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jay-wasreblogging · 23 days

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Okay but the way Sherlock kept reassuring Mariana that she doesn't need to do anything she's not comfortable with?? That he would do it instead so she wouldn't have to?? Like? EXCUSE ME SIRRR?? 😭

I hear the talk about Mariana and John this, Mariana and John that - but let's talk about Sherlock and Mariana!!

This case had Sherlock encouraging Mariana to speak up and NO don't say you shouldn't talk when you got smt to say to the team! Your input is just as valuable and needs to be heard!! You're a part of this team and this is a team effort!

And when they were about to find the bodies, the way he talked her through an extremely traumatic situation? 😭 That shit got me fr like yes what you're thinking is horrible but whether you like it or not it is true and we cannot change this to suit the reality we want, we can only accept it and continue from there - and he was kind!! He didn't look down on her or mock her for wanting to not believe what was true, because it was traumatic and something she wasn't accustomed to.

HOWEVER what I really loved was that she didn't need to do smt she didn't want!! Im so glad it didn't take the 'but you have to do this' bullshit route that many stories do because it's okay not to, it's okay to know your limits and stay in it, it's okay to not want to do something you don't want to!! There's nothing you have to prove because you shouldn't have to!!

This podcast mannn.

#an adaptation where ppl are HEARDDD #sherlock and marianas relationship hits deep in this case and i love it!#im sick n tired of 'weak' character needs to do smt traumatic to prove smt and build 'character' like no! characters don't have to do smt #they dont want or go through trauma to be strong!! or to grow in character!! let ppl be weak! let ppl be comfortable staying in their zone!#let people be happy with where they are and not pushing ppl to do things that you believe is best for them when its just you projecting!!!#it got a bit personal for me but i just love that ANOTHER character said 'nah i can do it - u dont have to' !! 😭#the way they all understand each other and try their best is so endearing #sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #goalhanger podcasts #mariana ametxazurra

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kreesk · 2 months

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Okay so about the season 4 finale. Can we just talk about the fact that after all the shit KIY put John and Arthur trough in season 2, after all the sacrifices and pain they had to endure, when John had rejoined him, he just found him useless and just like, threw him away???? Casted him into the dark world???? All of that???? Was???? For nothing???? He just threw him in a garbage like a broken toy???? John was not desired even there, where he came from, with A LITERAL VERSION OF HIMSELF, the only home left was with Arthur, and now he blew that as well with all the lying. He was cast away in literal hell and had to lie to the person he cared about to get out of it.

#malevolent podcast #malevolent #john doe #arthur lester #king in yellow #i love John so much #stay strong pookie #season 4 finale #season 4 spoilers

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krogerkryptid · 4 months

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Had a terrible little hour and a half of my sheets not being right and my blankets not being the right place and my clothes being itchy and I have since retrieved a different blanket, remade my base sheets and braved the pjs…anyway all of this to say I have decided to take up the incredibly autistic (it’s me I’m the autistic) task of rereading all of my Sherlock Holmes anthology and locating all instances of Victorian queer culture within the writings as well as the interactions between the lads themselves that follow what we know about this specific culture. I’m really really interested bc I wrote a whole essay on homosexuality vs homosociality and its an incredibly intriguing concept and I want to know how these instances within the original works fall in these categories it is time for my research to begin. No worries I will keep the curious masses updated and informed I’m buying fun sticky note colors tomorrow to start marking away when I get back to university 🫡

This being said! If anyone wants to help I would be totally down for collaborating it’d be a fun and funky group project. I’m sure there are people way more knowledgeable of Victorian England than me (a Britian non-apologist I steer clear mostly) so! If you know things tell me I like learning about what other people already learned about bc you do in fact know better than me

#sherlock holmes #acd holmes #sherlock fandom #john watson #I will stay strong no worries I will be seeing this through #I want to have a database down the line for people to refer to

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pantoranqira · 2 years

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When you start thinking "you know I haven't seen my boy Finn in a while. I miss him. Maybe I should rewatch the sequel trilogy..." do NOT listen okay!!!! That is the DEVIL talking!!!!!! He is enticing you with John Boyega's stellar portrayal of the legendary Finn Star Wars but it's really a TRAP. It is a TRAP okay! Starwutuals (star wars mutuals) we have to stand together on this guys. Present a united front here otherwise we're not going to be able to survive

#blah #sw #star wars #finn sw #finn #finn star wars #sw finn #sw sequels #tfa #tlj #tros #john boyega #anti sequel trilogy #im so close to going over the edge here guys its bad 😭😭😭😭#i just miss him SO much... miss what he could have been...#jedi finn if youre out there baby ily stay strong

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spacedhead · 9 months

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im rereading homestuck but theres a twist

i shoulda started blogging it on page 1 but instead i waited until page 2012 to confirm this idea with beef who was off the grid so here we are

this first post will be my retroactive thoughts on what has happened so far. or at least what i can remember thinking at the time

ok first thing i know this is a given but isnt it weird that all the kids have to like actually fight their guardians. like in this picture john is attacking his dad with a hammer while his dad parries and subsequently counterattacks using various pastries. and these two have the most stable relationship out of the four beta kids and their guardians.

okay secondly i wont picture this but it is a little jarring to me how often the kids (especially john and dave thus far) use slurs like i get its a different time and theyre 13 but its just weird to see when i dont see those words too often. but it is what it is i guess

next up is rose. she is awesome and overall has been a highlight of this reread. idk what it is but i vibe with her so much this time around. shes so based and idk why i never saw it before now. i mean i always thought she was cool but i love her so much rn. it is both ironic and sad that the seer of light cannot see her mothers actions as what they are, which is genuine affection, but is only able to see them as what they aren't, which is insane levels of passive aggression. anyway all that said heres a picture of her being fucking awesome

this isnt relevant but i love the panel of john dancing

next thing is jade. jade? is awesome. she is so silly. how could i have not seen this before. she is so real. and also she has that quality about her where everyone is just sort of nicer to her because shes so awesome and cool. and it sucks that later on things become really difficult and bad for her. stay strong girl

ok this is getting long and tumblr keeps deleting my fucking drafts so im gonna speedrun the things ive liked until now

-top 3 flashes rn are descend, dave accelerate, and jack ascend

-love the mayor and his crew

-dave is my favorite (this will probably not change)

-i actually liked the midnight crew intermission this time around and thats usually the part i dislike the most. so that was cool

-lastly i really like this panel of john

will update more regularly. i have a feeling this will be fun :)

#does dave discovering hes bi retroactively give him the pass for using the f slur #my girls you must stay strong #need john to keep on dancing for us all #joff hs reread #hs

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bratfiction · 5 months

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why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty headcanons #cod headcanons

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captainfern · 1 month

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You Know You're Right

Captain John Price x fem!reader

["You Know You're Right" by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - an argument with your bodyguard ends a lot differently than you anticipated lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.6k • warnings - fem!reader, thick girl friendly ofc, bodyguard!price, protective/jealous!price, oral [f!receiving], angry!sex but not really, he calls you a slag once i'm so sorry but he doesn't mean it i swear, unprotected (obviously) piv, reader has a breeding kink but price is like babe chill, but he also has one, so uh yeah breeding kink (obviously), reader is on contraceptives tho x, dirty talk, praise, degradation, strong language, 99% porn 1% plot • also to note: reader is a wealthy woman in the english countryside. sorry to all my american cuties but you can be a sexy british heiress for a while x

and the uniform stays on 🙏

my contribution to @glitterypirateduck price writing challenge for this month. sorry for the lack of work recently. uni's a bitch. and sorry for any mistakes lol anyway enjoy x

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You don't know how long John Price had been your bodyguard for. You honestly couldn't recall the amount of days, weeks, months, years it had been since you had first met him.

Of course, you remember the day itself, the events, the moment you first met him. A crisp, autumnal morning with the trees around you alit with oranges and reds, and you stood on the front steps of your grand country estate as a couple of military-grade hummers pulled up in front of you.

You remember a few armed men spilling out onto your driveway, clutching M16's or AR15's or whatever the fuck they were because you weren't paying attention to them. You were paying attention to the man that followed behind them.

A man who, as the armed soldiers-of-sorts fanned out and scanned their surroundings, approached you with a warm smile that melted the early-morning chill from the air. With deep eyes that heated you more than the fuzzy housecoat you had bundled around you.

He offered his hand, and you shook it. His hand was warm too.

And the way he spoke– oh fuck, his voice. Flint striking steel and fire crackling from it's spark. A smoker. A man who, all so suddenly, sounded much too experienced to be the bodyguard of a wealthy woman in the English countryside.

"John Price," he had introduced. "S'a pleasure, miss."

You then smiled politely in return and introduced with your name. He chuckled lightly, commenting something along the lines of oh, I know who you are, miss which made your body grow even warmer.

You had looked up, ignoring the fact he was still holding your hand gently in his, and gestured to the three young men who were pacing around the front of your house, weapons drawn. "Will these gentlemen be staying with you for the entirety of your stay?"

He shook his head ruefully. "No, miss. They'll be gone within the hour. Just ensuring they know their way 'round in case they need to get here in a hurry."

You looked back down at him, arching a brow and finally removing your hand from his. He dropped his arm with a clearing of his throat, bringing his hands up to clutch the top of his vest.

"Will they need to get here in a hurry?" You challenged, almost jokingly, but John saw no joke. A joke about your safety is no joke he'd dear indulge in.

"No," he said sternly and quite quickly, you remember. "But it's just precautions. No, don't you worry, sweetheart. You're in safe hands. I assure you that."

Sweetheart.

Perhaps you remember the first meeting with John Price because it was the very first time he referred to you in such a way. Sweetheart. Now, a little over a year later, he still refers to you as such, but also–

"Morning, love. Sleep well?" He'd ask when you emerge from your bedroom in the morning.

Or,

"There she is. Rough night, pet?" He'd quip when you finally decide to show yourself about late-afternoon after a night out with your friends.

Or even,

"Need a hand with that, darling?" He'd offer when you found yourself struggling to carry the many shopping bags through the door.

Oftentimes, the way he spoke to you, the way he referred to you, was like you two had been married for years. And it wasn't only the way he spoke to you that had you going to bed giggling and kicking your feet like a girl with a crush.

Lingering touches and long hugs and kisses to the top of your head. John was always so warm and welcoming. His presence crackled like a fire in winter, lulling you to sleep or to a state of comfortability. If it was any other man, you wondered if you'd be weirded out by the closeness of him– but because it was John, everything just felt... right.

Riding horses in the springtime, and he'd assist you into the saddle with big hands running down your sides and legs, settling you onto your sturdy steed with a squeeze to your knee. He'd ride on a seperate horse if you wanted to canter through the forest; or he'd walk alongside yours if you were only taking a lazy stroll across the pastures.

Swimming in the summertime, and he'd smooth oils across your exposed skin. You'd revel in the way his large palms moved against you, such a strong man being so incredibly gentle. He'd watch you swim, his eyes occasionally darting up and around, before settling back on you again. He always declined to join you, angling that silly little boonie hat of his over his eyes to shield the sun's rays.

Keeping you warm in the wintertime, letting you snuggle up beneath furs and blankets on your couch while he chopped firewood outside, bringing the axe down again and again until he had enough kindling to keep the fire running for days to come. You'd watch him work up a sweat, muscles stretching and contracting beneath his shirt. Your entire body would flush with warmth.

But sometimes... sometimes the two of you didn't get along so well. And it wasn't your fault, you didn't think. You honestly found Captain John Price so confusing at times, especially now that the two of you had known each other for quite some time.

Partying with your friends, and you'd attract the attention of some poor man who didn't know what he was getting himself into. He'd smile at you, offer you drinks or a smoke or whatever you wanted, his hands beginning to wander as the music seemed to grow louder and louder and the colours around you blurred together. You'd laugh and dance and sing with your friends, this man actively engaging with you and–

It never lasted.

Price would swoop in. Sometimes before the stranger could offer you a drink, sometimes after. Sometimes the man never got the chance to even speak to you, with your bodyguard planting himself firmly in front of you and blocking your would-be pursuer.

You were never one to complain. After all, it was his job to protect you. But you didn't like when, after getting home in the early hours of the morning, he would roughly escort you to your room, ensure you wouldn't be sick, then leave without another word.

He'd be better by the morning.

And this became a cycle. A cycle of trying to combat the winds of a hurricane. Impossible, really. You just had to brace yourself.

But you were sick of bracing yourself. You were sick of getting fucking cock-blocked by your ex-military bodyguard. You were an absolutely gorgeous, rich woman living on her own in the countryside, and you fucking deserved to find someone. You, frankly, deserved to get fucked.

"I'm going out tonight," you told Price as you emerged from your bedroom. You were already dressed, looking impeccable as always.

Price lounged in one of the chaises positioned in the hallway outside your bedroom. He glanced up from his phone, glanced back down, and then did a double take. His eyes shot up again and he immediately pocketed his phone as he got to his feet, knees cracking with the speed of it all.

"I– you said you were just going out for a few drinks with friends?" He countered, eyes skimming up and down your frame. But not for any longer than a second, you don't think. Forever the gentleman, his eyes honed in on your face, his gaze already beginning to melt the icy facade you'd put in place.

But you steeled your nerves.

"I am," you said with a smile.

"You're going into the city? I'll have to organise a driver–" Price began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. You didn't live too far from the main city, but it was still a significant drive for simply a few drinks.

"No, no, we're just popping into town," you said, referring to the small, quaint town less than five down the road. "Having a few drinks at the pub. Nothing big."

You and your friends were regulars at the pub. And John frowned. He knew that the other regulars– a group of men you'd become familiar with– would also be there.

You clocked his frown and your smile grew. "What's the matter, John? Am... Am I not allowed to go?"

He huffed. "No, you can go, but just let me–"

"Oh, no need," you said with a batter of your eyelashes. You told him you'd organise your own driver. "And you don't need to come. I'll only be a couple of hours."

John's jaw tensed, and you could see the muscles moving beneath his facial hair.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm coming."

Your smile faltered. "No, you're not. I'm fine, John. Have a break. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be back before midnight–"

"That doesn't make me feel better," John growled. "I... I have no problem with you going out, but I need to come with you. I– I am coming with you, end of story."

Your smile had disappeared completely now. You then looked him up and down. He was dressed how he usually did, even around the house. A suit complete with the trousers and white dress-shirt. But he wore his kevlar vest over top, and with a belt stocked with a couple of sidearms and ammunition, he didn't exactly look inconspicuous. At least he wasn't wearing his boonie hat.

"Price..." You began. "Please, just... I'll be fine, okay? Can you just let me do something on my own–?"

"No."

You frowned. "John–"

"It's my job to protect you, is it not?" He cocked his head, daring you to challenge him. "You hired me to protect you. You pay me to keep an eye on you since there are a couple of real fuckwits out there that would want to hurt you, right? So why the fuck would I let you leave here alone?"

He took a step forward, opening his arms in a gesture of so?

Your frown deepened. "I deserve some privacy, you know. I appreciate that you look out for me, but I want to be able to enjoy myself in public without..."

John waited, but urged a mocking, "Without...?"

You scoffed. "Without you hovering over me. I just want to... enjoy myself, okay? I want to meet people–"

"Oh," John suddenly said, and his tone was less of realisation, more of discovery. "I see."

You scowled. "What?"

"You want to get fucked, is that it?"

Your mouth dropped open. "I–"

"No, no, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay," he tutted, shaking his head as you stood there, embarrassment suddenly festering in the pit of your stomach, as he appraised you like you were a whole new person. He sighed. "You want me gone so I don't stop the lads from flocking to you. Is that it? You want me to let you go out on your own so you can get one of those boys to fuck you?"

The shame in your stomach, pulling and pushing at your conscious, fizzled out and was instead replaced by a new flame of self-determination. You took a step closer to your bodyguard and jabbed a finger into the taut material of his tac vest.

"You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck, got it? I can do what the fuck I want. I'm a grown woman, Price," you seethed. "Secondly, yeah, I might just get one of the guys at the pub to fuck me. I bet they would, you know. I bet he'd bend me over his knee and–"

"Stop talking," John rolled his eyes, and the gesture made you a whole lot angrier. But he continued before you could say anything else. "You're not going. You can throw a fit if that's what you want, but you're not going."

Throw a fit. You wanted to slap him for that. But you didn't. Even though you were growing angrier and angrier at the man before you, there was something inside your brain that prevented you from going that far. Maybe it was the fact that... seeing him so protective of you... made you feel...

You shook your head to send the thoughts away. You're meant to be angry at him, babe.

"Fuck you," you spat, since those were the only words that managed to come to the forefront of your mind.

He grunted. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just a needy fuckin' slag looking for a quick fuck–"

You raised your hand to slap him. You wanted to strike your palm across his handsome face. A slag? Who the fuck does he think he is–

Price grabbed hold of your wrist before you got within inches of his cheek. And, quickly, you realised you'd made a huge mistake.

In seconds, he had your soft body pinned against the wall beside your bedroom door. He pinned you there with his body, hard and firm against yours, one large hand holding your wrist and nailing it to the wall, while the other grabbed your other wrist and held it by your side.

His face was close to yours. You could smell him. Rich oud, the warmth of some sort of spice note, expensive tobacco–

Your core fluttered.

Oh, fuck off–

Price shoved a knee between your legs, parting them and forcing a yelp from your throat at the way he dragged himself impossibly closer. The taut muscle of his thigh beneath you made you scream within your head, silently begging that the warmth of your clothed cunt didn't give anything away because-

You were fucked.

Fucked off, yes. Angry at him, yes.

But he was also turning you on in a way that no man has ever done before.

"D'you want'a try that again?" He whispered, the words ghosting across the heated skin of your face.

When you didn't respond right away, he pushed his knee up higher, shifting his hips closer to yours, humming out an impatient, "Hm?"

You shook your head.

"Didn't think so."

You frowned. "You're such an arsehole."

"I know," he said, words hushed. "But you fucking love it, don't you?"

The both of you paused. Breathing jaggedly, you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, a storm passing between the two of you, complete with the crackling of thunder. You could feel him breathing against you, and you willed yourself not to look down at where your bodies were flushed together. Instead, you remained calm.

You watched the way his eyes darted across your face. How they lingered on the curves of your cheeks, or the part between your lips. His eyes scanned over your nose, your eyes, your everything. You could almost hear his brain trying to keep up.

You could feel your core growing warmer and warmer, arousal pooling and no doubt tangible. Without a doubt he could feel it against the material of his trousers, soaking through to his thigh. It was already drenching your underwear, and probably ruining his suit.

God, you loved him in a suit.

"What are you waiting for?" You whispered your challenge, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat between you.

Price groaned and he released his hold on your wrists. Instead, he grabbed the fat just above your hip in one hand and wrapped the other around your jaw, before he was pushing forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

•º•º•

John Price didn't know how long it had been since he fell in love with you. He honestly couldn't recall the number of days, weeks, months, years it had been since the moment he first saw you.

But of course he remembers what the day was like– how beautiful and welcoming and soft you looked, bundled in your expensive housecoat with a sliver of your leg exposed to the chilly autumn breeze. He remembers the bright smile, tired but bright, you had offered him as he walked up to you and extended his hand. He remembers the way your hand felt within his, and how he didn't want to let go.

He remembers how his heart lurched in his chest when you introduced yourself, and he recalls feeling nothing but sincerity for the fact a pretty woman like you needed to be protected by someone like him. Oh, but how gorgeous you looked when you thanked him for his service. The almost-guiltiness didn't last for long.

You were always so sweet to him. Even when he put you in your place, told you what you could and couldn't do for your own safety. You were constantly being kind to him. Respectful and polite and understanding.

You were such a good girl.

And as the days passed, as they blurred into weeks and months and finally a year-ish together, you got all the more sweeter. But–

But you now knew him. You knew what made him tick. You knew exactly what to do to get your way. Saunter through your home with a pretty, coy smile and a soft hand on his bicep and of course, sweetheart, we can go into the city today. Or a well-cooked meal of his favourite food, paired with a pint if you really wanted to get into his good books, and okay then, love, I'll call your driver to take us.

You knew how to deal with him. And he let you, of course.

But as the months went by, Price couldn't help but grow resentful. His pretty girl, being chatted up by some absolute mingers in a big-city nightclub. Or maybe even the village idiots down at the local pub. How dare they?

He found himself growing more annoyed that they approached you, instead of worried that they could cause you harm. Sure, they were still a threat, and Price was doing his job. But also, also, they were encroaching on what was his. What belonged to him.

His good girl.

And he supposed he should have seen this coming– an argument bubbling up and over about it all. About how he was always there when you just wanted to socialise and have a good time. How he was always turning guys away from you. It wasn't fear, and John understood that. But he was firm in his thinking– you were his.

Oh fuck, you even looked gorgeous when you were angry at him. When you were spitting and hissing like a feral cat, and even with your claws unsheathed and swinging right towards his face, he found you to be the most ethereal being on the planet.

His pretty girl.

He didn't mean to call you a slag. Of course he didn't mean it. His anger conjuring into stupid fucking words that he couldn't keep hidden in his head. And even then his anger wasn't to you, but to the local fuckwits who haunted the village pub in the hopes of spending time with you.

Delusional cunts.

When John caught your wrist and pinned you to the wall outside your bedroom, he didn't mean to escalate things. He was angry at himself, angry for saying such filth to you. But then–

But then he felt it. His heart hammering wildly against his ribcage and your chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt the way you squirmed against him, how you arched off the wall and how your barely clothed pussy seemed to throb against the muscle of his thigh. He could feel your warmth through his trousers, feel your need.

His needy girl.

And he was more than happy to indulge you. Hell, he was more than happy to indulge himself.

•º•º•

John's mouth on yours was hot. Liquid heat passing between you, sparks flying as he pulled you closer by the hand on your jaw. He split your lips with his tongue, pushing inside with just as much strength as you anticipated. His lips against yours smeared your gloss, sticky and sweet, mixing with the spit that threatened to drip as he licked into your mouth again and again, chasing the taste of you.

You moaned into it, eyes shut and hands wrapping around his neck. Fingers delved into his hair, tugging and pulling and angling his head to get yourself closer. He groaned in response, pushing his pelvis closer to yours, and you could feel him growing in his suit trousers.

Then, you began to move. You followed him blindly, your eyes still closed as you attempted to keep up with the languid rhythm of his tongue. He licked at your teeth, your tongue, your lips, committing your taste to memory.

You'd never been kissed like this before.

You were walking backwards, guided by Price's large hands. He had two hands on your waist now, holding you flush to him as he slowly edged you back, back, back until the backs of your legs bumped into something. Your bed.

You broke the kiss, surprised, and turned your head to the side to see that yeah, he'd navigated you both back into the warm, lovely-smelling oasis of your bedroom. As you looked to the side, your bodyguard continued his mission, dragging his lips along your jaw and then latching his mouth onto your neck.

He groaned, tasting more of you. He'd imagined what you'd taste like, imagined the saltiness of your skin his lips. He now knew what your mouth tasted like. All was left now was–

John forced himself away, grumbling to himself and gently pushing you back onto the bed and into a sitting position. You smiled up at him, and he shifted to stand between your parted legs, cupping your face in two hands. He bent down to place one last kiss to your lips, before slowly– with cracking knees and a shallow grunt of effort– he lowered himself to his knees.

His hands dragged down your body. They rolled over your shoulders and arms, skimming lightly over the curves of your breasts and stomach, running over the fat of your hips and thighs. When his knees hit the, thankfully carpeted, floor, he gripped your knees and gave you a couple of comforting squeezes.

"Alright, sweetheart?" He asked, voice husky and full of yen– desire and longing mirrored in his eyes.

His eyes on you, his hands dragged back up your thighs and to where your skirt sat bunched a few inches below your hips. He pinched the fabric, toying with it while waiting for your response.

You nodded at him. "M'alright."

"Can..." He dropped his eyes for just a second to look at your skirt, before raising them again. "Can I take this off, please?"

You nodded again, followed by a whispered yes, please. You then raised your hips for him to pull the fabric down and away from you, shuffling back to rip it down your legs and fling it across the room. You giggled at his enthusiasm as he returned to his original position.

Price groaned low in his throat and leaned forward, holding your thighs apart. Your underwear still on, he pressed his face against you, his beard tickling the softest part of your inner thighs. His nose pressed onto your clit, his lips placing a kiss to your clothed core. This forced a moan from your throat, and you gripped your duvet for some kind of stability.

He kissed at the patch of arousal that had bled through during your altercation in the hallway, his nose nudging against your clit as he decided to swipe his tongue against you. He groaned and you keened, a high pitched mewl, your legs twitching either side of his head.

"Pretty girl..." He whispered, the rumble hitting your clit and making you mewl out again.

He kissed at your clothed cunt again, tongue smoothing along the thin cotton fabric until the entire area was wet with his spit and your arousal. Your legs twitched beside him, pleasure sitting fuzzy in the base of your tummy, and you wondered– no, you knew that he could probably make you come in your fucking underwear.

But he didn't. Whether you were thankful for that or not, you weren't entirely sure. But he eventually, and rather torturously, pulled away for long enough to pull your underwear down your legs. He let it fling from your ankles, not caring where it landed, before he was pushing back between your legs once more.

This time, he licked a fat stripe up your cunt before latching his mouth to your clit and sucking. You cried out, a hand shooting down to grab hold of his hair, fisting it tightly as he laved his tongue over you. His mouth was hot, burning at your core, but your body had now been set alight– the flame of pleasure coursing through your veins, heating your body. Your legs trembled now, thighs flexing either side of his head, his facial hair scratching and tickling you all at once.

John's movements were quick. Quicker than you expected. He seemed desperate for it as he licked back down your cunt and stuffed his tongue into your hole– in and out, in and out– before curling and repeating the process. You moaned at his well-timed movements, never leaving you dissatisfied or overstimulated in the slightest. Price was amazing.

He kneaded the fat of your thighs as he ate you out, enjoying the softness of you around his head. His cock was hard and leaking in his trousers, and one of the reasons he wanted you to quickly come on his tongue was so that he didn't bust a fat load in his fucking briefs. He couldn't handle that today. Not when he'd been waiting so long to have you.

"John," you moaned, stretching the syllables. Your hips bucked, his nose catching your puffy clit. You ground against him, moans bubbling from your throat as you tossed your head back. You rode his face, locking your ankles together at his back and anchoring yourself with one hand on the bed and the other in his hair.

He moaned in response, eyes on the way your body writhed above him. He loved the way you bucked up, wriggling in search of your coming high. Fuck, you looked gorgeous.

John screwed his eyes shut and focused on curling his tongue in and out of your sopping hole. He felt his cock twitch. If he looked at you again, he was sure he'd come.

You moaned sweetly above him, orgasm building tight in the base of your tummy. You continued rocking your hips, the mattress creaking quietly beneath you. But the sounds from your mouth, coupled with the wetness of Price's mouth on your pussy, was all that rang true in your ears.

"John, fuck– oh fuck, please–" You mewled, edging on a whine. Desperation was creeping in. You hurtled towards your high.

Then, you felt deep vibrations rock through your core (unbeknownst to you, John had mumbled a that's it, come for me, baby against your hole). The band of pleasure inside you snapped, and with one last push of your cunt into his face, you came.

You moaned John's name, head still tossed back as pleasure fizzled through you. Your thighs clamped down on either side of his head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you came on his tongue. John happily buried himself deeper into your heat, tongue licking you slowly through your orgasm.

He had looked up, chanced it, and watched you come. He managed to hold on and not come in his briefs, but he could feel the front of them growing tacky with his precum.

A few moments later, ensuring your orgasm had been well wrung from your beautiful body, John withdrew from your cunt. He unbound himself from your legs and got to his feet as you blinked up at him, dazed and fuzzy.

"Feeling good, sweetheart?" John asked, gently and carefully guiding you further up the bed. You crawled with him until your head hit the pillows at the top of the bed and John knelt between your legs, his hands rubbing circles over your bare thighs.

"Yeah... good..." You replied lazily, eyes dropping down to where you could see John's cock straining in his trousers. The sight made you moan, and you attempted to sat up, but Price stopped you.

"Hold on, sweetheart..." He murmured, placing a kiss to the top of your head before helping you out of your top. In companionable silence, he discarded the garment and went to work unclipping your bra, letting your breasts spill out as he discarded that too.

He groaned, happily to himself, reaching forward to roll one of your pebbling nipples between his fingers, his other hand groping the opposite breast.

"Fuckin' beautiful..." He muttered, and then leaned forward to kiss you.

You tasted yourself on him as he guided you back down. A soft tang, a subtle sweetness in his saliva. You moaned, fingers once again moving to card through his hair and stroke the back of his neck, just above his shirt collar.

While you kissed, Price slipped one hand between you and unbuckled his belt. He let the belt hang open while he deftly unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them open just enough for him to reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He hissed into the kiss, his hand on his own achingly hard cock causing pre to dribble down his shaft.

"Fuck..." He muttered into your mouth, and you pulled back, shifting to look between you. The image of your bodyguard still dressed in his uniform, but with his thick cock hanging out, was a sight to behold. You moaned, hips bucking involuntarily, the heat of your cunt coming within centimetres of the head of his cock.

Price moaned loudly, immediately dropping his hand to fist the base of himself while positioning his hips against yours. He ran the leaking tip, ruddy and flushed red from his arousal, through your soaked folds. At the same time, you both moaned.

"Oh my god," you breathed, still looking down. Price, eyes on your cunt, continued to smear pre along your slit, running his cockhead up and down, revelling in the way your arousal leaked around him.

"S'alright, pretty girl..." He uttered, not looking up from where he circled his tip around your hole. "S'alright... I'll make you feel good. I'll make you feel good." Then, he finally looked up, eyes boring into yours. You felt your stomach flip as he smiled warmly. "That's what you need, isn't it, sweetheart?"

His words dripped mirth. You whined, knowing where he was going with this.

"Just so desperate for some cock, s'that it? S'that what's got you all riled up?" John poked fun at you, referencing your argument beforehand.

You gave in and nodded, shifting your hips and catching the tip of his cock against your entrance. It made both you and Price release sounds of pleasure, but he held strong, gripping himself at the base and pulling his cock away an inch.

"Use your words," he instructed, voice husky, ash-laced. "Use your fucking words, love. Tell me how desperate you are for my cock. How much of a fucking whore you are for it."

The unexpected degradation punched a moan from your lungs. You babbled, "Y-yeah, fuck– need your cock so bad, John, please."

"Yeah?" Price teased, running the head of his cock up and down your folds again. "You need this cock?"

He pushed the head of his cock into your hole, and you moaned, arching your back. But he stopped there, the flared tip of him laying dormant inside. Your cunt fluttered around him, arousal leaking down the curve of your arse. You whimpered, attempting to push your lips down onto him, but a firm swat to your thigh had you pausing in place.

"S'this the cock you need?" Price asked, voice dark. "Or 're you wanting t'get fucked by some stranger? Want one of the lads down at the pub to fuck this tight cunt? Eh, sweetheart? That's right, isn't it? Actin' like a fuckin' slut lookin' for a quick fuck–"

"No, no, no, please–" You said quickly, trying not to get distracted by the way Price's accent was strengthening as your cunt fluttered around his cockhead. "S'only you! Need you, John, please. Only need you 'n– fuck, only need your cock."

Price growled, pleased, having itched that jealous spot inside him. That's right, that's what he wanted to hear.

His good girl.

"That's fuckin' right, baby. Good girl–" John pulled out and then pushed back in, slowly parting your walls for the girth of his cock. You moaned and he leaned forward to kiss you, being as gentle as he could while splitting you open. He murmured against your lips, "That's a good girl. Yeah, that's it, sweetheart. Doin' so well..."

The buckle of his belt clinked as John picked up his thrusts, stretching you apart on his cock. You could feel the bunched fabric of his trousers and briefs against you with each of his thrusts, and when he curled over you to kiss you, the feeling of his dress shirt and tac vest against your bare chest had a shiver rippling through you.

He kissed you hard, just as he had done in the hallway. This time, a bit of saliva did escape your mouth, rolling from the corner as you parted your mouth to moan, Price's tongue licking over your lower lip as the head of his cock punched up against the base of your cervix.

Just like everything else about him, the sex was hot. Price radiated warmth. The space between your bodies was heating up, and you could feel the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. Beneath his beard, Price's cheeks began to burn read, a bead of sweat trickling from his hairline. His hips moved quickly, but with precision, shunting you deeper and deeper into the mattress, making it squeak and groan.

His cock hit all the right places, too. Your walls hugged him, tight and hot and wet as he plunged up against your womb. John could feel you squeezing him. Feel the sheer hold you had on him, physically and otherwise. He grunted and groaned to himself, his balls already beginning to tighten, his lower back starting to strain from the effort.

"John..." You whined, second orgasm already fast approaching. You felt yourself beginning to tighten up again, your muscles pulling taut as the band of pleasure in the base of your abdomen began to expand. The drive of Price's cock was pulling it further and further. You were so close.

And when you were this close, John always seemed to know what to say and do to push you off the precipice.

Expertly, your bodyguard moved his arm downwards to press a couple of fingers to your puffy clit, rolling it beneath with a gentle stroke. He drew gentle circles that made you spasm beneath him, a panting moan filtering from your parted, spit-covered lips.

He continued the drive of his hips, cock hitting the best spot inside you. Bursts of light, of pleasure, appeared behind your fluttering eyelids, the intensity of it all making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. But you did– you forced your eyes open, lids drooping. You locked eyes with Price, and he smiled down at you in a way that was probably meant to be comforting, but it only turned you on more.

"My sweet girl, just look at you," Price cooed, still slamming into you. "So gorgeous. Such a pretty girl, an' you look even prettier getting stuffed with my cock, don't you?"

You nodded, delirious now. You wanted nothing more than for him to come inside you and–

The thought made you moan loudly.

He chuckled. "S'that right?"

"John, fuck–" you moaned out. "Fuck, please–"

Come inside me, you wanted to beg him, but the tip of his cock at the plug of your womb and his fingers on your clit had your vision whiting out as the band in your stomach snapped again.

You came hard. Legs locked around his waist, the fat of your thighs and stomach rippling with his strong movements, you came. Arousal gushed out around his cock, the sensation forcing an unexpected whimper from you. The slick walls of your cunt clutched the girth of him, squeezing with each fluttering pulse of your erratic heartbeat. Fuzzy pleasure washed over you and, just like with his mouth, he stroked your clit through your orgasm and stopped right at the brink of overstimulation.

But you gained no mercy after coming.

John redoubled his efforts. With two strong arms either side of you, he rutted into you with renewed energy, now chasing his own high. His balls, almost painful at this point, smacked against the plush curve of your arse, with the head of his cock leaking inside you.

Oh fuck, he wasn't wearing a condom.

He knew you were on contraceptives. Of course. He knew almost everything about you now. But the thought–

"John–!" You all but sobbed, wriggling beneath him, becoming impatient. Not because you wanted it to end, but because you wanted him to end inside you. "John, please come inside me."

"Fucking hell," he grit out between clenched teeth, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Stuffing you full of him. Coming right up against your cervix, flooding your womb. Filling you out, watching you grow fat with his kid. Laying claim to you, how you were truly his. His pretty girl. His good girl.

Not today.

But the thought alone had Price coming.

"F-fuck, take it, sweetheart, jus'– fuckin good girl, take my cum, baby–" Price muttered, pumping his hips as he came. He filled you with the same kind of warmth he radiated. Comfort and security, maybe.

You moaned quietly once Price'd emptied himself inside of you, and you relaxed your legs so he could flop to the side. Cock still inside you, softening just a bit, Price curled you into him, his face resting in the crook of your neck, your legs entangled.

The two of you caught your breaths, breathing in each other's scent and the pungency of sex. Your eyes opened and closed lazily, the heat of Price's body lulling you to sleep. But you forced your eyes open when Price pulled back– only to change positions. His suit rustled as he pulled you in against him, and you wished you could run your fingers through the hair on his toned chest.

After a little while, you felt Price kiss the top of your head.

"Feeling alright, love?" He asked, and the sincerity in his voice had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Yeah," you replied. "More than alright. I... thank you."

"Thank you," Price said, nuzzling into the top of your head.

•º•º•

The two of you basked in each others company for what seemed like hours before a buzzing broke the haze of whatever dream you were living. Peeling yourself away from Price for a moment, you reached over to your discarded purse and fished your phone out, finding it alight with missed calls and messages from your friends.

You almost felt guiltly.

"Cancel," John grumbled below you, seemingly already knowing what you were looking at. "You're not going out tonight, are you?"

"No, 'm not feeling up to it," you said, smiling.

John, burying himself into the crook of your neck once more, arms wrapped securely around you, smiled too.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

this was the first long-ish fic i've written in a while so forgive me if it wasn't my usual best lolol. anyway thank you for reading and make sure to go check out the other @glitterypirateduck submissions for this writing challenge

lots of luv <3

#captainfern #captain john price #john price call of duty #price smut #captain john price x female reader #captain price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x you #price call of duty #call of duty #cod smut #captain'snirvana

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johnpriceslamb · 3 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐏?

❛ you ask the Van Der Linde boys if you could sit on their lap. ❜

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┊female ! reader . afab ! reader . reader is physically shorter than chars mentioned below . suggestive themes implied . wrds . not edited . not proof-read . Javier ver touchy . google translated Spanish . John is very drunk . 1.4k wrd-count

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

You want to what?

You tinker your lashes multiple times innocently at his flabbergasted expression, unconsciously tilting your head at his dramatic approach. From your tone alone meant nothing but the most purest intentions, he knew well you mean no harm. But hearing those words made his cheeks burn a tad bit brighter.

“May I please— “No, no, I heard ya the first time- I just..” He abruptly cuts you. He narrows his eyes at you, sizing you up head-to-toe just to see if you were in a playful manner. You weren��t.

He grumbles softly, contemplating. He scratches behind his neck for a bit before a deep sigh escapes his mouth and he leans back on the wooden chair he sat upon.

“C’mere.”

He beckons you to come closer with two fingers lazily waving in the air. Immediately do you obey his simple commands like a lost pup, hands clasped prettily in-front of your chest as you easily plop yourself on his lap. Your back almost hits his chest, akin to a literal brick wall from all of the labour work he’s done. Unconsciously does his large hands come to your hips, positioning them slightly just so you’d be a tad bit more comfortable.

It’s easy to tilt your head upwards to see his face, the prickles of hair sticking out on his chin is the most prominent thing from your view. He feels your stare almost immediately and looks down at your beady eyes. He has to stop himself from grinning at your unawareness.

The cowpoke could only narrow his eyes at the soft giggle you produced from your mouth, a hand resting on your hip, “What?”

You look away with a tiny smile, “Nuthin’.”

He lets out another deep sigh, before pinching your cheek.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍

The bottle of beer in his hand almost slips to the ground after hearing your simple question.

He raises a hand to scratch at the stubble on his jaw, mindful to be aware of the deep claw-marks embedded on his skin. The bottle was placed on the table with a clumsy clatter, back supported by the edge of the table.

“..Watchu say?” He squints his dark eyes at you. He must’ve drunk too much, perhaps he heard you wrong. His tone was always raspy yet so demeaning playful even. You took it as if he didn’t want you to, and you shrink meekly.

You stutter shyly, “I’ll just go ask someone else—

He felt his guts squeeze and churn at the sight of you sitting on someone else’s lap. All sense of proper etiquette is thrown away from jealousy and alcoholic behaviour, his hand is very quick to grabbing yours as he roughly pulls you back. A tiny squeal escapes your lap as you clumsily fall on his chest and onto his hard thighs.

Your hands are clinging onto his opened top to balance yourself, the smirk on his face visible as he sees how shy you suddenly became.

The strong scent of alcohol makes your nose scrunch up. He rests his chin on the crook of your neck, stubble lightly tickling your sensitive skin. After a few minutes of making yourself comfy on his lap and finally staying still, his hand comes to grab his bottle to take another chug.

“John,” You almost whine at the way he unconsciously starts to bounce his knee up and down. A habit he’s not prone to ever since he started drinking. It was almost like he forgot you were sitting on his lap after a few minutes. Immediately does he stop his movement, a low slurr of babbles and a soft hiccup escapes his lips, “Whoops— sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, he cheekily stares down at you.

“Y’know,” He hics.

“Yer behind feels kinda good on my-

“John.”

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

He’s a bit clueless at first, bless his heart.

He’s busy carving a small piece of wood with his knife, hunched over as his long hair falls, covering the sides of his face almost elegantly. He wasn’t bothered to tie his hair back, nor raise a finger to place it behind his ear. He stops re-shaping the small piece of wood as he hears a soft patter of footsteps from in-front.

“Hm?” He hums, his guard lowers significantly once realising it was you. The knife is lowered too, and the items were placed afar so it does not distract you nor come in your way.

“May I please sit on your lap?” You ask with those big beady eyes of yours, hands behind your back as your tone is light and sweet.

Of course, silence is ensured for a few seconds. His brooding figure straightens up from his spot. He quirks a dark, angular brow at your much smaller figure.

“Why?” He asks with a straight face.

Your cheeks burn, and your expression was alike of a kicked pup. He catches on quickly, and he immediately feels bad for seeming so nonchalant and blunt.

“U-Um.. I just, I wanted to.. N-nevermind. Sorry.” You shyly stammer, akin to a doe whom tries to stand up for the first time.

He easily suppresses the smile which almost etched onto his face at your stuttering. Cute.

“I didn’t say no, y’know.” He gestures you to come over with a simple pat on his thigh. You beam, eagerly toddling to him like a tiny tot wanting to get her stuffies. You sit yourself on his thighs, shoes quite literally lifting off of the ground because of how big he was. Even if he sat down, he still always towered over you.

He allows you to wiggle a bit on his lap, but a hand comes down to rest on your knee to squeeze it a bit as a gentle warning to not go any higher. You do obey, of course. Your back is to his chest, your hands positioned on your lap as you almost melt at how warm he was.

“Comfortable?” At each word he uttered to you, it was more toned down in pitch, a low hum always started. You nod lazily, a smile of satisfaction of how comfy he felt underneath. You don’t mind the way he snakes his arms around your waist. “Good.”

𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀

You regret asking.

Simply put, he’s handsy.

The smirk on his face is very visible. The log he rests upon feels even more smaller as he slowly starts to manspread right in front of you. The guitar in his hand is placed gently just to the side before he beckons you to come forth. You reluctantly sit on his lap, almost squirming at how close he was.

A hand on your hip, another squish to your thigh, a soft roll from his hip teasingly upwards, a touch here, a touch there..

“Javier!” You whine, swatting his hand off your curves. He could only teasingly grin, before shrugging. “..Tu pediste esto.” His voice serenades.

You try to swat his hands off again, but merely give up, knowing he won’t stop any time soon. You lay your cheek on his chest, lithe arms wrapped around his waist as your back arches a tad bit from not supporting your structure. His hands are on the small of your back, rubbing small circles on the softness of your clothed skin.

The embers from the mini camp-fire is light and descends off in the dark night, crackles of the wood calms your nerves down just a bit. He does tone his touch down just a tad bit for your sake, despite wanting to desperately grab at.. literally anything. He’s had ladies before, but by far was he the neediest when it came to you.

You can’t help but take a small peak from above, wispy lashes coming to tinker a bit when he tilts his gaze to fixate on you. A small smile on his face, as he greedily eats up all of the touch you gave to him.

“..hi.” You quietly mumble, a bit muffled because of the fact that half of your face is mushed against the fabrics of his clothes. A fox-like grin etches on his tan face as he presses a tiny kiss on your forehead, entertaining you by replying with a simple “hola.”

“You’re really clingy- and touchy. I hope you know that.” You grumble when his hand comes to cup your curves again.

He smiles lazily. “I know.”

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! reader #charles smith x reader #charles smith #javier escuella x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella #john marston #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 john #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption 2

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sanjisblackasswife · 3 months

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Black Fem! Cam Girl Reader in Mind

CW: Nanami has a voice kink, He’s a pervert, Uhhh, mutual masturbation, uhhhhh yeah pure slutty smut

Thinking about Nanami’s little dirty secret of him watching a specific cam girl almost every other night when he gets off work.

He don’t even remember when he started watching her, he watches porn like any other man yes, but as far as joining sex calls or live streams or even only fans just wasn’t in his interest.

However he misclicked a twitter link once and since then he’s been a regular watching her.

She’s has a relatively smaller audience since she’s new , no more than 40-50 people and doesn’t get many comments, but quite a bit of donations from anonymous perverts that ask her to do things like play with herself with a specific sex toy she has lined up.

It was a marvel to behold to Nanami, her beautiful figure plastered on the screen when he clicks her live, her pretty full legs spread so wide they get out of the camera. He swears he heard her mention she has been in gymnastics.

Her skin complexion was also what captivated him, she looked fake almost. Not in a derogatory sense, but it was astonishing how someone as beautiful as her has less than 100 veiws despite being so new.

Every night he comes home, mentally drained, throwing his clothes from one area of the room to the next, he’ll worry about it in the morning. As for now, it’s almost 9pm which means his favorite girl is about to start the show.

It started off as something he swore to watch once, get off, and never go back to the site again.

That was until he became addicted to the way she cums.

Something about it.

The way her left thigh twitch and jiggles signalling she’s close, her fatty lower lip being chewed on while her voice gets higher in pitch, the way how her eyes squint, but fail to keep focus as they roll back.

She sounds so fucking sexy when she cums.

She is so whiney and needy she begins to overstimulate herself which really drives Nanami over the edge.

“So greedy…” Nanami thinks as his strong fist grips the base of his dick, “Fuck keep going.

She plays with her breast a lot too when she cums on her little fingers, rubbing her clit in circles, bucking her hips at the camera.

It never failed to make the tired blonde man cum in seconds.

It’s been almost a month of this and he tries not to think about it too much. Watching her for a moment, getting off then immediately shutting off the laptop to clean up and go to bed.

but tonight he wanted to go a little further.

He never comments, he never donates, but tonight there was something in the air, maybe it was the new lingerie she wore to show off, maybe it was the need of seeing more of her. Though it’s been a month, nanami began to stay after cumming, watching her reply and give thanks to donations. He once stayed an entire live and honestly it was most he ever came in his entire life.

She was just so cute. Her voice was so delicate and sweet despite the slutty acts she was doing.

“Fuck it.” He though, clicking and typing away.

“Mr. John Doe has donated $150.”

“Oh!” Her voice almost purred in his heard making him groan as he laid on the headboard of his bed. “Thank you Mr. Doe. That’s so kind of you!…um…as a thank you do you have any requests for me tonight?”

Nanami’s breath hitched a little, her big doe eyes looking at the screen of her chat, she insisted she’d do almost anything and for a moment Nanami was going to just tell her to do whatever she liked but…

her voice. He needed to hear it more.

“Mr. John Doe has Donated $250: Moan my name while you play with yourself, it’s Kento.”

Her eyes widened at the message for a second leaving Nanami to sigh in embarrassment, why would he do that of course she’s not—

“Kento…that’s a really cute name.” She giggled, taking off the top of her pink and black set revealing her breast to massage, “Mkay! Thank you again, Kento..”

It was like her voice had a spell on him, immediately he lowered the waist band of his grey sweats and pulled out his dick and lube from his nightstand.

She did as told, teasing herself with her fingers on her clit, Nanami watched carefully stroking the shaft of his dick at the same pace as her,

“Kentooooo..” She whined throwing her head back., “‘Wish you were here to do this for me…’need you so badly..”

“Fuck..” Nanami growled, he wish he was there, one of his fingers are twice the size of 2 of hers, he knew he could have her cum way faster, maybe even squirt all around his wrist and hand, but alas.

He’s stuck w his own sticky seed flowing down his knuckles and palm. He overstimulated himself to the point he felt a tear fall down the corner of his eye.

“Ken! Kento!” Her voice pitched, she’s close, “Kento yes!”

The chants of his name while she falls flat on her back leaving nothing but her drooling wet cunt on screen left Nanami speechless, his cheeks were pink and hot, his hair no longer properly parter but flowing over his eyes he couldn’t take it. He wish he knew her real name and not username to moan with her.

“Hah…” She breathed moving back towards the camera, she started sucking on her own wet sticky fingers, and that made Nanami’s cock twitch , she’s such a dirty girl. “Hope it was to your liking, Kento. Thank you for the donation!”

If only he could give her more than a few dollars and stupid requests.

Maybe.

Part 2 Here

#TimikosNanami #nanamin #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami x black!reader #nanami x me #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #nanami headcanons

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ghostbsuter · 8 months

Text

Sometimes.

Just sometimes.

Bruce, tired father of too many children, wished for a small break.

Just a tiny one.

He pinched his nose, cowl covering his head and expression and glared.

"I can't believe you snitched on me!" Billy batson, freshly revealed teen and sitting on his usual spot during meetings, hisses.

"If I have to get parented, so do you!" Danny fenton, also freshly revealed teenager, glared right back.

"Boys." Both their attention snapped to wonder woman, still tense and warry.

"Do you two have adult supervision, at least." Batman asks, feeling slightly more drained than before, he can feel Nightwing's stare at the back of his head, coming closer.

"Do the voices count?" Danny asks, to which Billy nodded. "Yeah, do they? Zeus has strong opinions, and many kids. He probably can parent, somewhat."

They shrugged both, like they hadn't just opened another whole can of questions.

"Wait!" Danny snapped his fingers, "what about clocky? He sends us on time missions, has his own lair, and lets us hang around. That counts? Right?"

The other teen nods in agreement.

(Knowing both are black haired and blue-eyed teens, he already knows Dick will never let him live this down. Deceived by children, for YEARS.)

(So much for being the greatest detective.)

(The text he sent to Alfred is between him and his butler dad.)

"Or—"

In the end, the two agreed reluctantly to stay around for a while. The Kents, the Allens, Diana, and the Waynes have opened up their homes to house them permanently.

Much their amusement, they declared, that to make no one jealous, they'd switch homes every other week or so.

That alone smelled like chaos.

Whatever, it was Diana's first week.

(And if the house of mysteries appeared in front of them sometimes, that's also between them and a very suffering John constantine.)

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation