#Tell him you don’t think you’re built for that and maybe it’s not going to work out after all
Text
cam girl (part twelve) (end)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.
His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.
Why the fuck are you doing this to him?
i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i
Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean
Minutes pass. You don’t answer.
Rafe: ?????
Again. No answer.
Rafe: dont ignore me
He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.
Rafe: answer me
Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone
This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.
Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.
He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?
He texts you again: why are u acting like this
Thank fuck you respond.
You: i guess the slut got bored of you first
His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?
If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.
Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.
He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.
He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door
You: ??? i’m not home
At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.
His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.
“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.
“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.
“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.
“Are you drunk?”
“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”
Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.
“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”
Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.
You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.
“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.
Rafe is silent for a moment.
“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.
“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.
You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.
It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.
You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.
He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.
When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.
Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.
“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.
“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”
“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.
He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.
“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”
“No,” he says stubbornly.
“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.
He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.
“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”
Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.
“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.
Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.
Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.
You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.
He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.
“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.
He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.
“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.
Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.
“Why?” is all he can sputter.
“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.
Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.
Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.
“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.
“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”
You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.
“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”
“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.
“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”
“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”
“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”
“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”
“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.
He takes a deep breath.
“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”
He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.
“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”
“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.
“It doesn’t matter.”
So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.
“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.
Rafe meets your gaze.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.
He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”
“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”
“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.
“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.
“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”
“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”
“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”
“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”
“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”
“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”
“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.
You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.
“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”
“Try,” you say.
Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.
“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.
No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.
Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.
He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.
“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.
“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.
“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.
You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.
He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.
“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.
The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”
He can’t even say it.
“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.
You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.
“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“
“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.
“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”
“Fine.”
You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.
Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.
Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.
But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.
Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.
You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.
“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.
You only look at him.
“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.
“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”
Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.
“Let me do the work,” he says.
You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.
Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.
He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.
As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.
Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.
“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.
You smile to yourself.
“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”
“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.
“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”
Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.
“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.
“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.
“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.
You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.
“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”
Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.
“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.
The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.
His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.
“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.
Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.
“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.
“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.
His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.
“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.
The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.
“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”
The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.
You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.
“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.
“No,” he lies.
The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.
“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.
Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.
“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.
When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.
“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.
His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.
Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.
“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.
“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.
He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.
Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.
His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.
“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”
“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.
“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.
“No,” you respond.
“Please,” he begs.
“Kisses. Only.”
He groans. You laugh.
“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”
You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.
Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.
“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.
“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.
You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.
“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.
“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”
“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.
“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”
“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.
He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.
“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.
You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.
“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.
Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.
“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.
“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.
“I- I can’t,” he moans.
“You can,” you encourage.
He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.
“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”
“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”
“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”
“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”
“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.
You’re done playing this game. You need him now.
You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.
“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.
“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.
“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.
“Then fuck me.”
Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.
He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.
“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.
Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.
When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.
“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”
“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”
Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.
To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.
This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.
He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.
When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.
“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.
“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.
As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.
Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.
Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.
You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.
“What’d he say?” you ask.
“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.
“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”
“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”
“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.
“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”
You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.
“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.
“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”
It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.
Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.
When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.
Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?
You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.
You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.
You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.
“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.
“You hungry?” he says.
You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.
As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.
“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.
“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”
You laugh and continue to chew.
“What do you have to do today?” he asks.
“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”
Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.
“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”
As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.
“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”
“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.
You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.
“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.
“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.
“That was one time,” you scoff.
Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.
He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.
Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.
But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.
He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.
But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.
Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.
(the end)
author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!
#BRACE YOURSELVES THIS POST IS LONGGG#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#obx smut#rafe x you#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron and y/n#rafe cameron and reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
cw: it’s just angst & jjk manga spoilers
satoru wakes with a start.
his breaths come a little faster than his body can process, his heart is pounding in his chest, and his head feels like someone’s stuck a hot poker in it.
it takes him what feels like a few minutes to settle down again, clutching the bedsheets in a tightly wound fist.
once things seemed to have returned to a normal level, he tries to remember what’d startled him. was it a dream? a memory? had he simply jerked himself awake whilst on the precipice of sleep, like you claimed he did—
his mind seems to be clearing up, because his next instinct is to sit up and make sure you’re okay.
you’re fine, sound asleep on your side of the bed.
satoru relaxes, albeit only slightly. he’s not sure why he’d been struck with such sudden panic. there’s just this…feeling. he might even go as far as to call it an overwhelming sense of dread, if he were dramatic.
there’s something. it’s hiding in the back of his brain, somewhere even his six eyes can’t find or comprehend.
he leans back against the headboard, reaching up to run his hands through then lightly grip the strands of his hair. outside, the sun’s barely peeking over the horizon, but whatever had startled him had left him wide awake.
“the kids are gonna be up soon,” you mumble, pulling him out of the mess of his mind. “better sleep while you have time.”
time. the word flashes like a flint strike in his mind, but the sparks don’t quite catch yet.
so he lays next to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his chest. he feels a bit better, with you in his arms.
“what’s wrong?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.
“nothing,” he lies.
you hum, but he knows that you know him too well. you always know when he’s lying.
you twist in his arms so the two of you are face to face, the tip of your nose brushing his.
your sleepy gaze finds his, sending him a small smile. “hi.”
he doesn’t reply because he finds he’s too busy memorizing the details or your face; the flecks of colour in your eyes, the slope of your nose. it’s as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.
or maybe the last.
the thought comes out of nowhere and scares him so badly that he tries to pull away.
“hey,” you murmur, cradling his face in your hands. he catches your wrist intending to pull you away, but instead he clings to you like a lifeline. you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “you’re okay.”
he wants to believe you, he really does. but anxiety is beginning to gnaw on the edge of his sanity.
“something’s wrong,” he admits quietly. “i don’t— i don’t know—”
“you worry too much,” you sigh, your thumb smoothing over his cheek.
“i just want us all to be safe,” he tells you.
“i know,” you hum again, smiling a little sadly. “i just wish you wouldn’t let it come at your expense.”
there are a lot of things he wants to say in this moment. he wants to ask why you’re worried, because you know he’s the strongest. that he would rip the heavens apart for you. he wants to tell you that he has a plan, and that he knows it’ll work.
(a plan for what? he thinks briefly. he can’t remember.)
but most of all…he wants to tell you that he loves you and the life you’ve built together. too much to leave it all behind.
but all that comes out is,
“i’d rather it be me than any of you.”
“don’t say that,” you frown. “we need you. i need you.”
there’s an awful ache settled deep in his chest, carving into the place where his heart sits.
“well, it’s a good thing i’m not planning to go anywhere anytime soon.” lie. “i love you.”
truth.
he rests his forehead against yours, tangling his fingers with yours.
the memories hit him like a gut punch.
handmade mochi. the flick of a lighter. a beach in okinawa. megumi and tsumiki laughing. you in your wedding dress, telling him you love him.
a crowded station. the beginning of the end.
his eyelids are suddenly heavy. there’s not enough time, he panics. that can’t be it—
“i’ll be here when you wake up,” you promise, and even though you sound like you’re a million miles away, he can hear the sadness in your voice. “you can rest now.”
satoru closes his eyes.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Live a Little, Give a Little
Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: You're looking to boost your OnlyFans ratings with a big public stunt. Lucky for you, an eager stranger happily helps you out, and gives you more than you expected!
Warnings: Exhibitionism, public sex, train sex, being caught, unprotected sex, creampie, groping, dub con, thigh fucking, mention of oral / cum eating, male masturbation, (*SPOILER*pregnancy) surprise at the end at the end :)
18+ ONLY
- - - -
Starting an Only Fans account to earn a bit extra money turned into something a bit more of a hobby than a cash grab. You enjoyed the attention you got from the thousands of strangers, particularly men, who lurked on the internet, asking you to do ridiculous things for their sexual pleasure. The higher your ratings went up, the more they were willing to pay. And the less likely you were to say no.
Which is how you find yourself on a crowded public train during rush hour, wearing a tight as fuck blouse with your tits ready to burst out if you sucked in too big a breath and a short frilly skirt that came higher than the lowest part of your ass cheeks with no panties, bare pussy out for anyone to see.
Or touch, for that matter.
You’re standing close to one of the doors, facing towards the city passing by in a blur through the window. You should be more nervous than wet. People brush by you, or press up against you, touching your lower back then going along like it was something innocent. You know there’s at least a few perverted fucks on here who are thinking with their cocks with just one look at you. It’s hot as hell on the rattling cage, though that could just be your exhillerated nerves. Your face feels warm, hands clammy at the hope that one of these men will “accidentally” grope you—and they’ll be in one hell of a surprise.
You feel the presence of a particularly large, built man behind you. You can’t see him, but he hasn’t made an attempt to squeeze by either. He just stands there, looming, close enough to feel his breath against your shoulder when he sighs.
This is the one.
You can’t even see this strangers face, but you intentionally bump your butt against him. The train sways, and a warm, thick palm comes up to your hip, holding you securely—no, pulling you closer to him. You gasp a bit, not ready for your senses to be so on edge by his bluntness. Maybe it was an accident. But by the way his hand is still gripping you so close, maybe not…?
The train stops swaying, returning to a smooth track despite the hoard of people it carries. His hand starts to retreat. You quickly tuck your elbow in, grazing his forearm with determination: don’t leave, you plea.
His beefy fist only pauses for a second, as if contemplating your gesture. It continues back down to his side, to your disappointment.
What you didn’t know was how he was staring down your back, noticing something very bold, very daring, and very pretty hiding under your skirt.
He flicks his wrist back up as if to rub his nose, and there he sees it: your naked ass on display, swishing daringly, as if on cue, to flash him before the fabric settles back over.
Your eyes close when that little breeze fades. He’s seen it. There’s no doubt. You can hear him clearing his throat before he’s pushing his full front against your back.
“Mmmf!” You peep, biting your lip not to moan when his massive fucking bulge pokes against your slit. The train is packed even more tightly now, though that doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Your perverted savior’s fingers are dancing along your upper thighs, delicately rubbing little circles, tickling your skin and hiking up your pathetic excuse for closing to feel more of you.
The scratch of his beard against the back of your head tells you that he’s looking around, head on a swivel to see if anyone has caught wind of your dirty little secret.
Stomach clenching with exhilaration, you hope he makes another bold move to feel just how much you’re dripping, all clenched up between your thighs to prevent leakage. All because of him.
The stranger looks down and can see a phone in your hand, easily pointing towards your bum. And even less obvious, the camera being on and displaying your lower half and his.
He smirks to himself, brushing off his groan with a cough again.
He does what any man would do and pulls his dick out.
Almost too easily.
The man pushes closer to you so others can scoot by behind him. There’s no way he’s going to let anyone come between you two right now.
You hope the next stop isn’t for a long while now.
Fuck, here it goes.
You let your free hand drop down behind you and tug his cock playfully. Jesus Christ, he’s fucking huge! It jumps excitedly in your hand, warm and hard as a rock, fleshy, beating in your grasp. You can feel his sticky precum smearing against your inner thigh. The poor thing just begging for attention.
You loved attention.
More struggled grunts behind you. Rubbing his nose excessively, clenching his jaw and looking around the compartment. Nothing mattered to you more at this moment, not even being on a crowded train, than getting that girthy slab of meat inside you. Your legs work of their own according, parting ever so slightly.
He senses it. The man sheaths himself closer upon your invite, your body melting into his muscular physique, broad and overpowering your physical senses. Everything around you screamed him. His smell, his chest rumbling, his belly conforming to the arch in your back. His digits slide in front of your thighs, carving up under your skirt and between your legs to feel the generous slick drooling from your clit.
He stifles a groan at the same time you swallow your whimper. Jesus, his fingers were thick too, rolling over your clit as you tugged on his erect member.
He glances at the phone in your other trembling hand. You feel the strong embrace of his paw hold it steady, and your heart drops knowing he’s aware you’re filming the two of you—but more so that he’s encouraging it. He sees your cute ass cheeks and dripping pussy on display while his cock slides into frame.
He defiles you so considerably slow, gliding his length along your folds, collecting the slick to lube himself. Fucking your thighs. Teasing your little nub with the hooked slink of his tip each time he pressing forward and then up.
The static sound of the train speaker comes to life as the conductor announces gibberish, conveniently muffling that cry you let out when he slides his pulsing cock into you. He’s got you pinned, knees braced as he pushes in fully. You can’t help but jolt forward, falling against the door with your hand braced out to hold you.
It’s so full, engulfing every millimeter of space and then some inside you. So unlike the cold silicon dildo’s you’ve been fucking yourself with for your fans every week. You had almost forgot what it was like to have a real man inside, warm and twitching and fucking massively alive, but my god, never one this fucking filling. He stretches your walls like a gum band around an elephant.
You don’t need to see the reflection of your cross-eyed fucked out expression in the window in front of you. He can see it though, pride settling over his bones at what a fucking whore you must be to let a stranger impale you on a crowded train.
Though, given how wet you were, he’s curious if he’s the first.
He starts languidly thrusting, casually glancing around and coughing his grunts to see if anyone is looking. They’re slow, methodic. Blending in with the natural bouncing of the train car.
Your tits smash against the glass, the buttons of your blouse almost begging to tear. While it seemed no one inside the train with you might be called to your attention, anyone looking from outside towards the train would be able to see you in the compromising position.
His palm splays out over your tummy, making sure your ass sticks out and happily engulfs his throbbing cock into your tight heat. Thank God the rumbling of the wheels on the track mask the squelching noises and patted slapping of skin against skin.
He’s leaned so close, the scruff of his beard tickling your temple, but the ripple of the moving city prevents you from being able to see his image clearly. You catch just feint glimmers of brown and grey curls, patches along his beard—combined with his rough and calloused demeanor. You’re certain that he’s much older than you had originally guessed.
Fuck, if that isn’t hot as hell.
You’re barely holding in moans now. He fingernails dig into your skin, warning you. But you want him to hear, to encourage his fucking of your slutty cunt. The desire to feel him in your stomach for days, long after he’s disappeared. You want him to leave a mark, a memento so you remember this wasn’t just a dream.
There's other people on the train standing close enough who catch whim of you and your perverted partner but they quickly pretend to look away, embarrassed, nearly in denial at what’s happening right before them. Most of these people wouldn’t hesitate to watch without shame, cocks and pussies out, rubbing together at the sight of this on their phones at home. But out in this space, it’s a sin to consider, to acknowledge the presence of.
It feels so much better when it’s wrong.
You catch a woman’s eyes, smiling with your tongue out as your faceless fuck-buddy ruts into you with precise yet minimal humps. It fuels your actions more, being caught and still going without shame.
Your core tightens, and he feels it. He keeps using you like a flesh light, and you happily let him. Your orgasm slams you hard. His hand cups over your mouth as you wail out without care, pussy convulsing around his length and milking him. His fingers invade your mouth and muffle your moans, his tip crashing into your cervix before stilling. Floods of his hot load empty into your pussy, pulsing long thick ribbons before pulling out and jerking the rest of his pearly spend onto your petaled lips and smearing it over your slit.
You breathe deeply, trying to regain your regular heartbeat without looking as if you were just fucked a mile from heaven.
The train begins to slow, the next stop approaching so quickly you don’t even register it. It was over so fast. Your skirt falls down, just barely hiding the white stains along your inner thighs as he zips his softening cock back into his trousers.
Your body turns just as he squeezes by you on the other side, and you can’t catch his even a glimpse of his face before he's walking off onto the platform and disappearing into the crowd.
The doors close, and the train lurches forward again, your mind too dazed to realize you’ve missed your stop.
-
6 Months later
Joel crashes down on the couch, his body aching after a rough day. He fishes out his phone, routinely on time for his nightly and less than satisfying jerk off session with a bottle of beer.
He scrolls aimlessly to his favorite searches, desperate for something new. Its been months since he last got laid, nothing feeling quite as thrilling as that one time…
His eyes widen when he finds an incredibly familiar clip online titled: “Creepy Perverted Old Stranger with Massive Cock Fucks My Pussy Raw on a Crowded Train While I'm Ovulating!"
He clicks on the video, and instantly recognizes your blouse and frilled skirt, the setting of the train, like it was yesterday. The camera doesn’t reveal any faces, just your little ass and pussy from below and eventually, Joel’s crotch.
The video’s time stamp notes that this was uploaded 6 months ago, and its got one hell of a following with 23 million views.
There’s a description that starts with "60 year old creep…” and he almost wants to comment that he is actually 56, for your information.
He watches the video 8 times, unable to even touch his hard cock begging helplessly because he’s too mesmerized by just the sight of your beautiful pussy. Even in your shaky grasp, he can see clearly your pretty folds, his cock invading you and stretching you beyond a reasonable limit. He was denied the image then, but etching it in his brain right now.
He closes his eyes, remembering that feeling of being inside you so vividly: your tight walls swallowing his dick like a champ, suffocating him yet pulling him back in with each draw. He relives it in his mind, has been doing it every few nights. Nothing had ever felt quite as good since you. The thrill of the setting. Your tight sexy body in his grasp, your wet swollen nub twitching on his thumb, and the sight of you—something the camera doesn’t pick up on, something that is only private to him, but he remembers it as though in front of him now. Seeing your expressions so clearly in the window’s reflection, eyes rolled over, tongue lolled out as he rocks your world. It was the last best cum he’d had, and even then it was repressed, slow, and hard to get to when he was being quiet and holding back, it still ranked higher than any high he's had since.
The video continues after he’s pulled out and departed from the train, showcasing the mess he left and your swollen flower now wrecked from his doings. He wishes he had stayed, knelt down and buried his tongue into your folds, lapping the mix of your combined juices and cleaning you up so nobody else could enjoy the sight he’s beholding now on his tiny screen.
He clicks your account and sees the most recent upload was last week. It didn’t seem like you were very active in these few months, but the vigorous commenting and hearts on your recent video has people stirring, and Joel’s curious to know why.
As the video plays, your pretty face and upper body are in frame, smiling to the camera and waving. You look exceedingly radiant, glowing with an effortless aura as you thank all of your fans. He pumps his dick to the sight of your beautiful complexion, soft yet deviously sexy smile crystal clear and staring directly at him. He can’t believe he was inside you, that he dumped his seed in you on the whim a chance and here he is only just now learning your name and true face.
You speak eagerly as you announce a surprisingly unexpected news as a result of that video. The camera pans down, revealing your heavily rounded tummy.
Joel stops his movements on his cock, feeling a harsh throb practically jumping towards the screen at the image of your pregnant body. Your hand glides over your beautiful naked belly, thanking the perverted stranger on the train for giving you such a generous gift to remember him by.
A pained gasp boils out of his throat. His pupils dilated. Mouth parted. Heart skipping a long beat.
He didn’t even realize he had already cum, his hot glue dribbling down his knuckles and shirt as the video ends with your winking kiss.
Permanent Taglist:
- - - -
Part 2
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee
#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#last of us smut#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us smut#tlou smut#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fic#last of us fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
SIT IN MY LAP - SATORU GOJO
✴︎ summary: you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you.
✴︎ contents: fluff, domesticity, satoru being a cute girl dad, crack, innuendo, daughter's name is satomi, implication of pregnancy, wc -> 1,350
Satoru Gojo was blessed in almost every single way — from his cursed technique to his looks, but the thing he was not blessed with was patience.
“We have to wait how long?” Your husband grumbles as you two wait in seemingly a line longer than the Nile itself all to take for your precious daughter to take a picture on Santa’s lap.
“I don’t know how long, Toru, it’s probably going to be 45 minutes at least,” and you swear he pouts more then your three year old does, “Santa is very busy this time of year, isn’t he, baby?” You ask your sweet daughter and Satomi only grins up the two of you, after she insisted on standing on her own.
“Very busy,” she repeats, and Satoru softens for a moment before he sees the long wait still ahead even as the three of you round another corner of Santa’s miniature workshop they had built in the middle of the mall, “Daddy gotta wait with us!”
“Why can’t Daddy go to the car and take a nap instead?” He grumbles, and you roll your eyes.
“Because daddy has to be in the picture with Santa, otherwise you’ll end up on the naughty list,” and his lips curl, “and not the good kind of naughty list,” you add in a whisper.
“Daddy has already been naughty!” Your daughter exclaims as Satoru stares down at her dumbstruck.
“What?”
“You ate my pancakes this morning,” she huffs, and you stifle a laugh at Satoru’s indignant expression
“I took one bite—“ but her glower said she did not care, “only three years old and already turning on me,” he mutters, “who carried her this entire time around the mall when she didn’t wanna walk? Doesn’t that earn me some points?”
“Well I think you’ve been a good boy, aside from the impatience,” and he’s sporting a glower similar to your daughter now, as you giggle between the two of them, “how about this? We’ll all have a treat when we go home if the two of you behave,” and you lean to whisper in Satoru’s ear, “and if you’re a really good boy, maybe I’ll sit in your lap tonight,”
And he perks up at your words, eyes raking over you, “And are you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?”
You kiss his cheek, warmth blooming where your lips touched, “I think you know,”
And a small blush settles over his cheeks, even as he grins shamelessly, whispering, “Have you been a good girl this year?”
You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Definitely not,” your lips skim his outer ear, drawing a shiver from him.
“Daddy are you cold?” Your daughter notices, but you scoop her up in your arms.
“Daddy is running a little hot I think,” you chuckle, as you watch him try to adjust himself, his tight pants doing little to help his situation, “he’ll be fine, right?”
And he pouts again, “I’ll be fine,” he presses a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, “can’t say the same for your mom when we get home,”
Finally, after many brain cells lost and almost an hour of time, you reach the front of the line. “Santa” sits in his chair, looking quite jolly, despite having to deal with children all day, and he welcomes your daughter, who, for all of her spunk when dealing with her parents, now was hiding behind your leg.
And before you can say anything, Satoru is kneeling beside her, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He’s running his fingers through her soft white locks, “do you want daddy to go with you?”
And she considers it, lips in a cute pout that’s all too similar to her father’s, and then nods, “daddy, come with me,”
“Of course, baby,” and his fingers intertwine with her smaller ones as he takes her up. You hang back a little, your phone ready and poised to take pictures and a video, as you beam.
Santa holds your daughter as he asks her what she wants for Christmas. Your daughter says something half whispered that you can’t make out, but Satoru does, his cerulean eyes widening slightly before his lips curl into a grin.
And before you can ask what she said, you’re pulled in to take a picture. You three leave, Satomi in her father’s arms, nestled on his shoulder, peacefully sleeping, “what did she wish for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.
He snorts, “Sworn to secrecy by Santa,”
“What’s that? A hidden confidentiality clause?” And he only smiles, as you roll your eyes, “pun definitely not intended,”
“I’ll tell you when we get home. Too many prying elves here,” he jerks his head at one of Santa’s elves sitting on a bench, clearly on their break with earbuds in either ear.
“I don’t think they care about a three year old’s wish,” and Satoru’s lips part and eyes comically big in mock offense.
“This is not any three year old — she’s the next Gojo heir, my successor, the fruit of my—“ and you glare, “our loins,”
“More like mine,” you cross your arms, tilting your head as you glance at your daughter, “you’re not the one that pushed her out,”
“Yes I’m the one who put her in there—“ and another scowl makes him clam up, smile bit back, “I’ll tell you when we get home, after I get you on my lap that is,” he adds with a grin.
“Oh yeah, I don’t know if you’ve been so nice though,” and his free arm slides around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead, curling his lips.
His voice low as he murmurs in your ear, “The real question is if you have been, baby.”
And finally, when Satomi is fast asleep in bed — arms and legs tangled in her blanket like a menace, you emerge from her bedroom, sighing, “finally down,” you collapse on the couch beside him, lying your head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close, “are you gonna finally gonna tell me what she wished for?”
And he hums, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Sit in my lap, and see,” and you tilt your head, but you slide over his lap, sitting with your knees on either side of his waist, “good girl,”
“Satoru—” and he’s kissing you slowly, lips meeting yours in a languid kiss and you can taste the sweet hot chocolate on his lips he drank earlier.
“Been waiting to that all day,” he murmurs, gaze leaving a trail of heat as it slid over his body, and his hands follow, squeezing your hips and making you lurch against his hips, “definitely on the naughty list from that noise,” he grunts.
“Weren’t you supposed to tell me what Satomi wanted?” You mumble against his lips, as they meet again, before pressing kisses down your jaw and the hollow of your throat.
“Oh, we wanted the same thing,” and you raise an eyebrow, and he’s grinning up at you, “she wants a sibling,” you breath catches — both at his words and at his darkened gaze — and you can feel his erection press against you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, “wanna make a Christmas wish come true?”
And your heart flutters, “do you think we’re ready?” You had been talking about possibly having another kid, Satomi was getting older — ready to start school soon enough — and you wanted your daughter to have a sibling to grow up with.
Satoru’s gaze softens, his palm sliding across your cheek, as you lean into his touch, “I know we are — as long as you want it to,” and you can almost see it now — a little boy with Satoru’s blue eyes and your hair, nights spent up with the baby, days spent as a family, the baby sleeping on Satoru’s chest as you do Satomi’s hair, and another piece of your family complete.
So you kiss him, lips sliding gently against his, and you smile at him, “Luckily, you both knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas.”
✴︎ note: i don't celebrate christmas, but i got this cute fic idea in my head and i couldn't get it out lol. i love girl dad satoru.
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo imagine#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo fanfiction#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
i had dream about this lol. reader is naive/innocent/virgin, they know about sex but not much about masturbation. reader tells joel that they’ve been having this problem at night (usually) where they get all hot and achey down there. joel’s like well i know a way you can fix that feeling!! hopefully this isn’t too outrageous, i just love perv!joel lololll
Aches
900 / Joel x virgin!Reader / joel master
✨ prequel: fires | sequel: thoughts
WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag. fingering, grinding. mention of Joel being a girl dad.
You can't sleep. You scoot your lower body forward and away from Joel's crotch.
"You okay, sweetie?"
Not really, but you don't know how to talk to him about it. You’ve been sharing a sleeping bag with Joel ever since yours was lost in a scuffle. Joel's is big enough for both of you, but barely. You’re settled in against him with your head on his bicep trying to get to sleep, but he was poking into you again, and it makes you ache. The feeling between your legs is so distracting, so overwhelming you can't sleep.
It seizes you and won’t let you relax, but you don’t know what to do about it. You’re a grown woman, of course you’ve tingled before, felt the warmth between your legs, thought about sex, hoped to have it one day. But this aching, throbbing feeling worries you. It’s so beyond anything you’ve ever felt before. It's extreme and sometimes it hurts. You worry something has happened to you from sleeping so rough, not having the right products people used to have for their periods.
The feeling is at its worst when his dick gets hard and presses up against you. That makes you suspect it's sexual. But you never learned how to get yourself off, and it's too late now.
"Um, yeah," you whisper. "I'm okay."
You squirm uncomfortably and dig a hand between your legs just to stay there.
"What's wrong honey?"
You sigh. "I just feel funny, that's all. You can't help. It's girl stuff."
"Now, hold on. Gimme some credit. I was a girl dad remember? You havin' cramps?" He gently rubs your lower belly, making the throbbing between your legs even worse.
"No, not like that," you groan.
He lifts his head up and gets more serious. "What's goin' on, sweetie? Where's it hurt?"
Your face burns as you start to try to tell him. "In the front between my legs."
His breath hitches. "What's it feel like?"
"It just aches and tingles and feels like a lot of pressure."
He inhales deeply. "Anything else that goes with it?"
"I get wet," you say. "But I don't think it's like normal. This is really a lot, and I'm afraid something's wrong."
He's quiet for a moment. "Nothin's wrong with you, baby," he murmurs. "Imma try somethin', okay? Tell me if this makes it worse or better."
"Okay." You're desperate. Plus, you've been traveling with him for weeks and you're past the point of modesty.
He nestles in behind you and grinds his hard cock into your ass. "Worse or better?"
"Worse, worse."
"Okay, now we know what the problem is. It's just tension, baby. Built up pressure. Your body's reactin' to mine."
"Okay. . ."
"Just gotta relieve that pressure. It's okay, we all do it. I can give ya some space if ya want"
Your heart rate speeds up. He must assume you know how. "I don't do that," you whisper.
"Ya gotta. Not gonna go away on its own, sweetie."
"I never figured out how. maybe something's wrong with me"
"Nothin's wrong with ya sweetie." He's quiet for a moment then he strokes your abdomen reassuringly. His hand finds yours between your legs. "Want some help?" He asks.
"Um, alright."
You move your hand out of the way and Joel's replaces it, first feeling you over your underwear. He whistles silently when he feels how wet you are. Then he slides his hand into your waistband. "This okay?"
"Yeah."
He backs up and urges you to lie down flat on your back. His hand wedges between your thighs and you move them apart, making space. He watches you watch his hand. He bypasses your clit to wetten his fingers with your arousal. "This okay?" He asks and you nod.
His middle finger prods at your entrance "can I go in?" You nod again.
He scoots up and presses his hard cock into your hip as he swirls his finger, then inserts it to the first knuckle and your mouth falls open with the intrusion. "Real tight," he mutters.
"What's that mean?"
"Nothin', baby."
He proceeds to insert his whole finger, then adds another. He slides his fingers through your folds then finds your clit and begins to rub wet circles. "Tell me when it feels right," he says.
He tries a few angles, speeds, and techniques until one really hits the spot and you say "that."
"Good girl."
He rubs you just how you like. "Now if you wanna touch your nipple or somethin', sometimes that helps, too."
You slide a hand under your shirt and lightly caress your breast. You feel your lower belly heating up, you're getting more tense but also feeling so good with his hand between your legs. He grinds himself into you as he fingers you and watches your spine begin to arch.
"Come on, sweetie. Let it happen."
You whine from the pressure. "Joel, I - I don't know how"
"Sure ya do, baby just let go, let it happen," his voice is soothing and low.
You whine again and pinch your eyes shut.
"I know baby, you're almost there;"
A few more strokes and you see stars. You ride massive waves of pleasure and relief. It feels so good you cry.
"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I got you." He caresses your face. "You're okay, I got you, sweetie." He presses a kiss to your temple.
SEQUEL: Thoughts
-
Thank you so much for reading. I always love your comments 🥹🙏
If you're into innocent readers, there's more where this came from. . . My ongoing series Left in Lincoln has an innocent, naive, virgin reader. And my master list has a virgin section lol.
-
All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller drabble#joel miller fic#pedro pascal fic#perv!joel miller#dark!joel miller#pedro pascal#pervy!joel miller#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..
how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)
ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol
have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our Remains
Pairing: John Price x F!Reader
Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end
A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.
You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!
But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.
Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.
Just an overwhelming sense of dread.
The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.
You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.
The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.
In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.
John’s icon dims.
You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.
He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.
“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.
God, you loved him so much.
Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.
He tried to call as often as he could.
John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.
“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.
You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.
“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”
“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”
“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”
Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.
Jesus, this was actually happening.
You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.
“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”
The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.
Above all, he knew when something was up with you.
“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”
Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”
The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.
“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.
The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.
Back at the house, your face scrunches together.
Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?
John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.
“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”
…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?
“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”
The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.
“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”
He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.
There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.
John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.
“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”
“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”
Your voice quivers.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.
You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”
John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”
Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.
From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.
You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.
“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”
John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.
“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”
You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.
“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.
“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”
Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.
“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.
“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”
A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.
“I promise, John.”
“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”
Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”
The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.
He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.
The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.
Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.
—
John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.
All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.
It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.
“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.
Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.
John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.
The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.
“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”
Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”
The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.
He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.
Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.
But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.
“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.
His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.
John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.
Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.
He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.
“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”
You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.
“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”
Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”
But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.
Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…
“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”
Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.
You steel yourself and raise the box.
“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.
He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.
Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.
“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.
You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.
“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.
What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….
Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.
John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”
Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.
“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”
It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.
Why isn’t he saying anything?
John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.
Pregnant.
His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.
Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.
“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.
John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.
“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”
Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.
“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”
He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”
You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”
“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”
Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”
His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.
You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.
“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”
The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.
“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”
While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.
A family that you both had made.
John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”
Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”
There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.
What remains behind, you ask? Simple.
White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.
TAGS:
@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,
#john#john price x reader#cod x reader#cod#cod x you#cod mw22#mw2#mw2 2022#call of duty#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#captain johnathan price#captain john price#john price#john pr#john price x you#john price fic#captain price#cod mwii#call#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x you#call of duty x reader#mw#mw2 x reader#mw2 fanfic#price#price x reader#price call of duty#captain price x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Confession
Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.
Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.
A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.
I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡
Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.
Then you pause.
No response from him comes after.
Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.
You wait a second longer.
Hoping.
But still, nothing.
Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.
Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:
You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”
Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”
You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.
“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”
Another pause.
You catch your breath.
You wait.
But nothing.
So, you start again.
“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”
And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.
It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.
“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”
Another bout of silence comes before the question.
One you’d never suspect.
“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.
The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.
You knew who it was.
“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.
“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”
“I… shouldn’t.”
“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.
“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.
“But you do it anyway.”
“I do,” you reply meekly.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I can't.”
“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”
“Gotta touch myself.”
He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”
“Rubbing my clit.”
“Do it.”
And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.
He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.
“How does it feel?”
“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.
His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”
“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”
If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.
You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”
“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”
His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”
“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”
You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.
“I want him so bad.”
“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”
“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”
“Anything?”
“Everything.”
After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.
Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.
It reminds him to compose himself.
Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.
He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”
That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.
He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”
And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.
Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.
You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.
His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.
You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.
Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.
His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.
His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”
And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”
You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.
You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.
It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.
But it doesn't matter.
You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.
And it doesn’t matter.
“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.
He’s all that matters.
“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”
Now you know you’re all that matters too.
Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.
His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.
It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.
Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.
You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.
The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.
“Come on,” he tells you.
“I'm trying, I want to.”
“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.
You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.
Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.
Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.
A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.
Then a noise erupts.
The church door closes.
Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.
Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.
You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”
Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”
He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.
It was his turn now.
#rick grimes x reader smut#rick grimes smut#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes imagine#rick grimes fic#rick grimes x fem!reader#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes x you#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead smut#twd smut#twd fanfiction#rick grimes x female reader#rick grimes x y/n smut#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes x afab!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Me Until I Love Myself
♡♡♡ Minho wants to make sure you know he loves you ♡♡♡
Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader
Rating: Explicit
Theme: Angst, Fluff, Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.
Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), reader is insecure and doesn't like herself
Word count: 3 k
You and your boyfriend are on the ride back home from an awards show after party. It was exhausting. You used to think they must be fun, getting to chat and party with celebrities, but nope. You’re not built for this. You wonder how he could do it, especially after performing those taxing choreos. You could never. All night he was so bubbly and cheerful, while you tried to hide in shadows and attract as little attention as possible. Well, it’s not like people cared about you anyway, you were an outsider, a peasant who was offered a chance at a royal ball.
Halfway through it you questioned why you even accepted to participate, and then right away, you remembered why. Another girl approached him, congratulating him on their win and talking about memories you weren’t a part of, laughing at inside jokes you couldn’t understand. Of course, he would be comfortable with these girls, they’re coworkers after all! He’s known some of them for ages, way before you guys met, and of course you had no right to tell him to stay away from them or anything. The best you could do was to stick around, so the girls were aware of you as his girlfriend, or he knew you were there, lest he decided to do something naughty with one of them...
You know you’re being unreasonable; you know he’s loyal, and they’re just friends, some of them are even like his little sisters, but you can’t get these thoughts out of your head. Your insecurities won’t let you. After all, those girls are famous idols, loved by millions, always so dolled up and pretty, acting cute and shit. You think it’s just a matter of time before Minho realizes the timid plain you ain’t good enough for a star like him. Although he always fondly smiles at your dorky made up dance moves, you think some performer who could actually dance and shared his passion for dancing would be more appealing to him. You feel you lack a lot, and you can’t justify why someone like him would be interested in someone like you.
You feel pathetic. You let out a sigh subconsciously and Minho gently puts a hand on your thigh, asking if you’re ok. You reply with a nod and a weak smile. You’re afraid if you try to talk, tears may spill. His hand remains on your thigh, so you hold it to calm yourself down. His soft hand that you love so much. You love everything about him, you’re crazy about him. You wish you didn’t love him so much, then he couldn’t one day break your heart. You wish you were another person, well, you wished that almost your entire life until you met him. Having him, convinced you that you were alright, the person who you were and hated for so long, was the same person who got you to him, so it was alright. But here you are again, doubting yourself. You think you’re just broken and can never be fully fixed. So maybe it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to stick with you…
You arrive at Minho’s place. You moved in with him a few months back, so it’s technically your place too, but you don’t dare to indulge yourself in that idea, you think you don’t deserve it, you’ll lose it soon, so better to not get attached, but it’s already too late.
Home, at last. As soon as you enter, you are greeted by the cats. Minho picks one up cooing at it. You walk past by him into the bedroom. You just wanna rid yourself of the party attire and go to sleep, right now the only thing that could stop your train of horrible thoughts is sleep.
Minho joins you soon after, walks towards you and wraps his arms around you from behind as you’re taking your jewelry off in front of the mirror. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent.
“Hey let go, I’m tired. Just wanna get out of this dress and go to bed.”
“But I want you to stay in this dress a bit longer. You looked so pretty tonight, babe” he leaves kisses on your exposed shoulder that make your breath hitch in your throat. But you’re still upset about the bleak night you had.
“Oh, is that why you spent the whole time talking to other girls while I was sitting right there?” Your bottled up emotions force you to blurt out.
He lifts his head up, looking you in the eyes through the mirror. His expression is baffled, he’s trying to figure out what he did wrong.
“What are you talking about? I thought we had a nice time there!”
“Well, you obviously had, giggling with them all night.”
You try to break free from his arms but he won’t budge.
“Hey! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s exactly wrong.”
You try to form sentences that would explain why you’re feeling like this, but you feel stupid for bringing it up in the first place. You break into tears as you’re tired and helpless and don’t even know how to make sense of your feelings. Silent tears start streaming down your cheeks, you’re never one to sob loudly. Worries written all over his face.
“Baby tell me. What did I do? Did someone say something to you?”
You shake your head “no”. He lifts you up and carries you to bed, sitting you on his lap. You show no resistance, your hands are balled up on your lap and your head is down, trying to cover your crying face with the lose strands of your hair, which he tucks behind your ear immediately. His thumb is caressing your tear-stricken cheek. His other hand is soothingly massaging your thigh.
“It’s okay baby, you can talk to me. Please. It really hurts me to see you like this and not be able to do anything about it. Tell me what’s wrong sweetie. We’re gonna fix it together.”
You don’t wanna hurt him. Hurting him is the last thing you would do. So, you try to fight the tears and speak.
“I… seeing you tonight… the girls all pretty and talented… the things you have in common… how close you are… I wonder… how long… till you realize……….”
“Till I realize what baby?”
“I’m not… good enough” your voice is shaky, again on the verge of tears.
He’s in disbelief. His mouth slightly agape in shock. His grip on your waist tightens.
“Why would you even think that?” he says as if asking himself, not really waiting for a response from you.
His brows are furrowed. He’s thinking to himself.
“I get it now. You were sitting right there, and I kept talking to other people as if you weren’t. But I just thought you weren’t taking part in conversations coz you didn’t want to be bothered… but you actually felt excluded from them. Is that right?”
“Almost. That alone wasn’t a problem, but it made me think you deserve to be with someone who’s more like them and less like me…”
“Woah! Where did you get that from?”
“You’re too good for me… it can’t be right. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time with me…”
“Hey! You don’t get to decide that for me! Do you think I couldn’t have any of those girls if I wanted? The thing is, I don’t want them, I want you.”
“Why do you even love me? Even I can’t love myself…”
“Where should I begin? I love everything about you, and I make that my first priority from now on, to make you see all the things I love in you, and to make you love them too.” He finishes his sentence with a soft kiss on your collarbone.
He plants a few more kisses on the expanse of your chest before pulling back and looking into your glossy eyes. You give him a thankful smile as your hands reach for his nape and pull him in for a kiss. His lips feel like heaven against yours, soft and plump. The kiss starts with languid movements of your mouths. Neither of you are in a hurry, you both need to savor this moment. He drags his tongue on your bottom lip and you let it in. As your tongues are dancing, the temperature rises. His hand that was on your waist, travels up to grope at your clothed breast, the other hand is tangled in your hair, keeping your head in place for him to abuse your lips.
He lays you on your back on the bed, momentarily disconnecting your lips which makes you whimper in loss. It encourages him to get back to kissing with even more fervor. His hands are pulling the straps of your dress down, trying to gain access to your breasts. He trails kisses down your jaw and across the column of your neck, to your shoulders and collarbone. They alternate between feather like pecks to purplish hickeys. He can’t decide what he wants. He wants it all, he wants all of you, he can’t get enough.
He stops to admire his work of art. A hand cups your cheek gently which you lean into, closing your eyes.
“You’re so perfect baby,” He plants a kiss to your forehead. “Even in my wildest imaginations I couldn’t picture someone this pretty,” Another kiss to your nose. “Inside and out.”
You open your eyes to see his lovingly stare back. You pull him in for another taste of his lips.
“So, do you still wanna get rid of this dress?”
“I do, if you want to.”
“As gorgeous as you look, I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.”
He takes it off and your left in nothing but your black lace panties. You tug at his dress shirt, signaling him to take it off too, which he complies, followed by the unbuckling of his belt and his pants follow suit.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I want you to never forget that.” He says as he hovers over you once again. You open your arms to invite him into your hug. He lowers his body onto yours, slightly circling his hips against your crotch. You feel him twitch in his boxers.
“We don’t have to do it if you’re not in the mood, you know.” He says searching your eyes.
“I want it baby, I need you, I really do.” You say as your hands are mapping his toned chest.
With a little smirk on his lips, he goes back to business. He kisses your chest, right above your racing heart, then latches his mouth to your left nipple. He sucks and bites at it till its raw, while trying to give the same amount of attention to the right one between his fingers. You squirm beneath him as your nipples get too sensitive and can’t handle more. He gets the cue and snaps out of his uncontrollable desire to ruin them. Instead, he gives them both kitten licks and pecks in turn, to compensate for the rough treatment they just received.
Moving down your naval, he’s all soft and sweet with butterfly kisses, loving pecks and whispering sweet nothings in between. He’s slotted between your thighs as he reaches your core. Eyes darting up to ask for your permission one last time before he’s completely unstoppable. You give him a nod and he places a kiss to your clothed mound. He teases by nudging his nose to your clit and licking a stripe from your hole to it. Tasting the arousal leaking through the fabric, he lets out a satisfied hum that sends shivers up your spine. You’re growing impatient but he’s taking his sweet time with peppering your inner thighs with kisses and hickeys. You feel more of your juices flowing out and you buck your hips up.
“Stay still princess. Let me take care of you, hm?”
“Minho… please…” You whine. You trust him that he’ll take good care of you, but you can’t wait anymore.
He finally gets rid of your panties and the cool air hits your pussy, followed by warm puffs of his breath.
“So pretty… all mine” He says before diving down and starting to make out with your pussy lips. The lewd noises that fill the room make you forget why you were even upset earlier. The only thing you don’t like about this moment is how little pressure he’s putting on your clit, enough to keep your juices flowing, but not enough to make them gush out all at once. You’re a moaning mess, your fingers pulling at his roots, trying to keep his face close to your core. He’s finally sucking at your clit, suddenly the pleasure gets overwhelming as he inserts two fingers inside you. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening to a snap. A few more strokes of his tongue and your coming undone. Your thighs shake around his head, one of his hands comes up to fondle your breast, his mouth still attached to your core, drinking the elixir of life straight from the fountain. He waits for you to ride your orgasm before he crawls back on top and gives you a taste of yourself. His mouth and chin are glistening with your juices. What a sight to see! You feel extremely lucky to be the one who caused this scene.
“That was …amazing… Thank you” you say while trying to find the normal rhythm of your breath.
“I told you I know how to take care of my girl.”
“Now it’s your turn.” You push him on his back and now you’re on top.
First thing you do is taking his boxers off and finally freeing his aching cock. You wonder how he managed to focus on pleasuring you while he was this hard. The sight alone makes you all turned on again. You thought you’d need more time to build a second orgasm, but you’re already throbbing.
Now it’s your turn to mark him, to shower him with kisses, to try and pour as much love as possible onto your every touch. Starting from the sensitive spot on his neck, you know you can’t mark him here, still you suck it a bit harsher than you should. You leave open-mouthed kisses all over his chest and where it is safe, give him a few hickeys too. You lovingly kiss the scar on his abdomen, the fact that it’s another thing that only a few have seen and you’re one of those few, is really endearing to you.
His member is twitching between your bodies. You slide your wet pussy on it, earning a groan from him. You decide he deserves a quicker release, so you stop grinding to hold it and align it with your entrance but he stops you.
“Wait baby. Let me do it.” He says as he’s stopping your hips from moving.
You’re confused but you go with it. He gets on top again.
“Tonight is about showing my baby how much I love her.” He says with a fond smile.
“I wanna make sure everything feels good for you.” He puts a pillow under your hips to gain a better angle. He inserts the two fingers from before in your pussy, checking how wet you are and scissoring them to loosen the muscles.
“Minnie I’m fine… it’s not my first time…” you try to say in between gasps as his fingers alone are doing wonders inside of you.
“Oh but it is sweetheart. I’m gonna love you all over again.” He inserts a third finger.
“Gonna make sure to give you all the love you deserve.”
He clashes his lips to yours as he replaces his fingers with the tip of his cock. The stretch is pleasant, you want more of it. You moan in his mouth as he slowly inches inside you until he finally bottoms out. He stays still, your warmth engulfing him, turns his brains to mush.
He whispers in your ear: “I love you so much”
He starts moving as he nibs at your earlobe, giving you words of praise now and then. Your arms wrap impossibly tight around his shoulders, leaving no space between your chests.
He slowly picks up his pace. Your nails are digging to his biceps now. Beautiful moans fill the room. His lips won’t leave your skin for more than 3 seconds. He pats down your left arm till he reaches your hand and your fingers intertwine as if they have brains of their own. He pins it above your head and his other hand is beside your head, supporting his weight as his movements get faster and less precise.
“ ’m close…” you manage to let out.
“Go ahead… I’m right… behind you”
A few more thrusts and you’re second orgasm hits you as your head falls back and your eyes screw shut, his name like a prayer on your lips. You’ve made a habit out of saying his name every time you came or it wouldn’t feel right.
As your walls convulse around him, he can’t hold it back anymore. Ropes of white hot liquid paint your walls. He collapses on top of you. He tries to pull out but you stop him.
“Wanna stay connected to you a bit more…” You wish you could merge with him into one person, but having him inside a bit longer, would do too.
His head finds its place in the crook of your neck. One of your hands is in his hair and the other is resting on his back. You whisper a “I love you” to his hair and kiss the top of his head and he lets out a sigh. You don’t want this moment to end. If he can love you this much, maybe you should give it a try too.
#lee know smut#lee know#lee know x reader#lee know fluff#lee know imagines#lee know drabbles#stray kids smut#lee know angst#stray kids drabbles#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids#kpop fanfic#skz#skz drabbles#skz imagines#kpop#kpop smut#stray kids angst#lee minho fluff#lee minho smut#lee minho x reader#lee minho stray kids#lee minho skz
800 notes
·
View notes
Note
The dialogues you write for maki are so goddamn heavenly, please, what is it like when her girl squirts on her glasses (bonus if in the next morning, everyone in the dormitory heard them)? 😣🙏
Just Can't Focus
pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader
nsfw: semi-public sex, cunnilingus, squirting
word count: 1.8k
author’s note: thank you so much for the request! you're so sweet!! i had a lot of fun adapting your request into a fic, hope you enjoy! also, maki looked so good in the latest episode. i need her...
description: something about watching you train gets maki so riled up.
The day has been long.
Nothing slows down time quite like having to hold a plank, and Gojo, who’s in charge of training you and your peers today, has been making the hours crawl by with countless strength training exercises. Your core is aching and your legs feel like they’re about to give out, which is why it feels a blessing when your teacher gets a phone call that pulls him away into a meeting with the higher-ups.
“Pair up and find a place around campus to practice sparring while I’m gone,” Gojo instructs, “We’ll meet back up in 30. Don’t forget to have fun!” He waves as he heads towards the school, leaving you and the other exhausted students alone in the field.
Nobara turns her head to you, about to speak, when an arm interlocks with yours. You look to your side to see that Maki has claimed you as her partner.
“Maki!” Nobara huffs, “I wanted to spar with her.”
Maki shrugs. “Be quicker then.”
Nobara’s face darkens with a scowl and you hurry to resolve the conflict. “I’ll spar with you next time,” you tell Nobara, “Promise.”
“You better.” She crosses her arms and walks towards the other sorcerers, annoyed she’ll have to partner up with either idiot #1 or idiot #2 (Yuuji or Megumi).
“Let’s go find a spot,” Maki says, though she begins pulling you off towards a forest nearby, seemingly already having a place in mind.
Soon you’re past the tree line, and before you can get a word out about the sparring drill, your back is pressed up against a tree and Maki’s lips are on yours.
It catches you by surprise—Maki tends to be unpredictable, a reason why it’s hard for you to beat her in a match—but it’s instinctive how you fall into the rhythm of her lips, melting into her touch as you kiss her back. Her leg nestles between yours and her strong hands land on your sides, brushing along the curve of your waist as she leans into you.
“Need you…now,” she mumbles in between kisses, the rasp of her voice confessing desperation. Even though you and Maki have been a thing for a while now, she knows how to mask her true feelings, so until she had you pinned against a tree, you didn’t have a clue that such a need was building up in her all afternoon.
“Yeah?” you say, resting your arms atop her built shoulders, pulling her closer. “Can’t wait until after training?”
Maki tugs off her uniform jacket, leaving her in the white long sleeve she wears under her uniform, and lays it on the grass by your feet. “No, so come sit down.”
Her mouth is inseparable from yours as she helps lower your body down onto her jacket, and the moment you’re sitting down, she’s kneeled between your thighs, reaching up past your skirt to dip her fingers into the waistband of your black tights.
“Lift up your hips for me, pretty,” she murmurs against your lips. You listen, and she pulls your tights off, and then your underwear. It’s a little strange, how you’re half-naked in one of the school’s forests, but you have a hard time caring when Maki hooks her arms underneath your thighs and brings her mouth to your cunt.
“Already so wet for me,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvis, “Have you been thinking about me too?”
“Maybe,” you say, though the evidence speaks for itself. How could you not? For the entirety of the strength training session, all you could notice was Maki. With the way her defined muscles flexed as she worked through Gojo’s ceaseless exercises, it was impossible not to. You had to look over and take in how the effort contorted her elegant features, had to hear how it sharpened her breath. And every single time you glanced over to her, without fail, she was already looking at you.
“You were just as distracted,” you say, trying to keep still despite the sensation of her hot breath fanning against your cunt. “You really should be paying attention during training.”
She smirks. “I think it’ll be easier to focus after I have you cum on my tongue.”
Her warm mouth connects with your folds, forcing a choked gasp from your throat. You rock your hips back and away, caught off guard at how quickly sharp pleasure cuts through your insides, but Maki’s strong arms keep you locked in place. Her eyes flutter shut at the contact and she deeply inhales, finally gratified after wanting to be with you like this all afternoon.
Your head lolls to the side when she begins to move, licking long stripes up from your hole to your clit with a flat tongue. Pulling up the fabric of your skirt gives you an unobstructed view and you watch, eyes lidded, as she pushes her mouth further into your cunt, just unable to get enough. Then she pushes her palms gently against your thighs, opening yourself up further to her. You allow it, legs falling open, and lean back against the tree behind you.
“There we go,” she says, “Relax for me, okay?”
You realize why when a finger circles the outside of your hole. Maki’s tongue continues to bathe your clit with wet swipes of her tongue, only increasing the amount of slick coating your opening. She uses this lubrication to shallowly slip the tip of her finger in and out of you, stimulating the tight ring of muscle circling your entrance. Then, she lengthens her movements, pushing in deeper with every thrust of her fingers. Your breath comes out shaky. “Fuck…Maki…”
She begins to move her finger inside of you, pushing it up against your walls in a way that has heat rushing to your lower stomach. Your eyes flutter shut and each pump of her finger pushes a soft moan from your lips.
“If you wanted to make it up to me for being such a distraction all afternoon, those pretty noises of yours are doing the job,” Maki says.
She adds another finger, which only makes you call out her name once more in that breathy voice of yours she adores. The pressure is immense, especially with her fingers being so strong and precise.
“It’s…so much-” you say, pressing your eyebrows together. You don’t think you’ve had Maki eat you out and finger you at the same time before; the sensation is overwhelming. Every harsh thrust of her fingers is complemented by a sweet lick on your clit, a two-front war that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. Any attempt at escaping the pleasure is nonexistent with Maki’s hold on you, and soon your stomach is twisting, like a violent undercurrent is ripping through your lower half. It’s new, and more intense than you’ve experienced before.
“Maki I…I feel weird…” you say, squirming.
“You’re doing great, pretty girl,” Maki responds before diving her tongue into your folds once more.
“I’m serious…Maki…I don’t know…” Your fingers tighten in the grass around you.
“Does it feel good?” Maki asks.
“Feels…s’good,” you respond.
“Then relax, enjoy it.”
You want to listen to her, you really do, but there’s a hesitant voice in your head, one telling you that if you give in to the pleasure, you’ll be giving in completely. You’re just so full; there’s so much pent-up energy in your body that’s begging to be released. But the more she touches you, the more encouragement and praise leaving her mouth, the less power you have over the force building up inside your core.
“I feel like I’m gonna…”
She curls her fingers inside you, pressing against your sweet spot with a force that has your body shaking and seconds away from release.
“Fuck—Maki—m’gonna—“
You’re unprepared when your orgasm hits you, and because it hits you hard, you’re helpless when fluid rushes out of you at the intense sensation. You throw your head back, pleasure rolling through your lower half and being expelled from your body. Unaffected, Maki continues to finger fuck you, only prolonging the ruthless orgasm she’s sending through your body.
“Attagirl,” Maki says, grinning.
You’re swearing, or moaning, maybe a mixture of both, as the climax pummels your poor body, and you hold onto Maki’s arms for dear life, fingers digging into the fabric of her white long sleeve.
When her movements slow, coaxing you back into reality, the haze washes off and you realize that you’ve squirted for the first time–all over Maki’s face.
You sit up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—fuck, your glasses.”
She cuts you off. “It’s hot, pretty. Don’t apologize for something you don’t have to, mkay?” She takes her glasses from her face and rubs the liquid coating them off on her jacket beneath you.
“I’ve just…that’s never happened before,” you say, still reeling from the sensation.
“Makin’ me feel special,” she says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, she stands, offering you her hand. “Are you okay to walk? Everyone should be regrouping by now. I think if we stay any longer, I’ll want to try to make that happen again.”
“Uh…yeah, let’s go,” you say, grabbing onto it and letting her help you up. You’re still grappling with what just happened; you didn’t even know that could happen.
Dazed, you find your underwear on the sleeve of Maki’s jacket, uncrumple it, and pull it back up on you.
“Thanks for that,” Maki says, threading her hand into yours for the rest of the walk out of the forest.
You and Maki are the last to join the group. Aside from Gojo, who’s meeting must’ve run long. Guess training ends early today.
As you walk up to the rest of the sorcerers, Yuuji tilts his head and then points at Maki, “Did you lose your jacket?”
Your eyes widen as you realize that Maki isn’t wearing it, she’s still in her button-up. Though, it’s not like she could put it back on, your fluids had soaked the material. “I took it off when we were sparring. Guess I forgot it,” she responds.
“Is that why you took off your tights too?” Panda asks, pointing to your bare legs. Heat rushes to your face.
Maki scowls. “Last chance to mind your own or I’ll be your sparring partner next time.”
“Alright! Okay!” The rest of them hurry off but fail to do a good job pretending they aren’t whispering about the two of you.
“I’ll go grab our clothes and put them in the wash, so you go take a break okay?” She grins. “I hope I didn’t work you too hard.”
“How considerate,” you tease, “But I would prefer it if you came back to my room after doing the laundry. Maybe then you’ll be able to tire me out.”
“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”
#maki zenin x reader#zenin maki#maki x you#maki x reader#maki zenin#maki zenin smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk maki
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1
Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|
Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader
Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.
Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn
unedited*
At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.
You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.
Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?
And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.
“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”
The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.
It’s a person.
“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.
You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.
You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”
You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?
“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.
“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”
With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.
While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.
“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.
“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.
“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”
***
You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.
“You want us to do what?!”
“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.
“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”
“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”
He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”
That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.
And you could use the company.
“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”
One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”
Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”
He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.
When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.
Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility
*Taglist open!
#kpop#bts#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts x reader#kpop smut#bts smut#kim seokjin#park jimin#bts series#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#poly!bts#ot7 x reader#bts ot7#bangtan ot7#poly!bts x reader#hybrid#bts hybrid au#strangers to lovers#eventual romance#eventual smut#rm bts#bts jimin#jk fic#bts fic#poly ot7
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
“Baby?”
Steve lifts his head off the pillow to look at Eddie, his back arching in a much needed way after lying on his stomach for so long, and he ends up groaning appreciatively as he stretches his back a little more. It makes Eddie smile. All the small things do.
Overcome with sudden but gentle affection, Steve rolls over with a matching smile and comes to a stop lying halfway beneath Eddie, getting a glorious view of his deepening dimples.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie says, his hand coming up to brush Steve’s hair out of his forehead. Steve leans into his warmth a little further, feeling so incredibly loved when Eddie looks at him like that.
It’s infinite, what he feels for Eddie. What he feels with Eddie.
“Oh? ‘Bout what?”
Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “You,” he says. “Me. Us.”
Steve hums, wrapping himself in Eddie’s scent as he buries his face in his chest, his arms trapped between them. He can’t move. Can hardly breathe. It’s perfect, and Eddie always indulges his cat-like tendencies, as he calls it.
“Tell me about your thoughts?”
A hand weaves its way into his hair, scratching wonderfully along his scalp in lazy, soothing patterns.
“I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you.”
“Hmm?”
“When we have our own place. I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you. In the kitchen even, so you can sit on the floor and still be comfy. You can have a little nook for floor time with Robin. And it’s gonna be padded with pillows, but the ones that are still solid. Only a little soft. Still grounding.” Eddie mumbles, a little lost in thought like he’s still imagining it all unfold.
Steve melts, first rolling further into him and then back, so he can look up and meet those soft, soft eyes.
“That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“All the time. Never wanna tell you about it so I won’t ruin the surprise, but, I don’t know. Wanted to tell you. You’re gonna have bougie-ass wall pillows, angel.”
And Steve doesn’t know how to handle this. How to take it all, take everything Eddie gives him and live his life an unchanged man. His heart is going to burst one of these days. It’s gonna burst and it’s gonna go everywhere, remind the world for all eternity of the love they shared. Built. Shaped and reshaped in all the ways they needed.
“Everything,” he says, his voice weak with the awe he feels, his own hand coming up to Eddie’s cheek.
“Hmm?” Eddie’s nuzzling the palm of his hand, brushing kiss over kiss to the centre.
“You’re— You’re everything. Can’t believe it sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” Eddie teases, making Steve laugh for the first time in hours. It’s easy. God, it’s so easy.
“Don’t be so full of yourself.”
“Oh, I’m gonna be full of som—“
Laughing, Steve claps his hand over Eddie’s mouth, shutting him up and revelling in the giggle that follows before Eddie nips on his palm.
“I hate you,” Steve grins, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle.
“Yeah, well,” he hums, fond affection settling permanently on that pretty, pretty face. “‘M still gonna put pillows on the wall for you.”
Steve sighs, hoping to relieve some of the intensity he’s feeling. It’s overwhelming, even after all this time.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” Eddie whispers, hovering above him in an almost-kiss. “Endlessly.”
@puppy-steve i love you. i’d put pillows on the wall for you 🤍🌷
🤍 permanent tag list gang (i hope this is okay even though it’s only a tiny thing) (and maybe some reprieve from all my current angst): @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off)
#steddie fic#steddie#dio words#steve harrington#eddie munson#dio’s steddie ramblings#floor time#<- going back to my OG steddie ways even if it’s only implied#they’re soooo in love smh#cj i’m holding you ily so much i miss talking to you (i just suck) but pls this is for you i hope it makes things better 🥺🤍
639 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.
Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"
“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.
“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”
Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."
Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.
"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."
"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.
"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.
"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."
"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."
Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”
“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”
They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”
“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”
“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”
Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”
“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”
“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”
He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.
Grian snickers, waving away smoke.
“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”
“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”
“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.
Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”
“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”
Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.
“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.
“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”
“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.
“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”
Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”
Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”
“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”
“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”
“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”
“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”
This time he does duck the thrown napkin.
He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.
Is Decked Out alive?
Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.
“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”
He feels the dungeon’s excitement.
“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.
His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.
#decked out#tangotek#hermitcraft#redwinterwrites#it's my birthday so maybe reblog this if you enjoyed? 👉👈#long post
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
empty classroom
content: not sfw + alone in a empty classroom with yuuta okkutsu + jealousy (from yuuta and reader) + f!reader + requited crush + thigh riding + praise (f receiving) + reader has built up cursed energy and yuuta manages to help it in his way and just empty classroom “activities” with yuuta
word count: 2k+
—
—
It was infuriating watching him talk to her like that. He seems so happy and delighted just to talk to her and be in her presence. You can’t help the jealousy in you building up. He was being nice and sweet, just like how he is.
You turned around to walk away, not bothering to watch the guy you like talk to your classmate. Maki is a nice and pretty girl, you see why Yuuta would like her.
Unbeknownst to you, as you turn around Yuuta watches you walk away and he sighs. He hears Maki say something he shakes his head at. “You should really tell her, she reeks of cursed energy.”
“There’s no point, I don’t even know why she’s building so much negativity inside her.” Yuuta says, watching you with longing feelings inside him. He likes you a lot. And he feels jealous, so jealous when you just greet Inumaki with a hug, or simply talk to him.
“Then go ask. It’s not that hard, Okkotsu.” Maki says. Yuuta felt determination but also fear. Scared of your reaction when he tells you his honest and true feelings.
“Maybe some other day.” He says and Maki lightly scoffs. “Do it before other people also can smell the cursed energy on her.”
—
It was after a mission that happened, you felt exhausted and your muscles sore. And when you see Yuuta talk to Maki, you practically stomped away. Yuuta was already looking at you when you took a step into the same vicinity.
As you were about to walk away, you see him run up to you. As he arrives, he sniffs the air and makes a worried expression at you. He quickly grabs your wrist to your surprise. You love his touch on your bare skin.
“Where are you taking me, Yuuta?” His name falls off your mouth so sweetly, he could get on his knees at your feet and spill out his feelings for you if you just said his name again.
“Somewhere empty, because you’re reeking of cursed energy.” You make a confused expression at that. You reeking of cursed energy?
“What do you mean by that?” You ask as he pulls you into an empty classroom far away from the main buildings. You’re facing him against the wall and Yuuta sighs.
“What’s bothering you?” He ignored your question but his question was genuine. His voice soft and it made you feel so frustrated. You wish he could just read your mind right then and there, then tell him you’ve built up negative energy because of him. Because you’re jealous.
He was so close to you, just two more steps, your breasts could be pushed up against his leaner body. He could nestle his hips between your thighs and get rid of the cursed energy just by doing something. Something that consists of heartfelt words, his soft lips moulding against yours as he holds you against him, his grip rough but gentle.
“Nothings bothering me.” You sigh out, embarrassed to tell him and embarrassed of what you just thought. What if you didn’t just build the amount of cursed energy because of jealousy to the point of reeking, but also because you felt needy for him. Needing him in ways only he can fulfill.
Then he was there. Close, but not close enough to have his chest pressed up against yours but close enough for you feel his warm breath on your face. He smells of a lemon minty scent. You wonder if he’d taste like that too if you just put your lips on top of his. You glance at his lips, subconsciously craning your head up at him. You see him looking down at your lips as well, his eyes changing expressions, like he thinks the same as you. If you’d taste just as sweet in his mouth.
“It’s because of you.” You mumble, looking away from him. Yuuta looks at your face away from your mouth. “Me?” He asks confused and you lightly mutter a cuss word out of frustration.
“Because I like you, you idiot. I’m jealous of every single person you talk to because I want you to talk to me.” You ramble out. Then your voice turns soft and embarrassed. “Only talk to me.” You look down at the button on his uniform. Yuuta is quiet for what felt like hours but only a few seconds.
“I like you too. A lot.” He confesses softly. You look up at him surprise, feeling hopeful then you remembered how he practically beamed in Maki’s presence.
“You’re lying. You’re only saying that to make me feel better. You probably only like me as a friend.” You remark. Yuuta sighs.
“I’m speaking the truth.” He simply says, his words final and you still don’t believe it.
“That doesn’t explain how you’re so happy to talk to Maki.” Yuuta is getting frustrated with you at every word you spill out. He wish he could just shake you into believing him. So he does that. He grabs onto your shoulders and practically shakes you against the wall. You turn furious at his actions and he doesn’t care.
“Because I’m talking about you, you idiot.” His words surprises you and the cuss word he let out. Yuuta never cusses and the fact he did that right now, in front of you, makes you wanna believe him.
You stutter out your next words to him. “I still don’t believe you.” Then he was lowering his head, his eyes looked into yours. The last thing you see on Yuuta’s gentle and pretty face, is his eyes turning furious as he grabs onto your face before he lets out a low grunt, and then his lips was on top of yours. You softly gasp as he slanted his mouth, prying your lips open with his tongue and you kiss him back. He do taste like lemon mint. Just like how you thought.
Yuuta trails his hands up your face to curl his fingers into your hair. He feels how your hands that was hanging by your hips is now on the back of his uniform jacket, holding him tightly. He craves you even more. He wants all of you. He needs to touch you deeper, feel your bare skin against his. He angles his mouth against yours to kiss you deeper.
He presses his hips against yours possessively and to keep you in place. Not letting you be able to let go at all. Or move out of place away from him. He has you here, against him, against the wall and against his mouth. You taste so sweet, like you belong to him and him only.
The kiss changed so quickly, for it to go from a frustrated kiss of a ‘believe me’ to a needy one. Like you needed each others breath and kisses to survive and to feed on.
Yuuta pushes his tongue between your lips, scrapes it against your teeth, letting it wander over the roof of your mouth and he moans. He moans like he couldn’t believe it. A moan slips past your mouth when you feel him practically slam you against the wall, his hands traveling down your spine, yanking your skirt uniform up to squeeze onto your backside, yanking you closer and closer to him. Pushing you against his hard on between your thighs, hard and thick through your own uniform. You moan again when he rolls his hips against you. Your own hands trail up to his hair and you grip onto him tightly.
He kept kissing you like a man starved. Like he needs more than enough of a fill of you.
Heat builds up even more inbetween your thighs, your underwear soaked and your thighs squeeze against themselves. You need him more and more, needed him to press up against you.
Then you feel him haul you up against him. You listen to his wordless demands and you wrap your thighs around his body. To say it felt so good is an understatement. It felt beautiful and exquisite. Like you’re already at the doors to heaven. You groan into the kiss in relief and he moans against your mouth. And he presses up against your clothed heat, rolling his hips against you as an unrestrained moan leaves your mouth.
You felt so good against him, your thighs wrapped around his waist so possessively and so tight, like you won’t ever let go of him at all. He sucks up every single sweet moan that he hears, kissing you harder and harder like your kisses are his pumped blood to your heartbeats.
Yuuta’s lips trails down your jaw, over your neck, sucking onto your pulse point. His teeth latching onto your skin, biting, nipping and tugging as it stung but you love it. Your soft gasps tells Yuuta everything he needs to know and he doesn’t stop. This is the heartfelt words you wanted. Although not words but heartfelt nonetheless.
Every inch and spot of your body is heated, unstable like you first hand wandered into a blazing fire. His sweet words of affection and praise doesn’t ease it. His whispers of so sweet, you’re so good to me, I just love the taste of you, could taste and kiss you all day — against your skin. You whimper as he continues down your collarbone, to the small place of your throat as he continues to rut his hips against you, pleading to him in your whines and wordless pleas that that he should alleviate the pressure building up in your lower abdomen.
And he does it, it’s like your breath disintegrated and your blood turned blazing hot. He shifted his body, tentatively but also sure, moved his thighs between your thighs, rested you against his thighs and he moves his knee. You burrow your face against his shoulder blade.
The intense gasp he heard against his shoulder, it made him more determined. The more he rolls your body against his moving thighs, the more he gets to hear your soft voices. He pressed his thigh forward, the fabric of his pants and his hard muscle brushing against your clothed clit. He felt like he could feel your soaked heat leaving wet spots on his pants. How he wished to see it in front him, knowing it’s dripping all for him. He kisses the side of your neck.
You feel one of his hands travel below your skirt to your panties, to your clit and then he rubbed. Once, you’re mewling against his skin, twice, you were so close that your grip on his hair tightens. Thought you hear him lightly wince, he is still breathing against your skin, whispering soft words of endearments — yes, sweet girl, keep moving like that, yeah, so close for me yes, come for me angel, just like that.
He keeps rubbing against your clothed clit and you came. Probably with a muffled scream, a loud gasp and with few cuss words. Maybe you said you love him. Yuuta keeps murmuring sweet words against your skin and as he feels you pants against him, he moves his hands up to cup your face, planting a breathy soft kiss against your mouth. You softly panting against him and when you feel his warm breath against your face, you practically let out soft cry when he teases you by rubbing last time on your clit.
Yuuta feels you slap his back, muttering a ‘you’re being mean’, the slap barely there and he lightly chuckles. He looks down at you, sweat on your forehead, your hairs sticking to your skin and you look so cute. He wants to do this all over again, just to feel your thighs tighten their hold around him when he makes you feel so good, feeling your soft pants and breaths against him, your tight hold on his hair like he’s your anchor.
You come down from your haze, your heart beating fast, way to fast for your liking and your minds in a haze once again when you see how messy but how beautiful Yuuta looks. You’re still holding onto his hair, it’s messy, his face are flushed, his lips swollen and there’s an air of lightness to him. You feel relieved.
“You smell sweetly like yourself again, no more of that cursed energy.” He softly tells you, his expression gentle as his eyes flicker all over your face. You feel him hold your face, thumbs leisurely stroking your cheeks. You reach down to hold his face as well, he nuzzles into your hold, turning his face to place a chaste kiss against your palm. Warmth surges up inside you at his actions and how he looks at you. Like you hold the entire galaxy in your hands and his heart.
“I like you.” He confesses again. Tears wells up in your eyes. “I like you so much, every chance I get, I talk about how sweet you are, how pretty you look.” His voice is so warm and full of wonder when he tells you that. “Really?” Your voice was low, unsure but you still believed him. He nods his head at you and you feel so relieved at his confirmation.
“You said you get jealous, yeah?” He asks tenderly, you give a slight nod, feeling embarrassed. He nods his head as well, brushing his nose against yours.
“I get jealous too, everytime you talked to inumaki or anyone for that matter, I wanted to you keep you to myself and have your eyes on me only.” Why’s he so sweet? You could kiss him again. And that you do.
You press a tender kiss atop his mouth and he replies to the kiss, moulding his lips against yours at a leisure pace. He softly strokes your cheeks once more. He pulls away, brushing his nose against yours again.
“So do you believe me now?” He grins at you and you playfully scoff. “After you just made me come on your thighs?” You say and at your words, your Yuuta blushes furiously and he hides his face in the crook of your neck. You giggle at his reaction.
“Do I get make you come like that in the near future?” You hear him barely say after a few seconds and your heart quickens even more. He moves his hand down to your backside again as he said that and you tighten your thighs around him even more. You feel him rub circles on your ass, awaiting your response, his lips softly nipping on your neck, gently but impatiently, still waiting for your reply.
When you said yes, he took his opportunity to make you feel good against him once again.
—
id get on my knees begging yuuta to kiss me like that even though I’d feel so humiliated doing that but whatever, it’s for yuuta <3
if you came this far and enjoyed it, a reblog and a like would be so nice and appreciated + a lil comments of your reactions to this hehe
#jjk scenarios#jjk imagines#jjk smut#jjk yuta#jjk yuuta#yuuta okkotsu#yuuta smut#yuuta scenarios#jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu#jujutsu kaisen yuuta#jujutsu kaisen smut#yuta okkotsu#yuta okkutsu smut#yuta smut#jjk yuta smut#jujutsu kaisen yuta smut#yuta scenarios#yuuta x reader#jjk x reader
746 notes
·
View notes
Text
prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling
-
It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you.
It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys.
On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country.
Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do.
“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”
“Services?”
“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”
You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.
No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.
“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”
“Where is he?”
“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”
It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off.
But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway).
The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.
He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”
“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”
He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”
“I haven’t thought about it!”
“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”
You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that.
You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.
Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service.
You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids.
Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you.
He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt.
“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”
You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.
You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse.
He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.
“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer.
He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”
“I sent you my itinerary.”
“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?”
It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished.
He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp.
When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.
“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower.
“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”
You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.
#cod mw2#ceil writing#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost/reader#ghost cod
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Silly Husband!König decided to give it a try to one of Soap’s girlfriend’s ideas. Out with the boys for a beer, he let it slip that in some weeks you’d celebrate your first anniversary and he’s just scared of not being able to make you live a night full of passion, he’s getting a bit old after all.
Some of the girlfriends were trying to give him lots of advice, “don’t watch porn, don’t masturbate, don’t be overly sexual because you might not be able to get it up”, Soap’s girlfriend casually mentions just taking some aphrodisiacs and calling it a night (better if taken some hours before the act, so sexual tension can be built up). Soap ends up telling König how it actually works and how his girlfriend never had a complaint while they used them, just make sure not to exaggerate with the dose/the amount of times you use it.
Husband!König returning home to you, finding your precious self asleep on the couch as his heart starts pounding and blood rushing, he just loves you so much, he will not risk anything to ruin the day of your anniversary. He brings you to your shared bed and gently tucks you in, kissing your temple as he gets out the room, closing the door slowly so he doesn’t wake you up.
Husband!König that spends the night on the computer and researches the topic of aphrodisiacs, writing down every pro and con he finds. He goes thru a list of the safest ones to buy and chooses the absolute best one, paying a good amount of money for it, but it’s all for his sweet lady upstairs, he would pay millions just to make sure she’s safe.
Husband!König that receives his package and runs to hide it asap, so you don’t see or suspect anything. Your anniversary it’s in a week, he can’t risk to ruin the whole surprise. The bottle it’s actually small, or maybe his hands are too big (umm.. DUH?), but he reads the instructions very well, aside from trying to remember what the website he bought this thing from said. A maximum of 2 drops mixed with anything, or just plopped in the mouth and swallowed, if taken more, there was not really any risk, the state of the aphrodisiac would just last longer, but don’t go over 5 drops, it’ll be painful to deal with the effects for DAYS!
Husband!König is getting ready for your dinner, being finally the day of your anniversary, and as you’re still stuck on your make up, he prepares two glasses of champagne for you two to drink before going. Of course he has a reason to, he squeezes, well he tries to, some drops of the aphrodisiac. He’s careful to remember not to go above 5 drops, and decides to be precautious, he’s squeezing in 2 for you, you’re a young lady, your stamina still pretty high, while he gives himself double, 4 drops hoping he didn’t fuck up, still, he’ll think later about consequences. He brings the glasses upstairs to you, and you both drink, you thank him and notice how he is not able to keep his hands off you already. You have to drag him outside the house, or you’re risking your dress ripped off and your makeup destroyed, but it’s still too early for that!!
Husband!König that’s being tasted for the whole duration of the dinner, you caress his hands, your foot seductively touching his leg, running up and down his calf, your eyes focusing on his face and never breaking eye contact, your lips, your voice, everything about you is so sexy and seductive, and he can’t wait to just bring you home and give you a proper fuck, one you’ll never forget, and not because it’s your first anniversary together, but because he really plans to fuck you good, worship you but still get you all dirty and messed up for him. He’s a man of thought, he bought condoms, he has lube, even bought one that tastes like strawberry, he’ll pour it on your pussy and enjoy himself between your legs for a good amount of time. He has cuffs, ropes, toys that you would already regularly use, but tonight he wants to push you to the limits, he’ll probably stick his cock inside your pussy while he fucks your ass with a dildo, he’ll make sure to torture your clit with a vibrator while he fucks your ass, and play with your tits, maybe even sticking his cock between them too! Night’s young and he has a lot of plans, he can tell that his magic drops are working on you also, not just on him, because the moment you both leave the restaurant you’re leeched onto him, grabbing, touching, tracing his body and hungrily kissing his lips when he allows you to. He’s a taste, he’s not lowering himself on purpose just to hear you beg and whine about wanting his lips.
Husband!König who stands on his title as a silly man, because he might be actually good with technology, but why would he not delete the chrome history on a computer he knew very well you were using too. Maybe it was a slip, maybe he really didn’t think that his searches would pop up on the search bar the moment you typed an ‘A’ onto the keyboard, eager to look for ‘Austrian foods’ to make for him, just to have ‘Aphrodisiacs for couples, pros and cons’ pop up as a recent search. Needless to say, you left it be, your silly husband was onto something and you were really exited to see how it would all play out. You knew the moment he brought you the glass of champagne, you knew what he had put inside, and you still drank all of it. Careful not to spill a drop. The night was long ahead, you knew, but were more than happy about it. Feeling your panties already sticking to your folds while in the car was an indicator that the aphrodisiac was indeed in your champagne, and it was working its magic already! Of course he wanted you to suffer a bit by giving it to you before dinner, but he mostly wanted to edge himself, force himself to have you all wet and ready for him the whole time you were at the restaurant, having to wait till back home to have you in every place and position he wanted.
685 notes
·
View notes
Note
oh oh oh I’ve seen this going around (didn’t know it was a thing?) but 141 + König and Nikolai when their s/o has a strength kink?
Hey there! To anyone else reading this, only the ask has some NSFW elements to it, the rest of this post is entirely SFW! Again, I don't write NSFW, but I can write something watered down and SFW if that's okay with the person having sent it in, and that's what I did this time! So, this request has instead become something along the lines of the lads with an S/O who simply likes them being muscular!
TF141, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Likes Muscular People
Price: He’s a captain, so naturally he immediately takes notice of how you’re ogling him whenever you think he won’t notice. Though, sometimes you do have the audacity to stare at his chest and, especially, his arms. While he may have a bit of chub around his body as well, he’s by no means insecure. Quite the opposite, he’s well aware that it’s healthier for him to have some body fat. It’s kind of cute to him, in all honesty, and somewhat flattering too. Price knows he’s a strong and capable man, he could easily pick you up or manhandle you however he pleases, but the fact that that sort of gets to you as well, he likes that. You won’t have to outright tell him since he’ll know anyway, but expect to be carried a lot more, to have him be more conscious about what he wears so he can show off his muscles a bit. It won’t really affect too much of his routine, but if you ever want to watch him work out a bit so he can flex his muscles for you, he definitely won’t mind that either. It’s nice to have someone to talk to after all. If you’re ever brave enough to ask him if you could maybe touch his muscles, he’ll chuckle a bit and flex for you as well. He may be closer to 40 than 30, but it’s nice to know that you still think of him as attractive. One of his favorite ways of showing off his strength to you is by giving you a nice and warm hug to make you feel safe and protected.
Gaz: Gaz isn’t as muscular as the other members of the Task Force, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have quite some muscle to him as well. Like Price, he’ll notice when you stare at him a little too much, but unlike Price, chances are he’ll tease you about it. With his shirt lying on the arm of the couch, he’ll sit down next to you on a moderately warm day, claiming that it’s “too hot outside”. This is a blatant lie, he wants to watch you try your darndest to not stare at his abs too much. While it’s not particularly a concern of his that his teammates are more muscular than he is, it does sort of feed his ego to see you be this flustered about it. Is also capable of carrying you around just about anywhere, and don’t you ever dare to claim otherwise. He will do whatever he can to prove you wrong because, as your partner, he is always right about these sorts of things. And if he can’t carry you just yet he’ll call Soap and the two of them will train together. Gaz is still pretty young, so the way he looks to you does still matter to him more than it should, but if you’re a heated mess around him whenever he’s flexing a bit too hard, he knows he did something right after all. Biggest honor to him would be you asking if you could touch his arms. As mentioned before, he’ll pick you up, but will also spin you in circles until you’re dizzy before giving you a kiss.
Ghost: Ghost is tall and built like a brick house, you have an absolute field day with him because of it. Like Price, he has some chub to him. Again, it’s healthier that way, and he also doesn’t want to go to the gym every day, sometimes it’s just nice to sin and sleep in when you can. On a physical level, he’s the strongest out of his teammates, he has an easy time carrying just about anything. Even you weigh about as much as a bunch of grapes to him. While you liking him being muscular doesn’t particularly feed his ego, he’s too mature for that, he doesn’t resent that fact either. He had to become strong at many points in his life, physically and mentally, so he can protect the people he loves and himself. If that’s just something you can love him for, then he won’t say no to that. While he may not flex too much for you, he will occasionally when he remembers how much you love his muscles. Won’t be as cheeky about it as Gaz, but he’ll mention it every once in a while. Besides, if you’re a big fan of muscles and tattoos, then you’ve literally hit the jackpot with him. Tell him that to his face and he might blush a bit and start smiling. Not afraid to pick you up in private or squeeze you just the tiniest bit harder either while hugging you. It’s not very hard to feel small around someone like him, regardless of whether you’re 1,50m or 2m, he’s just a very big guy and has the dignity of one as well. If you’ve been together for long enough, he might show off a bit, but not too often.
Soap: Another guy who will actively seek you out just to show you how strong he is. He thrives on that sort of validation, especially from you, so please do stare at him just a bit longer whenever you want to. Not afraid of giving you a small show either where he simply picks up the heaviest things in the room just to show you how capable he is and how great of a partner he is as well. He tries to not have too much body fat and does his best to stay fit. No, he’s not really overdoing it either, he just has some good genes that allow him to eat literal trash and not put on too much weight. The more he can get you to stare and touch him, the better. Give him the positive attention, he’ll return it to you eventually as well. Will prompt you to touch his biceps just so you have your hands on him. He loves having you around while he works out because not only do you get to have a good show and see just how hot he is, he gets to just have you around. If you let him, he’ll do push-ups while you’re lying on his back. He knows he’s hot shit, having you reassure him is just another reason for him to keep going. Like Gaz, he’ll also be more prone to run around shirtless as soon as he figures it out, but he’ll also do so in the middle of winter. You dote on him, so even you telling him to put on a sweater is good attention to him.
Nikolai: Nikolai isn’t the youngest anymore either, but that doesn’t mean his body is deteriorating. Also has a bit of chub, but he thinks it looks better on him than having no body fat whatsoever. When it comes to strength, he’s a bit stronger than Price still, meaning he has few more muscles than he does as well, so it’s not like he’s weak either. If you come up to him and ask him to flex for you, he will like it’s nothing. He has had people fawning over him when he was younger, so you’re likely not the first. If you’re just sitting next to him, all flustered, then he’ll teasingly ask you if you want to touch them. Afterwards he goes back to whatever it was he was doing. He’s well aware you have a thing for muscular people, but won’t make a big deal out of it. He will wear shorter shirts if you explicitly ask him to, but whenever he can, he will wear one of his bomber jackets. You get a better view of him when he’s somewhere hot, with him slicking back his hair and you giving him all sorts of stares. Something along the lines of that will be the start of him starting to tease you more often. Need a hand opening the pickle jar? Need a strong guy to lift something? Want someone to carry you to bed? Look no further than him. As soon as he sees the chance to make you go quiet, he’ll take it. He might actually just pick you up when you aren’t expecting it either, just to show off in that way, and hold you up in the air. And if you’re taller than him, he’ll still pick you up, this is about his pride, after all.
König: He wasn’t always as muscular as he is right now, he used to be quite a bit softer when he was younger. While he, also has a layer of fat, he has plenty of muscles to spare as well. It’s sort of unlikely you’re taller than him, but on the off chance you do see eye to eye with him, he’ll still pick you up. This is about being the dominant person in the relationship, he needs to be the bigger person or else he won’t know what to do. It’s flattering to him, to know that you like him not only for his personality, but also his body, not everyone always has. He won’t particularly comply with you in public when you ask him to show off, he draws enough attention to himself as it is, but in private he’ll do just about anything you ask of him. He’ll flex for you, he’ll perform several exercises for you, just name it and he’ll do it. While he may not be an overly physically affectionate person, you can ask him to make you feel safer by having him wrap his arms around you. That’s another reason why he likes you: You’re independent enough, but you still allow yourself to be vulnerable around someone like him. Laughs a bit when you tell him you just wanted to feel his strong arms around you. However, in order for him to be able to be such eye candy and protect you, he’ll need lots of good meals too. Your agreement is thus that he’ll do just about anything you ask of him, even something stupid such as flexing for you, and in return you’ll make him a nice meal every once in a while, even if you just order takeout. Love goes through the stomach.
#cod#cod x reader#john price#john price x reader#price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#cod nikolai#cod nikolai x reader#könig#konig#könig x reader#konig x reader#thank you for the rquest!
904 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
slugishruggish
Keep Hustling Backwords
znkyak
ZnKyak
shadowtoons
Wonderful day to ya
amee-racle-ofmyown
as messy as my brain but it's comfy here
mgifs
mundane gifs