salemlovespies

[salemlovespies]

Running In Circles [Kyle "Gaz" Garrick]

Summary: It's always the next person. But never him. You're running circles around him, so Kyle decides to play catch.

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader

Warnings: angst with a capital A by the buckets, unrequited love (but it's actually requited), pick-me behaviour (not from reader), fuckboi behaviour (not from Gaz), confrontations, fear of losing friendships, soft!gaz, protective!gaz, they're idiots your honour.

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Welcome to Angstville, motherfuckers. This was supposed to be for Gazfest, but unfortunately, I couldn't finish it on time. But anyway, that didn't stop me from finishing it anyway. Loosely based on this by @luminousbeings-crudematter who was kind enough to lend me the idea because it tickled my brain (thank you, btw), although I'll probably write a smuttier version of this at a later time because didn't quite turn out the way i wanted (my brain wanted smut but my fingers typed angst so here we are). This was a bit rushed because the deadline was today and i couldn't meet it, but i do hope you all enjoy this.

February 7th.

Every time Kyle goes away on deployment, he’s stuck between wanting to wait for a chance with you or trying to forget about you altogether. Somehow, he walks the line of both sides and the most terrifying thing to him is loving you, yet never getting to see you again.

The week before Valentine’s Day was an absolute nightmare. Watching you kiss your new boyfriend filled him with a kind of wrath that he only felt on the battlefield. It was bad enough that you’ve dated two of his mutual friends. Even worse when you’ve confessed to kissing another one at a party and sleeping with another one as a way to de-stress.

Now, don’t get him wrong. It’s not the fact that you’re fooling around with people that bothers him. It’s the fact that you’re circling around everyone but him.

The bouquet of roses he’d gotten for you went into the nearest dumpster and he walked home. He had hoped that maybe today might have been the day when he takes a chance. But it seems like you had other plans for the holiday.

He didn’t know that you were even talking to anyone until now. You were illusive like that. Kept your business to your chest. No one knows anything about you unless they were close to you or if they heard things about you from other people.

Though most of that is just rumours.

He listens to you singing to yourself whilst getting ready for your date and hates himself for pretending like you didn’t just stab him in the heart when you asked him how you looked.

“Perfect.” he smiles and it’s genuine. “You look absolutely perfect.”

Because you are.

You blinked, your expression faltering and for a moment Kyle thinks he spilled his guts out to you. But you’re quick to smile right back and hide your thoughts before he can peer into them and continue applying your make-up.

He looks back to his phone and swallows down the scream that threatens to tear itself from his throat. It was much easier to do just that than admit that he’s not bleeding on the inside.

February 13th.

You went on two more dates with a mutual friend. Kyle doesn’t particularly like this individual. He’s only been forced to be within his proximity for social gathering, but that was about it. So having to watch you get dolled up and ready for him, like you’ve done with some of his other friends as well, was painstakingly heartbreaking.

On this day, however, it was your turn to storm into the house, fuming. You drop your handbag onto the sofa and head straight for your room. The door slams not moments later.

Kyle knows not to follow you, no matter how much concern nags at the back of his mind. Better to let you cool off for a minute.

An hour later, he’s ordered food and had it ready to eat. You were still in your room, so he knocks. There’s no answer. He gently pushes the door opens. There’s a heap of blankets on your bed and he suspects you’re under it.

A few minutes of shuffling the blankets to the side and he peels back the covers to find you silently crying. The worst part about it was that you were still dressed up and hadn’t bothered to take off your make-up. Still glammed up and gorgeous for another idiot who doesn’t deserve you.

Kyle frowns, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey…”

You barely acknowledge his presence with a low unintelligible noise that he couldn’t understand because you’re laying face down on your pillow. He turns your head a little to the side to hear you better.

Your eyes were smudged with mascara and tears and he immediately wanted to pull you into his arms.

“It was a dare.” you sobbed. “It was a fucking dare…”

“What was?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you turn your gaze away from him, reluctant to say anything at all. You looked so drained, it hurt. Because not a few hours ago, you were bubbling with radiance and a killer smile that made him fall for you all over again.

“Hey…” He softly prodded, rubbing your back. When that didn’t work, he removes his shoes and settles under the covers with you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Come on, love. Talk to me.”

This is the part he loves and hates the most. Holding you in his arms and pretending you’re his. This love wasn’t meant to be, but the yearning, apparently, is meant to last. He’s selfish enough to breathe in your scent as you settle between his legs and lay your head on his chest.

You finally calmed down after an hour. When you started to explain, Kyle wipes the tears off your cheeks, even when your eyes still glisten.

The dare, as you told him, was exactly that. The guy you were kissing, Nathan, a friend of his, was dared by his own circle of friends to kiss you and supposedly tell you that he likes you, when that was far from the truth. So when this morning when you went to talk to him about the kiss and the way forward to possibly start a relationship, you got a call from another girl, Nathan’s ex-girlfriend, that he had planned to sleep with you on Valentine’s Day and dump you the day after.

She told you that she was there, eavesdropping on his friends when the dare was made but didn’t know how to contact you until the plan had been in motion. You were still glad that she made the effort to say something anyway, especially before the supposed ‘special day’ of the season.

Either way, the entire situation was fucked up. Even if you hadn’t been with Nathan for that long, he had been your friend for many years.

Kyle has to remind himself that he can’t actually go and punch someone in the face in a civilian setting because he might get slapped with assault charges and a restraining order. Not a good look for him, but he is considering it.

Instead, he rubs your back and tells you, “I ordered something for us to eat. Come on.”

You dig your face further into your pillow, refusing to let him pull you out of bed, murmuring, “I’m not hungry.”

“Regardless.” He hauls you to sit up, ignoring the sound of resistance you make while trying to shove him off with weak hands. He holds onto your arms to make sure you don’t twist away from him, speaking in a stern tone, “You haven’t eaten anything since last night.”

“But I had breakfast.” you counter, ceasing your struggles.

He rolls his eyes. “Chocolate biscuits are not breakfast. Those are snacks.”

You regard him for a long while with bleary eyes. “Cookies, Kyle.” you grumbled lowly. “They’re cookies.”

He smiles for the first time since he saw you.

Kyle helps to wipe what was left of your make-up off. He’s very gentle with his actions, very careful not to be too rough with the moist wipes on your skin. And very focused too.

You watch his expression when he softly commands you to close an eye so he can wipe off the eyeliner and then the other. You’re overly aware of the warmth of his hand seeping into the back of your neck. These hands that have held weapons of destruction, have taken lives with a knife too, probably. These are the same hands being tender with you.

It’s not the first time he’s been this way. He’s always treated you like you were made of glass, regardless if you were bawling your eyes out on a Thursday night or not. Making sure you’ve eaten because “girl dinner is not a proper meal, love” and cheering you up just because he doesn’t like seeing you cry and wallow in your own pit of despair.

Opening doors for you became a common occurrence whenever you hang out with Kyle outside of your shared space. He lets you wear his jacket or his hoodie when it gets too cold outside. Presses a kiss on your temple, compliments you whenever he can. Buying your favourite food when you’re feeling down, like right now. Hell, he’ll hold your hand and pretend to be your boyfriend if any man was getting a little too aggressive.

All of it makes you feel giddy inside. But you wonder if he’s just being a friendly, over-protective roommate or… or if…

Perfect. You look absolutely perfect.

You looked at him through the mirror, stunned by the sincerity in his voice. The warmth in his eyes made you shy for some odd reason. Compliments from Kyle are not new to you. This one just feels…

You struggle not to let the heat rushing to your face deter you from completing the look as you bring the brush to your cheeks.

And that wasn’t the first time something like this happened. There were moments in time that made you truly wonder if there was something more on his end. Moments where you’ve felt him stare for a little too long, when he took a little too long to let go of your hand. Like he wasn’t telling you something for the sake of keeping things cordial. After all, it was difficult to find a roommate you can get along with.

You’ve held back from exploring that for the same reason and because his friendship means more to you than many might realize. It’s a comfort zone. A safe space. Kyle brings that level of safety you’ve never felt with anyone else. With any man, at least.

You glance at him from across the kitchen counter. He’s on the couch, watching a movie that he picked while you’re preparing hot cocoa. He had insisted on making it himself because he didn’t want you lifting a finger, but you wanted to just feel productive after a hard day.

When you hand him his cup, he drapes an arm over your shoulder and pulls you a little closer.

It’s unclear to you how he feels. Because one part of you says he might feel this attraction too but the other half doesn’t want you being delusional and ruining a good thing.

You both watch the movie, enjoying the silence between you and him. You listen to his steady breaths, his steady heart. His fingers trace little shapes on your bare shoulder, and you breathe in his scent. He still smells like the cologne he put on this morning. It makes you feel hazy and warm inside.

He always smells good. That fact always annoys you for some reason. He smells good and it makes you fucking weak. You want to melt right into his embrace, but heavily decide against it. Falling into another situationship is the last thing you need right now.

Instead, you stand up and take your empty cups to the sink. When you come back, he’s still there, waiting for you to rejoin him. You sit a little further away from him this time and curl into yourself.

If Kyle has a problem with it, he doesn’t voice his issue. Rather, he shifts closer to you and cups your cheeks in his hands to make you look at him. You gulp thickly, uneasy when you look into his eyes. Damn him and his stupid brown eyes.

Stupid… puppy-eyed, compassionate brown eyes.

“He didn’t deserve you anyway.” he murmured softly. “He’s a fucking prick who should’ve never gotten your time of day. You deserve someone who would treat you like a queen.”

You blinked slowly, unable to voice your thoughts. Was he… no, he’s just trying to make you feel better. He’s just being nice. He doesn’t want you to feel down. He doesn’t–

You look absolutely perfect.

His smile. Tight smile. It hides a lie. It hides everything. But the truth is in his eyes. There it is, see? He gazes at you in awe. Like he’s… like he’s... enchanted.

Fuck, why is he so kind? It would be so much easier not to like him if he was mean.

“Thanks, Kyle…” you barely whispered.

He doesn’t draw his hands away. Doesn’t pull away from you. He’s so close– much closer than you realized. His nose is touching yours. His eyes trail a little lower to… your lips.

Just a kiss, something in you whispers. Just one little kiss won’t hurt.

It would hurt. It would devastate you. You know it.

But you make no effort to pull away, trapped by him. You want to feel his lips on yours. The thought of it makes you ache inside. You can’t think of anything you’ve wanted more until now–

The phone rings, startling you both.

Kyle pulls away from you as if you’ve burned him while you sluggishly move back, struggling to comprehend. You take deep breaths, blinking, watching his expression; it’s startled, as if he just realized that he’s made a horrible, horrible mistake.

You swallow the lump in your throat and reach for your phone. You don’t talk to him for the rest of the night.

February 14th.

You’re startled by the flush of deep red the moment you opened the door.

A stunned silence follows on your end as you take in the sight. Kyle asked you to open the door for him because he forgot his key. Wasn’t a lie. You only realized this a few hours after he left the building.

You thought he went out on a date… your heart twinged slightly at the thought. But no.

Kyle stands before you with a large bouquet of roses and a nervous smile on his face.

���Happy Valentine’s Day.” he announces, stepping through the threshold of the doorway. “Figured since the other guy flopped, I might step in for a bit to make you feel better.”

“Kyle…” You were at a loss for words.

He offers the bouquet. You took them with timid hands, scared that you might drop them. “Do you like them?”

They’re beautiful. Probably expensive as fuck too. You weren’t sure if you would’ve spent this much on yourself, yet here he was doing it for you. You couldn’t even get your second boyfriend to get you a cheap daisy, but Kyle brought these. Without a second thought. Without making a fuss about it.

All while thinking about how it would make you feel better. All while knowing that you were going to spend the day in your bed, watching sad romance movies, thinking about a man who hurt you for a good laugh.

This was… god, you think you might just cry.

“I love them…” you whispered, inhaling their lovely scent and looked at him with tearful eyes. “They’re wonderful, Kyle. Thank you so much.”

You hugged him. Your chest grew tighter with each second but you were so so happy. Kyle made you happy. Your heart ached with a quiet kind of yearning for him, for all that he’s done, for all that he makes you feel, for all he is.

You’ve only dreamed of a charming prince like him. Thinking that he exists seemed absurd until now because he’s standing right here with you. Right in front of you. He is not a figment of your imagination. He is all fresh and blood and sweet curly hair and kind brown eyes.

He wraps his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. You think you might die. “And I ordered your favourite.”

“You’re the best.” your grin widens.

But it looks like your dream comes to an end now. Kyle comes to you not two hours later with a grim look on his face.

“Got a call from my Captain.”

You feel your heart shatter. The soft smile on your face slowly drops as you look at him, a sickening realization settling in the quiet air.

It’s never a good sign when Captain John Price calls. Either someone died or someone will die. In both scenarios, Kyle is pulled away from the safety of your shared apartment. In both scenarios, you’re left to live in the deafening silence of his absence.

You hate that you’ve grown accustomed to his presence. The last two months with Kyle being home has been great. The last few hours were the best you’ve ever had in a very long time. And now he has to go and save the world again.

“You’re leaving…” you quietly state and he nods. “When?”

“Soon…” Your lip quivers. “Today.”

You look down, tears blurring your vision. The last plate goes in the dish rack and you wipe your hands with a dry rag. Today.

He’s barely home for a minute and now he’s leaving. After… You glance at the flowers, now sitting in a vase filled with water. He’s leaving soon. What if he doesn’t come back this time? What if… He should at least know.

“Simon and Johnny need me for recon right now. They’re coming to pick me up as we speak.” You hear him speak as he follows you into the living room. “But I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

But you shouldn’t have to leave, you want to yell at him. But you know you can’t beg him to stay. It’s way beyond your jurisdiction. It’s way beyond anything either one of you can control.

“Must be an emergency then…” is all you can say.

“It is, yeah…” is all he can give back.

You stop when he calls your name and turned around to face him.

Just one kiss, the voice whispers. No harm would come of it. Not if he doesn’t feel the same.

The leap of faith, straight to your doom. You kiss him.

It’s brief. A quiet few seconds. A quiet confession. It’s all you could ever want. It’s all you could ever have.

You pull back just as quickly. “Goodnight, Kyle.”

He doesn’t say a word when you go to your room. He doesn’t follow you either. Even when you wish he would.

When you hear the voices of Simon Riley and John Mactavish minutes later, you pretend you’re asleep. Kyle thinks you are because when he knocks on your door and opens, he finds you laying motionless on your bed.

The door closes. The silence screams back at you for the rest of the night.

February 15th.

Kyle had returned at early hours in the morning and gave you a few details. An escaped prisoner’s on the loose and he’s in the city. The authorities are on the lookout but there hasn’t been any news coverage so as not to alert the enemy. It’s all clandestine or whatever. But he did warn you to stay indoors for the time being.

You don’t talk about the kiss. He doesn’t bring it up either. Good. You’d like to keep it that way. Thing are better that way.

Which is why you grit your teeth when a friend of yours asks about him. Bayley. She’s nice. Fun to be around when it’s just all girls. Flirtatious. Sweet. When a man isn’t in her proximity.

As soon as he is, any man, doesn’t matter if he’s handsome, ugly, old enough to be her grandfather or otherwise, she turns into someone else entirely. No one is safe around her when that happens. She reveals any dirty secret she has on the women around her to make herself look good in front of the man she’s running after.

You’ve never felt comfortable around her. Especially right now, since you’re her only target. It’s you, her, Kyle and another mutual friend, Henry at a cafe. Though Kyle said he was on the job and he needed the social gathering as a cover-up.

You try not to think about the possibility of getting caught in the crossfire of a shoot-out. Instead, you worry about getting out of Bayley’s crosshairs.

She’s always liked Kyle and the fact didn’t bother you as much until now. She’s used every trick in the book to steer the conversation to herself and shut you down whenever you tried to speak. So you didn’t bother anymore.

Kyle wasn’t oblivious to this and he tried to say something about it, but one hand to his wrist and he glances at you. It wasn’t worth it.

Henry watch it all unfold, quite content with himself.

“So are you two…” She trails off, wiggling her eyebrows. The guy sitting next to her, Henry, looks at you too, curious. “You know…”

You try not to clench your fists. You have no right to. Kyle’s not yours. He never was, he never will be.

Henry leans back on his chair, observing you with a slight smirk. You try not to let him phase you. It’s unclear to you why he’s even here. He’s one of Nathan’s friends. You’re positive he was there when that stupid bet was made and that he might have been the one to bring up the idea. You’re disgusted that you once kissed this moron at a frat party. Being called his girlfriend has never crossed your mind then and you’re glad it never crosses your mind now.

“Oh, he’s– he’s a friend.” you said to Bayley. “Roommate, actually.”

“So you don’t mind if I asked him for his number?” Bayley asks, her grin widening.

“Go right ahead.” you shrugged.

“Shit, really?” Her glee could brighten up the entire room.

“Yeah.”

You don’t think she could’ve stood up any faster if she tried as she stumbled towards Kyle, who was making his order. You spot a man with a mohawk from across the room. And the other one in a mask. Next to them was a blonde in a blue shirt. Not sure who she is, but she looks like she means business.

“Weird.” You turn to Henry. “Thought you and Gaz were a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s it to you?”

He chuckles and it makes you want to smack the taste out of his mouth. Fuckboy, the word spins around your head, waiting to be spat from your mouth. You hold your tongue and turn your gaze away, not wanting to give him any more attention.

The mohawk and the skull mask were nowhere in sight.

Kyle tries not to pay her too much attention. He also tries his level best not to tell her to fuck off.

Bayley has never been outright cruel to you but she’s never been kind either. He’s lost count of the passive aggressive comments about the person you were during high school. How you used to have braces. How you were a little bit of an outcast. How guys back then seemed to stay away from you because you were the weird girl.

She was grasping onto straws now because it seemed every guy wants you now. Even the ones she’s been with.

She drones on and on now, and Kyle could care less about what she’s saying. He gets the package from the barista. The flash drive is pocketed into his jacket. The sooner he can leave this get-together, the sooner he can get on with the mission and find the bastard who’s threatening the public’s safety. Especially yours.

Kyle barely glances at you. He can’t see your face since your back is turned to him. Henry, however, the fucking prick, is smiling at you. Kyle is not sure what the conversation is devolving into and he’s not sure he wants to know, unless he’s prepared to compromise the entire mission and cause a scene right here.

There’s history there. You and Henry had something in the past, this much he’s aware of. He was about to go over to you when he hears something that makes his stomach drop.

“I mean, since your roomie’s rekindling old flames with Henry dearest over there, we could go on a double date with them, if you’re interested.”

He had stopped in his tracks, whirling to face Bayley. “Sorry, wha’?”

“Oh…” she smiles sweetly, twirling her hair. “She didn’t tell you?”

February 16th.

You winced when Kyle slams the door shut. He ignores that, drops the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and heads to his room. He’s still reeling from what he heard today.

He comes to stand in front of you a few minutes later.

You blink up at him from the couch. “You okay?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Henry?” he asks, eyes hardened and jaw tight.

Henry. Dating. Since when?

Your expression shifts, perplexed as hell as to what the hell gave him that ridiculous idea. “What?”

“Was it because I made it known that I don’t like guys like him?” His voice raises just a fraction and it startles you as much as it angers you. Because what the fuck? In what world would you even think to put yourself through that?

“I’m not dating Henry.” you tell him, standing up. “Who told you that lie?”

He doesn’t immediately answer you. Just crosses his arms and continues to look at you with disappointment so severe, it actually cuts through your chest. Not only was that offensive, Henry was the worst of the worst ew, it actually hurt that Kyle would think so low of you.

Prior to today, the thought has never ever been a possibility. So why would… Hang on…

The answer strikes you as quickly as lightning. “Oh, my god. Please don’t tell me it was Bayley.”

His silence only confirms it. And you shake your head, chuckling dryly. Of course she’d pull a stunt like this. Of course she’d lie about you to Kyle. She’s done this shit before. You have no trouble believing she’ll do it again.

“I kissed him once– once at a fucking frat party and that was it!” you yelled, brushing past him and storming to your room with him hot on your heels. You hate him. You do. Henry, of all people. None of Nathan’s friends, and Nathan himself are all trash.

“Oh, so you weren’t rekindling an old fling then?” Before you could close the door, Kyle blocks it with his arm and shoves it wide open. “You weren’t–“

“Is that what she said to you?” you cut him off.

“Is that not what was going on?” he counters sharply.

“No!” Heat floods your whole face. It’s rage. The sheer audacity of that pick-me and Kyle thinking you were that stupid. “And I’m insulted that you would even believe a single word out of her mouth. She’d do anything to make you like her.”

His nose flares. He takes a step closer, gearing up to fire back. “You seem to…”

But his words stop flowing instantly and he seals his lips shut, his jaw clenching. His silence should frighten you. He’s never one to keep his grievances to himself when he’s wronged or when he feels the need to rectify something.

But you just feel tired. So fucking exhausted by everyone’s bullshit. Nathan hurt you because he wanted to have a good story with his friends like trading cards around a fucking sandbox. Henry’s just here to grate at your conscience like sandpaper while Bayley does the absolute most to drag you through the fucking mud.

And Kyle–

Your throat tightens as you stare at him. Is this how it ends? Because of a petty little lie?

“What, Kyle.” you try not to sound weak and fail. “I seem to what?”

He purses his lips, sighing deeply. A dry chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, but all of it was devoid of amusement. “You called me your friend.”

It immediately sink in why that would be his issue. You are his friend. You told no lie there. That was the truth as it was stated. You’re his friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. Why would he be…

Oh.

Your eyes widen.

Oh.

That’s… that’s why he’s…

You shrink. “W–was I not supposed to say that?”

“After what happened between us?” You flinched. “Bloody hell–” He says your name, you flinch.

“I’m still trying to figure things out.”

Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hold them at bay. Barely. It’s hard not to let them burst. Not with the way he’s talking right now.

You don’t get it. He didn’t want to kiss you the first time you almost did. That was the first mistake. That was your first mistake. That should’ve been clear to you that he didn’t feel the same way. Roses and forehead kisses and everything in between put aside, he was just a friend to you and that was all you were to him.

You were seeing things that weren’t there. You should’ve just–

“You sure had a lot of things figured out when you kissed me.” he said and it’s what tips you right of the edge of insanity.

It’s the first time he’s even admits the existence of that kiss. The first time since he’s breathed life into that night. There’s so much he isn’t staying. So much you’ve told him without saying one word. The kiss spoke for itself. And all you got was silence on his end. Two days of absolute silence and now he decides to bring it up?

There’s one thing you’ve come to realize about grief. It’s flammable. One spark and rage bursts like a wild inferno.

You snapped, shoving him. “You never said anything about that! You never even acknowledged it!”

He barely moves, even with how much force you put into your bones. In an instant, he’s grabbed your hands before you do anything else. Probably try to hit him in the face. “Because I didn’t want to scare you off!”

“I’m still scared!” You pull away fro his grasp, yelling. Pouring your heart out. “I didn’t mean to ruin things between us, Kyle. Our friendship means everything to me! When you said nothing, so I thought you wanted us to stay that way. Just. Friends. What the fuck was I supposed to say?!”

By the time you’re done screaming your lungs out, you’ve broken into tears. You stare at each other in the heavy silence. In another life, you might have found the courage to tell him how you feel sooner. In another life, he might feel the same for you. Maybe.

But you fucked this up. You ruined this, you just know it. Your face hides in your sweaty hands in shame because you already know you’re going to have to move out.

Kyle’s hands grasp yours and he gently draws your hands away from your eyes. He carefully holds your hands in his, as if the entire ordeal was just an annoyance he can brush off instead of an unforgivable sin. Like there will never be a lifetime where he would let you go over something so silly. You look at him whilst he dries the wet streaks off your cheeks with a tenderness that you surely can’t deserve.

“You were supposed to say that we were a little more than friends.” he tells you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what you’ve always been to me.”

You don’t think you could’ve been more stunned at the confession. The look on your face must have shown when you pulled back enough to blink up at him.

that’s what you’ve always been to me...

For… for how long? How could you’ve not–

“Surely, you must’ve known.” He kisses your forehead and rubs your arms. “Even when you were running circles around me, love.”

“I…” you shrink, cheeks blazing with heat. “I wasn’t sure–”

But he smiles. Believing in fairytales seemed silly now as a grown adult. They were mere bedtime stories. Little white lies told by your mother to shield you from the fact that there will never be anyone so perfect.

Except, there is. Except, he is perfect. Because his head dips low enough for his lips to touch yours. And you feel the light of a million stars bursting in your veins.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He kissed you. Quietly. Gently. With no clearer intention than to feel you in the simplest way possible. With hesitation but it holds no doubt that this is what he has always wanted to do.

You’re dizzy when he draws away, dazed eyes slowly opening to find that his held the exact same weakness in them. “How about now? Does that make things clear enough?”

You can’t find the strength to answer, to speak. Formulating words was impossible. He just kissed you. He just confessed to you that he–

He kisses you again. “How about now?” And again. “What about now?” His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth playfully nipping. “Hmm? How much clearer can I be?”

You’re breathless, falling, melting into him. Shaky hands grasp the fabric of his jacket when you feel hips tongue tracing the seam of your lips. A strangled noise leaves you as you pull away and bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah… you are.” he chuckles, the sound filling your lungs like sunshine after a thunder storm. “You’re my idiot, though.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” you whine.

“Yes, I am.”

You laughed, smacking his arm. He didn’t waste another second to kiss you again. He didn’t stop kissing you for the rest of the night. You claimed that it still wasn’t clear to you how he felt. You might need a little more evidence.

He was happy to provide you with as much evidence as you needed.

gonna make a smuttier version, i promise :) support my ko-fi tagging: @sofasoap @glitterypirateduck @friendly-larry-reminders

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[salemlovespies]

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding. 

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month. 

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside. 

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s. 

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found. 

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table. 

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice. 

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly. 

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled, 

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed, 

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was. 

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor. 

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you. 

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you. 

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant. 

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway. 

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland. 

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him. 

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse. 

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground. 

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body. 

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine. 

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched. 

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date. 

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him. 

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily. 

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth. 

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike. 

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight. 

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words. 

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest. 

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.” 

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again. 

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will. 

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady. 

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin, 

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?” 

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband. 

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap. 

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions. 

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring. 

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal. 

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention. 

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest, 

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth. 

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss. 

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you. 

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed. 

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath. 

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time. 

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex. 

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth. 

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs. 

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time. 

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric. 

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh. 

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it. 

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below. 

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped. 

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center. 

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in. 

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise. 

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was. 

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body. 

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum. 

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence. 

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed, 

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life. 

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar. 

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling. 

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you. 

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused. 

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again. 

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping. 

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below. 

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears. 

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino. 

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away. 

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could. 

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car. 

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth. 

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively. 

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side. 

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers. 

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down. 

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase. 

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed. 

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries. 

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

[salemlovespies]

Third Date

18+ account - minors do not interact

outbreak joel x f!reader

Word Count: 3800ish+

Rating E

Summary: The upcoming town dance makes Joel want to show you how much you mean to him.

Warning: established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, language, grinding, teasing, dirty talk, spanking, praise, fingering, size kink? (It’s Joel of course he’s huge), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pet names, soft!joel

Random Comment(s): I envision this Joel to be a part of my I Wanna Enjoy This Morning With You universe. This can be read as a standalone, but here is Part 1 if you want to understand the history between the two. So, @cavillscurls, this version of Joel was inspired by your soft joel series (I NEED HIM BTW), but I blame @katiexpunk for some of the filth that occurs, it was based off this post.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge (masterlist here)

You bet your ass I’m leveraging the new picture of Joel from Season 2 of TLOU for this moodboard!!!

🥝💚 Reblog + Support Writers + Comment 🥝💚

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

xx

Jackson, Wyoming

“I hate watching you leave,” Joel whispered as he nuzzled your neck. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and played with his soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“I hate leaving,” you said placing a soft kiss on his cheek. But you needed to go to work and then have Maria meet you at your place to figure out what you were wearing at the dance tonight at Tipsy Bison.

“Just a couple more minutes,” he whispered as if he was trying to persuade you to let him hold you a little longer. As if you needed any persuasion. He buried his face in your hair, and you could hear him inhaling your scent before he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. Considering that back when you two had just started fooling around, he couldn’t even bring himself to spend the night, it was nice seeing Joel now desperately crave and soak up your mornings together.

When his lips brushed against yours, you felt that familiar stirring in your belly and sighed softly at his touch as he pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open and he gave you a sexy smile as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“Does Ellie need help getting ready tonight?” you asked as you got out of the comfort of Joel’s bed while he whined and pouted as he watched you get ready. Eugene had gotten injured recently on the Creek trail patrol route, and so you were looking after the library in the meantime, on top of working at the pharmacy.

“She’s getting ready with Dina,” he responded while putting on his sweatpants.

“You just getting ready at Tommy’s?”

Joel let out a frustrated sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed, you could tell he was clearly annoyed at the thought of having to go to some town event tonight. Despite his obvious irritation, you knew that a part of him was excited for Ellie to experience a sense of normalcy tonight in this fucked up world. He was going to meet you at Tipsy Bison later tonight after his patrol shift.

“I am, darlin’,” he said with mock annoyance as he grabbed your waist and you let out a little squeal when he pulled you into his lap to grip your ass and pull you against him.

“Joel…. don’t you have to get up and start your day?” You moaned as he bit down gently on your ear.

“I’m already up,” he cheekily replied, and you glanced down at the erection that was currently pushing against his sweatpants and you chuckled.

Your hands wandered south and rubbed over the straining fabric of his sweatpants and he quickly grunted in response as his lips tried to seek yours.

“JOEL!!!” You two both heard Ellie yell. “I need you to come down RIGHT NOW, something just collapsed in the garage,” she screamed.

Joel dropped his forehead against your shoulder. “This fuckin’ kid,”

He pulled his face away and you rubbed his jaw and noticed a ghost of a smile pass over his handsome face. He looked at your lips before looking back into your eyes and whispered in your ear that he couldn’t wait to see you later tonight...

xx

So much had shifted with you and Joel after he slept over at your house for the first time a few months ago. As you spent more time together, you noticed all the little things he did for you - from rubbing your shoulders when you were feeling tense to leaving a note on a pillow when he would leave early in the mornings for patrol. You felt his presence in the way he looked at you or held your hand. He would take care of little tasks that he knew would make your day easier and when you would go to his place after a long day at work, he would greet you with a warm hug and a listening ear, ready to support you in any way you needed.

Yesterday, you had woken up to the soft sound of him bustling around the kitchen, preparing your favorite breakfast, and saw him carefully arranging a plate of fresh fruit, warm toast, and a steaming cup of coffee just the way you liked it. You adored him. And while you two hadn’t formally exchanged those words yet, you knew deep in your heart that he truly cared for you. His actions spoke volumes in the way that he always put your and Ellie’s needs before his own.

You reveled in the intimacy of knowing that you and Ellie were the only ones who got to witness the gentle, vulnerable side of him that he kept hidden from the world. While others saw him as gruff and unapproachable, you saw the tenderness that was beneath his tough exterior.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Maria walking into the pharmacy carrying multiple hangers that had dresses attached to them.

“I thought you were at the library today? I went there and Jesse told me you were here.”

“Yeah, basically I’m helping in the mornings and then come here in the afternoons,” you responded.

“Well, I brought you some dresses for tonight, because I realized I probably won’t have time to get ready with you. Astrid and Mike left everything to the last minute, which means that I’ll have to help them with setup at the bar.

“That’s okay, do you guys need an extra set of hands tonight?”

“No!” Maria shouted at you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion as you tried to make sense of the sudden outburst from her.

“I just mean that you’ve been doing so much recently, you don’t need to add more to your plate.”

You grabbed the dresses from her hand and set them down on the counter. You noticed a dress that you thought would look nice on Ellie. It was a black dress that was simple and versatile, yet still stylish and edgy.

“You should do this dress by the way,” you heard Maria say suddenly.

You looked at the dress on the hanger that she was pointing to and arched an eyebrow at her as you picked it up. There was barely any material. It was one of those sexy dresses that commanded attention, it looked like something Esther would wear.

You laughed. “I can’t pull something off like this,”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Shut up. You can and you will,”

“You’re seeing Ellie and Dina later, right? Tell them to come over and get ready with me. I want to make it special for them and do a getting ready for “Prom Night” vibe for them,” you said as you grabbed the black dress for Ellie.

“No!” Maria yelled again and she snatched the dress from your hands. “They actually said they wanted to do their own thing, and not get ready with old people. So, they are just going to meet us later tonight. But I’ll make sure to get this to her,” she said.

You observed Maria closely, trying to pinpoint what might be causing her strange behavior.

“Those little shits just want to make out, you know? You remember what it was like to be their age,” she said trying to change the subject.

You shrugged. “At least, we don’t have to worry about teen pregnancy,”

“That’s true,” she conceded and then you and Maria erupted into a fit of giggles exchanging stories about your first times.

xx

The dress was a stunning shade of blue lilac. It featured a plunging neckline that showcased your cleavage and spaghetti straps that delicately framed your shoulders. The fabric was smooth and clingy, accentuating your curves and leaving little to the imagination. The back of the dress was completely open, revealing your skin. The hemline hit just above the knee, showing off your legs. You felt naked. You had never worn anything so daring, even before the outbreak and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't shake the feeling that you looked ridiculous. You were about to take off the dress when you heard a knock on the door. It was probably Maria who had told you before she left the pharmacy that she may swing by if she had the time.

“It’s open!” You shouted from your bedroom, and you heard someone step inside.

You exited your bedroom and started walking down the stairs. “Maria, I told you, I don’t think I can rock this dress, I look –”

You felt your breath hitch because it wasn’t Maria. It was Joel and he looked incredible. You thought he was going to wear a simple flannel tonight with some jeans. But as you hit the last step of your staircase, you admired how he was impeccably dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, perfectly pressed, and tailored to fit him seamlessly. The shirt was tucked neatly into black dress pants, and he was holding a bunch of handpicked purple orchids.

His mouth opened as his eyes traveled down and back up, taking you in completely. “I don’t think I fuckin’ agree with that statement, baby… you look incredible.”

“Thank you…” you stuttered.  “You look so handsome,” you murmured shyly as you picked up the flowers and kissed him on the cheek.

He awkwardly shuffled his feet, unable to meet your gaze as he mumbled a quiet thank you in response.

“Seriously, um, you look really good,” you continued.

You noticed the shy smile playing on his lips and the slight redness creeping up his cheeks as he grabbed the back of his neck.

You could see his Adam’s apple bob as he appeared to swallow. “I’m gonna be hard all night long thinkin’ about getting you outta this dress,”

It was impossible to hide the grin that overtook your features as confidence flooded through you. You never really saw yourself as sexy, but seeing the look of desire in Joel’s eyes was making you feel insane.  

“Joel, how did you find these? They’re beautiful,” you remarked pointing to the flowers as you both walked to the kitchen together so that you could put some water in a vase for them.

“Last few times, Tommy and I have been out on patrol, I noticed a field of them. Today, I went back to grab em’ since honestly… I realized something,”

“What was that?” you asked.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then lifted a hand to tenderly stroke your cheek. “Well, we’ve been together now for a while, and I realized we’ve never really even been on a date. I haven’t ever done anything special for you. I know flowers are the bare minimum, but I told Ellie and Maria that I just wanted some alone time with you before the dance…”

Well, this explained Maria’s odd behavior today.

“I just want to pretend it’s before for one night and that I’m goin’ on a date with a beautiful girl, and pickin’ her up, and givin’ her flowers, and takin’ her somewhere special,”

You raised your hands to cradle his face in your palms and didn’t quite know what to say. “Joel… just being with you is special. There’s this thing called the apocalypse that happened,” you said with a laugh. “Please don’t feel like you need to be doing more than you’re already doing,”

His lips curved into a small, but genuine smile before his hands covered yours and he told you to follow him to step outside the front of the house. As you stepped out onto your patio, you gasped in disbelief. The usually plain and ordinary space in your front yard had been transformed into a ‘restaurant’, with candles flickering softly in the evening breeze and a table set for two with what looked like a pasta dish on top of a crisp white tablecloth in the center. Joel stood beside the table, as he held out a chair for you to sit.

“I thought we could have dinner before the dance tonight, pretty girl,”

You couldn't believe he had gone to such lengths to create this surprise for you. Tears welled up in your eyes and he delicately pulled you to him, his hands around your waist as he leaned down to kiss you.

xx

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange hue over the patio, you and Joel were enjoying a bottle of wine after transitioning to your porch swing after you two finished dinner.

“So, what was dating like for you before the world ended?” you asked Joel.

“It was hard. Tommy and I were workin’ all the time. I had a couple of girlfriends here and there, but it was mostly flings. Women weren’t exactly super into the whole single father thing. Plus, my main priority was Sarah, and I didn’t want to be bringin’ in a bunch of women into her life,”

Joel didn’t bring up Sarah often so he must have noticed your involuntary frown, so he squeezed your hand as if to tell you ‘I’m fine’ and you brought his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “What bout’ you?

“I was in Pharmacy school, so I was pretty focused on my studies. But, I really hated the dating thing honestly,”

“Oh yeah, why?”

You let out a long sigh. “Well, I hated the dating games for one. It felt like there were so many rules. Don’t call back right away. You come off like a loser who has nothing going on. If you call someone, don’t call them again until you hear from them. The person who receives the last call WINS! God, it was exhausting.”

Joel burst out laughing, rubbing his face, “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t miss that,”

“I don’t know it just felt like any time I thought a guy liked me, he was sleeping with me and a string of other women. It always felt like I was just an option, so I don’t know, I definitely became a little jaded,”

He frowned shaking his head. “Doesn’t sound like you were datin’ real men.”

“Yeah, probably,” you replied with a chuckle. “What about sex? Did you have any moves you would put out on the first date when you were trying to let your dates know you wanted to take them home?” you said wiggling your eyebrows.

“Third date kinda guy,”

You slapped him on his arm, biting your lip. “The third date!? You would wait that long,”

He grinned, nodding his head. “Yes ma’am, my mama raised me to be a gentleman,”

“We slept together the first night we met each other,”

Joel licked his lips and shrugged nonchalantly. “I got carried away in the moment, I suppose,”  

You gave him a crooked smile and watched his eyes zone into your lips. Joel then slowly pushed his forehead into your collarbone, kissing it delicately. Your hands played with his hair and then you lifted his head to face yours.

“Joel, if this was the third date, then what would have done with me?” you said breathlessly.

He kissed your neck and started deliciously sucking on your skin. “Hmm… let me think. If I was takin’ my time with you or desperate for you?  

“Desperate,” you moaned.

“I would have bent you over the couch, lifted this little thing we’re pretendin’ is called a dress, and ripped off your little panties to spread your legs open… and fucked you hard,” he said huskily as he kissed along your shoulders, neck and jaw line.

“Is that right?” you shuddered.

Your skin tingled with anticipation as you felt a wave of arousal wash over you. You pulled Joel’s face towards yours and you two began kissing hungrily, and he drew your tongue between his lips while you tugged on the ends of his curls. Your heart raced and your breath quickened as desire pulsed through you. He pulled you against him and stood up to lift your legs so they would wrap around his waist, and he walked backward towards your front door and fumbled for the doorknob behind him to unlock the door. He bumped into a few items as he walked you both to the living room as you continued to lick at his top lip and slipped your tongue in his mouth while he started to suck on your tongue which drove you crazy.

You managed to unlock your trembling legs from him and then felt him trap you against the arm of your couch while he cupped you greedily underneath your dress and slid his hand inside your panties to feel your bare, slick, soaked pussy.

“Fuck, baby. Hardly even touched you and you’re drippin’ for me,” his voice was raspy as he smirked arrogantly.

“Joel,” you panted pushing yourself into his hand.

“Turn around and bend over,” he instructed you.

You obeyed unquestioningly and knew Joel’s possessive side was always thrilled to see you completely at his mercy. Just as he had promised, he growled and ripped off your panties and lifted your dress up to your waist. You braced yourself against the couch ready to feel him slip inside of you, but then you heard his knees touch the floor and felt his tongue on your cunt as he lapped wildly at you grazing your clit with every pass. There was always something so filthy whenever Joel’s tongue would fuck your pussy from behind. He loved doing this. And over time, you learned that it was something you craved too. He squeezed your cheeks and spread them further and became more and more aggressive with his tongue on your clit, as you felt yourself become wetter and wetter. He moved his tongue faster on your clit, hitting your more sensitive spot and your mouth fell open, and a guttural moan came out of you as you bucked into his face.

“Joel, oh my god… Joel,” you chanted, tensing up.

“You always taste so good baby, unlike anything else in the world,” He moaned and then pressed two fingers inside of you as he continued to lick and suck at your clit in time with his pumping fingers, working you towards your release.

You knew that he could feel that you were close when your legs were starting to shake, and you were a whimpering, panting mess as he continued to groan filth and praise into your cunt.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he growled.

And how could you not with his request? Your release hit you hard. Your body exploded as your mouth hung open and you were pretty sure that your brain couldn’t function anymore. He kept tasting you lovingly as you throbbed around his tongue and pulsed against his face as he worked you through it and told you that you did so well for him.

You felt him stand up and then he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear. “I guess I forgot to include the part where I would have knelt down on the floor for ya first,”

“I’m not complaining,” you said breathlessly, clamping your eyes shut.

He bit down hard on one of your shoulders and you heard him shuffling behind you pulling his pants and boxers down so that he could line himself up behind you. He pulled your dress up past your breasts to have you practically naked while he gave your ass a harsh spank that left behind a delicious sting.    

“Just so we’re clear. I would have never made you feel like an option,” Joel said as he pushed into you hard and you gasped and threw your head back. He was so big, it didn’t matter how many times you had done this, it always felt like he was splitting you open.

“Joel – fuck! You feel so good,”

He kept slamming his hips into you and then you were urging him and begging him to take you harder, faster, and deeper.

“My needy girl. Takin’ me so well,” his voice was seductive and low as he sped up and pounded into you hitting something deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you panted.

“So fuckin’ wet, and it’s all for me,” he groaned as he kept slamming into you.

“Joel,” your voice broke.

“Touch your clit, baby,” he commanded. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight. I’m not gonna last long, but, I need you to come again,” he hissed.

You bit your lip and tried to nod your head as you dropped two fingers to circle your clit. He continued to drive his hips into you as you heard the obscene slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the living room and you felt him hitting something devasting inside of you.

“Joel, I-” you sobbed out and started to feel tears spring out of the corners of your eyes as you continued to work on your clit and choked on his cock as your orgasm washed through you. He continued to fuck you through your aftershocks calling you his good girl, and you felt his steady pace start to falter as his head fell onto the back of your shoulder.

“Joel, use me, make yourself feel good,” you moaned.

Your words seemed to have sent him over the edge because then you felt him tense and groan your name as he pulled out of you to spill across the small of your back as he cursed out a string of profanities. You both said nothing for a bit trying to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” he muttered and turned you around to face him to kiss your forehead. He quickly went to the bathroom to grab a towel and wipe your back down.

“I can’t lie… if that’s how all your third dates ended. I’m a little jealous,” you said, exhausted as you turned around to face him.

He smirked while pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “They never ended like that,” You noticed he was frowning as he grabbed the hem of your dress. “Baby, fuck, I think I got a little on your dress,” he said sheepishly.

You laughed softly. “It's okay, Maria brought me a ton of dresses. I’ll just go wear another one,”

He grabbed your face with his large hands and looked deep into your eyes. “When you come on my cock, I swear… there ain’t anythin’ better than that. Nothing,”

“Joel!” you shrieked at his vulgar words and playfully slapped his chest.

He grinned while he rested his forehead against yours before molding his lips to yours.

The two of you made it to the dance an hour late in your backup dress and enjoyed the rest of your “third date,” maybe even a little too much in the Tispy Bison bathroom.

xx

This man just deserves happiness!! My favorite Joel is the soft version that is fucking feral for his reader when it comes to private time. I hope that came across in this fic <3 I also really want to emphasize how hard it is for me to write smut from beginning to end and I really struggled with this lmao.

Note: I also leveraged an Aziz Ansari quote from his Modern Love book when they were talking about their dating experiences!

[salemlovespies]

Ways I think Simon “Ghost” Riley asks for consent without explicitly asking.

MDNI, This Blog & Post Aren’t For Minors!! This gets sexual real quickly, but Reader's pronouns aren’t specified.

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip when he wants to kiss you, waiting to see if you lean into the touch.

His fingers gently grip the hem of your shirt or the waistband of your pants, silently asking you if he can undress you. He does this with each and every article he wants to undress.

He’ll give you a very heated once-over when you’re both laying in bed, showing off the bulge in his pants/boxers so you know how horny he is.

Trails his fingers up your thigh (clothed or unclothed) and stops just short of where your sex is, his head in your neck so he can listen to if your breath hitches in arousal at his touching.

Spreads his legs open and pats his waiting thigh when sitting on the couch. It’s similar to the bed one, since his bulge is prominent.

Settles himself between your legs, putting his beefy hands on the insides of your thighs. Leaves the decision up to you, you can choose to beg for more or just be content with him between your thighs.

If you have hickeys from previous sexual encounters with him, he’ll trace them to tell you that he’s thinking of giving you more.

Leaves your towel on the bed when you come home and he’s showering, the towel a form of invitation to join him.

If you’re already naked and done with one round (or several), he squeezes your hips twice to signal he's ready for another round if you are.

He rubs his noses against yours before parting his lips slightly, mouthing motions made when kissing.

His eyes have trouble straying from your lips, trying hard to look you in the eyes only for his attention to dart back to your lips. He might even lick his own lips, if you're both alone and he doesn't have his mask or balaclava on.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[salemlovespies]

Subscribe

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 7,103 - oops

Summary: When Joel accidentally stumbles upon your only fans he convinces himself he's only subscribing to help you through college. And then you send him his top-tier subscriber personal video and he's fucked because you don't even know it's him your dad's best friend.

Warnings: 18+, reader has an only fans, unprotected p in v, f!andm! oral receiving, age gap (at least 10 years), reader is in her 20's, alcohol consumption, there's a dick pic, reader posts nudes of herself on her OF so if you do not like that please scroll awaaaaaay thanks <3 two consenting adults.

Notes: I listened to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter a hundred too many times and couldn't sleep on this random idea. I got carried away, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and then I fell in love and married the idea so here we are. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel’s never been on a site like this.

But his best buddy's enthusiasm was infectious. Convincing him that it's all the hype, ‘You should see the women on there man.’ So, after a long day at work, followed by a shower, he is perched in front of his computer, the screen's glow illuminating his skepticism. 

With a deep breath, he navigates to the website, his fingers poised hesitantly over the keys. He starts scrolling through the front page, taking in the various content that is being shared. It's all very different from anything he's ever seen before, but he can see why his friend is so excited about it. 

As he continues scrolling Joel's eyes widen in surprise. There you are right on the front page, not too far from the top, his friend's daughter, exuding confidence in a bikini and a sexy little pose, the very picture of carefree youth. 

Denial is his first reaction as he quickly minimises the page, not believing he just saw that. It couldn't have been you. No way. But curiosity, that relentless beast, coaxes him back to the screen. The second glance confirms it; it's undeniably you, and the realization sends a jolt through him. He clicks on your profile, the rabbit hole beckoning.

His heart races as he sees more and more photos of you. Wearing lingerie in some of them, and bikinis in others, but never anything less. Then he finds the section with your paid content, looming like a forbidden fruit. The greyed-out thumbnails tease his imagination. He notices that he has to pay to see them and his mind races. What kinda stuff you got hidin’ here pretty girl?

Joel stops for a moment, unsure if he should really pay to see hidden content but before he can talk himself out of it, he enters his payment information, the justification that he is supporting you echoes hollowly in his mind. He clicks "subscribe." As soon as he does, the greyed-out photos become clear, and Joel's eyes widen in shock. He can't believe what he's seeing. You, completely naked, posing in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

He feels a mix of emotions - excitement, guilt, confusion. He knows he shouldn't be looking at these photos, but he can't help himself. He tells himself that it's just for a few minutes, just to see what's there. That he's just being curious, that he's just supporting you. But deep down, he knows that's not the whole truth and he knows that he'll be coming back to these photos again and again.

For now, though, he tells himself that it's okay. He's just satisfying his curiosity, and he's supporting his friend's daughter at the same time. He tells himself that it's a win-win situation, and he settles back in his chair to enjoy the photos.  But as he scrolls through the photos, he can feel himself getting more and more aroused. He starts to rub his cock through his pants, and before long, he's jerking off to the images on the screen. knowing that he's doing something wrong but unable to stop himself.

Just as he's about to come, he gets a message from the website. It's from you, and you're thanking him for subscribing to the highest tier, where he gets a personal video from you. 

Joel's heart races as he reads the message, wondering if you know it's him. But as he reads on, he realizes that you don't. You're just being friendly, asking him what he'd like to see you do or say in a personal video.

Joel pauses, wrestling with the decision. The offer is tantalizing, and he can feel the pull of his curiosity. He rationalizes that it's merely a harmless video, an extra indulgence. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he convinces himself that there's no harm in satisfying his curiosity just this once. 

Joel takes a deep breath and types out a reply to you, asking if you could wear a school girl uniform in the video. He feels a twinge of guilt for asking, but he can't help being curious what you would look like in one and how he would feel bending you over his knee in one.

—

A few days later, Joel receives a notification that his personal video is ready to be viewed. He takes his time, feeling guilty all over again but evidently he clicks on the link and waits for the video to load.

When the video starts, he's greeted with the sight of you, wearing a plaid skirt and a white blouse, looking as sexy as ever. You start to unbutton your blouse, revealing a lacy bra underneath. Joel feels his face flush with heat as he watches you, his heart pounding in his chest.You continue to tease him, running your fingers through your hair and biting your lower lip. Joel can feel himself getting more and more aroused, his cock straining against his pants.

Finally, you slip out of your skirt and bra, revealing your naked body underneath. Joel watches in amazement as you pose. And if that wasn't enough then you started talking to him, looking directly into the camera and speaking in a sultry voice. "Hi there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I hope you're enjoying the video so far. I know I'm enjoying making it for you."

You run your hands over your body, caressing your breasts and your hips. "Do you like what you see?" you ask, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I've been thinking about you. Wondering what you're doing right now. Are you touching yourself? Are you thinking about me?"

You lean closer to the camera, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've been thinking about you too, baby. Wondering what it would be like to be with you. To feel your hands on my body."

You sit down on a black spinning chair, manoeuvring your legs so youre on full display for the camera, your fingers find your clit. "I'm so wet for you, daddy.” You moan out.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, your fingers moving faster and faster. "M’so close," you say, your breath coming in short gasps. "I want you to come with me. I want you to feel what I'm feeling. I want you to come for me daddy."

You throw your head back and moan, your body shudders with pleasure. "Yes, daddy. Yes! I'm coming so hard for you."

As the video comes to an end, you look back at the camera, your eyes shining with satisfaction. "I hope you enjoyed that, cowboy, can't wait to see what we do next.”

As the video comes to an end, Joel can't believe what he's just witnessed. He feels his orgasm building up inside of him, and before he knows it, he's coming in his pants - just from watching you. 

As he looks back at the screen, he sees that there's a message waiting for him from you. You're thanking him for watching the video and asking if he enjoyed it. Damn you're quick with these messages. He didn't even know you could tell he watched it.

He stares at the screen for a moment unsure what to say 

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I really enjoyed it. Thanks for making it for me darlin. 

He hits send, feeling so awkward and out of his element. He hasn't flirted with another woman in ages and the fact you're at least ten years younger than him doesn't make it any easier. 

A few moments later, he gets a reply from you.

you: I'm glad you enjoyed it, cowboy 😘 I had a lot of fun making it for you. Do you want to see more?

He shouldn't, he should just shut his computer down and cancel the membership later. But he can't, he can't help himself.

cowboy_jm: Yeah, I'd like that.

You send him a picture, and he feels his heart race as he opens it. It's a selfie of you, wearing the plaid skirt and white blouse from the video, with a playful smile on your lips. 

you: Here's a little something extra for you, cowboy. I hope you like it. 😏

You can't do this for every top tier subscriber, could you? Then again the price tag did promise a lot more than the others did. Maybe not a lot of people were desperate enough to need to be talked up by a pretty little thing like you. But damn was he enjoying it. 

cowboy_jm: Wow, you look absolutely stunning in that outfit. I could get used to seeing you like this. 

You: Oh, I bet you could. 😉 You know, I've always wanted to ride a cowboy... or his horse.

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he reads your message. He can't believe you just said that, but he's also incredibly turned on. He's never had a conversation like this before, but he's finding that he really enjoys it.

cowboy_jm: Well, I'm sure we can work something out. I've got a pretty big horse.

you: Oh, I bet you do. I've always been a fan of big horses. Maybe one day I'll get to ride yours.

cowboy_jm: You can ride my horse anytime you want, darlin'. I promise you won't be disappointed.

you: I can't wait. 

As the conversation comes to a close, Joel feels a sense of dread wash over him. He knows he's made a mistake. He tells himself that he'll figure something out later.

—

As you close your laptop, a thrill of excitement runs through you. The conversation has been so thrilling, so charged with flirtation and innuendo. You can tell whoever is behind this cowboy profile is probably a little older and not too experienced on a site like this. 

You decide to do a little more digging before sending him anything else. You navigate to his profile, curious to learn more about this mysterious cowboy who's captured your interest. As you scroll through his vague faceless pictures and read his bio, your heart skips a beat. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks: "cowboy_jm" is none other than Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. The one coming over tomorrow for a BBQ

The shock is palpable. You've known Joel your entire life. He's been a constant presence at family barbecues, holiday gatherings, and birthday parties. The thought of him seeing your content, let alone subscribing to your highest tier, is both mortifying and exhilarating. You can't help but feel a twinge of guilt, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of mischievous excitement. The idea of playing a game with Joel, of having this secret, is too tempting to pass up. You decide to have a little fun with the situation. After all, he's the one who's been flirting with you, who's been watching your videos and messaging you. You tell yourself that he's a willing participant in this little charade.

With a playful smile, you decide to up the ante. You want to see just how far Joel is willing to go. You open up your messaging app and start typing.

you: Hey cowboy, I was just trying to get to sleep but need a little help. How about how about you send me a little something? 😉

You hit send and wait for his response. You know you're playing with fire, but you can't help yourself. You want to see if he's really as adventurous as he's been pretending to be. As you wait for his reply, you can't help but feel a sense of power. You're in control of this situation, and you're going to enjoy every minute of it. You know you should probably feel guilty for manipulating Joel like this, but the thrill of the game is too intoxicating.

Finally, your notifications go off, and you see a new message from Joel. You take a deep breath and open it.

cowboy_jm: Oh? And what did you have in mind, darlin'?

you: Well, I was thinking... maybe you could send me a little something to hold me over until I can have that ride. 😉

You hold your breath, waiting for his response. You're not sure if he'll go for it, but you're hoping he will.

cowboy_jm: I don't know, darlin'. I'm not sure if that's such a good idea.

you: Oh, come on, cowboy. I promise I'll make it worth your while. 😏

cowboy_jm: Well, I suppose I could make an exception... just this once.

You feel a surge of excitement as you read his message. You can't believe he's actually going to do it!

cowboy_jm: But you have to promise me something, darlin'. You have to promise that this stays between us. I don't want anyone else seein’

what I'm about to send you.

you: Oh, I promise. I won't tell a soul. 😉

cowboy_jm: Alright, darlin'. Here it is. 😘

As you gaze at the image Joel has sent, your breath hitches in your throat. The sight of his cock is both surprising and incredibly arousing. It's clear that he's not a young man, the maturity of his body is evident in the thick, veined shaft that stands proudly in the photo. The girth of it makes your fingers twitch with the desire to touch it, to feel its weight in your hands.

The skin is a rich, deep pink, stretched taut over the hardness beneath. The head is broad and flushed with a deeper hue, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip, hinting at his arousal and the urgency of his need. You can't help but imagine how it would feel inside you, filling you completely, the friction of his thrusts igniting a fire within your core.

You can't deny the beauty of his cock. It's a testament to his virility, to the raw, primal power that he possesses. The soft, dark and grey hair at the base contrasts with the smoothness of the shaft, adding to the visual feast before your eyes.

You feel a warmth spreading through your body, a heat that pools between your legs as you continue to admire the photo. The thought of having such a magnificent cock at your disposal, of being able to pleasure and be pleasured by it, sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you type out a response 

you: Wow, cowboy. You didn't have to send me something so... impressive. 😏 you've definitely exceeded my expectations. I can't wait to see it in person.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, the thrill of the forbidden fueling your boldness. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but the allure of the unknown, the promise of untold pleasures, is too potent to resist.

As you wait for his reply, you can't help but touch yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to find the slickness that has gathered there. You imagine it's his hand, his fingers expertly coaxing you towards release, and the thought is enough to make you moan softly into the quiet of your room.

cowboy_jm: I'm looking forward to it too, darlin'. More than you know.

You can sense the anticipation in his messages, and it matches your own. 

you: Well, I better let you go, cowboy. I've got a lot to do before bed. But I'll be thinking about you... and your impressive horse. 😉

cowboy_jm: Haha, I'll be thinking about you too, darlin'. Take care, and I'll see you soon.

As the evening winds down, Joel finds himself unable to shake the conversation from his mind. The image of you in that schoolgirl outfit, the sound of your voice as you called him 'daddy', the thrill of exchanging messages with you—it all feels like a dream, a forbidden fantasy come to life. He tries to focus on other things, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you.

The next day, Joel wakes up with a sense of nervous anticipation. He's supposed to go over to your dad's house and the thought of it sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He tries to push the thoughts of your online interactions out of his mind as he gets ready, reminding himself that he's just going over to hang out with his friend. But the image of you in that plaid skirt keeps creeping back into his thoughts, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

—

As he pulls into the driveway, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. He walks up to the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. Your dad greets him with a firm handshake and a warm smile, completely oblivious to the secret between his best friend and his daughter. When he walks in he notices you're nowhere in sight, and can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed.

Your dad and Joel make small talk for a few minutes before your dad excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving Joel alone in the living room. And as if on queue you walk into the room with a confident stride, wearing the same plaid skirt from the video and a tight-fitting white blouse. You greet him with a playful smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief

"Hey, Joel," you say, your voice dripping with sweetness. "Can I get you something to drink?”

Joel feels his face flush with heat as he tries to maintain his composure. "Hey there, darlin', uh sure," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're looking... very nice today.”

You giggle and do a little twirl, the skirt flaring out slightly to give him a glimpse of your thighs. "Why, thank you," you say, batting your eyelashes at him. "You're looking pretty good yourself.”

Before he can say anything else you walk over to the fridge and bend over to grab a couple of drinks, your skirt rides up to reveal a glimpse of your bare pussy, so perfect and fuckable.

You hand him a beer and wink at him, your lips curling into a seductive smile. "Enjoy the view?”

Joel takes the beer from you, his hand shaking slightly. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind filled with images of you from the videos and the messages you've exchanged. He knows that he should excuse himself, that he should leave before things go any further, but he can't seem to tear himself away from you.

Just then, your father walks back into the room, oblivious to the tension between you. "Hey, Joel," he says, clapping him on the back. "I'm glad you could make it. Let's head out to the backyard. I've got the grill fired up.”

Joel nods and follows him outside, grateful for the distraction. 

As the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the backyard, Joel tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. The skirt you're wearing teases him with its familiarity, a tangible reminder of the illicit videos he's watched late at night, alone in the darkness of his room. The way the fabric swishes around your thighs as you move—it's enough to make his head spin and his heart race in his chest.

You seem to revel in his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with mischief every time you catch him staring. You're the perfect picture of innocence and seduction, flipping burgers on the grill, laughing at your dad's corny jokes, all the while subtly taunting Joel with your every move.

With each playful glance, each coy smile, you're pulling him deeper into your web, ensnaring him with the promise of forbidden pleasures. And Joel, for all his attempts at normalcy, can't help but be drawn in.

He reaches for another beer, the cool bottle a welcome relief from the heat that seems to be building inside him. The alcohol loosens his inhibitions, making it easier to laugh at your dad's anecdotes, to join in on the conversation, even as his mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you.

As night approaches and the drinks continue flowing, your dad’s found his limit. He stands up from his lawn chair with a contented sigh. "Well, I think it's time for this old man to hit the hay," he announces, stretching his arms above his head. "You two kids have fun, but not too much fun, alright? Make sure you take the guestroom Joel."

You flash him a cheeky grin, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll be good," you assure him, your gaze flicking briefly to Joel, who's suddenly found something incredibly interesting on the bottom of his beer bottle.

As your dad disappears into the house, the air between you and Joel grows charged with anticipation. The playful banter, the secret glances traded throughout the evening have led to this moment, where the unspoken promise of something more hangs heavy in the air.

The stars above twinkle with a knowing light, as if privy to the secret that simmers just beneath the surface. The night, once a backdrop to a casual gathering, now feels like an intimate cocoon, sheltering the two of you from the outside world.

Joel, with his guard lowered by the evening's camaraderie and the remnants of alcohol in his system, finds himself adrift in the sea of your gaze. The laughter and casual conversation that filled the air earlier has given way to silence.

You lean back in your chair, your eyes locked on Joel's and a mischievous smile paints your lips. "You know, Joel," you say, your voice low and teasing, "I've been thinking about our little chat yesterday."

Joel's heart skips a beat. "Oh? And what chat would that be, darlin'?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

You lean forward, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "The one where you told me all about your - impressive horse," you say, your voice dripping with innuendo.

Joel nearly chokes on his beer, caught off guard by your boldness. He coughs and sputters, his face turning a shade of red that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "I... uh... “he stammers, his eyes darting nervously in the direction of the house. Joel feels the color drain from his face, his palms growing sweaty. He had hoped that the anonymity of the internet would keep his secret safe, but now, as he looks into your knowing eyes, he realizes that you've seen right through him this entire time. "I... uh... I'm not sure what you're talkin’ about," he stammers, his gaze darting nervously around the backyard.

You laugh, a soft, melodic sound that sends a shiver down Joel's spine. "Oh, come on, cowboy," you say, using his nickname on the site. "You don't have to be so shy about it."

Joel's eyes widen in shock, and he feels his face flush with heat. "How did you-?" he begins, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"Let's just say I have my ways," you reply, your smile widening. "what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He had never imagined that his online interactions with you would spill over into the real world, and he's not sure how to handle the situation. "I just... I didn't think you knew it was me," he admits.

You lean back in your chair, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, I did some digging, and let's just say your profile picture was a bit of a giveaway," you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter, if that's possible. He had been so careful, so cautious, and yet, here he is, exposed and vulnerable.

"What's the matter, Joel? Scared?" 

“It's not that, darlin'," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... complicated."

"Life's complicated, cowboy," you say, your voice steady and sure. "But sometimes, you've just got to take the reins and ride it out.”

Before he can respond, you stand up and extend your hand towards him, a silent invitation to follow you into the unknown. Joel hesitates for a moment, his mind racing with the potential consequences of what he's about to do and what you could possibly be offering. But in the end, desire wins out over caution, and with a resigned sigh, he places his hand in yours.

You lead him through the quiet house, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. As you reach the guest room, you pause and turn to face him, your hand resting on the doorknob.

"This is where you'll be sleeping tonight, cowboy," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But remember, I'm just down the hall if you need anything.” 

With that, you give him a playful wink and disappear down the hallway, leaving him standing there, his heart pounding and his mind filled with images of what he thought was going to happen and what might happen if he takes you up on your offer.

—

The next morning, Joel wakes up with a slight headache, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He sits up in bed, rubbing his temples, and tries to piece together the events of the previous night. His mind is foggy from the alcohol, but the memory of you in that skirt is crystal clear.

He gets up and stumbles out of the guest room, his bare feet padding against the cool hardwood floor. He's still half-asleep, his thoughts are muddled and disoriented, and in his groggy state, he accidentally turns the wrong way down the hallway.

Before he knows what's happening, he finds himself standing in the doorway of your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and through the crack, he can see you lying on the bed, your legs spread wide, your hand buried between your thighs. You're completely lost in the moment, your eyes are closed and your lips are parted in a silent moan. You're wearing a thin pair of panties. 

Joel's heart stops in his chest as he watches you, his breath catches in his throat. He knows he should turn around and leave, but he can't seem to tear himself away. He's transfixed by the sight of you, the way your body moves, the soft, needy sounds you make as you touch yourself.

And then, as if sensing his presence, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, you just stare at him, your gaze filled with surprise and desire. But instead of stopping, instead of pushing him away, you moan his name, your voice husky and full of need.

“Joel," you whisper, your fingers still moving in slow, deliberate circles. "I've been waiting for you."

Joel feels a jolt of electricity shoot through his body, his cock hardening in his boxers. He steps into the room, his movements slow and hesitant, and you beckon him closer with a curl of your finger.

"Come here, cowboy," you purr, pulling your panties to the side to give him a better view.

Joel's mind is a whirlwind of emotions as he steps toward the bed, his body acting on instinct despite the lingering doubts in his mind. He's acutely aware of the line he's about to cross, yet, the sight of you, so wanton and unashamed, is an irresistible siren call that he cannot ignore.

He reaches the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on the intimate display before him. The scent of your arousal fills the air, a heady perfume that makes his head spin. He watches as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers dancing over your clit with practiced ease, your hips bucking in response to your own touch.

"Touch me, Joel," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I need to feel you inside me.”

Joel swallows hard, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch you. His fingers graze your inner thigh, the skin soft and warm beneath his touch. With a gentleness that belies the hunger in his eyes, Joel slides your panties down your legs, exposing you fully to his gaze. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him—your pussy glistening with arousal.

Joel positions himself between your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours as he lowers his head to taste you. The first touch of his tongue to your heated core elicits a sharp gasp from you, your body arching off the bed in response to the sudden sensation.

"Oh, God, Joel," you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to explore you with his mouth. His tongue traces the contours of your pussy, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He takes his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slide under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil of desire winding tighter with each passing moment.

"You taste so fuckin good, darlin'," Joel growls, his voice muffled by your flesh. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your moans growing louder and more insistent as he continues his ministrations.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your world narrowed down to the relentless rhythm of his tongue and the feel of his hands on your body. "I'm close, Joel," you gasp, your body tensing as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crest. "So close..."

With a final flick of his tongue, Joel sends you tumbling over the edge. Your body convulses as the orgasm rips through you, your muscles clenching around his tongue as you cry out his name. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, a white-hot surge of ecstasy that leaves you breathless and shaking.

As the aftershocks subside, Joel crawls up the bed to lie beside you, his body humming with need. You turn to face him, your eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, a sated smile playing on your lips. "That was... perfect," you murmur, your hand reaching down to stroke his rock-hard erection through his boxers. "But now it's your turn, cowboy."

Before Joel can respond, you're pushing him onto his back and deftly pulling down his boxers to free his straining cock. You lean down to take him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, your hand pumping the shaft in time with your movements. Joel groans, his hands fist the sheets as you work your magic on him. He can feel the pressure building in his balls, the telltale tingling that signals the approach of his orgasm. "Fuck, darlin'," he grunts, his body tensing. 

“You're gonna make me come.”

You pull back, releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," you say, a wicked gleam in your eye. "Wanna take that ride.” You straddle him, your hand guiding his cock to your entrance. You sink down onto him with a moan and your body stretches to accommodate his girth. Joel grips your hips, his eyes locked with yours as you begin to ride him, your movements are slow and deliberate.

The sensation of being inside you is almost too much for Joel. He can feel every inch of your tight, wet pussy as you move on top of him, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so fucking good, darlin', so fuckin good,” he groans as his hands move to cup your breasts.

You lean forward letting your lips brush against his ear. "I want you to fuck me, Joel," you whisper, your voice thick with desire. "Fuck me like you've been dreaming of."

With a low growl, Joel flips you onto your back, his body covering yours as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes. You wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers dig into his back as he pounds into you, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the room.

"Yes, Joel, yes!" you cry out as your body arches off the bed. "Harder, fuck me harder!"

Joel obliges, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you're both coming, your bodies shudder in unison as you ride out the waves of your orgasms. 

As the last spasms of pleasure wrack your bodies, Joel collapses on top of you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You lie there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still intimately connected. Then, with a playful grin, you nudge him with your hip. "So, cowboy, how was that ride for you?"

Joel lifts his head and his eyes meet yours. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Darlin'," he drawls, "that was the best ride of my life."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. We should probably get cleaned up before my dad wakes up."

Reluctantly, Joel pulls out of you and rolls onto his back. You sit up, stretching your arms above your head, and then climb out of bed. You pad over to your dresser and pull out a pair of clean panties and an outfit, then turn to face Joel.

"Coming?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Joel grins and gets out of bed, his eyes roaming over your body. "Yes, ma'am," he says, saluting you with a mock-serious expression.

You both head to the bathroom, where you shower. As Joel steps under the spray of hot water, you take a moment to drink in the sight of him. The water cascades down his broad shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscular back and flowing over the firm swell of his ass. You allow your gaze to travel back up to his face, watching as the water beads on his skin, runs down the sharp angles of his jaw, and drips from the tips of his lashes.

Joel turns, his movements languid and unhurried. The water washes over his chest, highlighting the definition of his muscles and the ridges of his abdomen. A smattering of greying hair adorns his chest, trailing down his stomach to form a line that disappears beneath the water. His cock, still semi-hard from your earlier escapades, rests against his thigh.

For a moment, you're lost in the sheer masculine beauty of him. He's not a young man, but there's a timeless quality to his physique, a sense of strength and resilience that transcends age. You can't help the surge of attraction to him like a primal pull.

Joel catches you staring and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. "See somethin you like, darlin'?" he drawls, his voice thick with amusement.

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you refuse to look away. "Maybe I do," you retort, your gaze locked with his. "Do you have a problem with that, cowboy?"

Joel chuckles. "No problem at all, feel free to look your fill."

You step forward and reach out to trace the line of hair that bisects his chest. His skin is warm and slick beneath your fingers, the muscle beneath firm and unyielding. 

Joel's smile fades, replaced by a look of intense concentration as he watches you explore his body. Encouraged by his reaction, you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding over the wet skin of his hips. Joel's breath hitches as you lean forward and press a kiss to his stomach, just above the line of hair that leads to his rapidly hardening cock.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and lust. "I want to taste you, Joel," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "I want to feel you in my mouth."

Joel groans, his hands tangling in your wet hair as he guides you closer. His cock is fully erect now, the head flushed with arousal and beaded with moisture. You part your lips and take him into your mouth, the taste of him mingling with the clean, fresh scent of the soap.

Joel's hips jerk in response to the sensation, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Fuck, such a good girl for this ol’cowboy.”

You hum in acknowledgment, the vibration sending a shudder through his body. You can feel his control slipping, his movements becoming more erratic as you work him. With each stroke of your tongue, each suckling kiss, you're pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come, darlin'," Joel warns, his voice strained. "If you don't want to swallow, you better pull back now."

You respond by taking him deeper, your hands gripping his ass as you suck him with renewed vigor. Joel's control snaps, his body tensing as he erupts in your mouth. You swallow reflexively, the salty-sweet taste of his release filling your senses.

As the last spasms of his orgasm subside, Joel pulls you to your feet and captures your lips in a searing kiss. 

As the water from the shower begins to cool, Joel reaches out and turns off the faucet, the sudden silence punctuated only by the sound of your shared breathing. He steps out of the shower first, taking a moment to grab a fluffy towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist. Then, with a gentlemanly gesture he offers you his hand to help you step out onto the mat.

You accept his help with a grateful smile, your fingers curling around his as he assists you. He takes another towel and begins to gently dry your body, his movements tender and unhurried. The care he takes with you, the way he looks at you with a mixture of awe and desire, makes you feel cherished and beautiful.

Once you're both dry, you lead him back to your bedroom, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your warm skin. You crawl onto the bed, your body still humming with the aftereffects of your shared pleasure, and Joel follows suit, lying down beside you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. There's a sense of contentment that fills the room.

Joel reaches out and takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. "That was... something else, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You turn to face him, your eyes locking onto his. "It was," you agree, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm glad you took a chance on me, cowboy."

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "I think it's safe to say that I'm the one who got lucky."

You giggle, the sound light and carefree. It feels good to let go of the tension, to bask in the afterglow without overthinking the situation.

As the morning wears on, you both dress, the reality of the day ahead slowly beginning to intrude on your private world. You know that eventually, you'll have to face your dad, to pretend that nothing has changed, but for now, you're content to linger in bed with Joel, the world outside temporarily forgotten.

When you finally emerge from your room, you find your dad in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He looks up as you enter, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the two of you together.

"Well, good morning, sleepyheads," he greets. "I hope you two weren't up too late."

You feel a flush of heat creep into your cheeks, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. "Not too late, Dad," you reply, your voice steady.

Joel, for his part, seems completely at ease, his years of friendship with your dad serving him well in this moment. He claps your father on the back and grins. "You know how it is. Once you get to talking, the time just flies by."

Your dad nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. He stands up from the table and stretches, his joints popping in the quiet of the kitchen. "Well, I'm glad you two had a good time. How about some breakfast?

Throughout the meal, you're acutely aware of his presence, the knowledge of what lies beneath his clothes, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips. It's a heady secret, one that you carry with you as you navigate the normalcy of the morning.

Eventually, the meal comes to an end, and Joel stands up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I should probably be heading home," he says, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got a few things I need to take care of today."

Your dad nods, pushing back his chair and standing up as well. "I understand. Thanks for coming over. We'll have to do it again soon."

You walk Joel to the door, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone all morning since the shower. He turns to face you, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I had a great time, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "Thank you for... well, for everything."

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with emotion. "I had a great time too, Joel. Take care, okay?"

He nods, his hand dropping back to his side. "You too, pretty girl."

With a final, lingering look, Joel turns and walks away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the morning. You close the door behind him and lean back against it, your mind racing with the events of the past 24 hours.

As you make your way back to the kitchen, your dad looks up from the dishes he's washing and gives you a smile. "He's a good man, that Joel," he says, his voice filled with a warmth and affection that only comes from years of friendship. "I'm glad you two get along so well."

You nod, a sense of peace settling over you. "Yeah, Dad. He’s really good.”

And as you help your dad finish the dishes, the memory of Joel's touch, the sound of his voice, the taste of his kiss, all of it lingers in the back of your mind, a sweet reminder you can only hope happens again and again. 

Special taglist for @milla-frenchy 😘

[salemlovespies]

simon scrunches his nose at you when you call him sweet. rolls his eyes and grumbles something about being the complete opposite, but secretly loves hearing you say it.

likes when you give a little bit of attitude. will either firmly but gently remind you who’s in charge, smirking down at you as he lightly squeezes his grip on you, or will let you mouth off with no reaction other than the muscles in his jaw twitching. the latter is when you know you're in real trouble

will shoot straight up in bed at any odd noise, no matter how deep into sleep he is. simon knows every noise this house makes – the branch that rubs the roof in that one spot, the wind chimes that sometimes hit the side of the house from where they hang. has fallen victim to the neighborhood raccoons more than once, throwing open the back door to nothing but small masked faces and glowing eyes

he couldn’t give less of a shit about traveling. does it enough for work so when he finally does have time off he basically pulls the doormat in behind him, going into ‘hibernation’ as johnny calls it.

wears plaid pajama pants, his favorite pair is gray and black

refuses to let you answer the door if you're not expecting company. most of the time it’s just johnny, who’s found that just showing up unannounced works out better than asking if he can come over

wants to fix everything himself and is pretty handy, but calls price for advice if he needs expertise

constantly needs to be reminded to relax his forehead, unclench his jaw, etc,

will drop everything for a shoulder massage. loves when you sit behind him and rub away the knots in his muscles, groaning at the way your fingertips ease the aches.

on that same note, back scratches can literally put him to sleep. your fingernails lightly scratching at the skin send goosebumps across his body and you’ll be telling him about your day when all of a sudden you hear a loud snore

literally no way to threaten this man. just blinks at you like you asked about the weather

“I’m going to kill you, riley.” “yeah? how would you do it?”

will not go to sleep until you're home with him. every time you go out with friends you return to simon on the living room couch, ready to lumber down the hall after you like a sleepy bear.

“about time, dirty stay out.” “its not even eleven o’clock yet!” “doesn’t matter. y’should be in bed with me.”

[salemlovespies]

This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

[salemlovespies]

Do you know anything i can donate to for palestine that's not the gofundmes because the idea of having to choose who needs my money more is just. scary to me they all need it 3: maybe there's a thing that splits/distributes money evenly???? idk but help would be appreciated

Gazafunds actually deals with this anxiety and makes a decision for you if you want. Their home page has a spotlighted fundraiser and the code consider things like how close the gfm is to finishing, when the most recent donation is, etc. So it's randomized to help as many people as possible.

There's also @helpgazachildren which if you donate, you can help multiple people at once since it's a whole mutual aid fund, or at least close to it. Hussam distributes money to people who need it when he's asked.

[salemlovespies]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

TagList: @waiting-so-long @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat  @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @crashtestbunny @sodavrr

[salemlovespies]

just wanna be yours ; ghost

tags/featuring: fem reader, misogyny, unwanted advances, reader experiencing what literally every fem presenting person experiences on a daily basis, ghost protecting reader, ghost drinks respect women juice, simp ghost, smut, multiple orgasms

notes: italics are flashbacks.

playlist: i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys, will be linked as well

word count: 3,257

Your senses are overwhelmed by Simon and Simon only.

Tears pricked at your eyes and you panted with every thrust of his hips. It took every ounce of your willpower not to let out obscene moans when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“No, no, no. none of that. You’re gonna let out every single moan and fucking whimper,” Simon growled, biting against your shoulder.

It all started when Graves directed his attention towards you.

Now, Simon couldn’t blame him because he didn’t want to become official with your relationship yet. He insisted that it was because he didn’t want you to get hurt, but since you work on the same team, you’re going to get hurt regardless.

So, to the rest of the team, you were completely available. Soap would throw in some harmless flirting from time to time but that was nothing compared to Phillip Graves, who would constantly ask you out on dates or comment about your love life.

Soap’s harmless flirting also never made you uncomfortable or scared, unlike Graves’ whorish attempts that always put a pit in your stomach. Thankfully though, Graves’ attempts at pursuing you were always slyly shot down or interrupted by Ghost.

Whenever you asked him why he would interfere constantly, he would stick with the same bullshit answer, “I can’t have him distracting you on the job.” You would scoff and roll your eyes, and he would let you because it was easier than telling you the truth. That he blocked any of Graves’ advances towards you because he’s in love with you. That he needs you in his life more than he needs the very air in his lungs. That he can’t breathe at the thought of you getting hurt.

He convinces himself that you’re safer if you’re not in a relationship with him. He convinces himself that if he lets you into his heart, a target will be painted on your back.

So he resigned himself to loving you from afar. That was good enough for him. As long as he could protect you and your friendship, he would be alright with not loving you openly.

Protecting you meant that every single time Graves approached you with that slimy grin, Ghost wasn’t far behind - ready to cut Graves off and shield you from his unwanted attention. He is hot on Graves’ heels the second he sees your eyes widen a fraction or your breath quicken. Ghost’s hackles rose the most when he sees the tale tell sign of an oncoming panic attack; you picking at the skin around your nails, leaving them raw and bloody.

Wherever Graves struck up a conversation with you and Ghost was in your vicinity, the Lieutenant would bark a command to some poor recruit. His loud, booming voice would simultaneously distract Graves and pull your attention back to your Lieutenant. Just the way Ghost liked it.

Other times, he would make up tasks for you that involve following him to his office or to the gym. Or following him to literally anywhere that Graves wasn’t. He might tell you that he’s having trouble with documents so he needs you to follow him to his office. He might say that Price called a meeting, when in fact, he never called one at all.

This was one of those times. Ghost was in the gym doing deadlifts when he heard Graves’s grating voice peeking out from his headphones. He tried to ignore it as he kept pumping the weights and pushing his limit, but to no avail.

“I mean, I see you around here all alone, and I just think it’s such a waste.” Ghost hears as he turns his headphones off. He waited a moment to hear whoever Graves was flirting with, if you could even call it that.

Ghost continued lifting the weight, jaw ticking when he heard your timid and shaky voice respond, “That’s nice of you to say, but—,” before Graves rudely cut you off.

“I could treat you—,” Graves was interrupted by Ghost dropping his iron weight on the padded floor, letting it bounce loudly. Graves was jolted from the conversation immediately and his eyes flashed to Ghost, who was now striding over to the two of you.

Your anxious demeanor calmed immediately once Ghost approached Graves, now replaced with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You knew Ghost had a possessive nature about him but no matter what, he would always put your safety first. And the second he noticed that anxious look on your face, or the way your eyes glanced toward the exit door as if planning an escape? His instincts went into overdrive, to not only claim what was his, but to protect what was his.

“Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?” Graves asked, annoyed that he was interrupted. He crossed his arms as he stared back at Ghost, who was now only standing a few feet from the two of you.

“You can, as a matter of fact.” Ghost replied cooly, without missing a beat. He spared a single glance at your nervous figure and without any hesitation, waved you over to stand next to him. You obeyed immediately, moving to stand behind the brooding soldier as he held his arm out to protect you.

As you eagerly took your spot behind him, your eyes grazed over him, admiring his muscles that were on display. You gulped, watching as his arms flexed and his veins bulged as his hands balled into fists.

You could tell he was getting agitated.

“What you can do is take a fuckin’ hint and leave her alone.” Ghost shot back.

Graves scoffs.

“And how exactly does this concern you, Riley?” The American shot back with a roll of his eyes, which Ghost didn’t take too kindly to.

“It concerns me because you can’t take no for a fucking answer, you piece of-” Ghost spat, taking a step further until he was in Graves’ face.

You reached for Ghost’s shoulder and tried to pull him away. You would love nothing more than for him to put Graves in his place, but you knew Ghost would get punished as well for getting into an altercation.

“Okay, LT. I think he gets the point. You get the point, don’t you, Graves?” You narrowed your eyes at the American, daring him to go any further.

“Sure do, Y/N! I’m sorry, it won’t happen again! I assure you.” He scrambled, his southern drawl breaking as he apologized. He looked back and forth between you and Ghost, gauging his reaction.

“Okay, great! Then why don’t we get out of here?” Without waiting for Ghost’s response, you dragged him out of the gym and away from Graves.

You kept dragging him by his wrist all the way to the showers, his boots hitting the pavement behind you.

“You know I appreciate it when you do that but you’re just gonna get yourself in trouble one of these days.” You muttered as you put your locker combination in for a change of clothes. He waited patiently next to you, studying your face while you opened your locker. You could feel his gaze burning into you.

“I’ll deal with that if it comes to it.” He waved your concerns off. You sigh at his nonchalant attitude, grabbing your towel and change of clothes.

“Not if, when, Ghost. You keep putting yourself in positions like that and Shepherd will have you on probation. Especially for something stupid like that..” You mumbled the last sentence under your breath as you slammed your locker. You turned to walk away from him only to have him grab your wrist and pull you close to him.

Impossibly close.

“Defending you from that pervert is anything but fucking stupid. I can’t stand how he makes you feel. How you tuck tail and freeze whenever he talks to you. I see that.” He grounds out. His hand moves from your wrist to hold the small of your back, bringing you flush against his chest. His dark eyes bored into yours, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.

“I see how scared you are, even if you don’t want to admit it. Even if you don’t wanna accept my help. I’m always going to be there.” He almost growls, his other hand moving to cup your cheek. His thumb traced small circles on your skin.

“I will always protect you.”

“Why?” You shot back, fire burning in your eyes. He visibly recoiled at the rare sight of your glossy eyes glaring daggers at him. He was so accustomed to two expressions from you: The first being your bright eyes, crinkling at the edges from laughing so hard at some dumb joke of his. The second being your face contorted in pleasure, throwing your head back as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Why do you care so much? You’ve made it clear that you only want something physical and I’m trying to respect that, I really am.” You blink at the rapidly building tears in your eyes, forcing your emotions down. You refused to break down in front of him, not when you knew how this would end.

You knew that he would brush off your feelings as just a lust fueled crush that would pass any day now.

“But you make it so fucking hard.” Every word that comes out of your mouth is like a punch to the gut for Ghost. He can hear the pain in your voice and he hates that he’s the cause of it.

“One day, you tell me that we can’t keep doing this because it’s a distraction for you. The next day, you’re showing up on your white horse to ‘defend my honor’.” You use your index fingers to make quotations in the air while you spoke the last three words. You’re animated as you rant, waving your hands and raising your eyebrows. It was clear as day that you’d been holding this feeling in for a long time.

“So which one is it? Do you want me or not?” Ghost felt his heart sink when your voice broke. You were at your breaking point, he knew that. You were done playing games. He knew that if he wasn’t honest right here and now, you would end this arrangement for good. He would never get to feel your soft skin under his callused fingertips or have your soft moans hit his ears.

So being honest is exactly what he would do.

“What kind of question is that? Do I want you? You.. you consume every thought in my head. Every room I walk into, you are the first person I look for.” He speaks every word so slow and languidly, leaning down closer to you. He moves the hand that was on your face down to your back so that both of his large hands were splayed across your back.

“You occupy every fucking inch of space in my soul. I cannot breathe when you’re not near me. Of course I fucking want you.” He shouts, his voice echoing off of the lockers.

You jolt a bit in surprise and your eyes widen in shock and disbelief. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as your mind races.

“That’s a sick fucking joke, Ghost.” You almost whisper, stomach feeling like lead as you avoid his gaze. There’s no way. There’s just no fucking way he would ever feel the same way about you, not after he adamantly denied it time after time. Not after he made the two of you promise that your arrangement would always be no-strings-attached.

“You don’t believe me?” He scoffs in your ear, his hands still sending tingles down your spine. He didn’t wait for your response before moving closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

“That’s fine. I’ll make you believe me.”

That’s how you ended up here.

In your quarters, naked, moaning and trembling under Simon as he thrusted into you. His big, rough hands were holding your thighs so your legs were pushed against your chest, putting you in a mating press position.

Skin slapping against skin, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. Your face was contorted in pleasure, brows furrowed and mouth hung open. Simon’s face was buried in your neck, grunting as his cock was squeezed by your tight cunt. Your cunt was sopping wet, your juices soaking his cock and mixing with his seed.

His mouth went to work on claiming you as his, for everyone to see. Licking, sucking and biting on the span of your neck, painting it red and purple like a necklace.

When he got to your jugular, he bit hard. You let out a particularly loud moan at the mix of pain and ecstasy. You could feel him smirk against your neck.

“Atta’ girl.” He praised, angling his hips to thrust even deeper.

“Oh God!” Your eyes rolled back as he hit the spongey spot over and over, the knot in your stomach unraveling as you came on his cock. That would make your first of many orgasms of the night.

“Just me, Lovie.” He muttered, pressing a wet kiss against the skin of your collarbone. The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, so naturally. You were too deep in your fucked-out state to even notice him use that name for you.

“I’m gonna ask you again. Do you believe me?” He asks, reaching two fingers down to toy at your swollen clit. Your juices mixed with his cum made obscene wet sounds as he rubbed the bundle of nerves. You cried out, still so sensitive as he rubbed mercilessly, not giving you even a moment of reprieve. His hips continued thrusting against your sweet spot. You could already feel the warmth in your stomach build again.

“I asked you a question. Do you believe me?” He demanded, slowing his thrusts so you would be able to respond.

You shook your head. It was small, but he noticed it all the same.

He clenched his jaw, and decided on a change of plans. He would fuck you until you believed him. He would pull every orgasm from you until you believed that he loved you. Every last drop.

So he hiked your legs up even further, ankles by his ears, and began pistoning into your swollen entrance. Your breath got knocked out of your chest from him hitting your cervix, only to turn into a wail as he slapped your abused clit, over and over.

Your second orgasm washed over you in waves, cunt squeezing around him and making him groan in pleasure. He fucked you through your high, rubbing your clit until your orgasm died down. By now, his happy trail was painted with your cum.

He never pulled out though. Instead, he stayed sheathed inside your warm pussy and pressed kisses to your ankle that was still hiked up on his shoulder. He watched your blissed out face as you came down from your high, admiring your parted lips and furrowed brows. Your chest heaved as you panted, reminiscent of how your breasts bounced just moments before. Your (hair type) hair was mussed and splayed across the silky pillow.

“How ‘bout now, huh?” He murmured against your ankle, dark eyes trained on your face. Your eyes opened after a moment, still a bit unfocused from two consecutive orgasms. You still looked up at him through your lashes, eyes all glossy and pupils blown from lust.

His eyes peered into yours, almost daring you to shake your head again. He almost wanted you to, truth be told. That would mean he would get to coax more toe curling orgasms from his girl.

You rolled your eyes just a fraction and let out a scoff. To others it might’ve sounded like a pant or just an exhale, but he was perfectly attuned to every noise and expression you ever make. He knew it was a scoff of denial and doubt.

“So fucking stubborn.” He growls deep in his chest, wrapping his arms around you to manhandle you as he wished. You let out a yelp as he completely changed positions.

With your cunt still squeezed around his cock, he sat back and pulled you into his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. Your cunt was now damn near impaled on his cock, feeling impossibly full of his cum. He didn’t let you set the pace though, no. He was in control and you knew it, if the pathetic whimpers falling out of your mouth were anything to go by.

He palmed at your ass with his large hands and began moving your hips onto his dick and immediately you moaned against his shoulder. Hands grasping and clawing at his back, desperate to find purchase as he bounced you on his cock. With every bounce, he met it with an equally strong thrust into your cunt. Every thrust hit your g-spot just right, making the knot in your stomach tighten for a third time.

Your hips instinctively bucked towards the source of the mind numbing pleasure, grinding yourself on his cock. You let out needy whines with every sway of your hips. Every sound that fell from your lips was like music to his fucking ears.

Once you started building your own rhythm, he took his opportunity to remove one hand from your ass and use it to reach down past your stomach, and torture that swollen bundle of nerves once more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—,” You babbled, slumped against his chest. Your throat was raw with how much you’ve been moaning, whining, screaming in ecstasy. Your nails were leaving red scratch marks across his back and he would wear them with pride.

You squeezed painfully tight around his cock and he knew you were so close, teetering on the edge, and you just needed some encouragement.

“Come on, give it to me. I know you can do it, Lovie.” He murmured right by your ear, his husky accented voice sending shivers down your spine.

He rubbed your clit a few more times as he leaned down a bit to bite your neck, growling into the skin.

The knot in your stomach broke and your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your third orgasm cascaded over you. You squirted onto him and milked his cock for every bit of cum it was worth, making him moan into your neck.

He felt warm puffs of air hit his shoulder as you panted in exhaustion. He reached up to cradle your head and stroke your hair.

“You believe me now? You believe that I love you with every fiber of my being? Because I do. And if you want me to, I’ll spend every waking moment proving it to you. No matter what. Whether that means protecting you and making sure you feel safe, or worshipping you like the goddess you are, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“That sounds good.” He heard you mumble sleepily against his chest. He chuckled, relief flooding his chest because you were giving him a chance.

bonus:

“…You know I believed you the first time right? Just wanted to see how many times you could go.” You mumbled as you laid against his chest.

You felt his chest rumble with laughter at your admission.

“You little fucking minx.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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[salemlovespies]

You wake up early and stretch, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

You notice the two muscular arms wrapped around you and see Simon still asleep beside you.

You try to get his arm off, but he moves closer and tightens his grip.

But this is your husband we’re talking about, you know how to get out of his grasp. You lean close and kiss his forehead.

He immediately relaxes and you take it as your chance to roll off the bed.

Once you’ve done your morning routine and showered, you go downstairs and start making breakfast.

Not even a full ten minutes after you’ve left the bedroom, you hear the shower running and twenty minutes after, heavy footsteps coming downstairs.

He walks into the kitchen and hugs you from behind.

“Mornin’ Love.” He says and turns your head with his hand softly. He leans down and kisses you to give you your morning kiss.

“Morning.” You say in between kisses, soon you pull away and turn back to the stove.

“What are you making?” He asks, hands on your hips. His hands squeeze your hip and then slide under your shirt, rubbing your stomach.

“Pancakes, omelette, and hashbrowns.” You say, tilting your head back to look at him.

He kissed your forehead and then pat your stomach.

He nods and offers some help to which you accept, you both then start making the batter together.

Feeling playful, you grab some flour and draw a heart on his cheek. To which he looks at you before he does the same to you.

You two continue making the pancakes together, occasionally fooling around and making out.

It’d be hard not to tell what he wants considering the bulge in his sweatpants.

A healthy and delicious breakfast with a side of cock is your perfect morning.

[salemlovespies]

here’s a ghost thot i wrote for an oc but could absolutely be reader—friends with benefits, reader gets a hold of a pair of ghost’s boxers, stole them to be cheeky after a fuck and just forgot, wears them just cause not really expecting anything when the team goes out to a bar. reader and ghost end up going home early together and ghost stops when he sees, gets off on her fucking some other guy while wearing them. they’ve got his initials on the waistband bc you gotta keep track of your shit and he just loses his mind, gags her with them, cums on her face and makes her keep them on while he makes them the dinner they missed

oh. my GOD yes.

at first he’s fingerfucking you with his hand down the front of the boxers so hard and deep to prove that while you can screw some other guy, none will be as good as him when it comes to making you scream and writhe. ghost knows y’all aren’t exclusive but he Will be the best.

after you DRENCH the boxers, squirting around his fingers while you claw at him and scream, he finally takes them off, ready to once again prove that his cock is the best you’ll ever have. but then he notices the writing on the inside of the band. the messy scrawl in faded sharpie “SR. ghost.” and oh. oh you aren’t wearing the boxer briefs of some green rookie, or a sleaze you met at the pub for a quick fuck. no you’re wearing his boxers

it sends simon’s brain into overdrive. you’ve been walking around all day with his boxers on, “probably been leakin’ into ‘em all day, huh? gettin’ wet just wearing my boxers, lovie.”

he’s no stranger to shoving your panties into your mouth. hell on a couple of occasions you’ve shoved them into his mouth. but something about seeing you gagging on his boxers that you’ve soaked in your cum and been wearing all day does something to the poor guy.

there’s a renewed energy when he fucks you, now that he knows his initials have been on you all day, and you most definitely have fingertip bruises on your hips and waist the next day.

he doesn’t know where the thought comes from - he’s definitely cum inside you before - the as hell starts to feel the burning in his lower stomach and his balls tighten, he pulls out and shifts. granted, a good amount of it ends up all over your chest, but you do get plenty on your lower face, covering your mouth and makeshift gag in his thick cum.

and for SURE once he cleans you up, he slides on a clean pair of boxers as he dresses you (we Do Not willingly allow ourselves to get a UTI or thrush in this house) and pairs it with one of his shirts.

maybe he isn’t as okay with the non-exclusive as he though, because seeing your with sex hair, smiling dopily at him while wearing his shirt and his boxers… it has him smiling to himself far softer than he realised

[salemlovespies]

nobody better be posting about the met gala without mentioning the giant pro-palestine demonstration going on outside

[salemlovespies]

simon riley x fem!reader

Imagine holding Simon when he cries. 

Simon Riley is an incredibly strong man, an absolute force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Since joining the SAS in 2001, he has created a name for himself. A military legend—seemingly more ghost-like than flesh and blood. But that is the farthest from the truth, isn’t it? Cause, at the end of the day, he is still human. You’re his girl, the love of his life. His true love—his only love.

You are a source of comfort he somehow found in this shitty, cold world. The home he never had the privilege of experiencing; your arms have provided him with everything he was denied during boyhood.  

So imagine your Simon arriving home one evening—dead silent—merely shuffling his way to where you’re seated comfortably on the living room couch. His duffle bag drops near his leather recliner before the balaclava is tossed to the side. On his face is a certain heaviness, a sadness twisted in his handsome features; his blue eyes are not as bright as they usually are.

You swallow. Did something happen during the mission? 

“What is wrong, baby?” You coo, stretching your arms out wide to welcome him in. 

Without another thought, Simon tucks himself into your embrace, with his head resting gently on your chest. Against your breast, he can hear your heartbeat thundering away in your chest, moving in a rhythm that matches his. He reckons he is the luckiest bastard in the world, to find a soulmate who compliments him in every aspect of life. 

He lets out a small sigh, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his throat closing up as tears begin to well up. His bottom lip trembles before he bites down on it. 

“Simon,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “What happened, my love?” 

Another tear, followed by three more. A tiny, shaky exhale. Simon remains utterly still for a moment, not saying anything, until…“It’s my father’s birthday today.” His voice is quiet, breathless, unbelievably thick with sheer sadness. 

Your face falls at that. “Oh, Simon.” A sad smile pulls at your lips while you hug him closer, peppering more kisses up and down his hairline, pausing to brush back soft, blonde strands. You say nothing more as he continues to weep in your arms, entire body racking with choked-up sobs and uneven breathing. 

“I loved him,” Simon rasps out, pulling his face up from your neck. Both his cheeks and nose are a cherry-red, with baby-blue eyes bloodshot and puffy, lined with fresh tears. For a moment, he wasn’t the Simon Riley you fell in love with, but the Simon Riley who was five-years-old—all scrawny, little legged and freshly bruised, hiding behind the bookcase in his parents’ bedroom. 

“Loved him so bloody much.” 

You don’t know what to say. What can you even say? Nothing can heal those wounds, cut so deep in his heart and soul that any slight movement reopens them. “I know you did.” You kiss his nose, minding the mess of tears and snot. 

His fists slowly tighten, knuckles whitening as all the memories of his father begin to flood through him; they all carry an agonizing sensation, the kind that is too fuckin' painful to discuss aloud, yet too damn gut-wrenching to keep bottled up inside.

“Do ya…” he hiccups, clearing his throat. “Do ya think…in another life…?” 

In another life. You think for a moment, carding your fingers softly through his hair. “Maybe, my love…” 

Simon nods. “Maybe,” he croaks out, keeping his arms tight around you. There, on the couch, you continue to hold him, letting his torrent of tears soak your shirt; time and time again, your fingers run through his hair in some silent attempt to ease the little boy wailing inside. 

“It’s okay, baby.”

You kiss his temple.

“You’re alright. Let it out, baby.” 

He’ll be alright tomorrow. You know it. In the morning, he’ll be barefoot and content in the kitchen, baking his mother’s special recipe of blueberry and pineapple pancakes—a cup of milk, one egg, blueberries, pineapple, and, of course, the batter—all while waiting for your arms to circle around his chest. 

But for right now, he is five years old, finally being embraced in arms so warm and loving and protective—so unbelievably perfect. The feeling incites more tears.

"Thank you, baby," he mumbles, gently kissing your collarbone; it's a kiss so rich with love, appreciation, and adoration that it stirs up butterflies in your tummy. "For everything."

For everything. Oh, you silly boy. "Simon." You smile down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "For you, my love? I'd do anything."

note: a little drabble for my "let simon riley cry 2024" campaign. thanks!

[salemlovespies]

simon riley x fem!reader

Imagine holding Simon when he cries. 

Simon Riley is an incredibly strong man, an absolute force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Since joining the SAS in 2001, he has created a name for himself. A military legend—seemingly more ghost-like than flesh and blood. But that is the farthest from the truth, isn’t it? Cause, at the end of the day, he is still human. You’re his girl, the love of his life. His true love—his only love.

You are a source of comfort he somehow found in this shitty, cold world. The home he never had the privilege of experiencing; your arms have provided him with everything he was denied during boyhood.  

So imagine your Simon arriving home one evening—dead silent—merely shuffling his way to where you’re seated comfortably on the living room couch. His duffle bag drops near his leather recliner before the balaclava is tossed to the side. On his face is a certain heaviness, a sadness twisted in his handsome features; his blue eyes are not as bright as they usually are.

You swallow. Did something happen during the mission? 

“What is wrong, baby?” You coo, stretching your arms out wide to welcome him in. 

Without another thought, Simon tucks himself into your embrace, with his head resting gently on your chest. Against your breast, he can hear your heartbeat thundering away in your chest, moving in a rhythm that matches his. He reckons he is the luckiest bastard in the world, to find a soulmate who compliments him in every aspect of life. 

He lets out a small sigh, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his throat closing up as tears begin to well up. His bottom lip trembles before he bites down on it. 

“Simon,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “What happened, my love?” 

Another tear, followed by three more. A tiny, shaky exhale. Simon remains utterly still for a moment, not saying anything, until…“It’s my father’s birthday today.” His voice is quiet, breathless, unbelievably thick with sheer sadness. 

Your face falls at that. “Oh, Simon.” A sad smile pulls at your lips while you hug him closer, peppering more kisses up and down his hairline, pausing to brush back soft, blonde strands. You say nothing more as he continues to weep in your arms, entire body racking with choked-up sobs and uneven breathing. 

“I loved him,” Simon rasps out, pulling his face up from your neck. Both his cheeks and nose are a cherry-red, with baby-blue eyes bloodshot and puffy, lined with fresh tears. For a moment, he wasn’t the Simon Riley you fell in love with, but the Simon Riley who was five-years-old—all scrawny, little legged and freshly bruised, hiding behind the bookcase in his parents’ bedroom. 

“Loved him so bloody much.” 

You don’t know what to say. What can you even say? Nothing can heal those wounds, cut so deep in his heart and soul that any slight movement reopens them. “I know you did.” You kiss his nose, minding the mess of tears and snot. 

His fists slowly tighten, knuckles whitening as all the memories of his father begin to flood through him; they all carry an agonizing sensation, the kind that is too fuckin' painful to discuss aloud, yet too damn gut-wrenching to keep bottled up inside.

“Do ya…” he hiccups, clearing his throat. “Do ya think…in another life…?” 

In another life. You think for a moment, carding your fingers softly through his hair. “Maybe, my love…” 

Simon nods. “Maybe,” he croaks out, keeping his arms tight around you. There, on the couch, you continue to hold him, letting his torrent of tears soak your shirt; time and time again, your fingers run through his hair in some silent attempt to ease the little boy wailing inside. 

“It’s okay, baby.”

You kiss his temple.

“You’re alright. Let it out, baby.” 

He’ll be alright tomorrow. You know it. In the morning, he’ll be barefoot and content in the kitchen, baking his mother’s special recipe of blueberry and pineapple pancakes—a cup of milk, one egg, blueberries, pineapple, and, of course, the batter—all while waiting for your arms to circle around his chest. 

But for right now, he is five years old, finally being embraced in arms so warm and loving and protective—so unbelievably perfect. The feeling incites more tears.

"Thank you, baby," he mumbles, gently kissing your collarbone; it's a kiss so rich with love, appreciation, and adoration that it stirs up butterflies in your tummy. "For everything."

For everything. Oh, you silly boy. "Simon." You smile down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "For you, my love? I'd do anything."

note: a little drabble for my "let simon riley cry 2024" campaign. thanks!

[salemlovespies]

the trend of people on tiktok going “i see mdni in bios on tumblr and i interact anyway 😝” 🤢🤢 y’all need to go to hell LMAO

[salemlovespies]

rolling over, half asleep, in the middle of the night and when you stretch your arm out you end up smacking ghost in the face, and you can’t help but fling yourself back with a loud gasp before realizing it’s just your man, who yet again, snuck inside and cozied up to you without stirring you (bc he hates waking up his baby) bc he was able to come home early and chose to surprise you. and after you relax and begin apologizing for hitting him you hear his low, growly chuckle as he sits up to pull you into his chest, kissing your forehead before mumbling into your sweet smelling hair “it’s all right lovie, di’n’t mean to scare you.”