#the use of the word 'relentless' for both of them says a lot

[kentobb]

‘I hate you’

Character: Husband!Iwaizumi x Wife!Reader

Warning: Angst with no comfort (I know you guys hate me at this point).

A/N: I am a fan of angst w/ no comfort in case you guys didn’t notice. I will be releasing more angst and different scenarios. Be free to send a request babes!

The night was dark, the only source of light being the faint glow of the the city’s skyline as Iwaizumi parked his car in front of his home. The weight of a grueling practice session hanging heavily on his shoulders. His muscles ached, his mind was a whirlpool of strategies and his heart was filled with unspoken longing for the comforts of his home, but hey, nobody said that training the Japan’s Men’s Volleyball Team was easy.

As he opened the door, the warm glow of the living room light washed over him, a stark contrast to the cold darkness outside. You, his lovely wife, a beacon of love and support greeted him with a tired smile.

However, your six-year old daughter, Yuki, a bundle of energy and joy, ran towards him, her tiny arms wrapping around his tired legs.

Dinner was a quiet affair, the only sound being the clinking of cutlery against the plates. Yuki, however, was a chatterbox, her excitement about her upcoming ballet recital bubbling over. “And we will be doing the Swan Lake!” “I have been practicing a lot daddy!” She spoke animatedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her voice filled with hope. She turned to her father, her innocent eyes searching his. “Daddy, will you come to my recital?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Iwaizumi looked at her daughter, his heart aching at the hopeful look in her eyes. He wanted to be there, he really does, to watch his little girl twirl and dance, to be the father she deserved. But he knew the harsh reality of his schedule, the relentless demands of his career. “We will see,” he said, it’s all he says, his voice heavy with regret.

Your smile faded, replaced by a look of disappointment. You knew your husband words for what they were— an unfulfilled promise. Yuki’s face fell, her excitement replaced by a quiet sadness that you were quick to notice. It was a scene all too familiar, a bitter pill you had to swallowed many times before.

After dinner, you cleaned the kitchen, the silence of the house echoing the heaviness in your heart. But you were determined to make this right, as you ascended the stairs into your shared bedroom, you made a silent vow. To take manners into your own hands. To ensure that your daughter recital would not be another missed milestone, another broken promise.

You husband may be a national hero, a symbol of strength and resilience, but to your daughter? He was simply ‘Daddy’. And she deserves to have her ‘Daddy’ cheering for her from the audience, not from miles away. She deserved to have her hero by her side, not just in spirit but in person.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap. You turned to look at your husband, eyes reflecting the turmoil in your heart.

“Hajime,” You spoke, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your heart, “We need to talk about Yuki.”

Iwaizumi, still in his practice clothes, looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion, “What about her, babe?” He asked, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

“You know she needs you there, Hajime. She needs her father,” You replied, voice barely a whisper.

Iwaizumi just sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m working hard for her, for us.”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips, “That’s not what she needs, Hajime. She doesn’t need the money, or the fame, or the glory. She needs her father. She needs you to be there for her, to support her, to love her.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes hardened, his patience wearing thin. “There will be a million recitals, I’ll go to one of them.”

His words hung in the air, a harsh reality you both had been avoiding. Your eyes welled up in tears, heart aching at this indifference. “You haven’t been to any of them, Hajime. Not one.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, his frustration clearly boiling over. “What am I missing? Kids twirling for three minutes and twenty five seconds? It’s stupid, honestly.”

His mean and harsh words echoed in the silence of the room, a stark reminder of the widening chasm between you two.

“Hajime, how could you say that? She has worked very hard.” You said in disbelief.

Unbeknownst to both of you, a tiny figure stood outside the door, her heart shattering at her father’s words. Yuki, your little ballerina, had heard it all. The argument, her father’s indifference, your heartbreak. She clutched her ballet shoes to her chest, heart soaking the satin fabric.

The harsh words continued to fly between the two of you, voices rising in the quiet of the night.

“You��re being mean, Hajime.” You said, voice trembling with emotion.

“I don’t have time for this,” Iwaizumi retorted, his exhaustion seeping into his words. “I’m too tired to argue.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the room. As he made his way to the bathroom, the argument continued, both of your voices echoing off the cold tiles.

Meanwhile, Yuki had silently made her way downstairs. With a heavy heart and tear-streaked cheeks, she threw her beloved ballet shoes in the trash, a silent testament of her shattered dreams.

The morning after the storm was always the calmest. Iwaizumi woke up, his body aching from the previous night's argument. It was his day off, a chance for him to rest and recover. Despite the tension between the two of you, you greeted him with a kiss, almost like a silent promise that you would speak about it later.

"I'll make breakfast," Iwaizumi offered, hoping to ease the tension. You nodded, attention focused on preparing Yuki's bag for ballet class.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Yuki sitting at the table, her eyes devoid of their usual spark. Her small shoulders were slumped, her spirit seemingly crushed.

"Morning, Yuki," Iwaizumi said, his voice soft. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Yuki replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t help but notice the change in his daughter’s demeanor. Her usual bright and bubbly personality was replaced by a quiet sadness that seemed to weigh her down. He found it odd, considering she was usually excited about her ballet classes.

“You’re okay bub?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

But his question was met with silence. Yuki simply looked away, avoiding his gaze. He decided not to push her, instead focusing on preparing breakfast.

As he was cracking the eggs into a bowl, he heard your frantic voice from the other room. “Hajime, have you seen Yuki’s ballet shoes? I can’t find them anywhere. I swear they were here.”

He glanced at his daughter, but she was still avoiding his gaze. A sense of dread washed over him as he opened the trash bin to discard the eggshells. His heart sank as he saw the familiar pink ballet shoes nestled among the trash.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

She had heard it all.

Fuck.

Was it possible? It couldn’t be!

“Honey,” he called out, his voice strained. You rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. He pointed to the trash bin, the discarded ballet shoes. The sight of it, it felt like a dagger into your heart. You turned your gaze to your daughter, your eyes pleading for an explanation.

“Yuki, why did you throw your ballet shoes away?” You asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I hate ballet! It’s stupid!” Yuki yelled, her voice filled with a bitterness that was far too heavy for her young age.

The harsh words hung in the air, a painful echo of the argument from the previous night. Iwaizumi felt guilt, realizing the impact his words had on his daughter, he didn’t know what to do.

“Yuki! Don’t speak to your mother that way!” He yelled, trying to regain control of the situation.

But Yuki’s next words cut through the air like a knife, “I hate you, Dad!”

The room fell silent, the harsh words echoing off the walls. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Yuki, don’t say that…” You whispered, but it was too late.

Yuki was already running up the stairs, the slam of her bedroom door echoing through the house.

Iwaizumi stood there, stunned. The words ‘I hate you’ echoed in his mind, each repetition like a punch on the gut. He turned towards you, desperation in his eyes. “Fuck, I swear I didn’t mean any of it baby. I was just tired…” He said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Already making your way up to the stairs, attempts to coax your daughter out of her room, but you were only met with silence.

He was left alone in the kitchen, the guilt gnawing at him. He had hurt his daughter, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Has he destroyed his daughter dreams?

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated!

#haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu angst #angst no comfort #angst #hq angst #haikyuu dads #hq dads

[cupid-styles]

sunshine girl*

Harry and Daisy decide to go steady, but not everyone is supportive and Daisy's insecurities are starting to get the best of her.

70s!harry and virgin!fmc | Content warnings: outdated views on virginity and the LGBTQ+ community, pubic hair talk (if it's not your thing that's fine!), drugs, smut!!!! (dirty talk, a little bit of anal)

Word count: 6k (a third part is coming!)

Part one |

"Harry, would you mind not groping my best friend when I'm around?"

A furious blush flowers over Daisy neck at Willow's commentary, but Harry simply rolls his eyes. Five years apart, he's used to his sister's relentless teasing and mocking words, but it's a new phenomenon for Daisy. She's accustomed to Willow always being on her side and treating her with love and kindness, regardless of what she's doing or who she' seeing.

It was safe to say that the newfound romance between Daisy and Harry took some getting used to. 

"Willow, would you mind not being such a heartless little brat?" Harry bites, and Willow immediately raises her middle finger to shove in his face. 

"I told you guys, I don't care if you're banging or whatever, just don't do it in front of me."

"Enough," Daisy finally speaks up, leaning forward and shrugging Harry's arm off of her shoulders, "I'm gonna stop hanging out with both of you if you keep freaking out on each other every time we're together."

She stands from the worn couch in Harry and Willow's living room, zeroing in on the siblings.

"Willow, you know we're not 'banging' so stop saying that. Harry, try to control yourself a little better. Hug it out and make up by the time I'm back for the shindig after work, alright?"

They both nod their heads, looking like wounded puppies. They're not used to Daisy taking such a stance, but over the past month, her and Harry have been seeing each other more regularly. They immediately agreed that it was important to let Willow know — neither wanted to hide this from her, and while they hadn't expected her to jump for joy, they had anticipated a bit more support.

Instead, when Daisy and Harry were shuttered away in his bedroom, listening to records and making out, Willow treated her like any other one night stand. She flared her nostrils and made impolite comments, always huffing about the way he touched her, even though they weren't even officially dating. Daisy didn't know what they were, but she did know one thing: She was still a virgin, and it gave her insane amounts of anxiety.

It had nothing to do with how Harry treated her. In fact, he handled her with the utmost amount of respect and sweetness. It had only been a few weeks since their first physical encounter, but even then, he'd been so gentle with her — after he made her cum, he guided Daisy's shaky legs to the bathroom and ran a shower for her. She'd felt awkward about taking a shower together, so he sat on the covered toilet seat while they talked about anything and everything. Afterwards, he dressed her in one of his favorite worn-in band shirts, propped her up on his fluffiest pillows, and ran down the street to grab them burgers from his favorite diner. 

It was barely two days before Harry stopped into the record store during her shift, asking if he could come over after she was done.

They hadn't gone on any dates yet, but in complete fairness, it was hard to do. Harry worked every day and Daisy often worked closing shifts, which meant she wasn't finished until midnight. On those days, Harry would meet her outside and walk her home. And on the rare occasion when neither of them were working or busy, they were cooped up and tangled between bedsheets, wanting nothing more than to lick into each other's mouths. 

Daisy likes Harry. A lot. And she knows that he had admitted to having feelings for her too — it's what caused the whole thing to start, after all — but he hasn't made a move to shift things to relationship territory, and she's too scared to do it. What if he changed his mind? What if he wanted to keep things casual and physical? What if... what if he didn't want to date a virgin?

As she steps into Sam's Records, she sighs and shakes her head, willing the negative thoughts to physically leave her brain. She shoots a small smile at Warren, her coworker who's high out of his mind most times than not. Daisy swears that he emits a permanent scent of weed, seeping from his pores regardless of whether or not he's smoked.

"What's happenin', Daisy?" Warren greets as she slides onto the barstool behind the cash register. 

"Not much. How's the shop been so far?" 

Warren shrugs his shoulders as he continues shuffling through the shipment box of new records, "Pretty decent, couple of college chicks came in for the new Bee Gees joint. A kid was asking when we're getting the new Styx record, so I'm gonna ask Sam about it later." 

Daisy nods and begins to straighten up the front of the store. Warren isn't nearly as organized as she was, but she finds comfort in the routine of piling Rolling Stone magazines, emptying ash trays, and changing out the music. She was putting on Rumours for the billionth time when Warren whistled out, "Dais, lover boy alert!" 

She knows before she turns around that Harry's walking into the store. Warren started referring to him as "lover boy" after he saw Harry leaning over the front counter to press a kiss to Daisy's cheek a few weeks back.

Daisy smiles to herself when she sees him, long legs clad in swishy burnt orange bell bottoms and a ringer tee stretched over his chest. A cigarette hangs from his lips but he's quick to remove it when he focuses in on Daisy, a bright grin on his face. 

"Hey, pretty lady," he greets as he stubs out his cigarette in one of the ash trays. 

"Hey yourself. Didn't I just see you?" She giggles and Harry shrugs his shoulders, his smile shifting to a guilty smirk. 

"Yeah, but my sister was there. Wanted to get some time with you without her." 

"H..." Daisy sighs, her eyes darting to the front door when the bell jingles, signaling the entrance of new customers. "This whole act is getting old."

"'S not my fault she's miserable no one wants to jive with her."

She sighs and shakes her head. "You have to let it go. In her defense, I was her friend first. Us being... a thing has to be kinda weird for her, don't you think? It's alright for her to bug out a little."

Harry shrugs his shoulders as he lifts his hand to run it through his hair. Daisy had convinced him to let it grow out just a tad bit longer, the ends now meeting the bottoms of his earlobes. 

"Whatever, Dais," he mumbles, "You psyched for the joint tonight? It's been a minute since we've hosted." 

"It has been, hm?" Daisy agrees, "It'll be groovy as long as you let me play some ABBA." 

Harry grins cheekily and lets out a laugh. "Only for my disco queen." 

She tries not to blush as he leans over the register to press a quick kiss to her mouth, but not before his lips linger alongside her ear. "Did I mention how totally foxy you look today? My pretty bunny in those tiny denim shorts." 

"Harry," she murmurs in fake shock, though the giant smile plastered across her face gives her away. "Go home, you'll get me when I'm done with my shift here, okay?"

"Far out, Dais," Harry says with a grin, stepping away from the counter, "Make sure you walk over with Warren, capiche? You know I don't like you leaving work alone at night."

"10-4, captain."

He chuckles and nods a goodbye to Warren on his way out, a pep in his step as he thinks about spending the night with his sweet little disco girl. Daisy has the same love struck smile on her face. 

. . . Sam's Records closes at 11 pm. After that, Daisy has to lock the doors, count the day's earnings, put it in the safe, sweep, and clean up the shop so tomorrow's opening employee — a sweet girl named Penny, who spent the last year following Led Zeppelin on tour — could start the day with ease.

It's helpful to have Warren there, who's quicker at dealing with the cash, and they're able to make it out of the store by 11:45. Daisy's nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet as Warren locks up, feeling as if her heart has strings that are tugging her in the direction of Harry. 

"God, you two are really obsessed with each other, huh?" 

Daisy sucks her teeth at Warren's comment, though she knows it's all in good fun. He lights a cigarette as they begin the short distance to Harry and Willow's place. 

"How did Will take the news that you're banging her brother?"

There it is again — the assumption that her and Harry are just sleeping together. Sure, they do stuff together, but it seems like all anyone thinks is that they're with one another for physical intimacy. And even if that were the case, why hasn't Harry made a move to take her virginity yet?

She swallows roughly at an attempt to push down her insecurities, instead focusing on the cracks in the sidewalk and the thin smoke coming from Warren's cigarette. 

"She's warming up to it,"  Daisy replies, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I think it's been an adjustment, but I can understand why."

"For sure. Willow's always been protective of H, it makes sense that she's not totally digging it."

"It's me, though," she protests, "She knows I won't do anything to hurt him."

Warren shrugs. "Yeah, maybe. But they've always been attached at the hip. Like, when we were in fifth grade, Willow cried almost every day at school and the only person that could calm her down was Harry. They'd call him at the high school and he'd come all the way down every time and the second she saw him, she stopped. They have a special bond, that's all."

Daisy's an only child, so it's hard for her to grasp such a tight knit relationship, but she gets it — she's been living in San Diego alongside the Styles siblings for years now, and she's seen that trust and love firsthand. She doesn't fight Warren on it, instead letting silence take over as they approach the familiar apartment, where Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back in Town" is playing from the interior. 

"Looks like Harry still has dibs on the tunes," Warren smirks, stomping out his dead cigarette.

There are a few familiar faces out on the deck, all of who are currently taking smoke breaks. Daisy flashes them a friendly smile and Warren stays behind, likely to make a dent in the stash of drugs he brought in his bag. Nevertheless, she trucks on through the thick smoke enveloping the apartment — as usual, Willow and Harry never keep things casual when they host a party.

The place is flooded with people and it seems like there's drugs and booze everywhere: Girls are dancing in the living room over people snorting lines off the coffee table and the town's Dead Heads are perched on the couch, pupils as large as dinner plates. She doesn't care much for the atmosphere, though she does recognize Mitch, one of Harry's co-workers, in the corner with his girlfriend Sarah, each with cans of Bud Light in their hands. 

Daisy is about to make her way over to them when Harry suddenly appears, a large grin plastered across his face when he zeroes in on her. 

"Dais!" he exclaims, ambling forward to wrap his arms around her form. She giggles at his wide smile, her insides melting at his excitement to see her. "You made it."

"Of course I did, silly," Daisy laughs, pulling back slightly. He keeps an arm around her waist so their chests are flush against one another, and she notices the glazed over twinkle in his eyes; a true Harry identifier that he'd been hitting the bong in her absence. "Got this shindig started without me, did you?"

"Please, you know my night's never complete without my sunshine girl." 

She grins so hard her cheeks ache and he leans forward to press a quick kiss to her nose. "Interested in a little grass, lady love?"

"Sure," Daisy nods, "Where's your sis, though? Wanna make sure I say hey before we spark up."

Harry shrugs his shoulders as his grasp on Daisy's form relaxes. "Dunno. Haven't seen her in a bit."

She sighs and nods, forcing a small smile onto her lips. "Head on over to your fire escape and I'll meet you there in a tick, 'kay? I just wanna find Willow."

She can tell that he's not thrilled by this, but maybe it's the weed, or even her attempt at scolding him from earlier. Whatever it is, he nods, compliant in her ask, and gives her hand a small squeeze before scampering off in the direction of his locked bedroom.

Daisy heads for the kitchen first to grab a beer, knowing she'll need a little bit of liquid courage to meander through the crowded party looking for her best friend. There's a couple making out; one cornering the other, who sits atop the kitchen counter, and Daisy makes a mental note to tell Harry to wipe it down tomorrow once they're done nursing their hangovers. 

With a can of Miller in hand, she scopes the small apartment. Normally, Willow and Daisy are side-by-side at these things, splitting joints and schmoozing with strangers. Willow is naturally more extroverted than her; she's always suggesting they play Spin The Bottle or 7 Minutes in Heaven with their newfound friends while Daisy finds a nervous excuse to refuse. She's grateful that she has Harry now and doesn't have to sit there, watching Willow be more courageous than her.

Even on Daisy's tippy toes, the brunette is nowhere to be found. She rolls her lips into her mouth as she decides to check the bathroom, but all she finds is a line of girls actually trying to use it. She meanders to Willow's bedroom, which is always locked during parties, but gives it a try anyway. She gently raps her knuckles against the wood, pressing an ear to it. 

"Will? You in there?"

She doesn't think she hears any movement so she tries again, but she can't be sure with David Bowie's loud voice crooning through the apartment. She goes to knock a third time, but the door is ripped open before her hand makes contact. 

"What?" Willow hisses out before she realizes it's Daisy. Her eyes widen and she quickly closes the door a smidge, blocking Daisy from looking inside. 

"I was looking for you," Daisy says slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I just got here and you weren't out there..."

"Um, yeah. Migraine. Sorry." 

Willow's being weird, and not just in the weird "I-don't-like-you-being-with-my-brother" way she's been lately. The best friends never have secrets or hide things from each other, but something about this feels like uncharted territory. 

"Are you alright?" Daisy asks softly as she reaches out to gently touch her elbow, "Do you need water, or company?"

"I'm fine," Willow quips, "I'm just not into all this tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Daisy doesn't get a chance to ask another question before Willow narrowly slides behind the door, shutting and locking it in a flash. Her heart tugs at the girl. Her gut says that something is off, but Willow's never lied to her before, and she doesn't even want to think that's a possibility. She chooses to believe her and instead makes the short trek to Harry's room, doing their secret knock — three slow raps followed by two quick ones — to let him know that she's here. 

Over the past few weeks, Harry's room has become a safe space for her, and she physically feels her worries melt away when he opens the door and pulls her inside. She giggles when he presses her up against the now-locked door, placing his hands on either side of her head to cage her in. 

"I haven't had you to myself all day, sunshine." He mutters, leaning forward to gently nip at the skin below her jaw. 

"You're insatiable." Daisy mumbles, leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck. She plays at the loose curls gathering there, soft and silky from the shower he took this afternoon while she laid in his bed, reading a Judy Blume book. 

"'m not. Just obsessed with you." 

Her stomach flutters as their lips make contact. The kiss feels like home — soft and sweet as their mouths meld together, quickly picking up pace as eager tongues dance for dominance. Harry always wins, despite a solid fight put up on Daisy's end. 

She puts her hand to his chest and stops them before they get too carried away, though half of her mind drifts off to the orgasm he gave her last night; two of his fingers steadily pumping into her and stroking at the sensitive spot inside, his dirty mouth whispering promises of pleasure into her ear. 

"Willow was locked away in her room. She was acting kinda weird... did you guys have a fight before this?"

Harry's lips are spit-swollen and the color of a muted cherry red as he shakes his head. "No, she was pretty jazzed about tonight. We split half a bottle of wine and watched the news together." 

"Oh," Daisy says softly, insecurity quickly creeping into her brain. 

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with you, bunny. She might've not been feelin' well or something, don't get it twisted in that pretty head."

She nods, convincing herself to believe him. He knew her better than anyone else, and Willow did say she had a migraine. She breathes deeply and allows herself to fall into Harry's embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne, woody and sweet, instantly soothing her. 

"C'mon, let's go sit out on the fire escape."

Harry tugs at her hand and she follows him, pliant in his suggestion. They climb out the window and onto the grated structure. It's early September but the San Diego air is still thick with humidity, coating Daisy's exposed legs and arms. She slightly regrets picking out a suede mini skirt this morning, but when she grabbed it, she remembered that it was one of Harry's favorites on her. 

It's quiet between them as Harry digs in his pocket for a joint and his lighter. The party sounds miles away now, and Daisy leans her elbows on the steel banister, taking in the inky night sky. Out here, it really did just feel like her and Harry were the only ones who matter. 

Harry sparks up and takes a deep drag before passing it to Daisy. She readily accepts it and sticks it between her lips, inhaling with fluttered eyes. She can feel Harry watching her but all she cares about is getting to the relaxed, floaty state he was already in. 

"You're so pretty."

"You're so high." She smiles lazily and opens her eyes, handing it back to Harry. 

"Maybe, yeah," he smirks, "But I think you're a stunner regardless of how stoned I am."

Daisy shakes her head and he steps closer to her form, placing a hand on her hip. "Lemme smoke you up, sunshine," he mumbles, and she nods. They do this every time — the first time they smoked together, he found out mellow weed highs made her even more sensitive to his touch, and now, he couldn't help putting his hands all over her.

Harry takes a deep inhale of the joint, holds it, and pulls Daisy closer. Their chests are flush against one other as he fits himself between her parted legs, a hand on her hip to keep her in place. She parts her lips just enough for the smoke to form a steady stream from his mouth to hers as he exhales, sealing it with a firm kiss.

As soon as they meet, everything in her body is screaming for him. She needs to touch him, she needs to feel him, she needs to be connected to him. 

Quickly, slow kisses intertwine with undertones of want, and it's apparent that Daisy is just as needy as ever, even with mutual orgasms provided on a near-daily basis. Harry wants to tease her for it, but he's a little too far gone now, too; seeing her in the late summer night, sticky skin, a mini skirt, and a poor excuse for a lace top covering her upper body. The warm lust between them is palpable as his tongue pokes around the inside of her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip and squeezing her side with a familiar desperation. She's panting, struggling to keep up, but trying her absolute hardest not to get left in the dust. 

"Can I make you feel good, bunny?" Harry breathes into her mouth, trailing his fingertips along her midriff and dancing along the waistband of her skirt. She's ready to nod and provide consent until the big storm cloud of insecurity suddenly overtakes her thoughts, self-deprecating insults about her virginity status becoming the only thing she can focus on. 

"Dais?" Harry backs away just slightly, enough to take in her facial expression. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to—"

Daisy refuses to have another bad thought as she cuts him off and mashes their lips together, messy and wet. Her trembling hands find the bottom of his tee shirt; a woman on a defined mission as she pulls the fabric upwards, her palms pressed against his stomach. She goes to peel the shirt off him when he breaks their kiss again, much to her dismay. 

"Hey, what gives?" Harry asks softly, leaning down a bit so they're eye level, "Not that I don't love this, but you're moving mighty quick here, sunshine girl."

She resists the urge to huff in frustration, instead letting his shirt fall back down to his hips. "I just... want you, H. You dig?"

Harry chuckles, his eyes crinkling at her attempt at casual sex talk. "Yeah, I dig, but I thought we established that ages ago." 

"Well, I wanna like... you know, pop my cherry tonight." 

His eyes widen and his hands drop from Daisy's form. He's never heard her refer to her virginity in such a crass way, even if it's the slang everyone uses. Besides the fact, he's shocked she suddenly wants to lose it at a party with nearly 30 people on the other side of the door. 

"Dais," Harry's eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, "You deserve more than just 'popping your cherry.' Are you spaced out or something?"

She shakes her head quickly, determined to get what she wants. 

"No. I wanna lose it tonight, I'm tired of being a virgin and you haven't made any moves to take it so if you don't want to, it's groovy—"

"What on earth are you on about?" Harry questions, "Why wouldn't I wanna sleep with you? I thought— well maybe I was misinterpreting things but I thought we were, like, going steady, I know I haven't asked or anything but I was preparing to. Honest."

Daisy's face warms at Harry's admittance. She blinks her eyes a few times as she processes his words, her bottom lip dropping open. "I'm... I just thought you've been with so many people, maybe you didn't want the responsibility of being with someone who... hasn't, y'know?"

Harry sighs and nods his head understandingly. Stubbing the joint out on the cool banister of the fire escape, he reaches forward to envelop her form in a tight hug. Suddenly, her senses are invaded by Harry, and she basks in the feel of his arms around her and his comforting scent. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't more upfront about what I wanted," Harry mumbles into her hair, "But I do want you to be my girl. As for the whole virginity thing... I never wanted to pressure you. You never seemed like you were in a rush to lose it, and I wanted us to build up to it, I guess. Make sure you were comfortable before we did it. But you'd be totally out of your mind to think I had no interest in doing that with you, baby."

"I wanna be your girl," Daisy murmurs before pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. "And I want you to be my first. I've never felt more comfortable with another person before." 

"Yeah?" Harry asks with a teasing smirk, ducking down to look at her, "You're my girl, then. I will be your first, but not tonight. You deserve so much more than a rendezvous at a party, silly girl."

"Shush," Daisy says, growing bashful at his words. "Soon, though?"

Harry chuckles and nods. "Yeah, sunshine. Soon."

. . .

Harry and Daisy spend the rest of the night in his bedroom, high off the joint they smoked and their newly established relationship. 

Even when Harry's tuckered out, fast asleep next to her in bed while the party simmers outside, leaving only the too-drunk and quiet trippers behind, Daisy can't believe it. She keeps replaying the conversation in her brain, amazed that he somehow likes her enough to be her boyfriend. She feels so special. 

And while his soft snores offer a comfortable rhythmic sound, it's not enough for Daisy to ignore her parched throat. Carefully, she untangles herself from the sheets and tiptoes out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. She's prepared to make a quick trek to the kitchen when she sees Willow emerge from her own bedroom, followed by a blonde girl Daisy faintly recognizes from the neighborhood. She goes to say hi, relieved that Willow may be feeling a little better, but the words get stuck in her throat when the blonde grasps at Willow's hand, spinning her to press a kiss to her lips. 

Willow doesn't notice Daisy standing there with wide eyes. She doesn't know what this implies, if Willow's gay or straight or whatever, and she doesn't care. She knows not everyone is understanding and welcoming in that way, and it pains her to think that her best friend would hide such a big secret from her, or receive hatred for the person she likes. She's seen her fair share of same sex hookups at the disco, where men or women try to be together in secret, and she's never thought too much about it. Not until right now, when she sees her smacking lips with another girl right in front of her. 

Daisy doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. Instead, she quickly turns on her heel and goes back to Harry's room, locking it quietly. With a spinning head, she doesn't even notice that he's awake and watching her, his eyes puffy with sleep. 

"Y'alright?"

She nearly jumps at the sound of the voice but forces a tight smile on her lips. She doesn't want to — no, she's refusing — to reveal this information to Harry. It's not her secret to tell, if there's anything even to it.

"Yeah. I needed a drink, I didn't know you were up."

Harry hums and stretches his arms out, propping himself up against the mess of pillows behind him. "Come back to bed?"

Her heart flutters at his request, adoring the way the words sound leaving his mouth. Without a second thought, she's climbing back into the cotton wonderland of sheets and pillows, breathing in his scent as he wraps his arms around her body, pulling her closer. 

Tangling their legs together, Daisy presses her head to his chest. She places a hand to his stomach and feels his slow breathing. They're quiet for a little bit and she assumes he's fallen back asleep until she feels his length hardening beneath her thigh. She swallows, biting her lip as she contemplates mentioning it. 

"Sorry," Harry eventually mumbles out, pressing a kiss to her hair, "Just ignore it, it'll go away on its own."

"We're not even doing anything." Daisy teases, lifting her head to press her chin into his chest. He places his hand at the back of her head and smiles. 

"You're in my shirt and a tiny little pair of panties, cuddling me, looking adorable as shit. You get me going regardless of whether or not we're doing anything."

"You like when I wear your clothes?" she presses, sitting up slightly to balance on her knees. Slowly, she splits her thighs to straddle his waist, fitting her core on his stomach.

"Of course," Harry mutters, tugging at his own hair, "You look smokin' in anything, but something about you wearing my shirts..." his fingers dance over the skin of her thigh, lifting up the worn fabric of his Peter Gabriel tee. He zeroes in on the pale pink underwear covering her modesty and he breathes out, feeling his briefs constrict his plumping cock even more. 

"And what about these?" she asks, dipping her fingers underneath the elastic waistband of her underwear. "Do you prefer me wearing them? Or do you like when you can see everything?"

"Depends. Think this little pussy is gorgeous regardless... but I especially love when you get so worked up for me that you're dripping in your panties, getting them all sticky with the sweetest little wet spot," he mumbles, thumbing over her clit through the material. "Looks so incredible, I just wanna bury my tongue in you until you can't take it anymore."

"Oh," Daisy breathes out, bucking her hips in a failed attempt for more friction between her legs. Harry smirks as her eyes begin to close. He pauses his movements and lifts his thumb to his mouth, coating it in spit before returning to his original movements, forming light circles through her underwear. 

"I bet you'd like that, hm?" He pushes, applying more pressure to the bundle of nerves, "You'd have to push me away. Can never get enough of the way you taste, especially when you start squirting... it's the hottest thing I've ever seen, bunny."

"More," Daisy whimpers, taking a shaky hand down to her lower half. She moves the strip of fabric covering her pussy to the side, revealing her plump, glistening lips. She parts them carefully, forming a V with her fingers, her pearly clit begging for attention. 

"Take 'em off," Harry instructs, breathing shallowly as he takes in the appearance of her pussy. When they first started being physical together, she was embarrassed by her pubic hair, explaining that she knew fully grown bushes were "in" but she wasn't sure what she liked. She was nervous about it and wanted to please Harry, who simply encouraged her to experiment with different styles and find whatever made her feel the best. It was 1976 after all, and he was exhausted by anti-feminist rhetoric that would ever make his girl feel bad. 

Lately, Daisy settled for a trimmed bush above her lips. It looked manicured and neat, and she discovered both her and Harry loved having enough hair there for him to tug on when he was going down on her. He hadn't yet told her that he was also obsessed with the way her juices stuck around, making her even wetter. 

Once Daisy strips her modesty of her underwear, anything's fair game. Harry uses one of hands to firmly grab her ass as he situates her over his brief-covered cock, making her stomach twist with nerves. 

"Not gonna put it in, sunshine," he mumbles, his length twitching at the sight of her pussy spread open over his underwear, "Just wanna grind with you a little, alright? Make us both feel really good."

Daisy nods eagerly, rolling her hips against his. She whimpers at the sensation that offers a semblance of the friction she'd been desperately searching for. He pulls his cock out of his briefs and pushes it between her lips, making them both groan out.

"There you go," Harry encourages as he gently bucks upwards to meet her motions, shifting his cock against her clit, "Show me you deserve to cum on my cock. Show me how much you want me to fuck this tight little pussy."

Daisy lets her head lull to the side, her eyes squeezed shut at his dirty words. They always get her impossibly close to coming, feeling as if the pleasure-filled feelings are finally going to bubble over and spill. 

They're moving in sync with one another, her hands flat on his chest, moaning at their closeness. It feels so good, and she wants to tell him to slip his cock in, to fill her up and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, but she knows he won't; instead uttering something about it not being the right moment. 

"Shit, I'm close," Daisy mumbles out through swollen lips. Her right hand is moving to her pussy to rub her clit in small circles and Harry's jaw falls slack as he watches her. He gives her hip a squeeze and folds his legs at the knee, pushing her down to her tummy so their chest to chest. 

"Know my dirty girl needs a bit more to cum, hm?" The question is rhetorical but she nods helplessly anyway, shuttering beneath his grasp. He trails daft fingers to her backside and grabs one of her ass cheeks so her tighter hole is exposed. She groans into his skin but he removes his hand, giving her butt a firm slap. 

"Shush, sweetness." Harry instructs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Before Daisy has a chance to whine, he's back to circling the tight rim of muscles, reaching downward to collect some of her dripping arousal from her inner thighs. Daisy can barely focus on all of the different sensations, and once he presses the tip of his thumb into her ass, she's a goner. 

"Fuck, Harry—" she moans as her holes pulsate, her asshole squeezing Harry's finger. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters, using his other hand to grip her hip, keeping her firmly in place. Seeing and listening to Daisy cum is enough to get him there — his own personal wet dream, he swears — and it's only a few moments after her orgasm has passed that he's spitting out a heavy load from his cock, covering their bellies with his warm cum. 

Simultaneously, their bodies come to a stop, and the only sound is their choppy breathing. Gently, he pulls his finger out of her, giving her thigh a small squeeze. He feels that she's slowly starting to go lax, and he wants to clean her up before they go back to sleep. 

"Up, sunshine," Harry mumbles against the shell of her ear, "Need to get you clean."

Daisy nods, slowly rising from his chest. She glances down to see the mess they've made and bites her lip, feeling the familiar stirring in her core again. 

"And you call me insatiable," Harry snickers, making her roll her eyes. She climbs off of him with sore thighs and he gets up, grabbing a dirty tee shirt to clean them up. 

She's quiet and missing the usual glow she has post-orgasm, making his stomach twist slightly. "Everything alright?" He asks, moving the soft fabric between her legs to wipe up her arousal. 

Daisy hums, though it's not much of an answer. The second they reached their peaks, images of Willow kissing that girl re-entered her brain. She feels shitty for using Harry as a distraction from what was bothering her to begin with. 

"Was... were you comfortable with all that?" Harry presses, and it's only then that it dawns on her that he thinks he's the problem. With wide eyes she nods her head, grabbing her — his — tee-shirt from earlier, sliding it over her body. 

"It was amazing, H," Daisy answers, crawling on her knees to reach where he's standing over the bed. She shuffles forward and presses a kiss to his lips, wishing that she could tell him what she saw. "Let's get some more rest. Please?"

And Harry can hardly deny her, especially when she looks so tired and fucked out. He pulls on a clean pair of briefs and climbs back into the bed, taking his position as the big spoon. His body wraps effortlessly around hers, like two puzzle pieces begging to be clicked together. 

"Night, Dais." He mumbles, pecking her shoulder. 

"G'night, Harry."

Part three | Series masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles fan fic #fanfic #harrys house #harry styles writing #harry styles concept

[abibliophobiaa]

Idea for ya: Reader and Eddie are in a competition to see if Elena's first word will be "mama" or "dada," with no success thus far. Uncle Steve comes over and picks her up, only to be greeted with an ecstatic: "TEEB!"

Elena's first word is Steve.

xoxo @munson-blurbs

a blurb from the daylight world.

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader.

——

It started around the time Elena began trying to form words. Granted, they were never full ones. Just the rounding of vowels, the formation of letters, all of which she seemed entirely enthused with.

And because of it, Eddie had started a sort of competition. Your ever competitive (now) husband thought you’d make a game of what Elena’s first would be. Which led to countless dinners spent with her little feet kicking in her high chair as you both took turns cooing, “Say Mama” and “Say Dada,” in voices that seemed out of place on your thoroughly tattooed rockstar.

But for her — for her he was always unabashed, ever doting, in love beyond words would ever come close to explaining. Those first months of tour, when you’d been unable to join him, he made true to his promise to call nearly every day. Trying his hardest to never go a night without telling you he loved you, nor a day without talking to his baby girl before she laid her head down to rest at night.

Tonight, however, happened to be one of those nights. Chrissy and Steve would be arriving soon, their newest baby girl, Brie, and Melody along with them. And given that your table would be expanded to fit from seating three to seven in mere moments, Eddie worked overtime.

He presently had his fingers curled around a waving fist, his lips smacking loudly into his giggly baby’s cheek as he repeated, “Dada” over and over again into a wrinkly neck. Repetition was his game, but you were relentless too. Distracted her with her dinner, which earned a pouted argument from Eddie, as you then reminded her “Mama” was the one who fed her from quite literally your own body for the first months of her short life, and still continued to do so now even as she’d moved onto more solid foods. And if you’d thrown strawberries onto her plate in a form of bribery she wouldn’t even understand, which you knew were her favorite, then so be it.

“She was close to saying it,” Eddie argued, watching Elena struggle a bit to force a piece of macaroni into her mouth, orange already mushing against her cheek.

“Technically the doctor says she’ll talk when she talks,” you told him, moving over to the kitchen to throw some final ingredients into the salad bowl you'd started. “And then she won’t stop after that. But I know how much it means to you, what with you being away so much.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he exhaled, fingers running through his curly mane, “She'll be walking soon too.”

“I know, baby.” He leaned into your hip as you slid up to his side, fingers rubbing against his shoulder. “I know it weighs on you, but everyone always says how happy of a baby Elena is. A lot of that is thanks to her dad, you know?”

The edges of his smile spread across the palm that came up to stroke along his cheek, his fingers reaching up to tangle with your free hand. “I love you, Mrs. Munson.”

“Still with the Mrs. Munson, huh?” you teased, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, slinking back to the countertop.

“Until I get over the shock of calling you my wife, yeah,” he said, a pair of arms looping around your waist from behind, your body shuddering as lips pressed to the curve of your neck. “Which, by my estimation, will be till death do us part, and all of that romantic hub-bub.”

“You are a flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“I do what I can,” he chuckled, dropping another kiss to your temple, fingers edging along the hem of your jeans to dance along delicate skin, just as the doorbell rang out. “I got it.”

Said husband disappeared down the hall in a flash, voices filtering through the front door as you lifted Elena from her high chair, using her bib to wipe her dinner from her messy cheeks. The baby on your hip immediately bounced in attention as Chrissy called her name into the living room, Brie’s carrier clutched in one hand, with Melody rushing in ahead.

And then, the room fell into silence as Elena shrieked out, “TEEB.”

Oh no.

Your eyes darted to Eddie.

Then to Chrissy.

Lastly, to Steve, who only chuckled awkwardly, a hand curled around the back of his neck.

Eddie’s face reddened. “Oh, you’ve got to be f —”

Steve clapped a hand over Eddie’s mouth.

——

“Can’t believe Steve was her first word,” Eddie grumbled, head resting against your stomach, fingers curled around your hip.

“Technically it was ‘Teeb,’” you teased, laughter making Eddie’s head shake.

“Not helping.”

“How do you think I feel? I grew her in my body and pushed her out of it a few months later. I have the stretch marks to prove it.”

“Maybe we can start charging her rent,” Eddie murmured, squeezing your hip tighter. “Start charging her now, so when she’s older she can’t leave the house until she pays it off.”

“Ed.”

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hope Harrington realizes I’m going to make sure Brie’s first word is Eddie. Only fair.”

Your reply was another laugh.

True to his word, that next weekend when you gathered around Steve’s living room, Eddie perched in front of baby Brie, repeating Eddie over and over again (careless to the fact she was quite literally a few weeks old).

“What is he doing?” Steve asked, appearing at your side in the kitchen, peering out at the sight together.

“He’s playing the long game of revenge,” you giggled, nose wrinkling humorously as Steve tipped his head to the side.

“I see,” Steve said in understanding, snorting.

Elena didn’t learn any new words that week. Nor the next. Nor the one after it. But a month after the now dubbed ‘TEEB Travesty,’ Elena was settled on her bottom in the living room, crashing blocks together where they lay scattered around her on the floor. You sat behind her, her form tucked between the curve of your thighs, leaning in to receive a kiss when Eddie appeared.

“Dada!” Elena wailed, chuckling her block to the floor, arms elevated in front of her on the floor where she immediately began to whimper and whine for his attention.

And Eddie beamed — brighter than you’d ever seen before as he leaned down to grab her, and told his favorite girl he loved her more than anything else in this world.

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

[callimara]

I don't know what to do.

When I tried talking to a close relative of mine about Palestine, they went on a spiel. They insisted that it wasn't genocide, that Isr*el had given them their land, that Palestine was warned about the Hamas and still voted for them, that Palestine struck first, that Isr*el warned them and gave them time to move south before Isr*el attacked. They insisted the support for Palestine is spurred on by propaganda!

When I asked my relative for proof, they dodged the question, claimed they've known about the whole thing about Isr*el and Palestine for a very long time, and said something about something being in the quran.

Now I'm torn and I'm not sure what's true anymore!

I have so many asks to go through, but I think this one is very important to answer.

To start, I think you are very brave for asking questions and trying to find the truth amidst all the propaganda, so here's what I know.

For some context, I am an Indonesian, and Indonesia and Palestine have very close diplomatic relations and share many similarities in history. We were both colonized and had to resist occupation in a white supremacist world where you are seen as lesser if your skin isn't white and savages/terrorists if you resist or if you want your land back.

Palestine was also the first to recognize Indonesia's independence in 1945, and Indonesia has built a hospital in Gaza that is one of the last ones currently standing due to relentless Israeli bombardments.

People who have gone through oppression recognize oppression. And so far the only people I have seen supporting Israel have been people who had been indoctrinated with Zionist views from childhood, people who are NOT educated on the history of Israel (and why they were there in Palestine to begin with and it is NOT because of the holocaust, which I will explain further down), and Evangelical Christians who want to bring on the rapture. Even then, what they are so angry and appalled by are people calling to send aid, and their only argument for not allowing aid into Gaza because they will be used to create weapons and rockets.

They genuinely believe that Palestinians have a magical ability to turn things like food, water, and medicine into rockets.

So, I will go through your relatives' points one by one.

Firstly, it is not a religious issue. And it never had been. This is colonization and apartheid. Do not let the media or uninformed people tell you otherwise, because that is how they justify and defend its existence.

Israel gave them their land back

Lots of Israelis say that Israeli forces completely pulled out of Gaza in 2005. That isn't 'giving land back' that is 'withdrawing from taking more land.' The entirety of what is now Israel WAS Palestine, and Palestinians aren't even asking for ALL of it back, just the borders that they had in 1967.

Also, if you're wondering why they pulled back, it's because you cannot bombard your own occupied territory, which we see them doing freely now.

Palestine was warned about Hamas

Really? That's so funny because Hamas is backed and funded by Benjamin Netanyahu (his own words at a press conference with an Israeli news cite, not mine) and his US minions to try and oppose the PLO (Palestine Liberation Movement), who were seen as a more legitimate governing body that would make Israel and the US look bad for trying to eradicate them. So, they chose a more extremist group that they'd have an easier time selling as "barbaric terrorists" as a justification to bombard Gaza with impunity. If this sounds familiar, that's because it should. It's all part of their playbook.

Palestine struck first

This did not begin on October 7th. This has been going on since the Nakba in 1948. What happened on October 7th was tragic, but it was IDF bullets that killed those hostages. It took them 6 hours to respond (a survivor said that Hamas had to ASK them to call the IDF, because they were not coming), and when they came, they killed their own civilians and hostages in the crossfire. Watch this video for the full evidence.

Hamas took hostages for a hostage swap. For the thousands of Palestinian civilians that had been kidnapped and wrongfully detained (some of them WITHOUT CHARGES) in Israeli prisons, which included KIDS. And as of now, Israel has rejected the Israeli hostages 3 times even though they are killing them in the bombardment.

Israel has something called the Hannibal Directive. Go look it up.

Because no one in their right mind would agree that just because there is a school shooter hiding inside a school with hostages while using the students as human shields, the only course of action is to then bomb the entire school.

And ask yourself, if this is truly a war on Hamas and Israel valued Palestinian civilian lives as much as they do Israeli lives, then if Hamas was hiding in Israel, would the IDF be using the same approach as they are currently using for Gaza? And if not, then why.

Israel warned them and gave them time to move south

They gave 1 million people 24 hours to complete a trek that would have taken 72 hours. 1 million people who had mostly been women, children, and the handicapped. And during the evacuation, they were bombing convoys, ambulances, and safe routes. Then when they finally got to the south of Gaza, they were bombed there too. In the place where they were supposed to be safe.

Also, if Russia had warned Ukraine that they were going to bomb them and gave them time to evacuate, does that then make it ok for Russia to bomb Ukraine? Of course not, that's a silly argument.

The support for Palestine is spurred on by propaganda

Well, which one between Palestine and Israel literally has the entire western media in their pocket? Which one has been PAYING influencers to voice their support for their country? Which one has been proven to spread LIES unquestioned? (Like 40 beheaded babies, for instance? Or using AI generated images for proof?) Which one has been posting tweets proudly declaring that they have committed war crimes, deleting the tweets, and backtracking?

Which one has fucking social media accounts that are beefing with models and celebrities who are against them, and are using influencer's images without their permission to make it seem like they're on THEIR side?

So now, let's talk about Israel and Holocaust Survivors.

First of all, the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine began in 1917 when Britain signed the Balfour Declaration, which states that they are giving away their occupied colony of Palestine to a group of Zionists immigrating to Palestine from Eastern Europe and Yemen. First thing to note here, there were already Palestinians living on the land, it was not a barren empty land, and it was colonized by the British. So the British gave away stolen land that they had no right to give away in the first place.

The holocaust survivors didn't arrive in Israel until the end of WW2 in the 1940s where they were then scorned and laughed at by the Zionist settlers in Palestine for being 'weak victims.' The holocaust victims continued to be discriminated against and left to live in poverty by the Israeli gov't.

However, their arrival gave the west a reason to arm the settlers so that they can 'defend themselves' from all the 'vicious, evil, uncivilized Arabs' they were surrounded by. And they used this excuse and dehumanization to displace 750,000 Palestinians from their land. The Nakba.

And they continue to use the holocaust survivors (that they are also treating badly) as a shield from international criticism to expand until we have the borders we have today.

#free palestine #palestinian genocide #israeli occupation #israeli apartheid #debunking propaganda

[intoanotherworld23]

Prefer In The Car

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY DNI, this whole thing is just pure smut and sex in a car so be warned everyone

Summary: Chris always wanted to have his way with you in a car

✨Please do not copy and paste my work or steal my work or publish my work as your own or I will have you reported✨

"Shhh baby not too loud. Don't want anyone to hear us do you?" His question what rhetorical in fact he did want you to be loud so someone did hear what he was doing to you.

Legs on either side of Chris's hips your hands placed on the leather head rest behind him. Your dress bunched up around your waist panties pulled to the side as you rode Chris's cock. His hands on your hips holding onto you.

"Could spend my entire life inside of your little pussy." He growled into your ear.

Chris loved the dress that you were wearing admiring how it fit around your body. Plus Chris has always wanted to have sex in his car. The parking lot was basically dead so he took the opportunity while he had it.

"I wish you could admire my view right now fucking stunning." He breathed out the last two words like he was almost struggling to say them.

His strong hands gripping your hips squeezing the flesh between his fingers. He would look up from your face to your connecting bodies watching as his cock was disappearing inside of you.

Your backside hitting the horn making it go off causing you two to laugh. Not even stopping your movements not really caring if anyone say you riding Chris.

Moving your hips up and down sliding along his cock as fast as you could. His hands guiding your hips up and down on him. Your walls squeezing around his cock making him groan. Nibbling on your ear every time you whimpered pathetically.

"Such a good girl letting me fuck you in my car knowing anyone could see." He teased you a smirk appearing on his face making you giggle at his playful tone. "Naughty girl."

Both of you staring into each other's eyes making it a more intimate moment. He wanted to watch your face as you came undone on his cock. Your facial expressions alone turning him on.

The spaghetti strap of your dress sliding down your arm too lazy to pull it back up. If anything Chris pulled it down more along with the strap of your bra. His eyes becoming darker as he watched your breasts pop out.

"God you drive me wild Y/N." His voice strained almost like he was holding back.

His lips attached themselves so your nipple sucking on the nub while he was pounding his cock up into you intensifying the feeling. Your entire body shaking as you felt your skin burning with euphoria.

"Oh god Chris." You whined feeling your legs already getting tired and shaky from riding him.

Hearing you whine his name gave him the go to drive his hips up wildly into you. Your whole body was shaking and moving along with him. His cock fitting so snug inside you like it was made for you.

Your head reeled back in ecstasy hands clawing at the leather seats. Your arousal was coating his cock making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

His lips left your nipple and moved up towards your neck kissing the flesh. Sucking on the skin making blood rise to the surface marking his territory. Chris was a sucker for marking what was his. He loved even more especially when you showed it off.

The scruff of his beard scratching your neck making a shiver run up your spine. The windows in the car were fogging up making it even harder for anyone to see you.

Your cheeks were starting to heat up, and you were feeling flushed. In this moment all you felt was Chris and no matter how many times you guys had sex you could never get used to the feeling of his cock.

His cock hit your sweet spot making you scream. Finding that spot he was relentless and continued to hit it over and over again. His hands gripped onto your hips so hard they would probably bruise.

"Oh god I love your cock Chris." You mewled closing your eyes. "Keep going right there baby."

"Cum all over my cock baby." He snarled into your skin holding your body even closer to his trying to hit up into an angle that would have you seeing stars.

Your toes were curling and you could feel your pussy walls squeezing the life out of his cock as you released. A couple more thrusts and Chris was squirting his cum inside you. Your head leaned forward on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

Chris's forehead was drenched in sweat and his arms were shaking still holding your trembling body. Both of you still trying to cum down from your intense high.

Pushing your head back you both looked at each other and just bursted out laughing. The mere fact you two just had hot sex in his car, and the fact someone could have caught you. Chris was always hot for you, and quite frankly didn't care if anyone caught you.

"From now on we are having sex in my car." He joked causing you to laugh playfully shoving him.

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans imagines #Chris Evans smut #Chris Evans oneshot #Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fiction #Chris Evans fic #Chris Evans fanfiction

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 5. unwritten rules — ✦ (wc: 0.4k)

You will never understand how people wake up before 10 a.m. and enjoy it. Scaramouche was your complete opposite in that regard, preferring to start his days egregiously early. But if you could help it, you'd stay in bed and sleep until the early afternoon hours, cuddled up in the warmth of your blankets.

But here you are, not comfortable in bed but instead seated on your sofa and half-heartedly watching some soap opera on the TV while you wait for the man of the hour to discuss a deal that could change both of your careers, for better or for worse.

The huge glass windows let in sunlight from the waking world, bathing the room in natural light. Scaramouche gives you a nod of acknowledgment as he sits down, a cup of way-too-bitter tea in hand. He takes off his reading glasses and leans back to look at you properly.

“You look like shit,” he greets.

You rub your eyes before glaring at him, “I wanted to catch you before you ran off to the nearby cafe to write your book. We need to actually talk about what we’re getting into in this deal.”

You take a breath before starting, “It’s not going to be easy dating me. Fake or not.”

Scaramouche’s words are dripping in sarcasm. “I know your food preferences if that’s what you're worried about.”

“That...” you groan. “That isn’t even what I mean and you know it; I’m being serious. You know how relentless the media can be when it comes to me. Rumors of us dating have been around since we were first spotted going out and about with our friends. And they’ve only gotten worse since you moved in with me.”

“I can take whatever the tabloids throw at me,” he shrugs. “Besides, my aunt works for The Akasha, remember? She has a lot of pull, not just in Sumeru.”

Is he even taking this seriously? His nonchalant air makes you think he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation you’re getting yourselves into. He consistently interacts with his fans but maintains a respectful distance from them — you know he's capable of handling a life of fame.

But ever since you stepped onto the stage, the tabloids have followed you like a phantom — lurking in every corner and following your every move. Their eyes aren’t only set on you, though, but on every person associated with you. Scaramouche’s privacy has been invaded multiple times throughout your friendship with him, and he’s expressed his distaste for a life that's fully in the public eye in the past.

Why is he so determined to see this through?

“I doubt one editor-in-chief will be enough to influence the press,” you say.

“But she does control what stories get published,” he points out. “And if she approves articles about us being spotted together in public, it’ll be enough to get people talking.”

He has a point. Goddamn it, maybe he actually thought this through and this wasn’t just some half-assed plan he came up with at 2 a.m.

The two of you would have to set some rules, but that could come at a later date.

“Do we have a deal?” Scaramouche sticks out his hand.

“Yeah.” you take his hand and shake it. “We got a deal.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary:

rule number one: don't fall in love.

rule number two: no one can know about the deal.

rule number three: keep physical affection limited to the public eye. no kissing under any circumstances.

rule number four: break up after you release your album.

easy enough to remember. oh, and remember to not break the rules okay?

author's notes:

sorry for being inactive lmao i got depressed for a hot minute

nah cause why is scarayn banter so much fun to write

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

#genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin impact smau #scaramouche smau #wanderer smau #scara smau #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin modern au #genshin celebrity au #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #darling starling smau

[reidbae]

DAY 17: Down On My Knees — praise kink w/sub!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: If there's one thing your boyfriend loves, it's to pleasure you. So, when you deny him of it, he'll do whatever it takes to get your permission, even if it means begging on his hands and knees. Literally.

pairing: sub!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: begging, praise (duh), fingering, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation (m insinuating), face riding (kind of), use of miss and no y/n, and use of angel/doll

wc: 1.2k

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch

“Please?”

That simple word that sounded so pretty when it came from Spencer’s lips had fallen off it dozens of times now.

Spencer had been begging to eat you out for what was coming up on half an hour. It began as foreplay, then teasing, and then into Spencer falling to his knees, begging to suck your cunt.

“Please, miss, I’ve been so good. I want to make you feel good—So bad. Please,” Spencer whined, his begging falling off his lips as a relentless mush of pleas. You giggled down at the poor boy, smirking.

Spencer’s face was cupped in your hand as he begged, his brown hair a mess over his reddened forehead.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to feel him: You did. But eating you out was Spencer’s favorite thing to do. It always had been. He may have even liked it more than you did.

That’s why it was so fun to deny him of it.

“I’m not very convinced. I think you’re going to need to do better than that,” you chuckled, saying the phrase for the millionth time today.

It was a wonder that Spencer hadn’t snapped back at you at this point, gave you some bratty remark, as he did from time to time. Instead, he just kept pleading.

Which showed for how much he needed this.

“M- Miss, please? I just—I can’t—“ the poor boy fumbled with his words, his tongue slurring them all before they could leave his lips. “I need to feel you so bad. I- I want to touch you. Please?”

Spencer knew what he was doing as he asked you this, eyes lit up in that puppy-dog gaze he always gave you when he needed you.

Because he knew that it always worked.

His look sent a wave of butterflies to your chest, and you huffed, no longer able to deny the boy of what he so badly craved. You.

“Mmm. Okay, baby. Go ahead. I give you permission,” you smiled warmly, moving your thumb over his face. Spencer’s eyes lit up, and he looked at you with a little surprise, face flushed pink.

“Wait, r- really? Y- You’re going to let me, miss?” asked Spencer bewilderedly. You giggled again, giving him one more nod.

Spencer put his hands on your thighs, smiling up at you with a loving look in his gaze. “Thank you, miss,” he murmured, kissing both of your thighs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Now, why don’t you show me what that mouth can do, hm?” you smiled down at him.

Spencer didn’t need much more than that. In the blink of an eye, your shorts were coming down, and then your underwear, and before you could say even a word, Spencer’s tongue was already licking between your folds.

You had been leaning on the wall of your living room, Spencer kneeling in front of you. As quickly as he had begun, you ran your fingers through his brunette locks, moaning in pleasure as your head rocked back onto the wall behind you.

“Fuck, Spencer. God, agh, just like that,” you praised him, tugging at his curls as he resumed his attack on your cunt. Spencer gave a muffled moan from what you could hear, your words only encouraging him to keep going.

“You’re doing so well, love. So well. Such a good boy,” you inattentively said to him, voice laced with pure pleasure as you spoke. “Just like that,” you said again.

Your words were clearly doing a lot for Spencer, because when you looked down, his cock was rock solid in his slacks. You giggled at the view, which was quickly replaced by one more moan.

“God, look at you,” you said in a teasing voice. “You look so cute like this. All needy for me. Fuck,” you moaned out.

Spencer’s tongue swirled in vicious circles around your clit, eager to please you in every way possible. You squirmed above him, nodding your head in approval.

He ate you like he hadn't done so in days, making sure that every little detail was fit to your liking.

And it was.

Spencer, unable to help himself, pulled away from you for a second. You missed the feeling as soon as it had left, wondering why Spencer had felt the need to take it away from you. "What is it, doll?" you asked.

"Can I—“ he fumbled, not sure how to put what he needed into words. He sighed. "C- Can I—Touch myself?" he whispered. "Please?” he asked.

You raised your eyebrows a little at the ask, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he had done it. You shrugged, giving him a little smirk as you looked down at him. “I don’t see why not,” you smiled.

Spencer nodded with a flushed face. In a beat, he reattached his lips to your cunt, but this time, he was fumbling with his belt.

Spencer’s cock sprung free from his boxers, and from what you could see, he was already painfully hard. He wrapped a hand around himself quickly, pumping up and down with need.

You knew that the view, paired with the feeling of his tongue, was going to send you over the edge soon. It was nearly too much to bear.

“You like that, huh? That feels good, angel?” you smirked down at him in a moan, your head on the wall behind you.

Spencer did what he could to nod, although it was hard to differentiate that from what he was already doing.

You look down and he’s beautiful. Brown hair a mess over his forehead, pink cheeks, glasses and brain fogged up with pleasure. God, he was too damn pretty.

Spencer's tongue was devouring your clit with a wild desire now, being unafraid to show the passion that he had for you. You couldn't help yourself and began to grind yourself on his face for more pleasure.

Seeming to know what you needed, Spencer moved his free hand up to your cunt, pushing a finger inside of you. You yanked him closer to you by the hair in response, moaning loudly.

"Fuck, baby," you whined, allowing your pornographic noises to fill the room. Your legs closed around his head as you squirmed in pleasure, already readily feeling your high bubbling up inside of you.

You weren't the only one feeling pleasure. Spencer's cock was aching, the tip a furious pink from what his hand had been doing. He jerked himself up and down, giving a muffled whimper as he got himself off.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. That's my good boy," you whined, your eyes shutting closed as your cheeks got warmer. "Don't stop, fuck."

When you finally came undone soon enough, Spencer was eager to help you through it. He made sure to lap up every last bit of your release, like his life depended on it. His tongue danced on your clit as you came with a loud groan, needy to make you feel good.

Ropes of white cum soon after covered Spencer's hand, and he closed his eyes, too, as pleasure washed over him. You gazed in awe as you saw the view of him, smirking down at the face he was making.

Breathless and red in the face, Spencer looked up at you, a cheesy smile on his lips. His hands gripped your thighs again as he stammered, "H- How was that, miss? Did I do okay?"

You chuckled down at him, shaking your head in response to the fact that he even felt the need to ask. "Better than okay."

–

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

–

please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

–

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fic #spencer reid imagine

[hauntedhokage]

check yes

Nanami Kento/F!Reader

summary: Nanami makes a request of Gojo to use his connections to arrange his marriage. He just wasn’t expecting to develop a crush on the person arranging his marriage. 

word count: 4.2k

warnings: inexplicit references to sexual content

note: I had a very different intention for how this would flow but this is not it. oh well.

[ao3 link] [masterlist] [nanami masterlist] [ko-fi + commissions]

He was already starting to regret this. The house he was brought to was lavish, well maintained and belonging to an owner who took excellent care of the property. Someone from Gojo’s circles outside of Jujutsu Tech and not someone he’d rub elbows with commonly. In all fairness, they weren’t people Nanami wanted to rub elbows with either, but he felt it was natural to be nervous in a house this nice. Just how lucrative was this business anyway?

“Gojo, where did you bring me?”

“I said I’d bring you to the best in the world, didn’t I?” He did say that, but this was Satoru Gojo. There was always a joke or a loophole, Nanami learned to expect that. “This is where the best in the world lives and works - but only for her favorite clients.”

Just how many people had Gojo brought here that he’d become a favorite? Or was he really a favorite? Again, this was Satoru Gojo. 

“When you said you had a proposition for me, I thought I’d finally get the big fish engaged.” The teasing tone pulled his attention to the staircase, and he rose an eyebrow at the sight of a woman who seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place from where. “Who’s this?”

“Kento Nanami. A grade one sorcerer in need of a lady friend.”

“Why can’t you ever give me a proper introduction?” Nanami asks, following behind Gojo when his coworker moves to follow you into a room off to the side of the staircase. 

You’re standing at a bookcase, opening and flipping through various notebooks until you find what you’re looking for, and Nanami notices that the notebook has Gojo’s name on the front of it when you turn to face them. Based on the size of the notebook and how worn it was, you do a lot of work with Gojo. Both men sit at the desk but you opt to continue standing as you flip through pages, and Nanami takes the time to observe how neat your office was. Art prints on the walls, a couple certificates, and two swords that he could feel the cursed energy radiating off of. Imbued with strong cursed energy, he’d assume you’d had a heavenly pact if he hadn’t already felt the fountain of energy you contained. It felt different from Gojo, it was warmer - much more comforting.

“Kento Nanami,” you mumble, writing in the notebook and only once barely glancing up from the page to see him watching you intently. “You’ve got a technique, right?”

“Seven-to-three. It’s a ratio technique.”

“So someone interested in math might be a plus. Height?”

And he’s forthcoming with the answers to your questions - sometimes having to correct Gojo’s incorrect answers - and he hates that Gojo is getting so much detailed information about himself that was so delicately tucked away. Things about him that would be used against him, as if Nanami asking Gojo about how to have his own marriage arranged wasn’t fuel enough for relentless teasing from the so-called strongest sorcerer. 

“Is there a type of woman you’re most interested in?”

“Intelligent, patience, and being competent in a kitchen is a bonus but not required. I’m more than capable of cooking for myself.”

“You want a spouse who can keep herself occupied, I’m sure. Employed?”

“Unnecessary. I have an ample salary to care for two.”

“Appearance?” 

“That’s irrelevant to me. What is most important is what lies beneath.” 

That had you looking up from the notebook, pen halting only for a moment before you recovered and crossed something out before writing something else. Gojo was shocked enough for the entire room, you didn’t have anything else to add. 

It’s only another twenty minutes and a couple pictures with requests for others where he looks less constipated before you’re walking them to the front door of your home while explaining next steps to Nanami. He’d expect to hear from you in a couple days with a date and time to look at profiles of prospective brides that you pulled based on the information you got from him today and estimated compatibility scores. 

Gojo is left with a demand that he deal with the Zen’in clan who had been in contact with you regarding Megumi’s future plans for marriage that were none of your business. It seemed you had the same opinion of the clan that Gojo did, which wasn’t surprising but was definitely interesting. He'd have expected your work to not interfere with the dealings of the clans, but he supposed the jujutsu world was always dancing around the wishes of the clans.

“How do you know her?”

“We worked together a few years back on a special grade that had popped up while she was in Tokyo running errands. She doesn’t do a lot of sorcerer work, but she’ll gear up if her services are requested. Mostly she gets paid good money to arrange marriages for people like us.”

“But not you?”

“I’m too busy for a spouse. You’ve got strict hours and a real want for someone to come home to, better suited for marriage than someone like me.”

Everyone eventually resigned themselves to their fate. Maybe in a few years Gojo will change his mind, slow down in his work and let himself accept what he knew they all wanted deep down: a way to escape from the harsh reality that was the world of jujutsu. For now, that wasn’t an issue for Nanami to make his own so he wasn’t going to allow this to slide for the time being.

“Y’know I’m sure Shoko would let you take her out on a date - for practice, of course.”

Nanami pretends to not have heard the suggestion. Shoko had much more important things to do than go on pretend dates with him.

Two weeks pass before he’s sitting in your home again. This time not in your office, but outside on your back patio enjoying a tea and light snacks while going through the stacks of folders produced with potential marriage candidates. You preferred pen and paper to digital record keeping, printed photographs on glossy paper or the occasional polaroid carefully fastened to the folder with a paperclip. Some records were so extensive that an actual binder was required rather than just a folder, whether that was by your design or the client’s he’d yet to figure out. 

There were two loaded binders, three thick folders, and two thinner ones stacked on the side of the table, and he dreads needing to look through them all. Arranging a marriage seemed much more simple when he floated the idea past Gojo - it didn’t feel like he’d need to be so involved. He could learn to live with and care for anybody as would be his responsibility as a husband - the responsibility he was signing up for by requesting a marriage to be arranged.

The seven potential candidates you’d selected had the highest compatibility scores from your own assessment of his wants and theirs. All in his preferred age range, some with their natural hair color others with artificially colored hair, even their sexual experience was provided in some detail.

“Your research is extensive,” he comments while reading through the first file. Her name was Yui, first born daughter to a farmer and his wife (who was a former sorcerer) with three younger siblings but no training in jujutsu but the ability to see curses and potential for a cursed technique to have been inherited. Artificial blonde, went to university to study journalism and writes for a gossip magazine with freelance projects on the side. 

Key consideration: terrified of the sight of blood. That note has him closing the folder and setting it to the side to create his own discard pile.

“The world of jujutsu is a picky and particular one. The clans go off of technique, fertility, and strength which makes it easy. Those who don’t have clans arranging or go outside of their clans want much more freedom of choice, and things to choose from.”

“Has someone really turned down a candidate because of their sexual experience?”

“More often than you’d think, in both directions. Why didn’t you like Yui?”

“Being afraid of the sight of blood doesn’t seem to fit right with my profession.” As expected, you write that down in your notebook while your free hand idly stirs your tea. 

“Reckless in combat?”

“No, but I’m not untouchable like Gojo is. Accidents happen, I’d hate to spur my spouse into terror because a bloody shirt was in the washing machine.

You nod, this time lifting one of the small finger sandwiches to your lips as you continue to write. He looks into the next folder, surprised to see this candidate was a sorcerer from overseas looking to move to Tokyo. Céline from Paris, grade two sorcerer without a cursed technique. Her mission record was attached, and Nanami raises an eyebrow at the fact that she’d never completed a mission on her own. That was intriguing, and the notes that followed regarding the reason for denial to be promoted to grade one made it clear why she’d never finished a mission on her own: she was reckless and endangered herself and her colleagues on every mission.

With moving to Tokyo, she doesn’t want to give up being a sorcerer. Ideally would continue down this career path until plans to have children were made and solidified.

With that, Nanami moves Céline into the discard pile as well. He had no interest in a spouse who was recklessly endangering herself and planned on continuing to do so until pregnancy forced her to stop. He wasn’t even certain that he wanted children, and it seemed like she did eventually which was not going to be satisfactory for her. 

The other five files meet the same fate, neatly stacked on the other side of the table while you continue to take notes. You’d added about three more pages on notes while watching him read through files and provide commentary when asked, which showed just how observant you were. This was a profession you excelled at for a reason. 

“Are you normally this picky, Mr. Nanami? This is just a review to see if you want to meet these ladies, not propose on the spot.”

“I don’t want to waste their time or my own if I don’t believe there will be a connection after the meeting. If I don't see a future, why bother?” 

“Should I just let you read through my entire filing cabinet on prospects to see if there’s anyone you like?” You were teasing him, that was clear and made him feel just a bit better about shutting down all of your preliminary choices. But perhaps you expected him to do that, if the additional set of four folders you pulled from the bag sitting on your left meant anything. You truly watched everything that he did.

“That shouldn’t be necessary. You spent the last hour psychoanalyzing me with intentionally incompatible brides for a reason, did you not?”

“Not intentionally incompatible, just incidentally. Everyone is open to options until they have the options, that’s where the pickiness sets in. Everyone has lines they’d prefer not to cross, I needed to find yours to better asses potential partners.”

“What are mine?”

“The most basic one is consistent mutual inconvenience or concern” 

You go on to explain how that spiderwebs into a few other different lines that created his personal boundaries for selecting a wife (and, really, any personal acquaintance). Consistent mutual inconvenience, like him needing to hide a key risk of his profession for a wife terrified of the sight of blood while the wife would need to constantly emotionally prepare for the day where she made contact with the sight of his blood, was not a strong foundation for a relationship. Arranged or not, there needed to be levels of trust and comfortability that could be built, and that comfortability would never be built upon a foundation of fear. That mutual inconvenience webbed into concern, like always being worried that your spouse’s reckless behavior would get themselves killed but they have no desire to quit their job or change their ways would just create exhaustion in the relationship and that wouldn’t be healthy for the marriage. 

If asked, he was definitely reading the words on the paper in his hands and not too captivated by every word that left your mouth to even remember the woman’s name on the page. He had a type, and you were sitting right across from him. It was a shame you weren’t an option. 

A month passes and you’ve finally gotten him to agree to meet with a prospective bride. He had a condition and that was that he got to debrief with you immediately after to share his thoughts and feelings, and you agreed to it without hesitation. Of course Gojo was paying for every minute of your time that Nanami used, so agreeing was a natural decision, but part of him hoped it was a desire to spend that time with him and hear his opinions as more than just a client. 

The prospective bride was named Sayuri. She, like you, had graduated from Jujutsu High’s Kyoto campus and she also, like you, had retired from working as a sorcerer. But with a full stop due to an injury that rendered her cursed technique inoperable, leaving random missions off the table for her own health. 

He appreciated a woman who knew her physical limits, and you looked so proud when he told her that to her face. He was trying, and he was glad that you saw that too, but he knew he’d take the wind out of your sails when he told you that he didn’t see himself with Sayuri for more than just a couple dinner dates. She was nice, truly a lovely girl, but her opinions on teenagers were far too negative while he greatly enjoyed the time he got to spend with the Jujutsu High students (even if they weren’t aware that he enjoyed being around them). As much as they could irritate him, he learned a lot from them but that was a notion that Sayuri just couldn’t accept. He couldn’t accept her as a bride if she would be uncomfortable with Yuuji or Maki stopping in for a visit every now and again. 

Nanami is only slightly disappointed in himself when you deflate at the news. But you also seem more determined to find him a bride, and that brings him relief that you didn’t think he was a lost cause just yet. He would hate to feel as though he’d wasted your time, that was clearly a precious commodity to yourself and other people who desired your services.

“It’s almost like you prefer spending time with me rather than any other women,” you comment off-handedly before leaving, something he knew you meant that as a tease but he dared not tell you it was an accurate assumption. He wanted you to want to continue to be around him, this crush of his would go away once he’d found a suitable arrangement.  

You start to consume his thoughts, the worst part is that he’d been traveling for missions so he hadn’t seen you in weeks. Every day he’s checking his phone for a message from you, his email for new scans of your notes on a prospective spouse, any indication that you were thinking of him just as much as he was thinking of you. It was disgustingly unprofessional to be so distracted, especially when you were simply doing your job that Gojo was paying you to do. To think that you had any sort of feeling for him would be presumptuous, preposterous, and downright idiotic. 

But you never said anything about having a partner of your own, and that gives him a hope that he’s not sure he should have. How could he maintain an air of professionalism when in the back of his head he’s wondering if there was a flavor attached to the glossy shine decorating your lips? 

He lets himself get distracted during his first mission back in Tokyo. The curse wasn’t even a particularly strong one, just annoying, and he let himself get distracted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He usually put his phone on do-not-disturb when he was on a mission, this time he did not and he had a growing red stain on his shirt to pay for that error. If it was just a text, that’d be one thing. Unfortunately for him it was a call, the vibration strong against his thigh and enough to skew his focus long enough to miss the way the curse lunged at him. Poor performance on his part. 

He was just going to go home after this, enjoy a shower in his own personal bathroom and then check in at the school in the morning. Sleep in his own bed and enjoy being home after six weeks of hotels (as nice as they were). 

Then he checked his phone, listened to the voicemail that you had left and how excited you sounded to have found the one for him. 

He tells the cab driver your address before he even considers going to the school to see Shoko to have his injury treated. He’d rather be dead in an alley than be in the school infirmary for the night, the concrete was definitely going to be more comfortable than the bed there. 

He doesn’t even know what he’d say to you when he knocks on your door. He doesn’t know how you’d react, but he feels better when you open the door and bring him in with just one look at his disheveled state and bring him up the stairs. In all the visits he’d made to your home, this was the first time he’d been up the stairs. 

“What happened?” you ask softly once he’s in your master bathroom, and he sighs as he sits on your toilet per your instruction. The first aid kit is pulled from under the sink, but his attempt to unbutton his shirt is thwarted when you start to do it for him. “Talk to me, Kento.”

“I got distracted while fighting a curse.”

“Distracted? That doesn’t sound like you.” You sound worried, and that makes him feel better about being here. Less imposing, at the very least. “But I guess you’ve been going nonstop for a few weeks. Must’ve been a big distraction.”

“I was only momentarily distracted. A mistake that won’t be repeated.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, your hands carefully cleaning around the wound in his side. “Y’know, Shoko would be a better doctor considering she actually is one.”

“I can leave, if-”

“No.” Your hand on his chest stops him from trying to stand. “I’d rather you stay, honestly.” 

He relaxes at that, letting his head fall back against the wall with his eyes closed as you continue to work. It wasn’t life threatening by any means, and you were being very gentle with him as you worked to clean up the blood so you could better look at it. 

“Why me, though?”

“I didn’t think much about it. I considered where I felt safe, and you were the first to come to mind.” It’s a vulnerable answer, an honesty he wasn’t prepared to share so openly but you were safe. Always had been. Even with your analyzing gaze and the way you managed to carefully pick apart his guarded exterior, you still felt safe for him. But the way your brow furrowed when he looked down raised a concern. “Is there an issue?”

“No, no issue. You bled a fair amount but that made it look worse than it actually is. You’ll survive until the morning, and Shoko can patch you up properly then.” And he feels the gauze on his skin, your hands applying decent pressure to keep it in place as you start to wrap the bandaging to keep the gauze in place throughout the night. Then your touch is gone, and he sees you standing while carefully removing the gloves that were now stained with his blood. “Pain meds?”

“Please.” He’s letting you pull him to stand, his shirt is now ruined and not worth keeping on but it’d be rude for him to walk around without some sort of covering. This feels indecent when his relationship with you was supposed to be strictly business, like he’s crossing a boundary that wasn’t meant to be crossed - a boundary that he supposed he had crossed when he came to you instead of calling Shoko. He didn’t even know if you had medical training aside from the basic first aid all sorcerers are taught.

“I make you feel safe, huh?”

“You know almost everything about me. More than any of my colleagues who I trust with my life know.” He hears your thoughtful hum in response to his statement, watching as your fingers carefully roll one of the buttons of his undone shirt between them. “So, yes, I feel very safe with you. I enjoy the time we spend together.”

And he doesn’t register how it happens, all he knows is that his lips are on yours and your hands are now gripping his shirt to keep him close while his hands hold your face close to his. Your legs hit the footboard of your bed frame, something that halts him for only a moment before he’s carefully helping you over it while your hands push his shirt off of his shoulders. 

This was not what he had intended when he showed up on your doorstep unannounced and bleeding, but now he knows your lips taste like strawberry and the flavor of your gloss lingers long after you’ve removed it. He knows that you’re not afraid of taking what it is you need, that you had wanted him just as badly as he had wanted you.

But after he’s come down from the moment he lets his brain take over and his anxiety flares. You were supposed to be finding him a suitable spouse, yet here he was in your bed - how could that possibly end? Would you want to help him after he crossed this boundary? Did you want him to stay here with you tonight? Probably not, even if you were sleeping soundly with your head on his arm. So he pulls himself away from you as soon as he’s sure you won’t wake, knowing that he caught sight of a guest bedroom down the hall close to the stairs. He’d sleep there, then make breakfast in the morning. Simple recovery of a situation that he hoped wouldn’t crumble in his hands. 

If you’d been upset by his choice not to sleep in your bed, you don’t show it. The following morning you only greet him with breakfast and let him know that you enjoyed yourself and hoped that he did the same. He left your home to go back to the Jujutsu Tech campus with a kiss on the cheek and mug of coffee to go, with a promise that he'd be in touch to properly go over the notes you'd sent him. 

Then it was back to business. 

Only that business involved more overnight visits, ones where he stayed by your side through the night and went through the motions of the morning with you. Breakfast and coffee, then you both were off to perform your respective jobs. It was odd, sleeping with you then the next day receiving texts about potential candidates. Part of him admired your ability to maintain sight of the goal, the other part wished you’d tell him that you wanted to be with him instead of some random person seeking a husband. He’d miss the intimacy you shared when he finally settled for someone he could live with for the rest of his life - when that would happen, he wasn’t sure.

He just knew it wouldn’t be any time soon. He didn’t want to settle just yet. 

“I found another candidate for you to review,” you mention one evening, your fingers lazily carding through his hair as he relaxes against you. A disinterested hum is all he can bother to respond with, knowing that he was going to find a reason to reject the proposition. He knew what he wanted, and you unfortunately weren’t an option. 

“Would you marry me, Kento?” He’s surprised to hear you ask such a question, lifting his head from where it rests on your chest to see you watching him with a soft smile. “I’m running out of candidates for you to turn down.”

“I didn’t think you were an option,” he murmurs, watching as your shoulders shrug against the mattress. Clearly you didn’t realize that you were an option either until recently. 

“Originally I wasn’t. But now we’ve had sex multiple times, I’m not sure either of us would move on easily.”

Sound logic, he knew he wouldn’t be able to move on at all. Not for months, at a minimum - he really liked you a lot. “Besides, you’re very picky.”

“Do you want to be my wife?”

“I think we would have a very comfortable marriage. Mutually beneficial in many ways. The major bonus is we already like each other.” Again, your logic is sound and he knows that you know that. Why wouldn’t he want to marry you? This was exactly what he was hoping for and thought was unattainable. But you’re smiling up at him, your hand gently caressing his cheek as he watches you for any sign of uncertainty and finds none. “Do you want to be my husband?”

And he knows that he’d be honored to be your husband. You could take care of yourself, but would let him take care of you when needed. You were intelligent, independent, able to act when needed, and understood his work as a sorcerer intimately so you didn’t fear the potential consequences of his career. 

You truly would be the perfect wife, the only downside was that he’d have to thank Gojo for bringing him into your life.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami imagine #nanami kento imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

[daisies-daydreams]

I really love your head cannons and stories of the guys from COD! Would it be possible to get Task Force+König x reader, on how they would go about flirting/courting us for the first time? With your preference on if reader is a medic, civilian, or soldier c:

Image/Header Source: Pexels

Pairing: 141/König x F!Reader Category: Fluff (w/ some angst) Warnings: Descriptions of Trust Issues, Mentions of Sex (nothing explicit) Word Count: 2.2k+

 A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your sweet request. The reader's occupation varies between each man since I loved all three ideas of civilian/medic/soldier reader. I hope you enjoy! 🫶

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Rizz Master™️ (sorry not sorry)

He seems like a player, but he’s always, always respectful.

Johnny’s usually the one who initiates things. He’s also more of a playful flirt to the point that most people don’t take him seriously.

And I’m talking a habitual, relentless flirt. It’s just his personality and he does it sometimes without meaning to. (He accidentally lead a lot of people on without even realizing it).

But when he wants to get serious, he goes all in (this man can work a whole room if he wanted to I swear).

He met you when you started working as a bartender at a pub he frequented.

Both of you shared banter each time he’d come in (usually with a pretty little thing on his arm who’d question why he even brought them). It became so infamous that other frequent patrons would roll their eyes or shake their heads whenever he’d stop by for a drink.

He left his number on a napkin one time, which lead to the two of you starting to text (the banter continues).

I think his ultimately playful flirting is him testing the waters for some people to see if the chemistry works between the two of you before he gets serious.

You smiled and tossed the rag over your shoulder as one of the frequents to the pub, Johnny, strolled up the counter.

"Here comes trouble," one of the other patrons muttered before downing his drink.

“The usual for tonight, MacTavish?” you asked. He nodded as he gave you a smile, his sapphire eyes sparkling beneath the dim lighting of the pub.

“You know me well, my dear,” he said as he slid onto one of the bar stools. You returned his grin as you filled up a pint for him. You glanced over his shoulder, your cheeks heating up a little as you saw his muscular arms flex a little beneath black tank top. You shook your head and cleared your throat before handing him his drink.

“Thank you, Dolly,” he winked before taking a sip. You nodded before glancing around.

“No bird with you tonight, Johnny?” you asked with a raised brow as you dried one of the glasses. The man chuckled and shook his head.

“Nah…don’t need one when I have a perfect Bonnie right in front of me,” he suddenly uttered. You huffed out some laughter.

“Good one, Johnny,” you snickered as you put the glass away. Your face fell a bit when you turned and saw him wearing a more serious expression. He leaned forward a bit.

“How’s about I take ye out to dinner this weekend?” he asked with a warm smile.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Side note: Sam Roukin (Ghost’s VA) said that Ghost doesn’t date…so of course I have to incorporate it into this!

To say Simon has a lot of trust issues would be an understatement.

He definitely lingers in the pining stage for longer than most.

Flirting for sex is relatively easy for him, since he knows there's no real emotional attachment. It's quick and simple with little threat to emotional security.

Of course, that all crumbled when he met you, a new recruit to 141.

He swore his heart stopped when you walked into the room, your face littered with a few scars yet still resoundingly beautiful.

The way he felt scared him. Sure, he’s felt this kind of attraction before…but the unknowns of what life would look like with the two of you being involved made his heart sink and flutter all at once.

Simon would act professional at first, trying his best to not get too emotionally invested (“The two of us could die at any time, why even bother?” he’d tell himself).

He’d go all quiet when you started flirting with him, starting my with small jokes and quips until eventually he relented and joined in.

The more the two of you talked, the more relaxed he became. He’s still rather reserved when it comes to flirting (aside from the frequent dad jokes), but his feelings for you are so evident that not even his skull balaclava can hide it.

(He gets some advice from Johnny, wink wink).

You were making your bed in your quarters when you heard a knock on your door. You paused your music before walking over and turning the knob. You blinked when you saw Ghost standing in front of you with his hands behind his back, his dark eyes peering at you through his skull balaclava.

“What’s up, Lt?” you asked. He shuffled in place before clearing his throat.

“Well, I was just out for a walk and…got you these,” his voice drops a few octaves as he pulls his hands out from behind his back. The tips of your ears grew warm as he held a small bouquet of flowers out to you. “Simon Riley…are you asking me out on a date?” you asked as you crossed your arms. More chuckling was heard, causing the lieutenant to shoot a glare down the hall. He “coughed” into his hand.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, the stems of the flowers ready to snap in his deadly grip. You chuckled as you took the flowers before reaching up on your tiptoes. His eyes widened as you pressed a small peck to the side of his mask.

"I'd love to," you grinned. John Price

I’d say flirting with him looks more like two people having a conversation.

John’s had a few relationships in the past, though they’ve always fallen off due to his dedication to work.

Each one has left him more cynical than the last, his hope for finding someone who’d stay by his side dwindling little by little until he gave up completely.

And then, when he was out grocery shopping, he happened to come across a gorgeous cashier.

He gave you a warm smile as the two of you had some small talk, exchanging subtle glances as you checked out his items.

John noticed the lack of a wedding ring on your finger, though he quickly brushed the detail away as he thank you for your time and went on his way.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since then and would make “emergency” stops at the store on the days you would work. He didn’t care if he had to wait in line, he just wanted to see you again...

Your eyes lit up as John came up to you, giving you his typical, warm smile.

"Evenin' Miss (Y/N)," he said as he placed a small pack of toilet paper, bread, and eggs placed on the conveyor belt.

"Good to see you again, John," you smiled as you checked out the items. You noticed him shifting side to side, his eyes glancing up and down as you bagged his items.

"You gonna watch the game tonight?" you asked him. He nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, his body stiffening a little as he scratched his beard. You smiled as you rang him up.

“What about you, hun?" he asked. The tips of your ears burned as your throat tightened at the nickname. John’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as his lips fell into a straight line. He cleared his throat as he took the bag from you.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

"Of course. Have a good night," you grinned. John nodded, his feet still planted to the floor as he cleared his throat.

“When does your shift end?” he suddenly asked. The customer behind him scoffed and tapped their foot. You blinked before a sheepish smile crossed your face.

“In about fifteen minutes,” you replied. “Why?” you asked before biting your lip. John’s face softened as he grinned.

“Care to join me for a quick drink afterwards?” he asked. You parted your lips as the customer crossed their arms. You smiled.

“Meet me outside the doors in a bit,” you whispered. The hardened shell around his heart began to crack.

“Will do, love,” he replied with a warm smile.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

I can see him being a playful flirt as well, though he’s still a bit more reserved.

Like he knows how to pick up women and has had a few flings here and there, though nothing too serious.

Relationships honestly weren't at the forefront of his mind...until you were assigned as the medic for 141 (nicknamed Nightingale, though he’d always call you “Nighty”).

He still remembers the first time you patched him up after a mission where he nearly bit the dust. His feelings for you have only grown since then.

Absolutely smitten, that lad is. (Sometimes he’d even pretend to feel sick just so he could be around you!).

Kyle’s noticeably a lot more excitable and talkative with you compared to the rest of the team. He honestly can’t hide how he feels about you...and it’s adorable.

"Good to see you again, Garrick," you grinned as you opened the door to your office. Kyle reflected your smile before stepping inside and taking off his cap. You closed the door behind him as he sat on the examination table across from you. "So, what brings you in today?" you asked as you clicked your pen. Kyle rubbed the back of his head.

"I've been feeling kind of feverish for the past few days," he said. You glanced up and pursed your lips.

"That so?" you asked as you pulled out a thermometer. He nodded as he leaned his hands against the edge of the table. "Funny, you said the same thing last week," you added as you stuck the instrument against his forehead. His eyes widened as he parted his lips.

"Well, it's a very persistent one," he shrugged. You raised a brow as you looked at his temperature.

"Mhm," you clicked your tongue. "You know if you wanted to ask me out, you didn't have to be on death's doorstep," you giggled. Kyle's breath audibly hitched as you rested your hands on your hips.

"Alright, you've got me," he sighed. You chuckled and shook your head as you put the thermometer away.

"So...are you free this Friday ?" he asked.

König

I see him being the most reserved out of all of these men.

Don’t get me wrong, he knows how to talk to women, it’s just that his quiet nature/intimidating stature tends to scare people off.

So when you came with him on a KorTac mission, he was instantly shocked when you came up and started talking to him.

Did a little head shake/double take before engaging in the conversation.

You know how onions have layers? So does König. He’s rather blunt but still polite while you’re getting acquainted, but he slowly starts to soften his voice a little the more you talk.

Takes a while to peel back the layers one by one, but (like Ghost) the more you get to know him, the more comfortable he becomes around you.

I can see him giving gifts as his love language. Since he doesn’t prefer to talk that much, he’ll leave small hand-written cards if you were on base or bring you candy if he went on a separate mission.

I just picture him being like a big cat: leaves small gifts, quiet yet also affectionate.

All in all it takes a while before he finally asks you out, but when he does, he makes it count.

“Where are you taking me, Colonel?” you asked as you walked through the bustling streets of the city. You were on a mission in König’s home country, making him eager to take you to a “pit stop” on your way to the safe house.

“You’ll see soon enough, Hase,” he replied [Bunny]. He wasn’t wearing his mask, his ginger hair blowing in the wind as he looked forward. The scar across the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. You sniffed as well, the smell of fresh chocolate filling your nose. Your eyes widened as you approached a shop nearby. The corners of König’s icy blue eyes crinkled as he held the door open for you, a gust of warm, sweet air falling over you.

“After you,” he motioned inside. You beamed up at him before stepping inside, your eyes widening at the sight of rows and rows of chocolate.

“Guten tag!” one of the workers, a young brunette woman, chirped behind the counter [Good afternoon!]. Their expression shifted a little as König stepped up behind you. He said something in German, prompting her to scurry and grab a box. You spun around a few times, causing a deep chuckle to rise from his chest.

“I know you said you enjoyed the chocolates I always bring you…so I figured why not stop at one of the best in the world?” he said. He gasped when you wrapped your arms around his torso, your face nuzzling into his side.

“Thank you,” you smiled. König nodded before patting your side, his mind and heart overwhelmed with the sudden affection. The worker returned with a box full of chocolate before she gave a small “aww”.

“So ein süßes Paar!” she beamed [Such a sweet couple!]. König cleared his throat as you pulled back.

“What did she say?” you asked. He remained stiff as he paid for the sweets and handed you the box.

“Nothing important,” he replied…though deep inside, he hoped that someday it would be true.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #reader insert #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #könig #ghost call of duty #soap call of duty #john price call of duty #gaz call of duty #könig call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #gaz x reader #könig x reader #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x you #cod fluff #cod headcanons #call of duty headcanons #141 headcanons #task force 141

[makeyoumine69]

HI!!!! Oh my word, when I saw your 1K celebration I had to pick my favorite prompt out of them for you to write! Your series, one shots, drabbles; literally anything you write I WILL READ! I just can’t help it 🤭! Can you plz do prompt 2: "don't you hide that cute face from me. i wanna see all of you."; I can just imagine reader being shy with Bateman for anything and everything, BECAUSE HE IS SO FILTHY! I want him to tease! And maybe use the nickname cupcake…that’s all!! Love your work!

Hello my dear friend! Thank you so much for your positivity and kindness, it means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this prompt! ✌💗

— Links: [MASTERLIST]; [1k Followers Celebration Masterlist]

Just a glimpse of his hazel eyes was enough to make you do what he wanted; no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you couldn't resist his natural attraction because you were born to be his.

That evening, after a super luxurious party at Craig McDermott's house, you were riding back to Patrick's apartment in the limo. To be fair, when he said you were leaving, you sighed with relief, because the way he surrounded you with his attention, holding you close almost all the time, was really humiliating. Especially when his sneaky hands were constantly attacking all your delicious curves.

The sound of raindrops falling on the roof of the limo helped to clear your mind when you suddenly felt Bateman's hand on your shoulder, and it didn't surprise you at all.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed, Cupcake … all exposed and wide open for me." Patrick murmured in a tempting tone and dragged you a little closer.

"Stop saying such things!" You protested, trying to turn it into a joke, but he was stubborn as hell. "You're embarrassing me!"

He bubbled something sweet next to your ear, tickling the sensitive area around it with his hot breath, and put his big palm on your collarbone.

"Mmm, I love the way you get embarrassed, sweetie," after he whispered that, Bateman tugged on your earlobe, sending an avalanche of goosebumps down your spine. "It's so cute, so innocent."

His tantalizing voice had a completely intoxicating effect on you, making your mind cloudy and your body aching for more. Barely touching you, Patrick traced his finger down your cleavage to the hollow between your breasts as he opened your coat to get better access to your pretty little form.

"Pat-Patrick …" you gasped as his scorching lips found the most sensitive spot on your neck, causing all of your insides to tense. "We're in the limo … p-please, can you wait?"

"Jesus, (Y/N)," Bateman chuckled in amusement, his hands still roaming around your body. Then, he tried to pull you into a kiss, but you flinched away. "You want to test me, babydoll?"

Shyly, you struggled to close your legs when you felt his hand slide up your knee to sneak under the hem of your dress. Even though you knew you were playing with fire - it was too late to back off now.

"The driver can see us, mmm-God," you couldn't help but moan quietly from how relentless he was in his attempts to reach your already soaked panties. "Patrick…"

His name was all you could mutter as his skilled fingers finally touched the place you wanted him most, and no matter how much you tried to fight it, your inner nature overtook your clarity of mind.

Soon, you were both panting with a ravenous desire to give each other pleasure. Patrick was extremely needy, you even had to bite your lip when he pressed your hand to his hard groin while his long fingers rhythmically rubbed your blushing clit.

"Cupcake," he growled in a husky voice before leaving a wet trail of hickeys along your neck, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. "Once we get to my apartment, I'm gonna tear you apart ... "

You whimpered at his words, shaking next to him as he pushed his thin fingers into your wet cunt, stretching you so fucking perfectly from the inside.

"A-awww, God! Your words, Patrick," you tried to turn away from him, burning with embarrassment and the unspoken desire to feel his thick dick deep in your womb. "P-please, they sound s-so nasty!"

"Don't hide that cute face from me, baby. I wanna see all of you," he hugged your neck to hold you in place as he fingered your pussy with a slick sound. "I love your innocent moans, honey … let me feel your pussy clenching so tightly around my fingers."

"Patty … mhhm, aaahh!" You almost screamed as he hit your G-spot, pulling and twisting his fingers masterfully against it, not forgetting to pinch your taut nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

Damn, that was one of the fastest and most vivid orgasms you have ever had.

Bateman only stopped when your inner walls were no longer squeezing his fingers. Smugly, he took his digits in his mouth to clean them, tasting your sweet flavor and moaning so sexy that you felt another wave of pleasure surge through your body. "We've only just started, Cupcake," he brought his fingers to your lips, prompting you to take them in. "My little shy girl. Tonight, I will rock your world."

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #american psycho x reader

[magicxc]

Safe Word Ignored

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader

Word Count: 2606

Warnings: DUB CON, NON CON

A/N: As the name suggests this excerpt will be non con so do proceed with caution or not at all.

For a softer, consensual version of this, check out my aot x safe word headcannon. 

Safe word - sparrow

Eren  - Eren strikes me as rather dismissive. He’s not necessarily nasty about it, but he’s also not too interested in opposing views, especially when he feels this good.

Face buried into your supple skin, Eren rocked his hips repeatedly into your warm walls, melting with each stroke he delivered. You smelled so soft and powdery - his favorite scent on you actually. He could stay like that forever, inhaling your hypnotic fragrance while your pussy squeezed him just right.

Your long nails slid down his back incessantly, stiletto shaped nails no doubt drawing blood from his tender skin. Eren was no stranger to scratches on his back, in fact he welcomed them, the marks an ego boost and a great addition to his battle scars. But these scratches signaled something else entirely, something a lot less elated.

Your strangled moans are music to his ears. But the record scratch comes in the form of the safe word, just barely audible enough for him to hear.

“Huh?”

“Sparrow.”

“Sparrow? Oh honey, no! Just hold out a little while longer for me, yeah?”

Face cradled into his fingertips, Eren swept away at your wet cheeks, pushing forward until he had reached his peak.

Do you really need the safe word? he thought to himself. It’s me. Safe words are meant for strangers or friends with benefits, testing the waters of what feels best. There’s no need for that in a committed relationship. Your partner should know exactly which buttons to press to get yours ticking and by the convulsing of your body, it’s safe to say that Eren’s found yours; yet again. 

“Honey, I know what you want before you can even think it,” he boasted.

Why would he give you what you want when what he wants makes you both feel great?

Levi - Levi’s blunt can sometimes double as your mean. While you're used to his word choice, it feels very different to be on the receiving end of them. 

Sweaty bodies molded into one, you couldn't tell where yours started and Levi ended. Your skin had begun to stick to the sheets and droplets of sweat gathered in dots littered around your forehead. Head sinking into the pillows, you couldn’t find the strength to raise it up if you wanted to, sad attempts to connect your lips to Levi’s long gone. Though the feeling was great, it had slowly started to take its toll, your body unable to keep up with Levi’s stamina.

“Sparrow,” is the safeword that so wearily tumbles from your lips, exhausted beyond comprehension.

“Really?” Levi questions. “I didn’t peg you for such a weak brat”

The sentence stings and you find yourself too tired to retort, tears kissing the back of your eyelids at Levi’s harsh words. While you were ready to tap out, you supposed offering your body was the least you could do in support of humanity’s strongest soldier - opting instead to lie there until he was finished; hoping that sleep would find you soon after.

Erwin - Erwin isn’t much for the long talking, therefore radio silence is all you get from him.

Thighs clamping his face firmly between your legs didn’t quite give you the reprieve you were looking for; Erwins thick muscle relentless against your clit. He works his tongue to perfection, your pussy dripping its praises in the form of soaked sheets. But it’s not enough for Erwin, its never enough for him. Ever the achiever, it takes more than shaky legs to get him to ease up, your vision darkening on multiple occasions at the sensory overload.

Teeth scraping against tender lips, you’re hesitant to mutter the safe word, but the next rush of fluids has you screaming it before you can stop.

“SPARROW, UHNNNN SPARROW. FUCK!”

Tongue reattached to your pussy, you just about passed out at the discomfort; what once felt so heavenly now feels borderline sinister. Twist and turn as you might, Erwins heavy hands pressed firmly against your thighs to hold you still, intent on eating to his heart's content.

Black dots dance around your vision, relief filling you to the brim. It doesn’t take long for the next wave to hit, knocking you unconscious as you welcome the darkness with open arms.

Connie - Connie hates the idea of you using the safe word but he hates the idea of stopping even more; so he’ll pacify you with soft words of encouragement until he’s finished. 

In the heated moment of roleplay you found yourself bent over Connie’s knee, a stinging sensation left behind after each slap to your ass. Hands clamped over your lips at first stifled light giggles, excited at the persona Connie had picked up - now they stifled your groans of discomfort, eagerly waiting for your 'punishment' to be finished.

thawck

Oh that seemed to do it. The final slap to your ass had tears sliding down your cheeks quicker than you could stop them, your feet shuffling about the floor to get a good balance. But Connie’s arm tightened around your waist, another crackling smack booming throughout the room without missing a beat.

“Not you running," Connie chided. “Bad girls don’t get to avoid punishment.”

“M’sorry Con, but it’s just too much."

thawk

“Sparrow,” you squeaked, lips quivering from the tingling ache.

“Awww buttercup,” he condescendingly cooed, rubbing soft circles on your butt. “You talked all that big talk earlier and now you’re calling it quits? C’mon just five more minutes, can you at least give me that?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head, lips tucked carefully between your teeth as you stared at him through wet lashes.

The eery grin that he sends your way is indication enough that his five more minutes will last anything but; and it did. For how long you couldn’t tell, but you’d definitely be sore as hell in the days to come.

Jean - Jean can get gaslighty for sure. It's to the point where you begin to question using the safe word in the first place. 

The moisture that gathered between your thighs was the cherry on top of the pride that swelled within you for making Jean feel so good. His breathy moans, his heaving chest, his fluttering eyelids - it gave you such a dynamic feeling. And apparently it did the same to Jean, his high so good he intended to chase it.

Hands buried in your hair, he used it to guide your plump lips to the very bottom of his shaft, the spongy feeling of your throat he once described as ethereal. Jean was a big boi and by all means required some prep; prep you weren’t entirely done with.

So the unexpected intrusion hits your esophagus in all the wrong ways, the feeling pushing your gag reflexes past its limit. The gurgling of your words and the spit that eases you down his dick no doubt makes for a delightful experience only it has you feeling the opposite. 

Fists tightly balled, you use them to beat against his legs, hitting just hard enough to catch his attention.

“Talk to me my love, what’s the problem?” he asked, hands still bobbing your head, only a little less vigorously.

Enough time goes by to where you realise he’s not letting up, so instead you try your best to mumble out the words around his dick.

“Sp- sparr- ow,” is the best you can manage under the circumstances.

And as muffled as it came out, there’s no doubt that Jean heard you, disappointment clear in the lengthy breath he blows past his lips. You’re sure he’s annoyed, but what's the point of the safe word if you can’t use it?!

“You do love me, don't you?” he asks in between bobs. “You are mine are you not?”

Fingers gathering your hair into a ponytail he pulled it back, just enough that the head of his dick rested on the tip of your tongue, steely eyes glaring into your soft ones.

“Uhh huh,” is your mumbled response.

“Then why would you put me in such a predicament? I’m so close already my love, couldn’t you stay put a little while longer?

Wide doe eyes meet his, trepidation keeping you from uttering the word once more; his shaft wasting no time in making a home at the very back of your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Jean to loudly sing his praises, his boisterous moans dripping from his lips the same way his precum drips down your throat.

“There ya go. Good fucking girl,” he commends. “Besides, girlfriends can't say no.”

Onyankopon - Ony can come off snarky and sarcastic to mask his irritation.

Sex with Ony typically felt hot and sexy. The pure lust and raging desire usually made for a good time. It felt like a movie scene where the couple was so eager to be with one another that it got messy - missed kisses, sloppy hair, wet lovebites, tangled limbs. 

You tended to be in lights, camera, action heaven but today felt unusual. Understandably prep was a must when it came to Ony and you hadn't have much of that in the heat of the moment. It wasn't until he was fully seated inside of you that you’d realise the wetness at the center of your core simply wasn't enough.

His thick fingers delve into the softness of your flesh, dragging your hips up and down to a fierce rhythm. Eyes clamped shut you bounced until the feeling had become too much; too intense to ignore. 

“Sparrow,” is what you breathlessly pant through thrusts. 

“The fact that youre not my wife bothers me at least once a day,” he confessed. “But how can you be when you pull shit like this. 

“Ony I-“

“Do you really want me to stop?” he taunts between languid thrusts. 

Ony had slowed down considerably from the overwhelming force that he once delivered to your pussy, reaching up to swirl his tongue around the lobe of your ear. It soon lands on the sweet spot beneath it as his thumb rubs figure eights on your clit.  

“Is that what you want mamas? Hmm?”

Intellect had long since left you and now all your body could focus on was the mind numbing sensation. No matter how good it felt, a break was still in order but Ony wasn’t in the mood to be convinced. 

Reaching up to the shell of your ear, his lips ghosts against the tip whispering, “yeah, that’s what I thought. The ‘a’ in my name stands for always right; now gone ahead and come for me.”

Reiner - Reiner can't think of a way to justify his lust over your comfort so he’ll opt for tuning you out, physically if he has to. 

The squelching of your pussy made it clear that Reiner was putting in work. Your body would happily create the moisture it needed if meant that he could drive into you at the angle that made your eyes cross over. While you normally didn’t mind helping Reiner with a little stress relief, today he'd made you feel low.

Physically you felt euphoric, but mentally you felt degraded. You felt cheap; almost like someone he threw money at to remedy his frustrations. He’d treated your body so recklessly it brought tears to your eyes; scared to blink at the off chance that you wouldn’t be able stop them from flowing. So you settled for the safe word instead. 

“Sparrow,” you whispered. 

Face scrunching in confusion, it was the first emotion that you were able to clock aside from the blank stare he previously offered you. His thrusts never waivered and you briefly wondered if he had heard you. Lips parting to utter the word once more, Reiner planted his hand over your mouth, grunting out his disapproval.

Shock stiffened you to a standstill, feeling only the way that his hips drove into yours. You lied there, taking every thrust and listening to every moan. Reiner continued to touch you in all the ways that brought you pleasure, and when you finally found yourself tipping over there edge, there he hovered; a twisted smile curled onto his lips.

Armin - Armin is distraught, but somehow not enough to comply. He’ll apologise profoundly while still inside you. 

Armin loved having sex with you. The feeling was immense, but it was the actions that brought him the greatest satisfaction of all, like how you would wildly writhe beneath his body when you were almost to the finish line. He enjoyed seeing you reach out for him when you wanted to feel close, moan his name after he'd made you so cock drunk that it was all you could muster up the strength to repeat, cum around his dick over and over again, sink your nails deep into the flesh of his skin - Armin looked forward to it all.

Hands tugging on the clamps attached to your nipples, he admired how sexy they looked. Swollen enough to seep through the clamps, it took everything in him not to dive down and add to the excitement, his thoughts racing with ideas on how to make you feel even better. Thrilled at the possibility that your lust would trickle down at the base his dick, he just about came right then and there.

But the enjoyment wouldn’t come this time around as the clamps added a layer of pain that felt far from blissful. If anything they hurt, and combined with the tugging you figured it best to cut the night short.

“Sparrow,” is what slips from the confines of your throat.

Ashamed is the emotion that you make out across Armins features, but not for the use of the safe word, rather it seems to be in response for his lack of concern.

"Ohh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he repeatedly murmured.

Forehead pressed into your cheek, his tears mixed with yours as he rode himself to completion, apologies never ceasing even as he went flaccid inside you.

He could scream his regrets until he was blue in the face, but it meant very little when his body found pleasure at the expense of yours; especially considering that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Floch - Floch will outright blame you for feeling so good. Shame has no place in his house nor heart.

Floch was an ass man through and through. He loved claiming you in the forbidden hole. And you’d gladly comply; giving your heart and your body in service of him. It was one of those things where his pleasure intensified yours. 

The grunts and growls, moaning and howling - you were always a soaking mess long before he could make you cum. However, this time felt a little different. You couldn’t place it exactly but you just weren’t feeling sex at the moment. You’d held out for as long as you could, hoping that maybe you needed to be warmed up a little more, that maybe Floch just needed to lay into you just right; but, nothing. 

“Sparrow.”

“No can do sugar,” he scolded from above you. “You see I’m just getting started and I ain’t letting up until I’m done.”

You wanted to be shocked, to be disappointed, but unfortunately you weren’t the least bit surprised. Floch had this determination about him to see things through to the bitter end, even when all the odds were stacked high against him; even now when you strongly opposed his selfish desires.

But he somehow always managed to get what he wanted. And there he stayed, buried to the hilt as he continued to thrust into you from behind, smugly whispering about how good you squeezed him, as he kissed along your heated skin.

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #Attack on Titan #AOT #shinjeki no kyojin #snk #eren jeager #levi ackerman #erwin smith #connie springer #jean kirstein #reiner braun #aot onyankopon #armin arlert #floch forster #dub con #non con #proceed with caution #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut

[xjustakay]

(8/26) prompt: crow — 916 words (deep pillow talk with jegulus; mentioned sexual content) @jegulus-microfic

James lies between Regulus’ legs, arms on either side of him and head laid on his stomach. For the last five minutes it’s been nothing but quietly catching their breaths and soft touches in the aftermath of unraveling one another. 

It’s usually like this. When they fuck, they handle each other roughly —littering each other in different shades of red and purple, breathing filthy words meant only for them. The pleasant ache in muscle remains, the stinging scalp from hair being tugged a touch too hard, the indents of teeth pressed into skin, the dizzying haze of it all; it’s all there. Still, it’s different after.

As easy as the flip of a light switch, the softness returns. James’ kisses turn delicate and caressing over the glaring red of scratches his nails left behind. Regulus takes to carding his long fingers through James’ dark waves of hair to soothe the reminder of his previously relentless grip. Like light and dark, day and night, they fluctuate back and forth seamlessly. 

To anyone else, it might feel like whiplash, but to Regulus it’s exactly what he needs, even when he can’t always articulate that properly with words. Sometimes he needs the back and forth of it all, the violence of it. It’s deeply ingrained in his bones, that fight. Just as much, no one’s ever treated him so carefully as James. A part of Regulus’ soul wails in some mixed up cocktail of relief and further longing each time.

You get to have this. Let yourself have it.

James’ head lifts from his stomach to kiss a line up his torso, over his sternum, over the tattoo etched into his skin on the left side of his chest. 

“You never told me why you got this one.” James’ breath is warm, lips brushing over the black ink stark on pale skin.

Regulus tilts his chin down toward his chest to glance down at him, one brow lifted. He’s got several tattoos now —influenced by an older brother with his own proclivity for body modification as a form of self expression. Regulus never thought that would be him, but now he’s six tattoos deep and is familiar with the itch of craving another.

James asks him each time; if they mean something, who they’re for if that applies, what made him choose that particular design. James asks him a lot of questions, little things and big ones. He likes to know him in a way that even after a few months of doing what they’ve been doing, Regulus is still getting used to. 

Sometimes he feels sliced open by the interest —a scalpel’s path cut precisely down his body, flesh and muscle pulled back, beating heart vulnerably on display. It’s been an adjustment, still is some days, but it’s worth it. For James, of course it is.

Tattoos are some of the easiest things to talk about. They’re personal but often slightly impersonal in comparison to some of the other things James asks him to share. Grey eyes flicker from James’ face to the large crow inked onto his chest then back again.

“Symbolism, mostly,” He says, starting simple.

James brushes another soft kiss along the tattooed bird's tail and nods encouragingly. He settles his hand on Regulus’ chest, leans his chin on the back of it, and looks up at him. Hazel eyes bright and attentive, he waits for more to listen to.

“Crows can be viewed as both good and bad omens, starting in mythology and in literature. They symbolize opposite things. On one end, death, misfortune, danger, illness.”

Regulus distracts from the noticed furrow in James’ brow by shifting his focus to where he traces an absent swirling pattern with his finger along his shoulder.

“On the other, rebirth, self-reflection, loyalty, intelligence.” He pauses, pursing his lips, gliding his hand down James’ bicep just to touch, to feel him really there beneath his hand. “It’s the bad things that they get most remembered for, though. Many people just fear them out of habit. Not even realizing that they can represent anything good.”

A weighted silence lingers, thick in the air between them. Regulus allows what he’s said to sink in —James is smart, the pieces will click. As soon as they do, James is shifting. For a fleeting moment, Regulus feels his stomach roll sickly, thinking he might be moving away from him. Instead, though, James shuffles a few inches upward, forearms bracketing Regulus’ shoulders, so he can look him in the face, brush a couple dark curls off his forehead with careful fingers.

There’s a subtle furrow in his brow, but he meets Regulus’ eyes and tilts his head. “So you got it for yourself.”

Hazel eyes that see through him, right down to the bone.

A chest cracked open. A heart bared.

Regulus nods once, shifts his shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Felt fitting.”

James lifts his left hand as he looks down at the crow on Regulus’ chest. His palm scorches Regulus through when it settles over it, a stutter and skip of a beat beneath the touch.

“I think that’s beautiful,” James murmurs, his overwhelmingly loving gaze moving back to Regulus’ face.

I think you’re beautiful, is a phantom whisper in the inches between them. He’s not even sure which of them would be the one to say it.

Regulus tilts up to kiss him, slow and lingering, tender, because it’s all he can do when James makes him feel this way.

#jegulus #this one got deep idk man #like it’s soft but also feels just a smidge dark lmao #anyway i wanna squeeze them #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing

[fanficonly]

Wenclair x Reader -

What Are You?- Chapter 9

Getting back into posting semi-regularly only like a week after the last update... I call that progress... Enjoy 😋

"Excuse me?" Your tone is very offensive and you can't quite process what is happening.

"Wednesday what did we talk about?" Enid placed her hands on her hips, waiting for her oblivious girlfriend to grasp the social implications of the sentence she just so casually used.

"My apologies let me start at the beginning" she looks to Enid for approval and Enid nods turning back to you. "We know you weren't wandering the halls cause you wish to appease your appetite" she states accusingly

'Play dumb,play dumb, play dumb' your mind screams at you

"Uhhh what exactly are you accusing me of?" You reply, extremely confused because why was it such a crime to be out in the halls at 10:30pm? And what makes her an expert on what you were doing? And what the hell has that got to do with you literally having the demand to strip hurled your way by the petite woman?

"No accusations, we are merely suspicious of you" Wednesday narrowed her eyes as panic flooded throughout your body. Crap! This is not what you needed right now. These 2 were relentless. How are you suppose to limit your weirdly growing feelings towards the 2 if in just 24 hours they have made it their mission to be around you invading your space like a rag-tag alien duo on a mission for information.

"Why? You barely know me?" Was all that you could think to say. Like don't get you wrong, you're flattered they are even the slightest bit interested in you, even if it is just because they are weary of you but still it didn't make sense. Surely you were just another outcast to them, why did they care ...noone else ever has.

Well sure the whole draining Enid part obviously peaked thier interest but you didn't think it would go this far. In fact you expected to be attacked by Wednesday and then for both girls to avoid you the rest of the year. Which, as much as it would be soul crushing, was better than hurting the only 2 people you had even remotely connected with in years.

Both girls remained silent and you became fidgety with the lack of noise or explanation. They were looking at eachother now not saying a word and merely making faces. Well... Enid was making faces, Wednesday on the other hand remained straight-faced and unmoving.

"So are you gonna tell us who or what attacked you?" Enid suddenly spoke completely changing the subject.

"Nothing attacked me I told you it was an accident just me being clumsy" You're not sure why you feel the need to even explain. You could just deflect since you barely know these girls but something about them caused you to have an internal conflict when lying to them.

"How dense do you think we are?" Wednesday deadpanned, not buying a single word of what you were saying.

Try Harder.

Convince them.

Wednesday moves towards her bed lightly frustrated with your uncooperative nature and pulls out what can only be described as a surgeons dream suitcase full of torturous looking tools.

"What are you doing?" you take a step back eyes fixated on the array of sharp instruments, holding your hands up in defense. You understood she was violent but was she really going to cut yo with a thousand knives?! A psychopath really shouldn't be this attractive to you ... It's troubling to say the least.

"Relax I told Wednesday she wasn't allowed to torture information out of you" Enid smiled way to widely for someone who just implied that they had discussed causing you grievous bodily harm but the wink it was paired with was even more disconcerting.

"It would make things a lot easier my dear" Wednesday hummed from behind Enid, lightly irritated by the power that her girlfriend had over her.

"Babe we discussed this" Enid's smile never wavered and instead she spoke through gritted teeth, trying to convince you that you were in no danger. Honestly, the smile that pulled at your own lips was of a betraying nature considering they were literally talking about the fact they had pre-discussed torturing you. But they were just so ... Funny and cute and- stop it! You free yourself from the cage you were about to trap yourself in.

"Yes dear" Wednesday folded. It seemed rather unnatural for a woman of her standing but you chose not to pry, instead changing the subject

"Ok lovely to know you won't be inflicting any harm on me but what's with the umm- the surgical equipment then?" you point to the devices and relax slightly, still keeping your guard raised.

"I do usually use these to inflict harm but they can heal all the same." Wednesday speaks arranging the tools neatly across her table

well that's terrifying.

You flit your eyes between Wednesday and the sharp instruments, unable to hide the discomfort you feel and then ultimately look towards Enid with a pleading look.

"I Promise it's safe. Wednesday has extensive medical training" Enid walks closer to you, hands raise to show you that she was not trying to hurt you.

"Umm well I just-" How do you get out of this! There's no way they are going to let you leave but if you stay that means more questions and more questions means more suspicions raised.

"Look" Enid raised her shirt exposing her torso ever so slightly and it's as if by instinct you look away. What was she doing, this kind of exposure made you physically ache with desire. Once she reaches you however she takes a breath and says "Mine healed". This sparks your interest and you slowly trail your eyes to her torso

You're eyes widen at the sight of 4 large scars painted across her hip.

"Oh my god what happened?" you can't hide your concern, it looked painful almost like the person or thing that inflicted them was attempting to kill rather than injure.

"I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours" she speaks more seriously this time and you can't help but let out a breathy "huh" as Enid lowers her shirt, a small innocent smile playing on her lips, teasing you.

"Well played" you mumble, rolling your eyes.

Before you can say anything else or Enid has a chance to respond you hear Wednesday's voice

"Enid come here darlin I need your claws" she didn't turn away from the desk until Enid skipped over to her effortlessly retracting her colourful claws.

Wednesday craned her neck slightly up and whispered something in Enid's ear and you watch as her eyes flick to you quickly then back to Wednesday. She kisses the pale girls cheek and you hear Wednesday say "Take this" and the 2 move in sync, the image of what they are doing hidden by there bodies "Here" Wednesday says again.

This is your chance , while they are distracted, just creep towards the door slowly and quietly and ...

No that would never work they could just corner you tomorrow. But you could just avoid them, give you time to think of an explanation? You did need to be stitched up but you had also already called your wicked godmother, regardless of whether she had answered or not. But could you even trust Wednesday near you with a literal murder weapon? Thoughts swirl in your head violently as you try to make a decision.

Quick you're running out of time!

Fuck it. You decide to do exactly what you had originally planned after much deliberation in your own head.

You take a step back. No indication that either of the girls had noticed. Thank God they were so focused on the equipment instead of you. So you continue to walk backwards, finally reaching for the door after moving agonisingly slowly towards it and never taking your eyes off of thier backs.

Your hand lightly twist the door a very very quiet click is heard and you wince at the noise, your eyes jumping to Enid and Wednesday who still seemed oblivious.

Right as you go to swing the door open and make a break for it, the door knob slips from between your grasp and a loud BANG! From the door closing shudders throughout the room

"What the-" was that magic? Who the fuck slammed the door shut? You eye the door up and down then physically jump at the sight of a disembodied hand at the foot of the door wagging its finger at you "Holy fu-" you hold your hands down in defense much like you had when the mouse had scuttled it's way towards you and then turn your head towards the eyes in the room.

Wednesday and Enid made no attempt to move from where they were stood and instead both stared at you, arms crossed in disapproval of your failed escape attempt.

"Thank You Thing" Wednesday says politely still looking at you eyebrows raised. Right now you're not sure whether to die from embarrassment being bested by a hand or to drop to your knees and plead not guilty.

Plan failed.

"Uhhhh, I was just-" you're kind of glad you were interrupted because even you weren't sure what half arsed explanation your brain would muster up for you anyway.

"Trying to escape we know" Wednesday deadpans and the way her eyes drill into your soul is either really unsettling or incredibly captivating... You haven't decided which yet.

"She's not a prisoner Wednesday" Enid's disapproval moved towards Wednesday then back to you reassuringly "Youre not a prisoner Y/N" she sighs out making her way towards you, Wednesday following suit as if magnetically connected to the blonde

"Kind of feels like I am" you let out a nervous laugh while side-eyeing ... What did Wednesday call it ... Thing?

"Leave if you must Y/N I am only trying to help" Wednesday spoke

"In return for what though?" you weren't used to getting things without anything expected in return. Someone helps you, you owe them a favour it's as simple as that. And although you hadn't known them all that long you're brain was bombarded with various dangerous scenarios you may end up in trying to make up for everything.

"An explanation of who and what you are" Wednesday says and stares at you expectantly. Well you knew she was straightforward but damn tell me what you want straight up why don't you.

"Wednesday!" Enid shot her girlfriend a look. Clearly subtlety was not Wednesday's strong suit

"Heh she's straightforward I'll give you that" you find yourself smirking at Enid as if admiring her choice of mate.

"Not a lot of anything else she does is straight don't worry" Enid pipes up taking the opportunity to lighten the mood and you let out a surprised laugh at the witty response.

Her girlfriend however simply rolls her eyes at the joke, but fails to suppress the small smile that flashes across her features for a millisecond. Then her face twists into one of annoyance

"You want honesty?" Wednesday took a step forward offensively, wide eyes threatening you And although you were slightly terrified you pursed your lips rubbing your chin and taking a more loose step forward yourself

"Yes I do" you found yourself challenging the girl, tilting your head.

"You don't know who you're messing with" Wednesday warned and you watched as Enid tugged harshly at Wednesdays sleeve, silently trying to end the impending conflict

"I like to think I could take you" you fold your arms. You weren't one to back down from a fight ... As long as that fight wasn't with ... Certain people in your life.

"Enid she's a comedian" Wednesday eerily tilted her head to the side, mirroring your actions and eventhough it shook you to your very core you told yourself to suck it up and sarcastically said

"Why thank you" performing a courtesy and smiling.

"Listen-" she starts but you can't risk her coming up with an airtight argument against you

"No you listen I appreciate what you're trying to do but this is bigger than-" and yet you were still interrupted obviously failing at asserting any kind of dominance. But really what hand did you have to play here

"Stop talking." She demanded, finally some kind of emotion peaking out from beneath her icy exterior.

"What I-" again she didn't let you finish.

"You want honesty?" She asked rhetorically again "You. Hurt. Enid" each word felt like a thousand cuts and all you could do was submit and look away in shame, prompting Wednesday to continue "And yet I am still here offering you aid in your time of need because it is what Enid wants and quite frankly I would like to help you aswell and I am not sure why so let me help you or don't..." She begins to move towards you with a fiery and threatening posture "but just understand this you do not want me as an enemy I will make sure that every moment in your life becomes nothing more than a waking nightmare and- " the passion, the fire, the energy she exerted was mesmerising and you're sure it's the most she's spoken in one breath since you met her.

"Okayyyyyy" Enid placed herself between the two of you. With each word Wednesday got closer and closer to you and honestly the relief you felt seeing the back of the blonde's head before Wednesday reached you was incredible

"You're right" you sigh in defeat "I'm sorry and I know that's not enough but I would like to make it up to you... The both of you" Everything Wednesday said was right and although you couldn't share much with them, all they had done so far is try to help so you could accept the help and start making amends. In fact you were going to accept the help and start making amends immediately.

She nods at you then motions for you to sit on the bed.

"I've just always been taught to be defensive I know you're only trying to help" you continue trying to settle the Seer even more so before she took a needle to your skin

"I believe you... now... I ask you once again to take your top off" Wednesday repeats and this time you can't help but reply

"More like an order but okay" unbuttoning your shirt nonetheless only pausing when Enid chimes in

"I know it's hot isn't it" she smirks and you laugh a little and weirdly enough find yourself nodding in agreement

"Enid" Wednesday's voice says it all and with no more words spoken the blonde submits.

"Sorry babe" she mumbles trying to dull her excitement.

What is going on?! You're really unsure of everything now. How quickly you switch between hating eachother and helping eachother. It's like Enid was the peacekeeper, the balance ... And to be honest the flirt and Wednesday was... Ohhhh now you understand why they work so well together.

So you do exactly as instructed and continue to take your shirt off, unbuttoning it slowly and rather timidly at that.

"Sorry it's a little awkward" you nervously laugh letting the shirt fall off your shoulders

"It's perfectly fine we have already seen-" Enid's words tangle into a grunt as Wednesday harshly elbows her in an attempt to stop her from talking.

"What?" You halt your actions, your chest half exposed and now suspicion filling your gut while continuing to remove the item of clothing but slower this time with more distrust.

"I meeean- it's nothing we haven't seen before you know, we're all women here" Enid laughs it off but you're still skeptical.

You had every right to be as at this very moment, Thing had been inspecting the box you came in with and as he popped open the lid the mouse you had so triumphantly caught earlier scurried out hurriedly and ran down the table leg.

""Ah nooo I just caught you you little- " and again your words fall short when you watch the mouse run towards Wednesday, scuttle up her leg and practically dive into her pocket

Your mouth slowly falls open in mortifying realisation.

"You ..." You say the word accusingly pointing a finger at both girls and slowly rising from the bed, as you consider pulling the shirt back up over your shoulders

"Y/N its not what you think" Enid screeched out defensively

"It's probably close to what she is currently thinking" Wednesday rebutted, not helping the situation AT ALL.

"You guys were..." With each passing moments your mind fills in the blanks. They never left! They were there the whole time! While you were undressing and calling your- oh god...

"No no it's not it's not what you think" Enid is stumbling over her words now but nothing could stop you from the information encasing your head with fears and doubts galore.

"She's a smart girl I'm sure she'll connect the dots" Wednesday smirks as if enjoying the thrill of being caught in a lie.

"Wednesday!" Enid yells face palming and shaking her head

#wenclair #wenclair fanfic #wenclair x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wednesday x enid #wenclair what are you

[bigdumbbambieyes]

modern au nsfw

steve had expected his boyfriend to crowd him against the front door and kiss him when he got home from work, but what he didn’t expect was the ‘gift’ hidden behind billy’s back that accompanied the familiar greeting.

“thought of you when i saw this earlier,” billy says easily as he brings his hand around, showing off his find.

it’s…something. it’s a few inches long, made of soft yet firm silicone, transparent, with flexible ridges inside and an opening all the way through.

he’s confused.

but, he knows that smirk on his boyfriend’s face all too well.

“what’s it for?” he asks, his tone unsure as he eyes the…thing.

billy hums, “more like who is it for, pretty boy,” his smirk turns into a grin, sharp like his eyes are as they roam over steve’s body, “and the answer is: you.”

“mhm,” steve furrows his brows and narrows his eyes, dubious as always as he tentatively takes the sleeve from billy’s hand when it’s offered, feeling that blue gaze on him as he examines the object in his hand for a moment.

then, billy brings his other hand from around his back, a bottle of lube resting in his palm, and steve blinks.

he hasn’t even put his things down yet.

“did we run out?” he asks with a small tilt of his head, trying to remember how much had been left after last night.

billy shakes his head slowly, that smug smile still on his annoyingly handsome face before he motions towards the sleeve with his chin, “it’s to use with that.”

steve huffs and gives the blond a look, “can’t you just tell me what it’s for���”

“—jesus, it’s for your dick, princess.” billy huffs in response, annoyed.

oh.

steve blinks again and then his gaze drops from billy’s eyes, down to his mouth, and then to the toy in his hand.

he sticks his finger inside it and the sensation makes all of the blood in his body rush down to his dick, filling out and chubbing up as he rubs the pad of his finger along the ridges inside, slowly, back and forth. he can’t help but imagine it around his dick, slippery and warm.

billy grins again as he watches steve finger the toy, seeing how his pretty boy’s blush travels down his cheeks and neck. he steps closer, takes the heavy tote bag from steve’s arm, and sets it down by the door before kissing at his neck, mumbling, “wanna try it?”

“now?” steve nearly whispers, tilting his head to the side when billy nips at his skin, a clear ‘yes’.

he chokes back a sound when he feels billy’s palm cover the front of his jeans, rubbing at his dick through the rough denim, and fuck, yeah, he wants to try it now.

“c’mon,” steve breathes, pushing at billy’s shoulder.

——

it’s…a lot.

it’s tight and slick, warm from billy’s hand that’s wrapped around it as he works steve’s dick, sliding up and down and quick around the tip in a way that makes steve whimper in the back of his throat.

it’s almost too much - especially when he feels billy’s chin hook over his shoulder, clearly taking in the little show, watching the wet tip of steve’s dick disappear and reappear at the top of the sleeve with every stroke.

“mm, you like it?” billy groans into his ear, talking low and filthy, grinning mean, “you’re moaning like a little bitch, stevie, of course you love it—”

“—shut up.” steve pants, feeling his face flush hot at the degrading words, just as his cock gushes out precum.

billy chuckles, “or what? you gonna cum, hm? you like this fake pussy that much, honey?”

steve tilts his head back against billy’s shoulder, feels a strong arm wrap around his middle, stabilizing them both as he squirms and whines as billy keeps his relentless pace up, the slick sound of the toy on his cock making him feel more and more desperate. “no,” he pants, petulant, because fuck billy.

“fucking liar,” the blond growls against his ear, “you’re making me jealous of a fucking sex toy, baby. that should be me, riding your big cock.”

“you’re—” steve cuts himself off as he feels billy’s tongue is on his neck, hot and wet as he licks up the side of his throat, “you’re the one that bought it,” he manages quietly, gripping at billy’s muscled thighs that bracket his, “you did this to yourself.”

“doesn’t matter,” billy murmurs, “you’re the one that fucking fingered it at the front door and got hard at just the thought of using it.” he presses his mouth to steve’s ear, tone dipping low as he mutters, “so fucking filthy, stevie. and so goddamn easy.”

he should be ashamed at how hot it makes him when billy calls him easy, but he isn’t, not when his balls are drawing up and his back arches, jaw dropping as he feels his orgasm getting closer and closer, panting, “billy, billy, fuck—”

“that’s it,” billy urges him, a smile evident in his voice as he murmurs, “c’mon, stevie, c’mon.”

steve manages a final gasp of billy’s name before he’s spilling all over the duvet cover and down billy’s knuckles, faintly hearing billy’s pleased moan as he floats in that hazy little high.

a careful hand turns his face and billy’s kissing him, pushing his tongue inside and steve tries his best to kiss back but he’s far too lazy.

billy doesn’t seem to mind, he sucks on his boyfriend’s tongue and lips for a few more moments before he groans into steve’s mouth, “fuck, that was so hot.”

he manages a soft noise of agreement, until he feels billy begin the move the toy again and then steve’s sucking in a sharp breath and turning his head to look at billy with wide eyes.

billy’s staring right back at him, grinning as he hums, “think we can get a second one outta you, pretty boy?”

well. there’s no harm in trying, steve supposes.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #billy x steve #lemon #surprise!! it’s smut!! #modern au #bambiwrites

[saiidahyunie]

hi! I really love your posts 💓 could I request a Sana as your girlfriend headcanon?

hiiiiii thank you sm i try to be interesting on here >.<

i think for headcannons i would write up a drabble but since this is more of a 'what they would do' sort of thing i think it's better for me to list the things out that sana or anyone from twice would do in a relationship so here we go :3

sana's duality scares me she could be top or bottom it's unpredictable

--

sana's safe side:

quite a straightforward relationship

sana won’t be the type to waste her time with you

will very quickly let you know how she expects the relationship to progress etc.

a lot of her time will be spent trying to find out everything possible about you

believes that is the best way to show interest in someone

and whatever you let her in on, expect her to use it in the future

tell her your favorite meal? expect her to try and cook it for you on bad days

it probably won’t turn out well but it’s the thought that counts

mention a specific place you want to travel to? she’ll book the tickets

extremely clingy

so if you’re not into that, learn to get used to it or move on

because she is RELENTLESS

but in reality, it’s actually a bit of a coping mechanism for her

if she’s stressed or worried about something

you must hold her close and reassure her things will be fine

has a bit of a thing for nuzzling her forehead into your neck

that same clinginess will lead to a few jealous moments

and she won’t hesitate to let you know when she doesn’t like the way someone is eyeing you up

thus will become even more clingy than usual to show them you’re together

loves to send you cute texts whenever she’s away that she hopes brightens your day

“i found this flower and it reminded me of you”

the true test in your relationship will come when you’re introduced to her parents

it’s important to her for both sides to understand each other and get along

and she respects their opinion so it means a lot to her to see you trying so hard around them

tries her best to be romantic too

enjoys writing the words “i love you” rather than saying it too often

she thinks it loses it’s meaning if you throw it around all of the time

and she’ll love it if you keep her little notes

---

sana's crazy side:

life in the bedroom depends entirely on her mood

can either be the biggest pillow princess when she’s grumpy

and expects you to just go to work and give her everything she wants

very demanding about it too just so she can keep a bit of control

or the most dominant and giving person alive

and like her clinginess she’s relentless

the type to want to have sex on every single surface possible

when she’s in this type of mood do not even dare try to pleasure yourself

that is a job just for her and may get a bit offended if you do try to

massive hand fetish thus fingering is a huge turn-on for her

LOVES to tease ALL of the time

especially in social settings when she knows you can’t do much about it

likely will progress this into the two of you having sex in public at some point

highkey likes the thrill of potentially being caught

but if you ever are she may be too spooked to do it again

absolutely has sent you numerous nude photos from backstage areas

“bet you wish you were here right now”

quite loud and expects you to be the same

again, will be a bit offended if not

not easily put off by new things being introduced to your sex life

loves orgasm control, and wax play (giving)

but toys are usually reserved for her receiving which includes impact play and bondage

she prefers pleasuring you herself

but doesn’t mind you using extras on her if you wish to

bit of a masochist

doesn’t mind role-playing but likes to remind you she’s in control

overall an experimental relationship

aftercare will be spent bathing together as she holds you in her arms

#saiiidahyunee #anon asks #sana imagines #minatozaki sana #twice imagines #twice sana

[dragonbe-writing]

My Name Around Your Neck (John Price fic)

Word Count: 4.1

Summary: (Female x OC (no name)) shows up to the bar with a little gold necklace saying "John." Price gets jealous when she flirts with Soap, and she gently reminds him there is more than one "John" on the team. MDNI! 18+

Warnings: Basically all smut tbh. Jealous price, possessive price, LOTS of orgasm denial, begging, semi-public masturbation? i guess?, some fluff towards the end (let me know if i forget anything)

Request are open! I am currently working on one &lt;3! Enjoy!

No matter how much teasing they got from Gaz, her and the Captain weren’t officially a thing. 

Was she often found next to him? Yes. Was it often his name falling from her lips in the dead of the night? Yes. Did they both have matching hickies? Also yes. But they weren’t official. 

But when she showed up to the bar in that dress, collarbone littered with his marks, and a small, golden necklace with his name on it? They might as well have been married. 

Well, to him. 

“Everything alright, Captain?” she cooed, a smirk plastered on her face. 

“Absolutely,” he replied, scooting over to give her room. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Oh, I was going to sit by Soap, if that’s okay,” she said, eyes darting to the now empty seat next to Price. 

“You were?” Soap asked. 

“Yeah. Just to… mix it up a little bit,” she trailed off, taking the seat next to Soap in the already crowded booth. She sat so close to him their thighs were touching, bringing a dust of pink to Soap’s cheeks.  The Captain’s gaze on her was intense and relentless. 

“Alright,” Ghost started, easing some of the tension. “Well, uhm- anyone do anything interesting?” 

“Are you serious?” Gaz asked.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Ghost replied.

“I did learn recently that 90% of scotch matured in barrels once used for Bourbon,” she said.

“I could use a scotch,” Soap replied.

“Oh, me too-” she started.

“Since when do you drink scotch?” Price asked, tone hard as stone. 

“What, a girl can’t change her mind?” she snapped back, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to order. I’ll be right back,” she said, looking at Soap, placing her hand on his forearm before walking to the bar. Soap’s eyes were blown wide, confused by all the sudden attention. 

“What’s gotten into her?” Gaz piped up as she leaned against the bar. “You and her fighting?” 

“Shut your mouth, kid,” Price snapped, jaw clenching. They weren’t fighting, but there was a new… distance between them. An invisible wall. 

Her laugh echoed through the bar, head thrown back at whatever the man behind the counter said. Everyone snuck a glance at Price, whose eyes were glued to her. 

“God, there he goes,” Soap muttered, watching him stand from the booth and make his way over to the bar. 

“Need help with the drinks, sweetheart?” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back, glaring daggers at the poor soul working the bar. 

“Sweetheart? When did that start?” she asked, gathering the glasses in her arms. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he snapped, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“I don’t have a clue what you’re on about,” she replied coolly. 

“Feeling up MacTavish? Like I’m not sitting right in front of you?” 

“Why does it matter?”

“How does it not matter?”

She stared at him, their eyes projecting all the harsh emotions they were feeling. She tugged him down to her level, breath hot against his face. 

“Since when have you cared who I fooled around with?” she whispered.

“Since you started wearing my name around your neck,” he replied, taking the necklace between his fingers. His eyes bore into her, a warning of sorts. 

“Last I checked, there was more than one “John” on our team, Captain.” 

“And last I checked the only one fucking you was me.” 

She glared at him, grabbing the drinks and turning away, heading back to the table. He stormed out, heading for god knows where. 

“What was that about?” Gaz pestered. She waved away his question, letting the scotch slide down her throat. She scrunched her face up in disgust. 

“Don’t like the scotch after all?” Ghost snickered. 

~~~~

“Night, Soap!” she called, turning the doorknob to her cabin. She reached for the lamp, turning it on with a click as she headed to the bathroom. “Thought I’d find you here.” 

Price was sitting in her chair, hat on the table next to him, eyes fixated on her. 

“Didn’t think you would leave that fast,” she admitted, taking out her earrings and grabbing a makeup wipe. She slowly dragged it along her face, pushing his buttons further. 

“So, this was your plan all along, then?” he replied, voice low. She came out of the bathroom, looking at him with a surge of confidence. His face illuminated by the lamp was cold and unmoving. “Make me jealous?”

“Maybe,” she replied, sinking into his lap and straddling him. “Thought it might be fun.”

“Why? So I can fuck your brains out?” He whispered in her ear, chuckling darkly as she rutted down against him. “So I can take what’s mine, and fuck that little hole of yours so hard the only thing you remember is my cock? So you can scream my name so loud you forget your own?”

A mewl escaped from her throat, her breathing growing heavy at his words. His cock throbbed beneath his jeans. She had settled on his thigh, the material of his pants and her underwear creating the perfect friction. She had her face tucked into his neck, lips caressing his skin. 

“Is that what you want, Princess? You want me to split you open?” He asked, teeth grazing her earlobe. He flexed his thigh, amused at her reaction. 

“Fuck- yes, please John,” she moaned, hips moving sporadically against him as she searched for her release. 

He scooped her up, carrying her to the bed and dropping her against the mattress. Before she could catch her breath, his lips were on her neck, nibbling at her skin and pulling whines from her lips. 

“You’ve not been a good girl, have you, sweetheart?” he asked, one hand slipping under her dress and palming her cunt. 

“No, sir,” she breathed out, eyes snapping closed at the contact. She reached out and felt his erection through his pants. 

“Look at you, completely soaked. Pathetic,” he said, lips trailing across her collarbone and finding their way to her breast. 

“Please, John,” she begged, gasping as he swirled his tongue around her sensitive bud. 

“Please what, darling? What do you want?” he rolled her nipple between his teeth gently, making her cry out. 

“I want to be punished, sir. Please.”

“You deserve to be punished, don’t you?” His fingers slipped through her folds, rubbing circles on her clit. Her back arched, a broken whine escaping her lips. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“‘Cause you’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” his voice rumbled through her body, tightening the growing knot in her stomach. He always knew how to wind her up. 

“I am!” she mewled, hands gripping the sheets. 

“You’re what?”

“A bad girl!” she squeaked. “Fuck, John, I’m close-”

“Well that’s too bad isn’t it?” She opened her eyes, watching him walk away and wiping his fingers on his pants. “Maybe MacTavish can help you,” he snapped, turning the knob and closing the door behind him. 

She was stunned, hand reaching down to relieve the tension in her. She rubbed her clit with intense desire, whining in frustration at the missing warmth of him. She easily slid two fingers in her needy hole, desperately trying to find that release. 

She couldn’t do it. Her fingers couldn’t stretch her out as much as his, and they couldn’t get nearly as deep either. She removed them, letting her hands fall to her sides in a choked out sob, sweat coating her body. 

She wanted to cry, to scream, to run after him butt-ass naked and plead for mercy, begging him to let her finish. But she stayed in her bed, pulling the covers over her and forcing her eyes closed. 

~~~~~

She barely slept. She tossed and turned all night. 

“You look terrible,” Soap teased, passing her a cup of coffee. 

“I will knock your fucking teeth in, MacTavish,” she snapped, bringing the cup to her lips. 

“Whoa, a bit hostile this morning, aren’t we, love?” Price said, wrapping his hands around her waist. She damn near whined at the contact, feeling his chest pressed against her back. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“Gross,” Soap grunted, turning and heading back over to Gaz and Ghost. Her face was burning with embarrassment. 

He released her, stepping to the side of her and grabbing his own cup. “Sleep well?” he asked, eyes glistening with dominance. He could bend her over and fuck her in front of everyone, and she would thank him. 

“No. Not at all,” she replied, heading over to sit with the rest of them. 

“Aw, why not? Couldn’t quite find that position to release all the tension in your body?” He taunted, her eyes snapping up to him with a glare. 

“No, I couldn’t,” she snapped back, throwing herself against the couch with a huff. 

“You seem to be in a better mood, Captain,” Gaz commented, making him chuckle. 

“Oh, I slept wonderfully, Sergeant,” he replied. “I do have lots of work to do, though. Each one of you needs to come by my office at some point. Have to update some paperwork.” 

~~~~

She had been avoiding him all day. The ache between her thighs was constant, and she couldn’t bring herself to release no matter how hard she tried. And she had tried. 

She snuck off to the bathroom during training, locking herself in a stall. She had both hands in her pants, her fingers fucking her faster than she could process while her other hand rubbed her clit. She got close, she got so fucking close, but she never could get over the edge. 

She was currently on her way to her cabin to try again.

She heard him call her name as she walked past his office. 

“It won’t take long, just a couple things to clear up,” Price said. She cursed and followed him inside, closing the door behind her. “How’s your day been, darling?” 

“Don’t “darling” me,” she snapped. “You know exactly how my day’s been going.” 

He raised his eyebrow in an amused smirk, looking at her from behind his desk. She sat down in a chair across from him, arms crossed. 

“Are you tense, love?” he asked, tossing his paperwork on his desk. She didn’t reply. “If you want something, you tell me, doll.” He leant back, folding his arms behind his head and shifting in his seat, opening his legs up and revealing his erection. She let her eyes wander, landing on the tent in his pants and watching the fabric tighten around him. 

“John, I’m sorry, I should’ve never-”

“Tell me what you want. Or are you just gonna keep drooling over me?” he teased. 

“You, John. I want you,” she whined, rubbing her thighs together for any friction she could get. 

“Atta girl. Come here,” he said, patting his lap. She was up without hesitation, practically tripping over herself to get to him. She went to sit in his lap, only to earn a look from him. “Pants off, sweetheart.” 

She undid the button, letting her pants fall to the ground and tugging her underwear down with it. He smiled to himself. 

“Aw, poor girl, already so wet for me, and I haven’t even touched you,” he sighed. She nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment and eyes hungry for him. 

“Please, sir. I need it.” 

“Need, ay?” he taunted, hands on the outsides of her thighs. “Those are strong words, love,” he drew circles with his thumbs, fingers pressing into her flesh. 

“I mean them,” she whined, sinking down into his lap. She shuttered at contact, burying her face in his neck. “Need you so fucking badly, John.” 

“Are you sure it’s not the other John you need?” he asked, hands moving to her ass. 

“No sir. I need you, John. You only,” she moaned, grinding against his thigh. He raised his hand, bringing it down with a hard slap against her ass, making her cry out. 

“I’m not convinced,” he snapped, slapping her ass again. 

“Please-” another slap. “John, I need you- fuck.” 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, Sergeant. You liked being punished, brat? You like when I smack your ass?” he taunted, bringing his hand down again. 

“Yes- John, please-”

“Look at you, riding my thigh, begging for me to touch you,” her ass was red now, tears forming in her eyes. 

“Please-” her words turned to cries, the knot in her stomach once again growing. 

“Tell you what, Princess,” he started grabbing her chin and making her look him in the eyes. “You want me to let you cum tonight? Want me to fuck you stupid?” 

“Yes, sir, please-” 

“10 o’clock. Leave your door unlocked. I want you on the bed, legs spread for me. Only thing you should be wearing is that pretty little necklace. You understand, love?” There was mercy in his eyes as they scanned over her face. 

“Yes, John,” she choked out. He smiled at her, wiping away a tear and pulling her in for a kiss. It was gentle, innocent. He pulled away, kissing her forehead once more. 

“Good girl. Pants back on, sweetheart,” he ordered, focus drifting back to his paperwork. She whined as she stepped back into her clothing, her release slipping away again. He slapped her ass one last time as she walked out, earning a giggle from her. 

~~~~

It was 10 o’clock sharp when he opened the door. She spread eagle on the bed, hands already gripping the sheets. The necklace sat nicely on her chest. 

“Look how beautiful,” he said, pulling his shirt off and tossing it across the room. “Such a pretty girl.” 

She smiled, sitting up and watching him unbuckles his pants, his cock painfully hard. He pulled the waistband down, his cock springing free. The tip was an intense red, already dripping with precum. She licked her lips, and he couldn’t help but blush at her reaction. 

“What do you want, sweetheart? You want to go slow-?”

“Fuck no,” she said with no hesitation. “I’ve been wet since last night. Just fuck me, please,” she whined, reaching out and stroking his cock. 

“Oh come on,” he said, placing his thumb against her cheek. “I know you can do better than that, pretty girl.” He grabbed her chin, leaning down close to her face. “Beg for me.” 

Her eyes were wide, staring back into him with a burning desire. 

“Please, sir. I need you to fill me up, sir,” she said, pulling him onto the bed. “I need you so badly, can’t cum without you, John.”

“How many times did you try, sweetheart? How many times did you get so close, only to lose it at the last second?”

“Four,” she whined. “One last night, one this morning, once in the bathroom, and then in your office.”

“Poor thing,” he mocked. 

“Please,” she begged, “I need you so badly.” 

He pushed her on her back, crawling on top of her and shoving his knee between her legs. She moaned, instantly grinding against it, 

“You need it, huh?” he mocked, lips falling to her neck. 

“Yes baby, need you so bad- mmf, please fuck me, sir. I need you to fuck me deep, fuck me so hard I can’t walk-” a growl came from his throat as he sucked a dark bruise on her neck. 

“Can’t do it yourself?” he teased, his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin. 

“No sir,” she whined. “I tried, I tried so fucking hard, John, but I can’t,” she cried out as his knee pushed back against her. “I can’t get anywhere close to how you make me feel, John.” 

“You’re damn right,” he snapped, spreading her legs with his knee. He pushed the tip against her folds, soaking it with her slick as he lined himself up. He pushed into her, pulling a groan from both of them as he sank to the base. 

“Oh my fucking god-” she whined, her walls stretching around him. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You take me so well,” he moaned, head raised to look at her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to go deeper into her. 

He rolled his hips, the skin of his stomach rubbing against her clit as he kissed her cervix. She was already a mess around him, tears in her eyes and blubbering out her words. 

“You f-feel so fucking good, John,” she gasped, eyes squeezing tight as he sped up. “Ohh my god-”

“Eyes open, love,” he said, snapping his hips back into her when she opened them. She closed them again, eyes practically rolling back in her head. “I said look at me,” he snapped. 

“John, I’m- uhh-!” she shouted, squeezing him tightly as she came around him with no warning. He kissed her neck gently through her orgasm, hushing her back down to reality. 

“Look at you, barely even moved and you came,” he said, slowly thrusting into her. Her toes were clenched, her face red and tear stained. “Haven’t even fucked you properly.” 

“John, I’m sorry-”

“Fucking whore,” he spat, slamming his hips into her again. “Flirting with Soap, just so I fuck you dumb?” 

She whined in response, fingers tangling in his hair for support. His hands were firm on her hips, fingers digging bruises into her skin. 

“You think MacTavish could fuck you like this?” he asked, throwing her legs over his shoulder and straightening his back. She cried out at the new level of depth he reached, her other hand raking across his back. “You think Soap would’ve made you cum that fast?”

“No sir,” she choked out.

“You think he would know just what drives you crazy?” He was fucking feral now, pounding into her like he was dying. 

“No sir-!” 

“You think anyone else but me could make you cum?” he snapped, bringing his hand down and slapping her thighs. She had tears falling from her eyes, broken moans coming from her lips at his words.  “You think anyone but me could fuck you this deep?” 

“Need to cum, ple-”

“Quite! You think anyone else could leave those marks on your neck?” he reached up, pressing one with his finger before wrapping his hand around her neck. 

“John-!” He sped up again, pounding into her with no remorse. 

“You know why no one else can fuck you like this?” He started, pressing his thumb to her clit. “Because this pussy is mine. You hear that? This cunt belongs to me.” 

He released her neck, her moans growing louder and louder. 

“I can’t hold it, I have to cum, please-” 

“You don’t get to cum, you know why? ‘Cause it's my pussy,” he growled, letting her legs fall back around his waist as he buried his face in her neck. 

“It’s yours, John, I’m yours, please-!”

“Damn right,” he said, pressing kisses to her collarbone. “You’re mine, and don’t you fucking forget it either.” 

Tears streamed freely down her face. She was quickly becoming overstimulated, John hitting all the right angles to pound into her g-spot. 

“Fuck, John, it’s yours, please, need to cum,” she cried, fingers dragging along his back. 

“You say my name, you hear me?” he groaned, lips grazing her ear. “You cum, and you scream my name.” 

“Fuck- yes, John, fuck, John-”

“Atta girl, let everyone know who this pussy belongs too,” his breathing was labored, his own release drawing near as she squeezed around him. She could barely make a sound, her voice hoarse as she came around him, His hips stuttered, working her through her release. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Look so good with my name around your neck,” he growled, his pace speeding back up. 

“I’m yours, John, and only yours,” she whined, one of her hands moving to his head and playing with his hair. 

“That’s right, love. Mine. Not Ghost’s, not Gaz’s, not fucking MacTavish’s, mine,” he grunted, his eyes rolling back and shutting. “Fuck, princess, you’re pussy feels so good, squeezing me so tight-”

“You mean you’re pussy?” she replied, making him moan like she’s never heard before. 

“That’s fucking right, so fucking- ah-” he whimpered, he fucking whimpered, pressing weak kisses against her neck. “Whose pussy is that?” 

“Yours, John,” she whined.

“Damn.” thrust. “Right.” thrust. “God, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Captain, please fill me up-” she whined, “wanna be filled, please-!”

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, cock hitting her walls with an animalistic intensity. 

“I’m yours, John, all yous-”

“Say it again, baby, please-”

“I’m all yours, John, want you to fill me up-!”

“Atta girl!”

“John, I’m gonna fucking cum, please-” 

“Right there with you, darling.”

“Please let me cum-!”

“Let it out, pretty girl, say my fucking name-”

“Holy shit, John, I’m-!”

“Fuckin’ hell-” his hips slammed into her, no doubt bruising her. His thrust grew weak as she squeezed his cock, her orgasm soaking him. His body dropped onto her, cock buried deep inside her as he coated her walls. She whined at the feeling, kissing his neck as he came down from his high. He was mumbling incoherently, words jumbling together as his hips slowly came to a stop. 

“John, feels so fucking good being filled up,” she mumbled, hands in his hair. 

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he muttered, slowly removing his cock. She hissed at the feeling. He got on his knees, leaning back and watching his cum spill out of her. He pressed two fingers to her throbbing cunt and shoved it back in, eyes filled with desire. 

“John,” she whispered, “come back.” 

“Right, sorry,” he said, shuffling back up and laying next to her, pulling her into his chest. “You want me to clean you up?”

“Eventually. Just… stay here for a while,” she replied, her face buried in his chest as their bodies mushed together. He hummed in response, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as his hand rubbed small circles on her back. 

“I didn’t cross a line, did I?” he asked, making her giggle. “Hey, I’m serious, sweetheart. Did I say anything that made you uncomfortable?” 

There was genuine concern in his voice, making her feel guilty for laughing. She felt a different knot in her stomach, one that had started this business in the first place. She took a deep breath, slowing her heart down before she got too excited. 

“Maybe. Did you mean it?” 

His brain short circuited. His mouth was dry. All his emotions were coming to the front lines, and he didn’t know if he could handle a massacre. 

“I meant every word,” he started, voice shaky. He stopped and cleared his throat. “I know what we both said when this started. I know we agreed that we wouldn’t develop feelings-”

“I love you,” she blurted out, face heating up against his skin. 

“...what?”

“Oh god, nevermind-” she pulled away from him, climbing up out of bed. 

“No, wait-” he said, sitting up.

“I’m sorry-” she started for the bathroom, movements frantic. 

“Stop-”

“I should’ve never said anything-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’ve ruined it all, haven’t I?”

He followed after her, grabbing her wrist and turning her back to face him. There were new tears in her eyes.

“Say it again,” he said, his voice gentle. 

“John, please don’t make me-”

“Just- say it again.” 

She scanned his face. Once. Twice. A third time. She was normally good at reading people, but she couldn’t sense a single fucking thought in his head. Her heart was racing, beating like she had a gun to her head. 

“.. I love you.” 

He grabbed her other hand, pulling her in and slamming his lips against hers. She moaned in surprise, reaching up and lacing her fingers behind his head as his hands fell to her waist. The world stopped. Nothing else mattered except him. For one moment, the universe revolved around them. 

The kiss was a different kind of passion. The kind he used when he saw her early in the morning, or when he cleaned her up. It was the kind he used when they got back from a particularly difficult mission. It was gentle, loving, world-stopping. 

They moved in sync to the rhythm of their own hearts, all their anxieties slipping away. Both gasped for air when they released, face red with embarrassment. 

“I love you too, darling.” 

“I’m all yours, John. I promise I’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me,” she said, her thumb caressing his cheek. 

“If I ever say I don’t want you, shoot me at point blank,” he replied, mustache twitching in a smile. 

“Whatever you say, Captain,” she winked, tugging him back down into another kiss.

#the damn editor crashed three times trying to post this #i am posting this from my fucking phone #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #cod mw22 #mw2 price #john price fic #john price smut #price smut #price fanfic #price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #call of duty #cod fanfic #if this doesn’t post i swear i’m throwing my phone