#loving the grey beard too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yawnderu · 27 days

Text

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

1K notes · View notes

gamermattsgf · 3 months

Text

Dirty little monster // Chris and Matt

Warnings: threesome filth / lowkey toxic relationship plot?? / ownership kink / degradation Chris / praiser Matt / cunnilingus / doggy / wrist restraints / unprotected sex / blindfold kink / manhandling / missionary / exhibitionist kink / brief mention of somnophilia / Eiffel Tower position / blowjob / edging / jealousy + possession kink / female stimulation / spit kink / slapping / hair pulling

Summary: Chris and Matt know the deal. They’re supposed to share you, but sometimes that idea gets in the way of their individual feelings, especially in situations like these…

Author’s notes: finally the threesome you’ve all been waiting for. If this is not your cup of tea PLEASE just scroll!! You guys are probably sick of the amount of goddamn warnings that come my shit hahaha. Also, happy late birthday present for @sturnsmadl I hope u like ur gift baby.

“You’re a dirty little monster, a coked up little pop tart… can’t keep your head out your dreams” - Too Much Sauce, Harry Styles

‘Fuck… Matt…’ you pant, your head twisted to the side as you feed your bottom lip into your teeth. The harsh pressure you exert upon it almost makes it split, the stinging sensation helping to distract you from Matt’s face that pries open your inner thighs.

His own lips look dewy and puffed, his tired eyes sleepy but alluring as the pale bags underneath them exemplify his chalky blue rings. Just showered and shaved, the smell of his cologne is almost intoxicating when it feeds itself up into your nose and diffuses across your senses. It’s sharp and citrusy and fits his clean cut personality perfectly like a breath of fresh air.

His hair is still slightly wet, and strands trace damp streaks over your stretch marks when his tongue gifts open mouthed kisses to your clit.

He presses himself so close to your throbbing sensitivity that you can barely see his face and eyes because they’re covered with his scruffy brunette hair.

You can’t help but rut your hips onto his nose as your back arches, the whine peeping from your throat breathless and needy whilst he grinds himself into the mattress. He just can’t help himself as the bed shakes backwards and forwards. Every couple of seconds you have to readjust your thighs around his head and when you do the rough skin where his beard grows grazes against the plushness of your flesh.

‘You like that sweet girl?’

The voice you hear is not Matt’s, because he is too busy licking away at your velvety slickness. But Chris’. He sits with his back against the headboard, and your back propped up against his bare chest. You lie, nestled in between his two spread thighs that are clothed over with grey sweats and subtly squeeze against your thick hips after every time you arch your back from off of his stomach.

You yourself are fully naked, with your tits out and resting softly on your chest, until Chris’ larger hands slither up your ribcage and cup them gently, his thumbs rubbing over your stiffened nipples. The pleasure from both ends is almost too much, and a hot rush flurries over your cheeks when you allow yourself to throw your head back and lean it into the crook of his shoulder.

Chris smirks as he watches the top of Matt’s head moving from in between your silky thighs intently, mesmerised by the way he swirls his tongue and causes whimpers to claw their way up your throat. He gets off on watching Matt eat you out because it’s almost as if he’s watching a high definition sex tape of himself eating you out.

‘S’Matt treating you well baby…? Making you feel good huh?’.

He presses his lips to your temple gently before pinching your nipples and loving the way you squirm at the sensation. He then kisses the side of your head softly. ‘Y-yes’ you moan, your calves sliding up and over Matt’s shoulder blades to give him better access whilst your hands grapple to squeeze against Chris’ sweatpants. Matt grunts at Chris’ praise of his work whilst lathering his tongue over your spongy nerve messily.

‘Yeah? His mouth making you wanna come?’

Chris speaks for Matt so that Matt can keep working against your clit, his face rocking backwards and forwards over your cunt as his hands come to splay about the tops of your thighs. You can feel the way Matt’s cheeks apple when he smirks at what Chris says, because he knows it’s true, and he knows his tongue has the ability to make you unravel at his fingertips.

‘Please’ is all you can heave whilst craning your neck forwards once again to look at Matt.

‘That’s my good girl, so polite aren’t you?’

Chris coos once again from behind you. Suddenly Matt pulls his heavenly tongue away from his teasing so that he can spit a string of saliva all over your dripping folds. He leers upwards which makes your calves fall from his shoulders. Lazily, they plant themselves back down onto the mattress at his sides as his saliva seeps down you slit. He raises his eyebrows incredulously at Chris, before licking his lips and flicking his dilated pupils back to yours.

‘Our good girl’ he corrects bitingly, before leaning over from his position in between your spread legs to smooth his lips onto yours. He bites your bottom one gently and sighs into the kiss whilst pushing his tongue through the barrier of your teeth.

Whilst Matt kisses you, Chris finds it necessary to let one of his hands delicately trail down your navel, only to slide in between your folds and stroke your slimy clit, saturated in Matt’s saliva.

Chris practically cradles you to himself within his larger frame as you crumple back into him in pleasure.

You uncontrollably moan into Matt’s mouth at the rough pads of his long fingers moving in slow concentric circles whilst he manoeuvres his lips to the side of your neck, just so that he isn’t missing out on the action. ‘Love my fingers touching you like that, don’t you baby?’ He teases, lusting after the feeling of your hot clit easily skimming against his fingertips. He doesn’t just kiss your neck though, he bites and sucks it, each time pulling away to see how much darker he has the purple roses blooming on your flesh.

He likes it that he’s the one who’s now making you whine, not Matt, so grins deviously into your neck.

All of you know the agreement. Matt and Chris are supposed to share you, but sometimes each one of them can’t help but want you to themselves. And sometimes they do take you for themselves. Matt had you in the shower last week, and Chris had you in the coat cupboard the other day. But the catch is that they do it secretly - behind each other’s backs - not that you mind. It just means that you get more out of the deal than them. So you just don’t tell them.

The three of you know that this is a toxic relationship you share, and a toxic cycle at that… but you’re all addicts, and you can’t help but crawl back to each other after every single time you give into these frivolous sexual desires.

Chris is a selfish fuck, but Matt is an obsessive one. Both of them are possessive, and whenever you three are together it is a constant competition to see which one of them can make you cry harder, moan louder, cum quicker. They can’t help but be competitive when around you, because they want to feel like their cock pleases you more, stretches you out thicker and fills you up the most.

With that being said, as you moan softly into Matt’s face, he’s envious that your lips get lazy and languid with their kissing motions. I mean… you’re barely even trying to make out with him anymore, and it’s all Chris’ fault. So he fixes that by scooping his cupped hands underneath your armpits in the heat of his jealous moment.

He always has a couple of those when you three fuck together.

He detaches you from his mouth and lifts you high up enough to be thrown over Chris’ thigh and into the centre of the bed. This therefore also rips Chris away from you and he huffs in annoyance when Matt clambers over him to get to your body.

You lie in the centre of the bed in helplessness, your cheeks an embarrassed red and your thighs shyly clamped together in modesty because of the way Chris and Matt look at you. They devour you with their eyes… their pupils peeling apart each section of your skin and feasting on it. And you just know that when they’re done with using you, they’re going to be licking their sticky fingers clean of your honeyed mess.

‘Fuck, look at you, all wet and needy for us. You’re so pretty…’ Matt muses whilst admiring you before he’s bending his torso over and peeling his cropped blue shirt from off of his back. This reveals his smooth skin, and now he matches Chris in attire, until Chris sees that he’s evened the odds and decides to take off his sweats so that now he’s only in his underwear.

You blink and place your palm over your eyes in humiliation. ‘Stop’ you whine slightly at his praise, and it makes it even worse when Chris decides to join in too. ‘You greedy baby… wanting both of our cocks at the same time, you’re such a little cum slut aren’t you? Naughty girl. What’re we gonna do with her Matt?’.

Chris smirks as he looks over to a Matt that has to purse his own lips together to suppress his grin, his chest rising and falling as he debates on how they’re going to take you today.

There’s a moment of silence before Matt presumably has an idea.

‘Go get one of your bandanas Chris…’ he requests, nodding his head towards one of the shelves in the room that had Chris’ various bandanas draped over the top of it. You swallow nervously as Chris catches onto Matt’s idea. With a cheeky glint in his eyes he withdraws from the bed, ‘sure thing Matt…’.

Matt watches him for a second before turning his attention back to you as he fumbles with his Diesel belt buckle. You watch attentively as his spindly fingers wrap around the clanging metal, the leather expertly being pulled through the clasp. Then he’s opening it and slowly sliding it out from his belt loops. The agonising pace is to tease you, of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘I haven’t stopped thinking about using this on you since the last time it happened’ Matt reminisces, and it takes you back to that one time you three had been fooling around, and Chris and Matt had used their belts on you. One belt had been tied to a wrist and an ankle each. This had spread you open and allowed them to fuck you from behind, as they took turns to hitch your hips up and keep you still for them.

‘Can I do it again baby, will you let me tie you up? Please… it’ll be so pretty I promise’ he begs whilst the floorboards creak under Chris’ footsteps. His black bandana is slung in his right hand lazily as he makes his way back to the bed, just in time for you to give in and nod with agreement.

‘Whatever you want Matt.’ You mumble submissively with a little seductive smile. It drives him fucking feral to the point of insanity when you do that, he had only had his lips on you just minutes ago but now he wanted to do it all over again.

His mouth waters for your sweetness, your pre-come, the wetness leaking from your folds that he creates with his tongue.

You squirm about to position yourself on your knees, before leaning up and arching your back. You bury your face into the pillows at the top of the bed and give Matt an eye-full of your pulsating core whilst you lift your wrists to rest them together on your tailbone.

Matt’s cock is so fucking hard and so fucking sore, he’s definitely saturated under all of his layers, just as he’s sure Chris is too, because he also gawks at you and licks his lips when Matt shuffles up to your behind. From there, he loops his belt around your flimsy wrists. You hiss slightly when he knots it tightly, his biceps flexing and his nose scrunching. Simultaneously, Chris decides to shuffle up towards your head.

‘Look up for me a sec baby’ he demands you softly by patting your hair, and you do as your told, only to immediately have your vision obscured when Chris forces the bandana over your face and onto your eyes. You twist your head helplessly and whine a little when Matt forces your hips downwards into the mattress.

Your stomach roughly hits the mattress at his manhandling and your legs give out underneath you.

‘Turn around for us honey’. It’s Chris speaking again, you recognise the tone of his voice so you try to look in the general direction of it but to no avail. You wriggle around with great difficulty what with having your wrists restrained behind your back, and as you do, you also hear the small sound of Matt’s zipper scratching against the seam of his jeans. He’s taking them off.

‘W-what are you gonna do to me?’ You mumble nervously, now sitting on your ass with your legs crossed awkwardly so that you aren’t completely spread out and on display in front of them. Something about having a blindfold on and having your sense of sight completely eliminated made you jittery, especially when you couldn’t tell who’s cold hand was playfully skimming up your bare thigh.

‘We’re gonna play a little game, aren’t we Chris?’ Matt speaks, his voice nearest to you ear, so you assume that he’s the one who has just trailed his hand up your skin.

‘What kind of game?’ You swallow nervously, trying your best to look up at Matt, but you no longer feel his warm presence beside you and so you furrow your eyebrows underneath the bandana.

‘Simple. You try and guess who it is that’s touching you. You guess correctly you can have your orgasm, you don’t… we’re allowed to edge you’ Matt explains, before clarifying with an ‘s’that fair princess, hm?’.

The princess name has you blushing. You love it when Matt calls you princess.

After fucking them a couple of times, you realised each one had different tastes. Chris seemed to like degradations, and using methods of ownership to get you to your high, he liked things rough and fast and even sometimes couldn’t help his wandering hands that frequently reached out to playfully slap your thighs or face whilst he buried himself inside of you.

Matt was vastly different, he took the very definition of the word ‘praise’ and ran with it. He was all about the idea of feminine pleasure, and preferred to help you reach your high with words of affirmation and sugary sweet pet names. He liked things slow, sensual, intimate… and sometimes even lazy. Sloppiness and saliva was key whether it be him waking you up in the morning with his mouth on you or him fuck you in the simply position of missionary. He always wanted eye-contact.

Chris fucking lusted dominating you, it didn’t matter how, he just chased that possession of control. Matt wanted to establish connections and soak in physical touches. Which is why you liked having both of them, because it introduced an interesting dynamic to your experimentations. You liked having two people with completely different kinks because in the end they would always come together and use them both on you simultaneously.

The proposition seems easy enough to you, considering the fact that you know both of their bodies like the back of your hand, so you agree, simply just desperate for an orgasm now seeing as Matt had pulled away from your core right before he could give you one earlier.

What you don’t know however, is that Matt and Chris had anticipated this. And so had mutually agreed before this rendezvous that they would completely switch up their tactics to mirror the other one’s sexual habits.

You lie there statically on the bed patiently waiting for someone to viciously attack you with their onslaught of tongues, and soon someone does.

Matt makes eye contact with Chris and nods his head towards you, signalling that he wants to go first. Chris grins and decides to lie down on the other side of the bed whilst Matt crawls up to your awaiting body. He twists his head to look over at the two of you and bites his lip when Matt roughly wrestles you back around and onto your knees. Your breath hitches a little because you’re not expecting it and you almost fall back over trying to balance.

Matt roughly flattens his palm in between your shoulder blades and forces your front downwards so your tits and left cheek are pressed into the duvet cover. Matt uses his knee to kick out your thighs and spread them for him whilst he smooths his hands against your hips. Just as Chris would usually do.

Whilst this is going on, Chris throbs and watches with drool almost falling from his mouth. Matt takes his underwear off and very quickly is able to slide himself into your plushness. The cry you expel is muffled with the soft fabric of the sheets on the bed as his cock stretches you out unexpectedly. Everything feels wet and hot as his prick throbs inside of you before he starts to rock his hips roughly.

Chris can’t help but bury his own hand beneath his underwear to stroke himself whilst he admires the way you get fucked in his favourite position. He loves the way that your hips always swivel and the way your back always arches, even when it’s not him who’s fucking you, it just looks so hypnotic, and he loves watching it happen.

Matt smirks down at you, panting as his hips snap up to hit against your ass rhythmically. Your moans are still quietened but they do a great job at getting both Matt and Chris worked up.

And as much as he hates to admit it, Matt likes this oppertunity to be rough with you in front of Chris, because he knows how jealous Chris gets when he sees him fucking you how he normally likes to fuck you.

Matt then suddenly reaches one of his hands forward to greedily take a fistful of your hair and yank on it, lifting your head up a little and allowing you to now groan into the air. Chris has to roll his eyes back into his head and close them at this, just to suppress the moans he wants to shout, because if he gave in to his temptations it would ruin the game. And he doesn’t want to miss out on his turn to do a better job than Matt.

You feel flurries of pleasure rippling past your thighs after every time Matt’s cock returns and hits the right spot. With your hair pulled back, your voice strains at the awkward angle your neck is tilted at, but you blurt out a laboured ‘C-Chris, it’s Chris isn’t it?’ when your build up starts to get more intense. Matt and Chris stop what they’re doing to grin maliciously at each other, they knew you’d fall for this idea of theirs.

Matt turns back to you, before slowing his thrusts with a ‘guess again sweetheart’ cockily singsonging from his mouth. He’s smug with it as he pulls his cock out of you completely before slapping your ass in playfulness whilst your shoulders deflate.

‘What…?’ You breathe in delirious confusion, so sure that it was Chris because he usually liked to fuck you that way. Guess you were mistaken. But now you’re pouty because that’s the second time you’ve been denied an orgasm. You huff in annoyance whilst Chris giggles. ‘God, are we gonna have to gag you as well? S’that the only thing that’ll keep you quiet? Wonder what the neighbours think…?’.

You bury your head back into the mattress in embarrassment, not being able to help your sensuous sounds. Your cheeks turn pink at Chris’ insult. ‘I’m sorry… I can’t help how good you make me feel’ you mumble, trying to retaliate his harsh words with flattery. Chris likes to have his ego stroked, it comes hand in hand with his ownership kink, he likes to hear how good he makes you feel, so you manipulate that to your advantage to soften his exterior. Chris and Matt make eye contact with each other, knowing what kind of game you’re trying to play with them, so Matt gestures for Chris to have his turn.

You again, sit and wait for someone else to pounce, now in a more conflicted mood than before, knowing that both Chris and Matt are going to make this a lot harder than you first anticipated.

It’s not long before Chris can’t contain himself anymore and he’s practically sprawling over to you with a yearning to finally have your cunt to himself.

He makes sure you have your back fully pressed to the mattress with your cuffed wrists wedged uncomfortably between your back and the sheets. He moves in between your spread thighs, squeezing his hands down the backs of them whilst he opens you up before painting the tip of his red cock right over your throbbing clit.

Your head throws itself back when Chris feeds himself into you, going slowly to make sure you can adjust before he starts to rock his hips, his cock wetly slipping in and out of your already used hole. His figure soon looms over so that his face can nuzzle into your tits, spitting on your nipples and then passing his tongue over them, strings of saliva connecting his lips to your flushed skin. The constant rocking motion is almost too much for you, and you nearly cum by accident, but you hold back.

Instead of cumming though, you yelp instead because suddenly Chris takes one of your nipples into his mouth, only to bite at it harshly. Tears spring into your eyes, too focused on the pleasure and the pain to figure out who the fuck this could be. It could be Chris… but it also could be Matt going again… trying to trick you.

Chris pulls away, only to tip his chin up and look past your head at a Matt that sits and watches the two of you with his lips set into a dissatisfied line, seething with jealousy even though Chris and him had agreed to work together.

He can’t stand sharing you sometimes, and it’s just agony to watch Chris touch something that should be his.

Chris looks directly at him with a challenging gaze once again, a panting smirk on his stupid fucking face after every time he grinds himself forward and elicits a strangle breath from you. ‘Fuck, it hurts…’ you whine breathlessly, your sensitivity so overwhelming after being stretched out by two different cocks. But Chris decides to smooth his hand over your mouth and utter a possessive ‘shh… baby, I know… I know’ gently into your ear as he uses his other hand to stroke gentle circles over your hipbone.

Chris couldn’t help it. He let his voice slip, and that gave you exactly what you needed to guess correctly this time. And thankfully you guess right with a panting ‘Chris! It’s Chris!!’ right up onto the seal of his sweaty hand.

You don’t think you would have been able to suffer through another round of this torture so you are relieved when Chris slips his bandana from off of your head. He grins down at you at throws the forgotten fabric to the floor.

‘Hi sweet girl…’ he coos down to you, still moving his hips up and loving the way your little face screws up cutely in pleasured suspense after every thrust.

He smiles down at you but the moment is rudely interrupted by a Matt that grunts ‘alright that’s enough’ as he moves up to the both of you. He doesn’t want to give Chris the satisfaction of being the only one who’s able to get you off, or the delight of being the one who’s able to cum all over you. ‘I want her gut, you had it last time, s’only fair’ he barks at Chris, and gives his shoulder a brotherly shove to which Chris begrudgingly complies with a roll to his eyes and a subdued sigh.

Even though you love having both of them at the same time, you’ll admit it gets a little irritating when they constantly quarrel over who gets to finish where, especially when you’ve been edged about three times now this time.

‘Guys… p-please can you just let me cum? I don’t fucking care how you do it, just- please!’ You whine like a petulant child, knowing that if they see you’re desperate for them, they’ll listen to you.

‘Fuck, sorry baby. We’re sorry, sweetheart’ Matt immediately dotes upon you by profusely apologising, before coming up to you and spreading his hands over you hips so that he can flip your body over and onto your knees for the last time. ‘Shh, shh, c’mere baby’ he continues as he once again comes up behind you and stuffs you full of his cock. You moan, this time in aggravated pain at how long your aching walls have had to wait whilst Matt uses his quick fingers to finally untie your wrists, his belt loosening ever so slightly before it slides off completely and you can put your arms back onto the mattress.

This allows you to lean up onto your hands whilst Matt starts moving. You come face to face with Chris’ cock and look up between your eyelashes to see the way he smirks down at you hungrily.

‘Go on then pretty, I know how much you like giving me head…’.

You roll your eyes with a glare before succumbing and sliding his perfect thickness right past your teeth, already accustomed to his size because of how much he loves to have you suck him off.

Whilst you work yourself against Chris’ thick skin, you struggle not to choke on him as he starts to teasingly thrust into your face. This pushes himself further down your tight throat. Chris shivers and arches his back, Matt slipping his finger down to your clit so that he can rub it as he finishes you off.

‘Can- can I cum down your throat?’ Chris utters through a groan, asking for your permission to finish.

You nod sweetly and let him, which he does. His cum seeps out stickily from his head and making its way into your mouth almost on command. You suck him a little more to get rid of everything he has before he slaps your cheek a little at his overstimulation. ‘F-fuck- that’s enough baby!’. He carefully slides himself out and watches Matt help you to your own high.

Your neck crooks as you throw your jaw back when Matt continually ruts his hips into you throughout your intensive orgasm.

After you become spent and just as sensitive as Chris, you whine for him to stop, so he pulls out and strokes himself until he too finishes all over your ass, his sticky cum sliding down your hot skin.

All three of you collapse onto the bed in a panting sweaty mess. You lie there and look at Chris who smirks back at you, before casually reaching for his phone and putting in his passcode like nothing had even happened before hand.

Matt reaches out his hand to affectionately trace circles over your back before he’s shuffling around behind you. The bed creaks as he gets up. He leans over you to kiss in between your shoulders blades before mumbling ‘I’ll go get a cloth’ to both you and Chris.

As he walks away, Chris glances down at you, deciding to thread his fingers through your hair and stroke it absentmindedly whilst he clears his throat and quickly shoots a random text to one of his friends.

Both of you melt into the mattress in relaxation, Chris’ fingers scratching your scalp just enough to lull you to sleep after your exhausting escapade with the both of them.

You know you guys should probably stop this. But you can’t. It’s just so addictive… so much so that you think it’s fair enough to title all of you a dirty little monster for enjoying such a filthy fucking thing…

Author’s notes p.2: I’m writing whole ass novels, fuck me bro. Technically the song I used is an unreleased Harry Styles song so only the real ones know how it goes teehee. But anyways, this was literally like- Skye Teller but the 18+ version lol. I lowkey felt so much pressure writing this bc so many people have been fangirling about it, so hopefully (with a little bit of luck) I didn’t disappoint you lovely readers who I love so much for giving my silly little stories attention :). As always, request / ask whatever u want thirsty hoes!!! Until next time 🎀

Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luverboychris @luv4kozume @strniohoeee @sturniolosreads @thesturniolos @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @strawberrysturniolo @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @carolsturns1 @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattswifey00 @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @chrizznmetswife @i-heart-mattsturniolo @lovergirl4387 @sophie21153-blog

#sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #threes0me #sub matt sturniolo #mommy k!nk #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

2K notes · View notes

kimstills · 1 month

Text

i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader.

word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao)

notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

#marchhotchness #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #maddie’s stills

1K notes · View notes

familyvideostevie · 4 months

Text

day after tomorrow

joel miller x reader

summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him.

warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k

A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3

___

He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff.

"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill.

Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently.

"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.

The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch.

"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights."

"You remembered?"

He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."

It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.

"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."

This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return.

The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his.

"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says.

You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping.

Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.

"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.

"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."

"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"

He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.

"I'll be fine, Joel."

"Hm."

He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.

"What are you up to this week?" you ask.

He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."

"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like.

He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"

You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit.

It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.

"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his.

When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away.

"Thank you for --"

"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says.

You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"

His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again.

"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."

"Thanks for the tea --"

"Now, what did I just say?"

You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this.

"Safe flight, sweetheart."

You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel."

6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?

You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange.

6:05 am: don't text and drive!

He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift.

6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land

6:06 am: will do. have a good day!

The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel.

You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan.

"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.

That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around.

And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough.

But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away.

7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?

He texts back immediately.

7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.

You laugh and do as he says.

The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public.

You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus.

But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.

10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim

That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale.

You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!

And then there's Joel.

Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward.

It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.

"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs.

"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."

"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder.

"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."

Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly.

Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him.

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think.

"You hungry?"

"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"

"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."

"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"

Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that.

"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.

You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you say.

Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.

"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

2K notes · View notes

ghouljams · 1 month

Note

Because of you I’m constantly thinking about cowboy!ghost and cowboy!konig’s thick waists. Hmmm I bet my papi price has one too. It makes me salivate. It haunts and follows me everywhere. Thank you for these divine depictions my deity 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

(I’m such a slut for how plush these dirty men are) (Also sorry I keep letting these horny thoughts out in your asks..it’s a disease now I think)

God, yeah. You know Price is eating good, best fed man in Texas by his account, previously the best fed man in England and he had to WORK to keep from showing it, but now?? Oh he is enjoying the strong man physique, he's got that soft around the middle padding that just makes him looks stronger. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror and inspecting the layer of fat over his pecs, over what used to be abs, leaning closer to check the sprinkling of grey starting to make its way through his beard. Price thinks he looks pretty good. He doesn't miss the hard lines, feels like he's got more fuel in the tank to do the heavy lifting.

He especially likes settling you on his stomach, moving your hips back and forth, back and forth, grinding your pretty pussy against his happy trail, slicking the coarse dark hair with your wetness. He loves the way your fingers squeeze his pecs, the way you grip at his soft edges for purchase as he pleasures you. It feels an awfully masturbatory if he's being honest, making his pretty wife grind against his hairy stomach, watching your hips buck as your clit is teased by his curls, the rough hair dragging against your soft folds. Oh he can almost feel that sweet cunt clenching around nothing as he grinds your hips down against him. Price may say this is for you, but it's not, it's for him.

He just wants to watch you fall apart and know that he's the one who made that happen. He wants to hear your whimpers as you work up the courage to beg for his cock, or he wants to force you to come without it. Either way he gets a show, so why shouldn't he move you like a toy? That's what you are, isn't it? A toy? Brainless and shuddering with your eyes rolling back as he makes each little zap of pleasure roll through your clit and up your spine. He rocks you back, inches you grind by grind towards his cock until you're desperately trying to follow the motion of his hands, you pretty pussy drooling as it rubs against his fat cock. You try to lift your hips and he pulls them back down, shushing you. He knows baby, Daddy know you want him to fuck you, but he can't right now, you have to earn it. You can do that, right? Of course you can, smart girl.

You just have to let him keep doing what he was doing, bringing you to the edge of pleasure like a toy, building all that tight delicious heat in the pit of your stomach until you can't take it anymore and start to beg. And you will beg. Then he'll pull you back to his stomach, and make you come all over it. Come all over the body you helped build with all your wonderful cooking, and then he'll thank you properly. Just let him have his fun for now, and fall apart.

Good girl.

805 notes · View notes

iamasaddie · 2 months

Text

by the way this is what our man looks like (on the left) and we love him like that

he has wrinkles from laughing and crying and ages of raw emotion, his skin has pores because he’s a human being

there are bags under his eyes from working too much or sleeping too little because of his work that he’s been dreaming of having all his life so it’s all worth it

there is grey in his beard and hair because he is pushing 50, his life was rich and long and full of struggles and failures and wins and successes, and he’s still here to take us along with him on his path

and there are fucking freckles on his gorgeous tan skin because no matter how Chileno and golden our man is he doesn’t know what a sunscreen is and he lets himself enjoy the sun by burning himself to the crispy skin

stop fucking “perfecting” him and making a lifeless doll out of human being. by erasing his features and “flaws” of human body you erase his life and experience. don’t do that to him and don’t do that to anyone else (yourself included)

#pedro pascal #iamasaddie extra #iamasaddie rant

876 notes · View notes

onsunnyside · 1 year

Text

🍓° 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Mafia!Ari Levinson x lovesick!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, sweet soft!reader, she’s a little oblivious. size difference: 6’8!Ari, he’s a total beefy hunk. neighbours au, a little tumble, stripper!reader, brief mentions of mafia business, undeniable daddy energy.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It was a little ridiculous how in love you were… With a single glance, he could make you melt until you’re a pile strawberry ice cream, tied with a pretty ribbon, and sitting on his doorstep.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 2.45K

𝗔/𝗡 | just a little something I wrote inspired by Melting by Kali Uchis (also where the title is from). this is my first mafia fic but there isn’t much detail since this is a real itty bitty au. as always, all mistakes are my own. [all posts/asks]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Time seems to slow when he jogs by, clad in shorts and a loose tank top with sweat seeping through the grey. His tan skin is covered in a light sheen, making the dozens of tattoos appear darker. From your seat on the porch, they still look like black blobs and lines stretching from his broad shoulders to his hands.

You’ve never seen them up close, but you have a few ideas of what they might be—a whole page in your diary to be exact.

Your eyes fall to his muscled legs, firm and thick thighs strain his shorts and just the beginnings of dark ink poke from underneath the fabric. You barely notice the ice cream melting down the cone to your hands, too deep in a daze when tingles blossom from your chest to your toes. A dreamy sigh flows from your lips as the wind flutters through his long brown hair, brushing along his bearded cheeks.

He turns to you and flashes a bright smile before turning the corner and disappearing down the street. That single glance makes your heart pound ten times faster, and all of your thoughts tangle into one ball of ribbons, varying in colours, prints and lace, but so evidently you.

If you could, you’d gift him that mess just so he could know how much he affected you without even trying.

"Oh no!" You quickly wipe your hands from the melting strawberry ice cream but it's useless, the pink stains your white dress and drips down to the ribbon around your ankle.

It’s almost too symbolic—the pretty pink bleeds all over your ivory clothes, ruining your life just like the fluttering trapped in your rib cage.

Honestly, it would’ve been easier to hate him, but he was so damn big that you didn’t have any space left in your heart to hate him.

To say you're in love would be an understatement. In every fantasy and daydream, he's the main focus, your co-star, your lover, your saviour draped in silk button-ups and silver rings. Oh, he's everything you've ever wanted! As if you manifested him when you were a young child and wrote about the perfect boy to sweep you off your feet and make your life a living fairytale—everything you scribbled in glittery pen has come true before your very eyes.

You don’t even mind that he and his biker friends rev their engines at three in the morning, but your roommate doesn’t agree, she’s never agreed.

The front door slams shut and you stiffen, hurriedly flipping through a random page in a magazine and desperately trying to act like you were not staring at his house next door.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, voice already on edge. Vibrant red hair comes into your peripherals, as well as a pair of angry green eyes.

Natasha groans, setting down her bag on the kitchen counter. "You chickened out again? I need my sleep before I lose my mind. I can’t get any if he and his dumbass friends treat this street like a fucking race track!”

“They aren’t even that loud—and I bought you earplugs.”

“I am not touching those things until those assholes learn how to be decent human beings!” She rolls up her sleeves and grabs your arm, yanking you from the barstool.

"Wait! What are you doing!"

Her heels stomp on the hardwood floor, nearly shaking the picture frames on the walls, “I messed up five drinks today, do you know how bad that looks when they’re my recipes?” She huffs, "he's out there right now mowing his lawn and you're gonna talk to him."

You grab onto the nearest thing which happened to be the couch and clutched it for dear life. “No—you do it!”

"He doesn’t listen to me!" She digs her fingers into your sides making you yelp and feebly swat her away, but you just screwed up big time. “Just try, baby, please! For me!”

That’s the last thing you hear as you stumble out the front door, tripping over the damn welcome mat and tumbling down the stairs. It’s only a few steps, but it stings when your back thumps onto the stone walkway, your poor elbows cushioning your fall.

You barely catch the engine cutting and rushed footsteps before he appears.

He stands over you with sweat brimming at his hairline, a deeply concerned expression etched onto his face, "awh shit, are you okay?"

As always, the air goes thin and you’re under that dumb lovesick spell again. The sun glows around his head like a halo, melting you to the bone, and leaving a mess on the stone in the same shades as your love—strawberry ice-cream pink.

It’s terrible that you don’t know how deluded your tender heart is.

"You're bleeding," he crouches low, gently examining your elbow, "did your roommate push you down the stairs?”

"No! No, I-I fell.” Obviously! “But I'm okay." You utter, avoiding the peeping redhead through the curtains. Your gaze lands on his long fingers wrapped around your arm. He’s warm, warmer than you thought. Heat radiates off his body and envelops you like an old friend, familiar and calm.

"Are you?" He inquires unconvinced, "here, let me clean you up." He leaves no room for protests as he helps you up and leads you to his porch.

After you sit on the couch, he disappears inside the house before emerging with a large white case. He sits next to you and opens the kit on the table.

"That's a lot of stuff." You note, staring at the packed first aid kit. There are various rolls of gauze, different ointments, and bandages, far more things than your tiny plastic box under the sink.

Judging by his shiny sports car, and his collection of perfectly tailored suits and watches, Ari lived a very different life than you and you’d do anything to know about it. Your naive heart aches for him so badly it almost hurts.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. Can I touch you, sweetheart?”

You watch him tend to your injury with slow and careful movements, his dark brows knitted in concentration. You’ve never been this close to him, the sudden rush of blood almost makes you lightheaded, but his scent brings you back down. The woody cologne floods your nose, followed by a dash of vanilla with underlinings of musky spice.

“What happened to your other dress?” He glances up, eyes shaded under his thick lashes.

“Oh… It got dirty.”

He hums, “what a shame.” He delicately presses down the edges of the bandage. “That’s one of my favourites. It always makes my day to see you wearing it.”

You swallow down a whimper and clench your thighs, seconds away from dropping to your weak knees. Embarrassment fills your chest, tinged with guilt, “I’m sorry, sir.” The words slip out before you could think.

He cracks a small smile, shaking his head, “it’s okay, just be more careful next time, yeah? Can’t have you ruining the little purple one too, that’s my second favourite.”

Dull thumps hammer inside your head, muffling his raspy voice. You nod silently, digging your sock-clad feet into the concrete.

You take the chance to memorize his tattoos, from the intricate rose by his wrist following the thorn stems up his arm where they entwined with a heavily shaded skull. Thin script is scattered along his skin, you can’t make out the exact words but they’re in swooping cursive, clinging to his flesh like wet chiffon.

His arms tighten as he cleans up, the muscles shifting under his paper-thin t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Every unconscious flex clouds your head, tunnelling your vision until he’s all you can see. A small whine sounds from your throat and his eyes flicker to yours, blue as can be.

“I don’t see you leave very often.” You were either inside or sitting on the front porch with a treat and a magazine, or in the backyard tending to that small garden. “Do you work?”

“I… I did, then I got fired.” The wound was still a little fresh. “But it wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

Ari perks up in interest, although he knows plenty about you, this was strikingly new. Aside from your basic profile, he knew about your past as well, including where you grew up, where your parents lived, and how long you’ve been in this city.

It was only right to know about the two girls living next to his late grandmother’s house. Curtis insisted since Ari wouldn’t let him stay in the old two-storey home, but instead the house down the street.

He came here to be alone and mourn, but that was hard to do with a cute neighbour always staring at him. Yet he stopped caring after you left a small bouquet of hand-picked flowers on his doorstep and an adorable ‘welcome to the neighbourhood!’ note.

He forgot how good it felt to be sought after, rather than feared and honoured like a living legend. You gave him that sliver of normalcy with your longing loved-up looks and quick dashes inside when he pulled into the driveway. To you, sweet-spirited you, he was an ordinary guy, not someone with a history coloured in hues of red and dripping all over his shoes, smearing the black ink of his future; an eternity tied to his family’s glory that’s now his.

“This customer was being so mean and I know I should’ve stayed professional but I was havin’ such a bad day already.” Your bottom lip trembles, flashes of that terrible day flickering through your head, “first I slept through my alarm, then I missed the bus, and my make-up broke in my bag a-and everything was all ruined.”

He reaches out, rubbing your knee soothingly. Poor girl, if it was up to him, you’d never be mistreated. “Where did you work?”

“Venom Vixens.” You sniffle, hoping he isn’t the judgemental type, you’ve known too many people who would humiliate you for your chosen career. “I, uh, I wasn’t one of the girls on stage since I was still new but I liked it there. My coworkers were nice, I got free drinks, and…”

“And?”

“I felt,” you look down at your hands, they were so much smaller than his, “I felt pretty. People go there to look and flirt, and I didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.”

Ari wouldn’t mind giving you all of that instead.

He licks his lips, imagining you in a tiny lace set, the sheer fabric clinging to your figure while you swayed around the dimly lit club. A piece of art in the sea of ogling and drooling patrons, blooming beautifully under the flattery.

“You liked the attention.”

You giggle, “Yeah, a lot. Sure, some customers were gross and would say nasty things, but others were nice, real nice—they’d tip a lot and compliment me. Most of them were just lonely, they wanted someone to talk to or someone to spoil.”

You don’t regret accepting their fawning or expensive gifts, hell, most of your jewelry was from your loyal clients. Sparkly things paired with sweet words were a one-way ticket to your good books.

“How about your boss?” Ari asks, “how did he treat you?”

Venom Vixens wasn’t only a haven for the lonely or where perverts got their fill, but of course, you wouldn’t know that. You’d have a heart attack if you knew of the shady people who walked in and out of those doors, you’ve probably served a few of them, flashed that bright smile and earned yourself a big tip—unknowingly pocketing the filthy, blood-stained money.

“Mr. Hansen was very friendly, but everything went through him. If we wanted to change a routine, we had to perform it for him first and get his approval. He said it was protocol.” Ari snorts but you don’t catch it, all too distracted with twisting the ring on his middle finger. “He was nice when you were nice to him.”

“So he must’ve always been kind to you. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met.”

You preen under his praise and nod happily, questioning why you were so nervous around him in the first place.

Ari was a flirt—and you loved being flirted with.

“Mr. Hansen called me his favourite before he fired me. That was over two weeks ago, and Nat said I could take my time but,” you sigh, “I feel like a bother.”

He wonders if your best friend would still hate him if she knew he was the reason that her cafe was still standing. Without his ruling over the South district, there would be chaos, and that little joint would’ve been ransacked long ago.

Did he also call for extra protection because you frequented the establishment? Proudly so.

“Are you still looking for a job?” He takes your distant hum as a yes, “Do you want to work for me?”

Your head snaps up, your sparkling eyes wide in surprise.

“I’m opening a new club in a few days and I’ve got a spot left for a performer.” He didn’t, but he had no problem giving someone the boot to make room for you.

Your mouth opens and closes several times, and the thought of Ari owning a club flies straight over your head. You’ve watched him more than your favourite movie but you still didn’t know a damn thing about him, except that he smokes, liked to work out and alternated between a white mustang and a sleek black motorcycle.

Oh, and sometimes he changes in front of his bedroom window.

“You’ll be my boss?”

Say the word, and he’ll be much more than that.

He smirks, gripping your jaw and turning you from side to side, blue eyes flickering over your features, “Sure will. I have a feeling this pretty face will be the main attraction every night.”

Your heart swells when his fingers dig into your cheeks. “I-I would, but Nat won’t like that. She kind of hates you… and your friends.” He adds pressure and your lips pucker, “you’re all s-ho loud wit ya’ bikes ‘n engines.”

Ari bites his tongue, it was either the motorcycles or the blood-curdling screams of the poor soul in the basement. He made a mental note to speed up the process of that soundproof room, he couldn’t have you losing sleep over his business.

“She doesn’t have to know.” He replies, releasing your face in favour of loosely grasping your throat. Your pulse thumps under his fingers, hard and fast, speeding up as he leans closer, “c’mon, don’t you want to be a star? Get all that attention again and make me proud?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i just love sweet!readers, they're my faves 🥹 and pairing them with big hunky (secretly soft) men is heaven !! i can't get enough !!!!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! I love you all very much 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

3K notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 11 months

Text

Pairing: John Price x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, praise, self-consciousness, unprotected sex

Summary: you’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious lately, so John decides to fuck some sense into your head

It was one of the bad days. Days, on which all the clothing looked off on you, no matter how pretty they initially looked. “Maybe the problem is not in clothes, huh?” - your mean brain would say. Days, on which your skin looked especially bad. “Oh, is that a new pimple? Do you think anyone would like you like that?” - your horrible mind would sing. Days, on which you just wanted to curl into yourself, to disappear, so that no one could see you - to hide from all the judging eyes, that you mean mean head convinced you were all around.

And John, naturally, caught up with this. He was always good at reading you, seeing right through all your little fidgeting and unnatural quietness. He decided to give you some space, not wanting to push you, knowing that you’ll eventually come to him yourself. But when John cupped your pretty face, all grey and plain with sadness, rubbing your cheekbones with his thumb in attempt to soothe your absolutely unreasonable uneasiness, - you turned away from him. Feeling way too exposed before him, fearing that your husband will see all the little blemishes in your appearance - what if he stops liking you? What if he realizes that he may have so, so much more than that? So you turned away from him, hiding from his observant sight. And it hurt John like a bastard.

That’s how you ended up like this, with John in between your spread legs, hoisting your pelvis up in the air for better angle, bringing your hips towards his every thrust, making your tits jiggle at the impact. You clawed at his thick forearms, mewls and moans slipping off your kiss-swollen lips which only encouraged Price to go harder.

- When. Will it. Finally. Go. Through. That. Thick. Little. Head of yours? - John panted through gritted teeth, accentuating every word with a hard deep snap of his hips against yours, never failing to earn a loud yelp escaping your lips at every single one of them.

He laid your ass on the mattress, hooking backs of your knees with his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You squeaked quietly at your awkward position but all complains left your brain the moment John started working his mighty hips, pounding your mercilessly into your mattress, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your mouth fell agape in a silent scream, hands coming to your husband’s heaving chest, feeling how hot his skin was under your touch.

He crouched down, attaching his lips to the side of your neck, littering every inch available with kisses and soft nibbles, his beard scratching lightly against your skin, only adding to the sensory pleasure.

- You’re fucking gorgeous. This perfect sexy body, and this lovely pretty face. You are amazing, all of you. Do you understand that? - John rasped into your ear, his deep grumbling voice along with hot breathing tickling against your cheek and earshell sent uncontrollable shivers running down your spine. You just mewled something unintelligible in response, hiding your face in the crook of your husband’s neck.

And John didn’t like that. His hand quickly found your chin, grabbing it softly and yanking your face back, making you look directly in his eyes.

- Do you understand that? - man demanded.

- Y-yes, - you muttered, daring your eyes not to close and maintain an intense contact with ocean blues of John’s eyes, bright blush creeping up your neck and chest.

- Say it. Say that you’re beautiful.

- John…- you protested, feeling all more embarrassed all of a sudden.

- Say. It. - John insisted, his pace never faltering. It felt like his beautiful eyes were boring right through your skin and straight into your soul, unraveling every smallest knot that has been choking you lately. And his persistent caressing along with searing kisses seemed to ease you out of your head a bit, feeling heaviness starting leaving your chest little by little.

- I’m beautiful, - you whispered, blushing profusely at his intent gaze. But it didn’t seem to satisfy John as crease between his brows deepened.

- Louder.

- I’m beautiful, - you repeated, way louder this time, accompanied by a shamefully loud moan caused by especially deep thrust, John’s thick cockhead nudging that one sensitive spot within you.

- That’s it baby. So proud of you, - John murmured against your lips sweetly. You leaned up, connecting your lips in a deep kiss, wet and desperate and longing. Your arms circled around his neck, keeping man impossibly closer to your naked chest.

- Such a perfect little baby, - John asked softly after breaking apart from your lips, one hand sneaking in between your bodies, thumb massaging your clit in circular motions. - Who’s my pretty girl?

- I am! I’m your pretty girl! - you gasped, eyes shutting closed as your orgasm suddenly crashed over your trembling body, setting your nerves ablaze with hot pleasure. All of your heavy thoughts seemed to fade away, only leaving space in your head for your husband and his heavy praise.

But it was nowhere near towards the end. After all, John did need to fuck some sense into that silly self-sabotaging head of yours<3

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback!<3

2K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Note

Congrats on 5k! For the request thing— what about Price, doing some wedding/engagement ring shopping? He wants something special, and something perfect! I think some of the other boys would like to propose with a family ring, but he REALLY wants something nice for his lover, even if she'd be happy with something small and simple.

Give that man extra grey hairs trying to choose between tiny, miniscule details that only a trained jeweler would notice.

—The Perfect One

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

The Captain’s lips thinned and once more the Jeweler’s face fell with an inward sigh of disappointment.

“Next,” John places the ring back down to the glass counter, the rows and rows of engagement bands inside lit up by background lighting.

“Sir, it’s nearly closing time. I don’t think you’re going to find one today—” Blue eyes stare and don’t blink at the man behind the counter; with nearly three solid seconds of eye-to-eye contact.

The Jeweler clears his throat.

“L…Let me go check in the back.” John grunts and the man scurries out of sight after locking up the previous ring.

They just weren’t right, the Captain admits as he sighs long and rubs a hand over his beard, scratching at his cheek. Some rings were too simple, others too gaudy or far too intricate—there had to be that perfect medium somewhere.

But hell, this was the last jeweler in the city. John scowls at himself; glaring down at the glass and at the hundreds of options inside; all having been taken out and inspected as if they were bombs out in the field. The epitome of no stone left unturned. No man left behind.

No ring left behind.

“Bloody fuckin’...” The Captain trails off, harshly grunting his anger.

If you could see the blatant annoyance in John’s eyes, you’d laugh and take him by the face, kissing his chin before speaking about blood pressure. As if he wasn’t constantly one bullet away from getting his brains shot out of his skull.

It was the thought that counted.

The man closes his small eyes and tilts his head to the side, fingers tapping the counter once.

He just…he wanted it to be everything you would want. All he needed was a plain band, truth be told, but for you, he wanted that ring to show everything that you’d been through together. The good and the bad—past and future. An even mix of love and devotion swathed around your finger to join you both in a promise you’d already been keeping for years.

And none of these blasted bits of metal and stone were good enough.

“If I’d of known it’d be this much trouble,” John grumbles, looking outside at the steadily darkening sky. “I would have just made my own, yeah?”

But it was too late to change career paths, God forbid.

Yet the man really wonders if it’s the ring that’s bothering him or the fact that he’s nervous to finally bend a knee. He knows he shouldn’t be, rationally there’s little chance you’d refuse—this wasn’t exactly a new relationship by any means. You’d both taken your time with things over the course of years.

This was just a matter of when and not if.

Still, the sink in his gut didn’t let up.

“Here,” the Jeweler returns and John snaps back to the shop, moving away his clenched hands from the counter to fold them over his chest as the man brings over a small jewelry box made of reddish wood. “This is it—after you go through that,” he splays his hands in defeat and sends a painful glance John’s way. “You’ve fully gone through my entire stock. Had to dig through all of my displays to find it.”

“What’s wrong with them?” The Captain asks in curiosity, his deep accent pushing through as he grabs and opens the box with two hands—firm and not really hoping for much.

“Nothing!” The Jeweler exclaims, mildly offended. “They’re old pieces—antiques. They don’t match the rest of the designs I have out.” He blinks, thinking hard before he puffs out, saying, “They’ll cost you extra!”

John slides an unimpressed glance upward and frowns, but the rings in the box do more than he expected them to.

He blinks, slightly taken aback.

There were only two in there, swathed by their precious sides in deep navy blue silk to hold them up. The glint of gold and platinum makes John’s breath still as the Jeweler begins talking about the ring that the Captain then takes out carefully.

“Circa 1940, the mixture of gold and platinum makes a unique and yet beautiful mix of class and antiquity with this piece. I would call it Victorian in style, judging by the detail around the raw gemstone—diamond, by the way. The ring is both simple but utterly striking when you look at the finer details, Sir.”

John ignores him, large fingers delicately bringing the object closer to his eye and moving it this way and that. He even goes far enough as to place it on the counter and take a step back to gaze at it from a distance, his eyes narrowed and wrinkles pulled in.

It was stunning. But, above all…it reminded John of you.

The Captain’s lips twitch for a moment, his tension slowly dripping out of him like water.

It made him huff a chuckle, but the Jeweler had been right about this one—the ring was simple, but the deeper intricacies of carved metal built it up to a point of elegance. A reverence and dedication to the craft.

Dedication.

John slowly hums to himself, going back and picking the ring up another time. It sits in his palm, such a little thing, but, oh, so heavy. It wasn’t a shackling weight, no—it was the deep press of purpose.

John closes his hand.

“How much?”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

903 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 6 months

Text

Kinktober day 29

John “Soap” MacTavish + Muscle/Body Worship

I’m still exhausted from all my homework and exam prep, but the I’m not gonna let that stop me. Readers older than Soap and is retired from the military.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Retirement was strange for you, especially after having been active in the military for most of your life. Now that you had retired, there was very little to do to fill your day, Especially with Soap away still on active duty. Your relationship was a little strange in the eyes of others, mainly because of your age gap, but you were both adult men with careers when you first met and knew what you wanted.

You spent most of your days doing hobbies, like woodwork or messing with junker cars. The people of the town you and Soap lived in knew you as the older ex-military man who took no shit, but knew how to get even the oldest car running, or creating the wildest things outta wood.

The life outside of the military had taken much stress of your shoulders, but the access to any treat you could want and not being on the move at all times was starting to show. You were still strong as an ox and big in width and height, but as time went on a layer of fat gathered over your muscles. You still looked like you could take down a bear singlehandedly, but insecurity was starting to gather in your chest.

Combine your sudden plush and the grey starting to gather in your hair and beard, the ugly voices in your head started to whisper and murmur. A part of your mind was sure that the moment Soap saw you when he came back from duty, hed turn the other way and run for the hills, as you weren’t the man he had left those months ago.

It was that insecurity that had you pulling on an army fleece jacket, one that still fit and served to hide some of your newer bulk, the day you had to go pick him up from the airport. You were chewing your lip as you leaned against a wall near the back, surrounded by other people greeting their loved ones coming home. When you saw Soap, you almost talked yourself out of calling out for him, but before you could make any decision, he spotted you.

The Scot rushed through the crowd with his army bags, his eyes running up and down your body in a way that had your skin crawling enough that you didn’t notice the hunger that grew in them. He groaned as he hugged you, his bags forgotten on the floor as he kissed you, his arms squeezing around your middle as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from grabbing onto your ass or thighs, squeezing the thicker material of your thighs with an appreciative hum.

Insecurity gnawed in your stomach as you pulled back from Soaps hungry lips, clearing your throat as you reached them to scoop up his bags and lug them over his shoulder. You lover huffed about it for a bit, but you just grinned and made your way towards the car, unaware of the holes Soap was burning in your body as he seemed to take in every change he had missed.

The drive back to your home was spent sharing what you’d both missed, you sharing town gossip, and Soap telling you about 141. As you drove, you almost pulled away as Soap grabbed onto your thigh, his strong hand almost kneading the softer muscle under his palm. But seeing as you were driving, you couldn’t pull away like you wanted too, but Soap seemed to notice your discomfort and pulled his hand to himself with a worried furrow to his brow.

When you got home, you could tell Soap wanted to jump you immediately. It was tradition at this point, after being apart for a while, you two would spend hours expressing the feelings you hadn’t been able too all that time. But the insecurity in your body had you avoiding his advances, even though you had missed him just as much as he had missed you.

His pouting and puppy eyes almost had you throwing your insecurities about your body out the window, but then you would pass by a reflective surface, and you would see your thicker body, your rounder stomach or the extra roundness in your cheeks, and your fears would return tenfold.

This continued for a few days, until Soap finally seemed to have enough as you guys were typically better at talking about anything wrong. You had taken to sleep fully clothed, when in the past all you had slept in were a pair of boxers. That night you two were laying in bed, Soap acting as the big spoon as you liked to switch, his face burrowed in your shoulders as he squeezed your middle.

“God, you’re so fucking hot” he groaned, his hips rolling into your back as he exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the exposed skin of your neck. You found your face growing hot, along with heat pooling in your gut as he murmured out all the things he thought, a shaky exhale leaving you as he ran his hands up under your shirt.

“The moment I saw you, I almost jumped you then and there, right in the airport” he purred, switching from kisses to bites and sucks. You wanted to retort, to claim he was lying, but the way he panted and ground against your back, his hard cock rutting against you made his point clear. He truly didn’t seem to mind your bodies changes, quite the opposite, he seemed almost rabid with how much he loved it.

“Come on love, roll over” he groaned, withdrawing from your back to grab at your shoulders, rolling you onto your back, but not before wrestling the shirt off your torso. You didn’t even have time to gasp out his name before he descended upon you, grabbing, licking, and sucking hickeys all over your torso, moaning against the fat and muscle of your strong torso.

You gripped onto his mohawk, a shuddery gasp leaving you as he licked and sucked between your thick pecs, his eyes locked on your own, looking half mad and starved as Soap worked his way down your body. “This stomach” he growled, gripping onto your stomach and licking over it, his voice rough and almost worshipping in tone.

“These fuckin thighs” Soap groaned out, pulling your sleep pants down your hips to bury his face between them, gripping them to squeeze them around his head. He looked like a man in heaven as you flexed your thighs carefully, squeezing his head softly between them as he so badly seemed to want.

A curse left you as Soap dug his teeth into the meat of your thigh, working like a man possessed to mark them all over as if to make up for lost time. When he finally seemed to have worked his way all over your body, you found yourself aching hard, a wet spot gathering in your boxers.

Soap almost purred as he ran the flat side of his tongue over your shaft through your boxers, his pupils blown and hair a mess. Wrenching down your boxers, he was upon you like a starved animal, sucking you all the way down his throat even as he gagged and coughed, like all Soap wanted was you to fill his mouth.

The noises were slick and wet as he worked his lips up and down you, one of his hands gripping your thick thigh as the other rolled your balls, his acts akin to worship as Soap moaned and groaned like the act brought him just as much pleasure as it brought you.

It had been a while since you had gotten yourself off, you age playing a factor, as your libido wasn’t as high as it had once been without Soap there, so the end quickly hurdled close. “F-fuck, John” you grunted, voice raspy as he looked down at him, his blue eyes staring up at you with such a deep hunger, his movements growing more desperate and his noises needier.

The grip on his mohawk tightened as you clenched your eyes shut, a deep guttural noise leaving you as you spilled into his mouth, thick spurts of white striking the back of his throat and tongue, Soap moaning louder than you as he gulped it all down like it was a delicacy.

Soap gave a few extra sucks and slurps, just to make sure it was all drawn out of you before withdrawing with a lewd pop, his lips red and wet as he grinned wolfishly. A soft chuckle left you as you fell back onto the pillows, grabbing onto his hips as he clambered on top of you. You both knew it would take a while before you could get hard again, but Soap seemed just as happy to start rutting against your stomach, needy noises leaving him as you moved his hips for him in a tight grip.

791 notes · View notes

cod-dump · 2 months

Note

Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!

Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.

So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.

And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.

Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--

Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!

Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!

Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!

Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.

Nik: ... Thank you?

Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.

Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.

Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.

He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.

Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.

“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”

The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.

“Over my dead body.”

Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.

“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.

Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“

“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”

“I second that,” John said very seriously.

Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.

“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”

Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”

“You just said you wanted to dye it.”

Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.

“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”

Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”

“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”

By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?

#nikpricegraves my beloved #call of duty #modern warfare #cod nikolai #john price #phillip graves #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #pricegravesnik #nikpricegraves #drabble #he will now be even more insufferable #nik: i’m old i cant be lifting that sorry #nik: i mustve not heard you with being how old i am #nik: im old of course im grumpy #price and graves are going to be sick of him witin a week #(this is a lie they’ll never be sick of him)

249 notes · View notes

v1x3n · 2 months

Text

♡ "a date?"

john price x reader ┃ navigation┃ bimbo masterlist ୨୧ tags : fluff, suggestive

You find yourself strolling down a long path, soon entering one of your favourite cafes. A cute little cat cafe, you plop yourself down on a comfy seat whilst scrolling down on your phone. Well more specifically tinder, you wanted to find a boyfriend and a nice one at least. No more silly fuck boys that only want sex. You are really fucking fit but you still wanted love not just lust. A white and grey cat came and sat next to you, he shoved his head to your thigh which made you look down at him. “Ah! kandy! “ you yelp out in awe. You stroke the cat and put her down onto your lap, playing with her fur as you continue your previous acts.

Some men there were just.. Not your type, men in tracksuits and whose hobbies are drugs are just not your thing. That's when you come across a familiar person. He was tall, he said on there he was 6 foot, he was also very built. His little description was ‘mates told me it's a good idea so here i am’

His beard was making you feel some things, total dilf vibes, you almost got wet just thinking about him like that. You instantly swiped yes on him, then a notification popped up saying he had added you back.

‘Hi dear, sorry if i'm wrong but are you the same little girl from kyle garricks party last weekend? X’

Holy shit! That's where you remember him from! He was Kyle's strange yet sweet boss!

‘Omg! Are you the boss one?’

‘captain , but yeah x’

You slightly giggled and stopped petting kandy again. ‘Didn't think you were single, love x’ he sent another text just a minute later.

‘How's that?’

‘far too pretty to be single x’ he made your feet kick under the table, which made your fluffy cat run off. “awe “ you pout at the kitty.

‘Awh, you're sweet! You in the area?’

He answered yes, and you two decided to meet up right here at the cat cafe! It was kind of quick but you had met him before and he was friends with Kyle so you knew he wouldn't be some freak. So why not? Lifes is only short.

—★!

He rocks up with a opened buttoned up shirt and blackish trousers, he looks almost too fucking fancy to be here. You giggle slightly at him which makes his eyebrows furrow towards you. John scoots closer to you whilst smiling brightly, “hello love” his familiar voice brung a small glint of happiness to you. He sits in front of you and moves his head around to look at the inside of the cafe. “The cats are cute” he then looks towards you and takes in your outfit. A fluffy tracksuit, the jacket cropped so it's showing a little of your stomach whilst the bottoms are a little baggy. You smile up at him and nod. “You come here often?” you look away from him and your face lights up, “yeah! Almost everyday” he was nice.

You grab the menu and pass the other one to John, “I'll pay” you gleam once more at him. He had noticed that you were in a very hyper mood, giggly and bubbly. Or maybe you were always like this? “No need sweetie, I can.”

“You sure? I- i have money” you look up at him, almost pouting. “What you having love?” glancing at the menu and you pick out your usual, “vanilla cream” he does this weird yet cute beaver smile at you. Then he picks himself up and goes to order.

Soon he comes back with your drink and a coffee, he sets them down then walks off again. Your eyebrows pull up a little as you wonder where he's off too, he wanders to you again with two chocolate chip cookies in his hand. “Hope you like these” he plops himself down and hands you one of the cookies. “Aww thanks!!” giggles sound from you and he sips on his cup of coffee. You look over at him then down at your order, as you two sit in comfortable silence and drink your cups a small kitten hops along to you both and twirls itself around johns ankle. “Who's this little one?” he glances down at the small kitty, you do the same and then give your hand to the cat. He swirls around his ankle one more then jumps at your hand, playfully hitting it. “This one's charlie.”

“You know all their names?” he chuckles softly as you nod. “There's kandy, luna, lottie, bean, nova and charlie”

—★!

“Out the helicopter?” you squeal and laugh as you and John walk down a long path down to your house. “Yeah it was hard to stay serious after” he chuckles, he looks down whilst seeing the small glint of shine in your gorgeous eyes.

John's eyes stay connected with the pavement and he sighs softly at you, the eyes that had been looking forward trail along to look at him. And maybe or maybe not then you check him out… his strong, buff arms with his small waist fit perfectly with his bulky thighs. “We… we should do this again!” you smile at him, his eyes move towards yours - connecting eyes and maintaining eye contact with him whilst he chuckles at you trying to not squirm away and blush. He nods and follows it up with, “you like movies?”

As you nod he takes a left, you do too, “then we should go see something hm? Or we could at my house or yours?” You quickly gaze up at him, giggling as you almost purr, “we should at my house!!” John looks in your direction, he does a singular nod then you stop.

“Well this is my house” mumbling through your teeth like you were nervous.

“Goodbye sweetheart” he smiles strongly and bends over to kiss your forehead. You giggle once more. Your heart beats fast as butterflies grow powerful in your stomach, bashing into eachother with how fucking fast they were moving around. Before he leaves you grab onto the end of his shirt, he spins around and his eyebrows look quizzical. “Wait.. I have a question!”

“Was this a date?” your head tilts at him as he smiles, he laughs slightly and then sighs. John nods whilst chuckling and pets your head gently, “if you'd like it to be.”

comment to join main taglist!

233 notes · View notes

stave-writes · 4 days

Text

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

174 notes · View notes

jksprincess10 · 1 year

Text

I’m starvin’ darling || Dbf!Joel and reader

I’m blaming @itgetsdark-x for this. Heavily inspired by one of her ideas.

A/N: No outbreak. Joel lost his wife and daughter.

CW: Smut (MDNI) Age gap (reader in her mid twenties, Joel in his 40s), squirting, face riding.

Joel had been employed at your dad’s construction company for the last 5 years. After he lost his daughter and his wife, he let go of his own company he had with his brother as it was too much pressure for him. He seemed happy, working for your dad. They had become best friends. And when you came back home from studying in another state to become a teacher, you met him.

A gentleman in his 40s, dark brown curls greying in some spots. He had a nicely trimmed beard and kind eyes. Very charismatic and charming. You were attracted to him and insanely lonely for a girl in your mid-twenties. But surely, it was just a stupid girly crush.

You’d see him a lot as you were living with your lonely dad, taking care of him while trying to find a steady contract as a teacher. It had always been respectful, distant.

Until it wasn’t.

A month ago, he picked you up almost black-out drunk from a bar when your dad was already deep asleep. You had kissed in his pick-up truck in front of the house. After that, you kept seeing each other, but never addressing the nature of your relationship. You wanted all of him, and you took every crumb of his self he gave you, whether it was lazy kissing or heavy sex. You wanted it all.

It was the worst idea. But you were indulging in it, living in your obscene bubble until it would actually pop and break everyone around you. You would steal kisses in the kitchen when your dad wasn’t looking, you would spend the night at his place to give him some release when he finished late at the worksite.

Today, you had to leave the bubble you made up to be in public with him. You had to keep a respectful distance. It was an important event, your dad’s company’s annual barbecue. You were coming to help, and well, it was also at your house.

It was a warm summer day in Texas, the shining sun was high in the sky and the heat didn’t come only from seeing your lover.

You were wearing a sweet summer dress. It was a shade of dark green and decorated with flowers. You had put up your hair and laced it with a bow, which made you look like the sweet, innocent girl you weren’t. But this look was popular with your colleagues and got you loads of compliments, so you would know it would make Joel fall to his knees.

You were offering smiles and hugs in your backyard while your dad was already working the BBQ. You were always popular with your dad’s employees; they all loved you. Joel was keeping a protective eye on you from a distance, sipping on his beer.

“Anyone want more drinks? I’ll go inside and grab some.” You offered.

A lot of people raised their hand and thanked you.

“Le’mme help you out, sweetheart. You can’t bring all that by yourself.”

Joel. You smiled sweetly at him and offered your thanks as the two of you went back inside the house, the freshness of the kitchen tiles on your bare feet.

He looked around to make sure you two were alone and grabbed your waist to steal a kiss from you. Your hands laid flat on his chest, feeling the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt.

“You look fuckin’ amazing, darlin’. Can’t wait to have you all for myself.”

You pulled on his shirt to bring him closer to you and got up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Y’know the best part? I’m not wearing anything under it.”

He hummed in response and went for another kiss, but you pulled away with a teasing smile. You turned to the fridge and bent down to grab a fresh pack of beers, giving him a perfect view of your naked behind. You turned around before he could say anything and shoved the beer pack in his arms. You took another one and went back to the backyard. He looked so frustrated with you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game and frankly, the adrenaline you got from it made your heart race.

The two of you went back to the backyard and you served the beers to everyone who wanted one.

The party usually lasted until late at night. You had barely finished your diner and you just wanted to leave with Joel, but you had to be patient.

***

The sun was replaced by the stars and the music was blasting in the backyard. Drunken men were dancing, including your dad. You couldn’t help but laugh at your old man.

“Oh my god dad, you’re embarrassing me. ”

“Come on, my sweet daughter, dance with me!”

You got up to oblige, twirling in your dress. Joel was looking at you two with a smile and he could sometimes catch the glimpse of your soft curves. You shot him a sweet and innocent smirk.

Another man took you from your dad’s arms. He was the son of another employee, and you couldn’t care less about this white skinny guy, but you tried to. Only to make Joel jealous. Your bodies flowed together, and you were closer than you should’ve been. Arms intertwined behind the man’s neck, you had a perfect view of your lover’s grumpy expression. You saw him mouth “Just you wait.” And you smiled brightly at him. When your dance partner asked what you were doing after, you simply said you’d be busy. And God, you would be.

***

Finally, you found the stillness and silence of your home. Your dad had already gone up to his room and he was probably snoring, long gone after the number of beers he took. Joel had stayed to help you clean, well… that was his excuse. But you two knew you were the reason he stayed.

The second your duties were finished, he was all over you, hands grabbing at every inch of skin he could find, mouth altering between kissing your lips and leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You breathed heavily against him, even more as you felt his fingers playing with the edge of your dress.

“You fuckin’ tease… Couldn’t stand seeing that guy all over you…” His fingers creeped under the dress to brush against your burning heat. “ Couldn’t stand knowing you were naked under there for me.”

You pushed him to your bedroom that was on the ground floor, before locking the door behind your hungry bodies. Your lips smashed against his, all teeth and no delicateness. Frankly, you hated waiting so long for you two to be alone. But every time, the waiting was worth the wait.

Joel laid his back on your bed, pulling you on top of him without breaking the kiss. You could feel every inch of his body against the thin fabric of your dress, but still, you wanted more. You wanted to crawl into his skin, so he’d never forget you.

Strong hands met your ass and pushed until you were straddling his neck. You looked down at him, terrified. You had never done this and suddenly, you felt self-conscious of every inch of your body.

It was like Joel read your mind.

“C’mon darling, I’m starving. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

You inhaled sharply.

“Don’t want to kill you.”

“Stop being ridiculous and c’me here.”

He gave you another strong push so you would sit on his face. His hands came down to lift your dress again. He left a kiss on your throbbing heat, and you whined at the feeling. You had thought about him touching you all day and you were so sensitive.

“You’re beautiful in this dress. All for me.”

He licked a stripe up your pussy. One of your hands found his curls and the other one grabbed on the bed’s headboard. Finally, you completely committed and sat on his mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised.

His gorgeous nose was pressing against your clit as his tongue was fucking your hole. Every movement of his head stimulated every inch of you. Your hips moved against him, looking for more friction.

You were ridiculously close even though you had just started. His name fell quietly from your opened lips.

“M’close, Joel…”

You leaned into his touch, both hands on the headboard, as you were falling apart. White flashed before your eyes and a ball was coming undone in your stomach. Even though you had your orgasm, he kept going, pushing your sensitive body to find its limits.

“C’mon darlin’, I know you can give me more than that.”

His tongue circled your clit while one of his fingers came up to stimulate you from the inside. He curled his finger inside of your body. You concentrated on every sensation he gave you and it wasn’t long until you gave him more. This time, the feeling was different, more intense. He kept working you through your orgasm, drinking every drop of you.

Finally, you fell beside him, and you looked horrified as you saw the mess you had made. Your pillowcase and Joel’s face were ruined. Joel wiped his mouth and turned to meet your gaze.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, cheeks burning.

“Don’t. It’s normal, and it’s hot.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Wanna go again?” He whispered and you nodded enthusiastically. You were drunk on him, and you wanted every drop of pleasure he could give you. He went down on your body, lifting the dress to your waist.

“But, you – ”

“We have all night, sweetheart.”

His face disappeared between your thighs once again.

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfictions #joel miller x yn #joel miller x reader #dbf joel miller #dbf joel

1K notes · View notes