his Kyle.
"Gosh you must think I lived with ancient Roman's or something." He joked back, trying to make you laugh. Which to his success you did, but in the process you dropped your bag off the table. Books, pencils, and a few random scraps fly out, and you jump to pick them all up.
Kyle helped by picking up a small book, but the label caught his attention. It read "Untitled Idea." He didnt open it, but he placed it on the table.
"Is this notes for the story you were writing?" He asked, not pushing but definitely curious.
You look up, and your eyes go wide. You snatched the book from his hands, stuffing it back in your bag. You sit back down in your seat, nervously laughing.
"Yeah, but its just ideas. I dont even have a plot lined out."
Kyle looks at you for a second longer, but decides to change the subject.
"So I checked the menu for food and it kind of...doesn't look too great. Would you want to-"
"Oh my gosh I know the best dive bar we could go to. Let's carpool!"
Kyle smiles, flattered by your eagerness. He leaves a twenty on the table to cover the bill and a tip.
He opens the door for you on the way out of the coffee shop, and then the passenger door to his car. He drives, following your directions to the dive bar. There is quite music playing in the background, to make the silence less awkward. By the time you get to the bar, its almost 7 P.M and its packed. People crowd together, the music is loud and very country, and there's the smell of food everywhere.
Kyle leads you to the nearest open spot, which happens to be on the bar. He orders himself a coke, keeping his role as the driver clear.
"What for you, something sweet to satisfy your young soul?"
"I'll just have a Cosmopolitan. Stick to what I know."
"Alright then sugar, whats 200 more grams of sweetness."
He gives the bartender his card and your ID's while you wait for your drink. You go to sit on a stool, and a guy accidently bumps into you. Kyle instinctively places a hand on your back to steady you. The guy apologizes and offers to pay, but you insist it was okay.
The drinks come and Kyle nurses his coke. He watches as you down two more drinks, and he can avidly see the change in your behavior. You drag him to the dance floor as music glares around. Kyle grabs your bag to make sure it doesnt get stolen before letting himself be taken to dance.
You run your hands through your hair and move your body in rhythm. He grooves with you, letting the music bresk the tension. Your hands start to wander as the music gets heavier. You move your touch towards his belt line, and Kyle has to take a deep breath. You're tipsy, it doesnt mean anything, he reminds himself. But as you lean in close to him, not yet whispering but speaking quietly, he finds it hard to resist.
"Kyle, I really wish we were together. alone. not in this stupid bar."
"Wasn't the bar your idea, sugar?"
You giggle, dropping your head to his chest. You run your fingers down lower, and he inhales sharply. He grabs your fingertips gently and pulls them up.
"Seems youre a bit too tipsy to handle, hm? Let's get you home."
"Your home. I don't want you to see mine."
Kyle goes to laugh, but your face is stone cold sober. He creases his brow but doesnt fight it.
"Alright, im sure I can make something work."
Kyle drives slow back to his own house. He wasnt sure how this would play out tomorrow morning. He was sure you'd be quieter again, probably force him to go pick up your car so you could go straight home. Or...maybe you'd stick around a bit longer. Talk to him, sit and eat breakfast. Maybe go out for more coffee. Plan a second date. But then again, you were quite unpredictable.
Once he got you inside, He showed you through his humble apartment. It wasn't a mansion, thats for sure. But it had character. It was small and comfortable, was obviously lived in and taken care of. He watched as you looked around for a bit, before planting yourself on his kitchen counter. You fidgeted with your skirt and emptied your bag next to you, as if sorting your things will make it any less obvious that your in Kyle's house.
"Make yourself at home. im going to go wash up in the bathroom, I can take the couch so you can have the bed if youd like. Just let me know what your most comfortable with."
With that he disappeared into the bathroom. He took a few minutes, so you did what he said. You made yourself comfortable by changing into a pair of shorts and a t shirt, both very obviously too big on you. You sprawled out onto the bed, marking your territory by bundling in the sheets. They smelled of pine and something dark, like Bourbon.
Kyle came out to see you almost lights out, so he took a pillow and a throw blanket from his drawer and make a bed on the couch. The couch was already much too small for him, but he was not about to crawl into a bed with a drunk woman. It wasn't right, no matter what he wanted his mother raised a good man.
That's what he thought. When he saw the red alarm clock read 2:00 A.M., he decided the best option would be to get a glass of water. However, his mind, clouded by drowsiness, thought the best idea would be to snoop in your things. He wasnt proud of it, but curiously would've killed the cat. He kept remembering how you acted when he took your notebook. How nervous you got when he held it up, as if there were nude pictures drawn throughout it.
Instead, when he picked up the note book, thousands of words filled his vision. He went to the most recent page and saw little squiggles that tied together. As he read, his face got more and more red. It was about him. Teenage thoughts about what him teaching you, about how it would be like to sit under his desk why he worked, riding him as told you how fantastic of a writer you are, it went on for pages.
Kyle sat up all night. He couldnt stop reading. His mind was flooded with everything you had thought and wrote about him. He was blushing more than the once schoolgirl who wrote it. He couldnt believe his eyes. When you stirred in the bed, its almost like his senses knew. He sprinted to the kitchen to put the note book where it was last found. His mistake; leaving one of the corners creased.
You came out to the kitchen in his clothes, yawning and running your fingers through your bed head. You acknowledge Kyle's presence on the couch, yet dont notice how hes sitting perfectly still with no distractions. You walk over to your things and grab your brush. As your de-tangling your hair, you notice your notrbook has a bump in it. You freeze, brush in hair. You never creased your pages. It was the biggest pet peeve you had.
You turned, face as pale as a ghost.
"No."
The only word you could say.
"Im sorry."
He responds. He already knew you knew and there was no point in denying it. He wasnt even ashamed anymore, the only thing he could sense was attraction. He couldnt hide the tent in his pants. He knew it was wrong, knew it could ruin his career if someone found out he went on a date with his ex student, let alone her staying in his house.
"I wanna talk about it. Please."
Behind the manners there was barely held restraint. He watched as you walked over, sitting on the floor in front of him. He wanted to groan at the sight of you sitting beneath him, looking up with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath, gathering anything to keep his cool.
"Baby I need to know when you first started writing those...stories."
Kyle paused, taking a breath. He goes to speak again, but you interrupt him.
"You read them without my permission."
He nods.
"And I said I'm sorry. I know it may not cut it, but I truly mean it. Now please, answer my question baby."
"First day of class."
He audibly groans.
"Yeah? Getting off to me that whole senior year? To your teacher?"
You shake your head.
"Tsk, I don't like liars. Youre much too smart to lie to me."
He shifts, adjusting himself. He looks down at you again. He pats his lap.
"C'mere."
"m'not an animal. I'll sit wherever I damn want to-"
"wasn't asking, sugar."
You hesitate, weighing your choices. You decide fighting wouldnt much help, so you give in to his demand. You straddle his lap, looking anywhere but his eyes.
"Why're you nervous? Didn't you write about this? No...'s more like..."
He moves your hips back and forth, rocking you in his lap. You stiffle a whimper into his shirt, grabbing with both hands like its life or death.
"You're an amazing writer...One of the best students I ever had. So incredibly intelligent. Such a smart girl..."
You can feel yourself dripping through his shorts. Sure enough, there's a damp spot where your body's were currently grinding.
"F-fuck Kyle.."
"Better be careful, too much swearing will get you in a lot of trouble. You dont want a detention to ruin your perfect record..."
He moves you down his body just enough to push his pants down. Eight inches stands proud in front of you, a bead of pre cum glistening down the thick length.
"Don't worry sugar, won't make you take all of it."
Kyle dips his hand under his shorts you were wearing. He runs his fingers up and down your slit gently. He rubs softly right above your clit, teasing you. He applies just enough pressure down to shoot sparks through your body. He uses his other hand to slowly stroke himself, getting off to the sight of you being pleased.
He rubs circles on your bud, getting you just wet enough to stretch one finger in. You weren't a virgin, but you hadn't taken something like Kyle's dick. He probably stretches you, now with two fingers in. He takes his time, feeling the ridges of your gummy walls. He keeps a strady pace, nothing too fast or slow. He stops touching himself so he can use his free hand to push your shorts farther down.
"I dont have a condom, I promise I'll pull out in time baby. I'm clean, I'll show proof-"
"I trust you Kyle. Please, I need it, need you..."
He takes the verbal consent and lifts you up, slowly placing you on his tip. He lets just the first inch in, taking everything as slow as he could. He waits for a sign of relief on your face before he brings you down a bit more. He continues this process till hes about half way, when you tense up.
"Oh...fuck sugar youre squeezing me tight.."
"A-are you almost fully in?"
"Yeah baby, just a..ngh! bit more..."
Once he finally has to seated down completely on him, a sweat bead drops from his forehead. He can hear your little whines of discomfort as you squirm in his lap. He puts his hand on your clit, feeling the warmth radiate off.
"Are you okay? I'll go when you're ready, sugar."
You take a few seconds to breathe as the stretch being a dull sensation. You nod, but Kyle still doesnt move.
"I need words, baby. C'mon, you got this."
"Need you...Kyle. Now.."
He takes this confirmation and slowly rocks his hips up into you. You match the space, rolling your own in tempo. Kyle's hands grip your hips, leaving behind little crevice moons from his nails. He was trying to hold on, but you just felt too damn good he couldn't think about anything but your tight gummy walls.
He moves his fingers to your clit and rubs looss circles as he picks up pace. He runs his hand from your hip to your neck, not squeezing but keeping his presence known. His hips buck up to meet you, growing desperate.
"Please...c'mon Sugar, need you to come with me okay? Can you do that? Just let go baby..."
You nod, whimpering and moaning as you try to keep up. Your orgasm comes quicker than you would've thought, blinding your eyes and causing you to scream. Kyle falls quickly after, picking you up and placing his dick behind your ass. He ruts himself up a few times. You feel the stickiness of his release coating your back. He breathes into your neck, whispering praise and affirmations.
"Did so well f'me...Are you feeling okay? Need anything?"
You shake your head, trying to catch your own breath.
"So glad I waited all that for you...Was worth the wait..."
In my opinion, I think Simon!Riley would hate the mask.
He wore it when out, and during combat situations. However he wouldn't wear it in his home. He hates the itchy cotton on his face, the way it picked at his scars and left red marks all over. He had tries different masks, but none were intimidating enough for battle. He even wore them on dates, but as soon as he was home he took off the balaclava before his suit.
It helped that he didn't have any reflective surfaces in his house as well. He didn't need to check his hair, he kept it in a short buzz. All his outfits were tailored to him, giving a perfect fit everytime. He didn't have a mirror in his bathroom, his metal services were scratched with what seemed to have been metal wool, and all windows were always covered with blinds.
When Simon met you, he kept the mask on during the dates. When he strongly convinced you to come home with him, he struggled to focus at any point in time because his mind was on how uncomfortable the mask was. He was used to being free in his own home, but if he were to take it off, he was afraid he would scare you.
He went to the bathroom on many occasions when you were over. You followed Simon to check on him, but he shut the door in your face. This was not before you saw there was a ripped slab of wood above his sink where a mirror should be.
Simon took off the mask while he splashed himself with some water. He took some deep breaths before opening the door, completely forgetting his mask. He doesnt realize until he sees you outside the bathroom, staring up at him. Once the cool breeze of the fan hits his face, he immediately pulls his shirt up to cover it.
Instead of freaking out, he hears you chuckling under your breath. He looks up, confused and a little frightened himself.
"..wuts so funny luv?"
He picks up his eyes from the inside of his shirt, just enough to see you above the fabric.
"hpmh..you hiding like a cat.."
You try to suppress your giggles, but a few slip out. Simon is visibly frustrated now. He was scared to show you himself, and did it on accident out of all things, and now youre laughing??
You take a few steps closer, running a hand up his now visible abdomen. You glide your fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt and tug it down gently, forcing him to show his face. You dont take your hand off him, in fact you move it lower to his belt line.
"I think the scars are...sexy, Simon. I just wish I was there one to give em to you...not some selfish prick."
He visibly swallows, steadying himself by placing his hands on your lower hips. As you move your hand even lower, he drops his head into your neck. His neck is bright red, and you can hear his breathing quickening in your ear. He can barely speak without quivering, but he manages a whole sentence.
"..Why don' ya give me some mor' scars then, lovie? Gotta plan canvas on my back for ya.."
i wanted to add more but I wanted to post somethinnnggggg
maybe ill make a part 2 with the smut added π«£π«£
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
You had been placed into the mental ward atleast once for attempts, and the rule was you werent permitted to be a solider. However at the Military Entrance Processing Station, you claimed long term stability and they allowed it.
The first bad sign was when you first got into training. You were dedicated to your craft, yet didnt speak unless spoken to. You were first to volunteer for examples, first to be a test dummy, basically anything to show your worth.
Deeper into your years, you would study the gun longer than necessary at the facility. Not just look at longer than you should, but carefully clean it, examine different parts, and change things with such caution your fellow soldiers couldnt help but stare.
Once placed into combat, you pushed your self to the front. You would jump in front of stray bullets for the people around you, or move just shy of something to prove you werent careless. Many of the members noticed, and had reported the incidents to Captain Price. He watched you closer, forced the people around you to be kinder.
He noticed a shift in your demeanor. You took less time with the gun, took care of yourself more when faced with trouble, and even ducked when you heard a stray bullet. It was small, but it was progress nonetheless.
THIS WAS INSPIREDDDD
If anyone can find the piece that im looking for please comment the user of the author so I can give credit
cw: mdni 18+, non-curse AU, pathetic!choso, submissive!choso, eating you out
word count: 821
...
"Y/N, i'm sorry," he says "Please forgive me"
You had just come out the shower, drying your hair, still upset at him. But you couldn't help but appreciate the way he was apologising to you. You hadn't said a word to him since the argument, and slammed the door to take a shower.
His hooded eyes looking at you β pleading. He couldn't stand seeing you mad, it made him put his ego aside and simply beg you till you forgave him.
This time you really weren't giving in easy.
"Please," he gets on his knees right beside you and holds your hips, placing his head on your lower stomach, where your towel almost ended.
He looks up at you, chin resting on you, tears welling up in his eyes. It caused him physical pain to see you ignore him.
He couldn't help but think you looked so stunning from this angle. Small droplets of water trickling down from your hair to his face, combining with his tears.
He was completely and utterly obsessed with you β begging you for mercy. He had zero shame for you. Zero dignity.
Nothing else mattered to him right now, other than gaining a bit of your validation β which just might send him to orbit at this point.
"How can I make it up to you?" he asks softly. You look down at him, wiping the tears from his face with your thumb, his flushed supple skin, trembling under your touch.
He almost whimpered at the simple touch from you, eyes closing trying to take this all in. His grip on your hips tightening, eagerly waiting for a response.
You slowly unravelled your towel, throwing it to the ground.
He almost cried at the sight of you. He traced the edges and curves of your body with his dark brown orbs, filthy worshipping thoughts in his mind. You held his face, taking one look at him before telling him.
"Kiss me"
He takes one longing look at you, before taking one long lick between your legs. His broad shoulders spreading you open, causing you to lean against the bathroom sink β never breaking eye-contact.
He drags his tongue across your inner folds, circling your clit before sucking on it's tip, causing you to arch your back and grind into his mouth. He whimpers into your pussy from the sheer taste of you, his hands wandering and grabbing your thighs to hold you still.
"I'm so sorry" he muffles against your pussy. His tongue flicked to the bottom of your cunt, basically making out with your hole out of control, making your eyes roll back at his shameless desperation.
You grab a hold of his messy brown hair, knotted between your fingers, pulling him in deeper. He sucks on your swollen clit, devouring it like it was his last meal.
"Forgive me" Buried between your thighs, he watched your every reaction β making sure to suck on just the right spot that made you tremble and moan above him.
"You're so fucking...pretty" he whines below you, tongue flattening and stroking through your slit, sloppy wet sounds was all you could hear from his face. You rode his face, rubbing your clit on his nose, while his tongue pushes inside you in sloppy strokes β responding with stifled pathetic groans.
Your thighs clench around his face, the vibration from his moaning helping you reach your peak. He lets you take the lead, responding to your hand fisted in his hair, grabbing the countertop to keep balance from the mere force of his face eating you out. He was so greedy.
"You taste so...nghh.. good" he can't even form words from the downright need he had for your wet cunt. He's drowning under the weight of you and he wants more.
Your hips start rolling harder in his mouth, smothering him with your pussy, his cheeks and tongue completely coated with your juices. He slides a finger into your folds. Needy.
He whimpers the more you ride him, reaching your climax and finally cumming on his face, both of you moaning in unison. He holds your hips in place, slurping you up fast as you gushed on him.
He doesn't leave between your thighs, staying there just admiring you from below, kissing your soaked and swollen clit, tongue darting in to get every drop of you and licking his lips.
You bring him up holding his face, and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He melts into you, kissing you back with more passion than ever. Like he was ready for round two.
"I forgive you" you mumble against his lips. He grins like he's the happiest man alive and kisses you again.
"Please let me kiss you again" he says, definitely not insinuating your face.
...
a/n: yikes this was feral asf lemme calm down lmaoo
Six foot somethinβ, broad as a doorframe, tattooed arms, permanent frown carved into his face like stone. The kind of man who could walk into a room and make conversations die mid-sentence.
Which was exactly why the bright pink lunchbox sitting on the briefing table looked so absurd.
Soap stared at it.
Then at Simon.
Then back at the lunchbox covered in tiny white hearts.
ββ¦That yours, LT?β
Simon didnβt even glance up from cleaning his sidearm. βObviously.β
Gaz coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Price suddenly found the paperwork in his hands very interesting. Soap, unfortunately, feared nothing.
βChrist alive.β he muttered, lifting the lunchbox by two fingers. βItβs got a bow on it.β
Simonβs eyes lifted slowly.
Dangerously.
Soap set it back down immediately. The room went quiet for all of three seconds before Gaz spotted the sticky note attached to the handle.
Pink ink. Curly handwriting.
Donβt forget to actually eat today. I mean it!β β‘
There was even a lipstick kiss pressed onto the corner. Soap made a strangled noise. βSHE LEFT YE A WEE KISS MARK.β
Simon took the note off carefully before Soap could touch it with his grubby hands. He folded it once and tucked it into the pocket of his vest with complete seriousness, like it was something precious.
Because it was.
βYou keep those?β Gaz asked before he could stop himself. Simon gave him a look that practically said watch your mouth.
βAye.β
The boys exchanged glances.
Not because Simon had a partner. They all knew that. And not because Simon was soft with you. They knew that too. It was the fact he never acted embarrassed about it.
Ever.
Didnβt hide the matching pink phone charger you bought him because he βalways stole yours anyway.β Didnβt complain when you painted tiny strawberries on his phone case. Didnβt care that his keys now had fluffy pink pompoms hanging off them because youβd smiled so proudly while showing him. The man simply accepted every little piece of you with both hands.
Like loving you loudly was the easiest thing in the world.
Later that afternoon, Simon finally opened the lunchbox during break. Inside was organized chaos. Pink Tupperware containers stacked perfectly. Heart-shaped strawberries. A sandwich cut neatly in half. Little notes tucked everywhere.
One on the drinkβ
Hydrate or Iβll become evil.
One on the fruitβ
Youβre handsome. Thatβs unrelated, I just thought you should know.
And one folded beneath the sandwich.
Simon opened it quietly.
Miss you already. Come home safe so I can kiss you properly instead of leaving lipstick on paper.
His eyes softened instantly.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Just enough that Price noticed from across the room and looked away to give the man some privacy. Soap, however, leaned over his shoulder with zero survival instinct.
βAwwwwββ
Simon shoved him back without heat.
βPiss off.β
But there was no bite to it.
Soap grinned. βYe love that shite.β
Simon took another bite of his sandwich.
βAye.β he answered simply.
No hesitation.
No shame.
Just certainty.
Because you loved pink things. Cute things. Soft things.
18+ only / all characters are 18+. corruption kink. tummy bulge. squirting. previous. | masterlist.
Simon Riley who says 'sorry' over and over while fucking innocent!reader, as though a crime were taking place as he hovers over your body.
It certainly feels like one: his big, bearish hands pinning your knees open while he carves inside of you with his mean, girthy dick, and a pair of adoring, wet eyes staring back at him making his chest pinch with guiltβand yet, makes his cockhead leak precum. This is an atrocity. Milky moonlit rays cloak the bedroom in a weak glow that don't quite reach his hulking, shadowy silhouette atop of you; a beast poised to strike. I'm sorry, he says at the ladylike bashfulness written across your face, at the panic that slowly but surely descends upon it when you realize that the danger your family tells you to steer clear of has already made its way to you, your breath growing short as you tussle with him shyly. Fruitlessly. You're powerless to stop him, and you think blissfully that that absolves you of responsibility for breaking your parents' rules.
'Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't help myself,' he breathes out shakily, hardly able to lookβat the naked expanse of your skin right beneath his fingertips, far too pristine for the likes of him. But he does look. He looks, morals be damned, with the hunger of a starved man. Nothing more, nothing less, because flowery words or elaborate metaphors aren't quite apt for a feeling so simple-minded and unembellishedβso base as the appetite you stir within him.
He feels the bulge rise under his palm as he bottoms out, watches the outline of his dick through your soft belly in twisted fascination. It feels like going to the moon and staking a flag. It feels like he's taken estate over you, within you, squeezing his body into the tight space. Forcing it to fit. He wants to make a home right here, where his palm presses down upon, making your shaky thighs squeeze around him. Quivers going through your legs like a bowstringβthe tension snapping in a messy release that sprays the sheets under your hips, trickling down your inner thighs. The embarrassment in your cherubic face does little to deter him, his palm steady in place as you feel his shaft sawing inside you, curved and thick. It feels like he's molding you to his cock; he feels like you're milking him.
Apologizing doesn't make him a better man by any means. It speaks less of a moral man than of a sick pervert who merely can't control himself. (A victim of his own desires, thatβs all. Thereβs even a kind of indulgence in the effortβlike a masturbatory pat on the back, that he tried and failed, sadly, to stay away from the pretty little thingβher, sweet and ruinousβ)
He's sorry, he says, and the wrongness of it makes his dick even harder. If he had nothing to be sorry for, perhaps it wouldn't feel quite as transfixing.
π§ΰ§ hi there ! gentle reminder that likes & reblogs are some of the best ways to support authors here, they make a huge difference! β‘
In my opinion, I think Simon!Riley would hate the mask.
He wore it when out, and during combat situations. However he wouldn't wear it in his home. He hates the itchy cotton on his face, the way it picked at his scars and left red marks all over. He had tries different masks, but none were intimidating enough for battle. He even wore them on dates, but as soon as he was home he took off the balaclava before his suit.
It helped that he didn't have any reflective surfaces in his house as well. He didn't need to check his hair, he kept it in a short buzz. All his outfits were tailored to him, giving a perfect fit everytime. He didn't have a mirror in his bathroom, his metal services were scratched with what seemed to have been metal wool, and all windows were always covered with blinds.
When Simon met you, he kept the mask on during the dates. When he strongly convinced you to come home with him, he struggled to focus at any point in time because his mind was on how uncomfortable the mask was. He was used to being free in his own home, but if he were to take it off, he was afraid he would scare you.
He went to the bathroom on many occasions when you were over. You followed Simon to check on him, but he shut the door in your face. This was not before you saw there was a ripped slab of wood above his sink where a mirror should be.
Simon took off the mask while he splashed himself with some water. He took some deep breaths before opening the door, completely forgetting his mask. He doesnt realize until he sees you outside the bathroom, staring up at him. Once the cool breeze of the fan hits his face, he immediately pulls his shirt up to cover it.
Instead of freaking out, he hears you chuckling under your breath. He looks up, confused and a little frightened himself.
"..wuts so funny luv?"
He picks up his eyes from the inside of his shirt, just enough to see you above the fabric.
"hpmh..you hiding like a cat.."
You try to suppress your giggles, but a few slip out. Simon is visibly frustrated now. He was scared to show you himself, and did it on accident out of all things, and now youre laughing??
You take a few steps closer, running a hand up his now visible abdomen. You glide your fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt and tug it down gently, forcing him to show his face. You dont take your hand off him, in fact you move it lower to his belt line.
"I think the scars are...sexy, Simon. I just wish I was there one to give em to you...not some selfish prick."
He visibly swallows, steadying himself by placing his hands on your lower hips. As you move your hand even lower, he drops his head into your neck. His neck is bright red, and you can hear his breathing quickening in your ear. He can barely speak without quivering, but he manages a whole sentence.
"..Why don' ya give me some mor' scars then, lovie? Gotta plan canvas on my back for ya.."
i wanted to add more but I wanted to post somethinnnggggg
maybe ill make a part 2 with the smut added π«£π«£
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Simon wasn't a fan of sweets. He grew up with whatever food was available for the taking, which usually wasn't much. He was used to the plain rationed food from the 141, so even when he was on leave he kept his meals short and bland.
You on the other hand had been baking since you came out of the womb. You're mom owned a cake shop, so you learned measuring before you learned to read. Even now as an adult it was common for you to bake when stressed or when something was on your mind. It wasn't out of the ordinary for you to whip up a batch of cookies when you couldnt sleep, when studies got too hard, or even when you and Simon fought.
Simon always thought it was strange that the day after fights there would be an arrangement of cookies on the counter. He always assumed you bought a box to indulge in during stressful times, but never noticed that the count of the treats only declined when he ate them. Simon would sneak a few here and there, but would never admit that he liked sweet things. He felt guilty, eating something that wasn't going to help him physically. It was a waste of materials in his mind, especially if you bought them for yourself.
He only found out they were homemade when he caught you up one night, washing your hands in the kitchen sink. The whole house smelled of baked goods, which made Simon confused. You didn't care to keep candles in the house, as they were a hazard and easily knocked over. When he saw the mess of dishes in the drying rack next to you, it clicked. The whole time Simon thought you bought the treats, you were making them. He wondered why the store bought tasted so damn good.
"masterlist" nah homie its a checklist and I READ IT ALL RAAAAHHH 200/10 KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK
(also for possible ideas maybe any of the guys with someone who bakes a lot? i used to just make a bunch of cookies and bread at night when i couldnt sleep and i think it could be such a funny/cute fluffy thing of them adjusting to the random treats in the house)
Ask and you shall receive. (IM BACK I SWEAR IVE JUST BEEN BUSY) (STAY ALERT PPL ILL HAVE SMTH TONIGHT I SWEAR)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
hypnotizing you right now ooooo you wanna write more gaz stuff so badly omggggg what is happening to you rn oooooo post more gaz stuff ooooooo
-frog guy :]
fineeee...I suppose.... (DONT HAVE TO ASK ME TWICE)
You had been sitting outside your apartment for 10 minutes, waiting on your date. You had met this reslly cute guy at the grocery store and he asked you for coffee. He said he would "be round yours 'bout 3," and yet its almost 3:30 with not even a text.
Kyle knocks on the window to your shared apartment to catch your attention, mouthing probably "I told you so." With a quick flip of the bird, you turn back towards the road. You hear the door open and footsteps approach, but you dont turn back around. He doesnt get a word out before you speak.
"He is coming. He seemed genuine."
"Right. I'm the pope."
You turn to him, confused. He smiles and says,
"Thought we were playing two truths and a lie but...just 2 lies."
You grumble a cuss under your breath, wishing terrible things would happen to him instead of you. Kyle taps his foot, his watch, and after a few seconds your shoulder.
"You never told me his name. Maybe he's one of my mates and I can call him up. Tell 'em, 'dont waste your time, shes a prude' or somethin-"
You swat his arm, causing him to flinch.
"Its John something...Mc...right! McTavish."
He blinks at you for a beat, then laughs. Hard. You stand next to him in shock, wondering what the hell got into him. After he collects himself, he speaks again.
"Oh yeah, he definitely did NOT mean it. That guy...oh boy. All he does is party and fuck. Not something you want to be around."
"Maybe ive changed. Maybe I wanna be a party girl."
Kyle bursts into another fit of laughter, doubling over. You push him again, causing him to stumble.
"alright alright. Just let me know when he doesnt show and I'll make the snacks for a movie, luv."
You wait patiently for another 30 minutes, before your heels start to dig into your feet. You stomp back inside the house before ripping off your shoes and slamming the door. Kyle sighs from the couch before walking over to you, opening his arms. You dont hesitate before walking over and hugging him, burying your face into his shoulder.
Kyle tries to hide his smile. He knew John. Infact he found out that McTavish invited you on a date, and all but threatened his life. You were his girl, and he needed you to realize that. And if by scaring off all of the guys that hit on you was the answer, he would do it over and over again.
Thank you so much for the ask!!! let me know if this was up to your standards my royal highness
