#tonight isn't turning out how i want it to :((

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/721605644038389760/pregnancy-scare-with-fratpeter-what-would-he-do?source=share

Is there ever a pregnancy scare after they're in the girlfriend phase?

*cleaning out my drafts. mentions of pregnancy and a slight suggestion of abortion.*

you groan at the gentle shake you're receiving and you shrug it off while half awake. you're unbelievably tired and the small window of rest you got wasn't enough.

'trouble? c'mon, get up.' peter's hand comes down rough on your backside, you whine and roll over. 'but i'm sleepy-eepy.' the warmth of peter's bed is ripped away from you, he's holding the blanket in his hands.

'now i'm cold.' and while it's not peter's fault and he's only doing what you asked, you feel a little frustrated at the knowledge of not being able to go back to sleep.

'if you get up now, i'll shower with you. ten, nine, eight, seven... that's my girl, super proud of you.'

you might've woken up grouchy, but peter set your mood right in the shower and now you keep giving his arm little kisses. 'my handsome man.' peter speaks into your hairline, 'it's just a white shirt, you heathen.'

you softly dig your teeth into the thick of his bicep while his aunt has her back turned mixing up a side salad. you pull back without a trace and talk into his skin. 'and my man looks so yummy in it.'

'see? that nap energized you more than you thought.'

'that or your precious mouth and nice way you use it on me.' peter gives you a charming smile. 'you're on a roll tonight, trouble.' you wrap your arms around his and give a final mark, it's time to be a smidge respectful in his childhood home.

peter breaks away to refill your wine glass and top may's off. you thank him with a small kiss, may thanks him by asking him to grab rolls from the oven.

---

there's a positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands. each time you blink it becomes more and more clear, you clutch your stomach as if you already had a month nine belly.

'fuck.'

what are you supposed to do?

tears fall fast, they hit your palms and positive test before you look around the bathroom. why are you alone? where's peter? you think of your boyfriend, you think of how royally fucked this makes things.

call it selfish but you wanted peter all to yourself for a few years and now you're jumping forward a hundred steps. 'fuck.' this isn't fair to either of you, you don't have it figured out yet.

you stare at the test one more time, you need to be sure. you close your eyes and count to ten, no matter how many times you try, the answer doesn't change.

'holy fucking shit, i'm-'

about to piss your pants. you fly up from the bed lightning fast, hightailing it to peter's bathroom before holding your head in your hands. you're drowsy and reminding yourself it was just a dream, but it felt so real.

but, no, just a dream. it's a dream because you're not pregnant. you just had your period... you just had it... it's only been... your stomach drops, why can't you remember? in four seconds you are wide, wide awake and you're going for your phone on peter's nightstand.

it's three in the morning and you haven't had a period in at least five weeks.

'peter, get up.' you're not soft spoken or gentle, you're full of terror and he's about to be too. you push at his arm roughly, it stirs him just enough you could break through the sleep.

'peter, get up right now.' a slow whine, you're not playing and his stubbornness is about to have you wake up the entire apartment complex. 'get the fuck up, peter.'

you're mean but it's the only thing stopping you from going full blown psycho and curling into a screaming, crying ball on his floor.

'peter,' you rush out his name one more time, this time he responds.

'what’s go-‘

'i think i'm pregnant and i'm about to freak the fuck out and i really, really need you to keep me from doing that right now.' it hits all at once, you try to breathe but you can't. it's peter's turn to fly up from the bed, he only goes as far as he needs to wrap you in a tight hug.

'trouble,' the name makes you sob, you really are trouble. 'shh, you're okay, we're okay.' it's not fair of peter to hold you calmly as if he's not scared shitless himself. 'we're so fucked, peter. i ruined everything.'

your mind is spinning and your boyfriend is keeping you grounded. 'nothing is ruined, nothing is fucked. we're okay, i promise we're okay.' no, peter's not thinking how you are. he doesn't understand what you just did to you both.

'i did, i really, really did. we just graduated, we don't live together, you're still waiting for that research position to open and my boyfriend slash baby daddy is going to die because he's also spider-man.'

it's all ruined. you don't even know what you ruined and that's the worse part, you ended it before it started.

'hey, trouble. one thing at a time, okay? we have time to figure it out if we need to. do we need to go get a test?' you nod, the idea of your dream turning into reality makes you want to sob.

'speaking of dying, i killed the last three plants ethan gave me. so, how nice is that? a dead dad and a mom who kills.' peter hugs you tighter, he wants to push all your suffering into him right now. you go one further, this is the final nail in the coffin.

'what if i'm not ready to be a mom?'

'we have time to figure-' he doesn't understand. 'no, what if i'm not ready to be a mom?' a soft kiss on your forehead tells you he read between the lines, it also tells you he doesn't resent you for the idea.

'i'm here for you, okay? i'm here for whatever decision you make and we'll figure it out together. we're a team. and i promise you, trouble, i'm not dying. kid or no kid, i won't let spider-man be the thing that does me in.'

you want this with peter, you really do. just... not now. a baby this young was never in the cards, you feel like you shouldn't be in this position but you played stupid games and won an unexpected prize.

'fuck. peter, i really think i might be pregnant.'

peter's being a strong front because you need it but he's just as unprepared as you are. 'have you been feeling sick?' you shake your head, you've felt normal until this very moment.

'i had i dream i was staring at a positive test and it felt so real that it woke me up and then i couldn't remember the last time i had my period so i looked at my phone and we're charting into week five.'

peter almost lets a curse slip, he contains it for you. 'okay, we're okay. i promise we're okay, we just need to make sure if you're pregnant or not. can you wait until morning or do we need to go now?'

peter using 'you' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence makes you want to throw up and you can't blame it on potential morning sickness. you're disgusted in yourself. this wasn't the timeline.

you couldn't last another few hours in this state, you'd go mad in record timing. 'now. right now.' in under a minute peter is stuffing a hoodie over your head and a shirt over his. you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown but peter's outstretched hand tells you he's here for it.

---

'what if you resent me in like...' peter's already shaking his head, you can't put a date on it, what if it's now? 'wait, is it already happening? do you hate me?'

peter stops with you outside of the bodega right up the road from his apartment, he had been listening to your spiral the entire time with a calm demeanor.

'stop. i know this wasn't the plan and i know this isn't what we wanted right now but i don't want you thinking i could ever hate you or blame you for this. i wish i could make you feel better about this, trouble. i love you, i love you more than i have ever loved anything. i love you more than i thought was possible. i love you more than any song or book or movie could ever describe. and guess what? i'd love our kid just the same. shit, maybe even more cause you gave me one.'

is it hormones or is it because that's the best thing he could've ever told you at this moment? you crush him in a hug, he's a little surprised but holds you just the same. 'thank you.' for the first time since you woke up, you're able to breathe.

peter doesn't say you're welcome because you don't have anything to thank him for. he's doing what he'd do if this was however many years in the future and when it was a bit more planned. 'i didn't bring my wallet.'

peter scoffs, 'you think i'd make you pay for this?'

'i already feel like a burden.'

'trouble.' you bite your tongue, if peter can be nice enough to hold a poker face, you can stop telling yourself he secretly hates you. you need an answer and it lies inside the shop in a little box.

peter's holding the test, you couldn't bring yourself to touch it. you're standing in front of the refrigerator section staring at the drink selection, more than half focused on your reflection instead. peter catches on and taps your hand, you blink awake and look at three different cans before your brain hurts.

'what should i get?'

'whatever you want, trouble.'

'i can't think.' you can't. it's either total silence and dissociation or racing thoughts, you don't know peace anymore. if you're carrying his child, peter can pick a drink for you.

'hm. are you in the mood for something flavored?'

sweet. sugary. something to coat your mouth with a lasting aftertaste even if the news you were about to receive was on the bitter side.

'yeah.' peter nixes the three shelfs of water. 'carbonated or not?' too much of a choice, you shrug half-heartedly. 'i don't know.' peter looks behind him, a different choice entirely.

when's the last time you had an icee?

you don't notice peter walk off, you slipped back into staring at yourself in a baggy hoodie. if you jumped forward six months, how tight would it be?

peter grabs a small cup, looks at the clear-blue box in his hand and grabs a large one instead. a mixture of cherry and coke, it's nearly freezing his hand. it's going to be enough to keep your mind in the land of the living.

you find peter, lean against his back and close your eyes, he makes small movements and allows you to rest your weight on him. you're tired. mentally and emotionally. 'trouble?' you perk up again, peter halfway turns to hand over a frozen drink big enough for four.

'a slushie?' you give it a taste, you sip it down until your throat burns. 'heck yeah. and look at that, you love it.' he's not wrong. you can't remember the last time you had one and this somehow just made things a little better.

'it's making me feel better.'

'see? everyone needs some sugar now and then.'

---

for someone who made peter get out of bed at three in the morning and force him down to the corner store for a pregnancy test, you sure can't stomach the idea of taking it.

if it's a no, it'll be the biggest breath of fresh air you've ever had. if it's a yes, you and peter's life is about to forever change and you don't think you're ready for that yet.

you might not get peter to yourself for a few years, but you have him tonight and that's comfort enough. 'ready?' you intertwine your fingers with peter as he asks and pulls you out the front door. it's a quiet walk back sharing your cup of sugar before you silently creep back inside his aunt's apartment.

'ready to pee?'

you shake your head, peter offers his laptop up. ten minutes into a show, you have to go. fifteen minutes, it's pressing. twenty and you're about to burst.

you're not ready for the answer.

you'd be a bad mom.

'i drank wine tonight, peter. that's so bad, i'm such a bad person.'

'you're not a bad person, trouble. guess what? no one knows they're pregnant until they know. it's not your fault you kept living life how you normally do.'

you might've fucked things up but you chose the best person to do it with.

'i have to pee.' for just a teeny, tiny second- peter's guard faults. he's just as scared of the results, it fills you with solace. you're not the only one here who doesn't want this, even if he won't tell you so.

'want me to come with?'

you shake your head and don't even look at the box when you swipe it from his desk. your hand shakes as you tear the blue plastic, it's dawned on you that this is the first time you've ever taken one. you never thought you’d be here.

you hold your eyes closed while you do it as if the results would show immediately. you snap the cap back into place and hide it behind you. starting a five minute timer, you wait on the answer to the future.

poking your head out from his bathroom you clear your throat. 'counting down.'

'how are you feeling? still doing okay?' you nod, you're really thankful he has your back tonight. it's nice to know that when you're truly falling apart, he's your backbone.

'i love you.'

'i love you too, sweetheart.'

you've been so good and so brave this whole time, you haven't cried once. but that just broke you and you can't place why. you try to will away the sting in your eyes, it doesn't work.

a broken whimper and you can't hold it in anymore.

you fall apart and before you could collapse to the floor, peter's tucking you into his chest and kissing your head. 'shh, you're okay. i promise you're okay, you have me. you'll always have me.'

'promise?'

'i promise, trouble. don't you remember? i couldn't let you go if i tried.'

'i know you said to stop but i'm really sorry and i need you to know that.' peter feels his heart break, he must've done something wrong at some point to make you think he could ever be upset at you for this.

but peter thinks you need him to accept it. 'it's okay. i know you're sorry and it's okay.' you relax and exhale into him, you stop your tears because crying is useless and it's only making you feel worse.

'i'm being so annoying, aren't i?'

'not in the slightest, do you see how long it took you to cry?'

you sniff and wipe away any stray tears before giving peter a pathetic pucker. 'kiss, please.' you're granted the slow and soft kind, the one that is just pure care and adoration.

'will you promise to keep having sex with me if i'm pregnant?'

peter can't hold in his laugh, you hear yourself and giggle with him. 'i promise, trouble. you can get it anytime. i mean, you already do, but with my baby in you- you'll get absolutely anything you want, whenever you want.'

'even if i want cheetos at two in the morning?' peter thinks that's light work, he graces your cheek with a kiss of the same kind. 'especially then.' it's not always rainbows and butterflies. 'what about when my belly pops, my hormones hit the ceiling, my feet are swollen, i'm hot all the time, and i just constantly scream at you?'

'you wouldn't do that.' well, you're not planning on it but you have no idea what effects this will have on you. 'but if you did, i'd take it in stride. if i was carrying around twenty pounds that made me constantly want to piss my pants, i'd be grumpy too.'

'we're gonna be so tired.'

'we already are.'

you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. 'what if i get stretch marks?'

'from growing my kid? couldn't think of anything sexier, trouble.'

it's not what was planned, but if this is how it'll be, you'll be okay. peter was right, you would figure it out. together.

'you have an answer for everything.'

'that's why you love me so much. you needed to find someone who could keep up with you.'

'and oh boy can you keep up and catch me.'

you match his smile, you feel good. you feel like things aren't so ruined now. 'it's my favorite thing to do.' you scrunch your nose up at him before giving a small jump to your alarm tone.

you end the timer. 'oh god.' that.

'don't undo what we just did. no more panic, we're okay with this, right? if it's a yes, we're doing this?'

it's terrifying to think you could be a parent in under a year but something tells you that you'll be just fine with peter by your side. 'yeah, we're doing this.'

peter nods towards his bathroom door, 'ready?'

for the first time tonight, you feel confident. 'yes.' you back up for the results, wrapping your palm around the middle until you're next to peter again.

you both take a deep breath and you finally get to see the answer.

peter exhales out, 'holy shit.'

your shoulders slump when you mutter out, 'thank god.'

'holy fuck, i thought my stomach was about to come out of my ass for a second. don't get me wrong if it was-'

'i was right there with you, petey. we could've figured it out but thank god we don't have to.' you hold a hand over your heart and feel calm wash over you. 'are we bad people for being happy about this?'

peter shakes his head. 'no, not at all. we're not ready for that yet, but now we know we could be.'

you think you're speaking for the both of you and you think it needs to be said. 'to be clear, we do want kids, just later down the road. and this was just a little scare but now that we know we don't want any right now, we should be a little more careful about how we do things, right?'

'a hundred percent, trouble. you said it before i could.'

'good.' you take another peek at the test, double confirmation. 'now can you please feed me? i'm famished.'

even if you weren't pregnant, peter would do anything for you.

'anything my baby wants, she gets.'

#frat!peter blurb #life after uni

[makuzume]

The Last Time You Talked to Him

🔅Yuta Okkotsu

🔅Content: Based on the recent spread on the events happening in JJK 261; MEGA spoilers; gn! reader; Word Count: 1k

🔅a/n: I was genuinely sobbing with hot streams of tears falling down my eyes while writing this at 4 AM I am DEVASTATED I had to express it somehow,, Didn't expect to have such attachment to this boy.

[JJK Masterlist]

"...Yu...?"

The silence was loud, deafening even.

The weather tonight was pleasant and had a clear sky: the moon was high, the stars were out, the breeze was calm...

You could say it would've been a perfect evening to have another lovely date by the usual spot: under the big tree, behind the school, sitting on the soft grass...

However, despite the scenic atmosphere that surrounded you, the look on both of your faces were low-spirited, displaying a sorrowful expression.

"...Yuta..." Slowly, you lowered your head, staring at the ground in front of you as you hugged your knees closer to your chest.

"...Please...." You whisper, almost pleaded as a few droplets began to form at the corners of your glistening eyes.

As you did your best to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel your facade begin to slowly break, like a dam of overwhelming emotion threathening to burst at any moment, bit by bit-

A dam that's ready to release all sorts of feelings: pain, sadness, fear, worry, hatred, and love.

Your breathing slowly began to turn uneven, your quiet voice shaking slightly.

"....Don't go... please..."

That was it for you.

Those words were enough to completely break your self-control, cracking the dam open.

Your face immediately hid in between your arms as you tightly gripped on your knees, releasing all of the emotions that had built up inside of you, unable to contain them any longer.

It hurt, it really hurt, knowing what will happen to him after tonight.

"....." Yuta was silent, dead slient, unable to think of any proper response to say to you.

I mean, what was he supposed to do in this situation? Should he hug you? Hold your hand? Lie Reassure you and say he'll come back safely??

If the one you loved comes to you and suddenly announces that he'll be stitched into another person's dead body to battle against the most notorious curse in history within in the next hour, what else are you left to follow up with??

The person you loved the most... now using your dead teacher's body, whom you both respected so much, as a vessle, a puppet, nothing more than a weapon... isn't that a little too messed up?

Why him?

As sickening it is to use Gojo's body to the very end, you're just as disgusted at the situation where it came to a point that a young man, such as Yuta, needed to be the one to step up and tackle the situation.

For his friends, for Gojo, for all sorcerers, all civilians, and even for you. Your peace.

And everyone agreed to this, even Gojo, which made you sick to the stomach. Seeing how even your late teacher accepted the dehumanization of his own being for the sake of becoming a mere shell of a weapon, further being pushed even agter his death; turning himself into the monster everybody needed him to be.

'I will be the monster.' He just had to say it.

Your growing disappointment in the reality of the sorcerer world only continued to grow more.

But you knew it was something he has to do... he wants to do... for everyone. It would be selfish- incredibly selfish for you to beg him to stay with you, endangering the world because of it.

But you couldnt help it. Every fiber in your being was screaming for him to not do it, it's gone too far, all of it, even though that the plan was already set in motion when you found out.

It was hard to hate him for doing that, but at the same time, you hated the fact for still loving that strong sense of morals he clings onto so much.

With your head still hidden deep within your knees, you sob "...Please.... please don't go... pleas, Yu...." You tried your best to speak in between your desperate cries, your words getting more and more inaudible as you weakly shaking your head in denial.

You couldnt help but still try to plea desperately, as void as your attempts would be.

You knew your words were uselses, you knew he would push through anyway, you knew he was the one who wanted to do this, for the sake of humanity- but still.

All you could do was plea, as if asking the Gods for a miracle. A miracle that somehow all of this this: the deaths, the curses, Shibuya, Sukuna, sorcery as a whole... was just some big screwed up dream.

Yuta slowly scoots closer to you, his hand ever so gently resting on the top of your trembling body. His hand gently caresses your back, comforting your shaking figure that hitched out quiet, miserable cries.

"My angel...." he spoke, calling out to you gently as you let yourself cry for a little more before trying to calm down.

Your heart ached for a moment upon hearing his affectionate and caring tone once more, and perhaps for the final time. It was already impossible for you to cry any more intensely. It hurts you like hell and you were already crying as if you had already lost him.

He knew nothing could ease the situation and trying to lighten it would only do nothing. All the both of you, and everyone else, could do is just accept the fate this world has to offer him; Accept the gamble of a lifetime Yuta will be risking.

Risk if never coming back as himself, risk of death, risk of defeat and the triumph of curses...

He wanted to say so many things he could never say in an hours worth of time. Yuta still wanted to tell you how much he loved spending time with you, how much he admried you, how happy he is everytime he made you smile; how happy he is just even thinking about you...

He ended up saying none of it, hoping you would have already known all the things he wouldve wanted to tell you.

The sad part is: you would know. You understand him better than anyone else- and you knew every single word of affection, fear, regret, guilt, and love he wanted to tell you. And imagining hearing him say those things would only end up hurting you even more.

...

Will it be the same? Will he come back? Will he survive.

No one's certain, yet, you remain clinging on to hope.

But fate is cruel, in reality. Fate is painful. Fate is uncertain. No one knows what will make of him after this

After taking a while to collect yourself, finally, you look up at him, your hand clenching so hard to your chest, your lungs so empty of air, and your cheeks stained with the warm stream of tears falling from your eyes.

"...I love you most....don't ever forget."

Yuta said, almost like a promise, like a goodbye.

He loves you, more than anything, even his own life itself- he loved you more.

Which is why he is willing to risk it in order to create a peaceful world for you to live in, and only he was ready.

As difficult as it may be, you knew it was a hard slap to the face by reality for you to accept fate. It was imposisble, but inevitable.

The world of sorcerers was never a place of clear blue skies and joyful songs. Its a dark place.

It's hard to blame anyone, because this is where fate had let you afterall, a tragic end to a supposed-to-be love story that could've ended with a better ending.

"....Let's meet here again... once everything is over." In the most gentle tone, he spoke. His eyes looking at you filled with so much love as if you were the only thing that mattered that moment.

Against all opposing forces, you somehow convinced yourself to force a smile: it was weak... filled with sorrow and affection mixed together, and you did your best to show your pretty little smile he loved so much, knowing it might have been something he needed the most right now.

He only regrets he may not be with you after everything has finished; not be able to train with you and get stronger together- not be able to spend the rest of his days with you anymore, like he promised, like he hoped.

....That, and the fact that this would perhaps the last time he would be able to see your smile ever again.

I'll see you again soon...

...Yuta.

---///-----///-----///-----///-----///-----///-----///---

a/n: It took me a while to edit this before posting cause of the amount of typos I had to deal with as I sobbed while making this but at least I captured the heart of my emotions during a vulnerable time lol I guess

YUTA LITERALLY SHOUDERED SUCH A BURDEN BC HE KNOWS IT'S SO MISERABLE AND SAD FOR GOJO TO BE THE ONLY MONSTER AND DEHUMANIZED BUT NO ONE ELSE WAS TRYING TO DO WHAT GOJO DID MY BOYYYY

[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Overall Masterlist]

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk 261 #jjk261 #jjk yuta #yuta #yuta okkotsu #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #angst #yuta x reader

[octoberautumnbox]

hello kuya box, just wanted to pop in and ask how you're doing :) I've been (im)patiently waiting for yuri comeback news so I can finally get into her more :<)

Fluffy question for you:

Imagine you and Yuri are in school together. You're both in the same friend group and you've had a secret crush on her for years now. While you're hanging out with your friends, you suddenly find yourself alone with her. Despite your anxiety, the moment just feels right - how would you confess to her?

have a yuri :)

hi 0cta9on! everyone and their moms on the edge of their seats for that cb i get it GJKSHFJKDHSGKJSFHJK but we gotta let her cook!! :DDDD

also i keep getting requests and ideas for this general plot LMAO i'll get to that draft eventually! in the meantime please enjoy this short thingy ehe

~~~

It's been about forty minutes now, and nearly everyone is rolling around in the grass of the Sunken Garden. The admin should be kicking people out right now, but for some reason, nobody hears your friends' racket, allowing you free reign for as long as nobody comes near enough. It's strange that you have the free real estate all to yourself, but you're not one to complain. Finals were tough on everybody, and by the looks of it, you and your friends most of all.

Hanbin and Jeongin are locked in a verbal argument, threatening to turn physical soon. Somi yaps on with Chaeryeong off to the side, spilling their drinks on the soil and forming puddles of intoxicating mud in the ground. And finally, Ryujin lies face down in the grass, true to character, and the sheer fact that it's Ryujin silences any alarms that she might be in danger that would have otherwise started blaring in your head.

All that's left is you and Yuri, sitting on a nearby tree root, watching the scenes unfold by the light of a streetlamp infested with moths. She eyes each one lazily, from the fight, to the gossip, to Ryujin who is most probably not dead, as she sips beer from her bottle and punctuates the swig with a relief-filled "ahhh."

Her beauty is mesmerizing, from her half-lidded eyes, to the way her hair perfectly frames her face, to how her lips curl with each sip she takes of her drink. It's nothing like anyone has ever seen before, or, at least not the way you've seen her. It doesn't help that the moon, full as can be, shines its borrowed light as if only on her, like a spotlight to the main character of a soap opera.

It must be the alcohol; it must be. There's not a single reason in the world that you feel the way you feel right now. Never mind that it's bad tonight, never mind that she's so pretty, never mind that this is the first chance you've ever had alone with her, never mind that it might also be the last...

Your heart pounds nearly as hard as your head throbs in search of water. Everything is wrong, and there's only one way to make it right. Lie to yourself, "it's only the alcohol, it's only the alcohol..." Kick yourself mentally: you know it's not.

"Yuri," you say tentatively. Part of you wishes she'd heard and would turn your way, the rest of you prays she didn't.

"Yeah?" Look over to her, find her gaze still glued to the various comical sights in front of the both of you. She smiles at her friends' antics, and she smiles to you. Your eyes make contact, and you swear you've never felt more honest — honest and vulnerable.

"It's only the alcohol, it's only the alcohol..." It repeats like a broken record in your head. You try your damnedest to convince yourself it's only the alcohol, that she's just that pretty tonight, that she's just that pretty every night the past ten years you've known her. This isn't anything special. This is just plain old Yuri. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just Yuri.

"N-nothing. Nice night out, huh?" You realize you're staring, and you avoid her eyes. Take a panicked sip of your own beer, but, fuck, did you make it look not-panicked?

"Yeah, it is. Really is." Yuri places her head on your shoulder and sighs all the air out her lungs. Her eyes flutter shut as she fills her lungs again with a crisp night breeze. By accident, you swear by accident, the fragrance of her hair enters your nostrils, and you take in the comfort of her being plainly close to you.

And just like that, you fail again. Your feelings stay tightly locked in a box, buried deep in the recesses of your heart. Who knows when they'll surface, or if they ever will.

Fuck it. This is enough. More than, even. This is Yuri.

Just Yuri. Nothing more. Nothing less.

#jo yuri #jo yuri fluff #kpop fluff #girl group fluff #izone fluff

[entamewitchlulu]

I wasn't initially going to say anything, but i. honestly, i really just, could use some emotional support, i guess.

there's an awful lot going on in my life right now that's making me pretty miserable. to top it off, I recently got news from my dad that our dog, Indiana's health has gotten a pretty bad prognosis. the long story short is, he could possibly have cancer, and while there's surgery that could help, he's 15 years old, and even the prep exam for the surgery could be fatal for him. so it's unlikely that we'll end up going through with it, and a really hard decision has to be made about whether to let him go now while things are still mostly okay, or wait until things deteriorate.

I moved away from home for the first time just six months ago, and one of the things I was most upset about was leaving my dog behind, knowing he was getting old. I live an hour and a half away from home now, and I have been able to go home to visit just once in that time. I've seen him only once in the last six months.

Indiana is everything to me. I know he can't be with us forever, but the pain of not being able to be there during the last months of his life is destroying me. I have no idea what things are going to look like, if we'll have another year or two with him being in the world, or if I'm looking at a world where he isn't there anymore as soon as the next few weeks. I'm working 40 hours a week and I have a cat to think about now, so I can't just drop everything and go home to be near him for a while as much as I want to.

I'm not asking for anything in this post like surgery money or anything. Just......support, I guess. Living alone means there's no one to give me a hug most days, and I'm coping badly with it all. It's just another piece of bad news that's breaking me, and all I want is to feel a little less alone in facing it.

I just want people to know how much I love him. He is the sweetest, kindest, most loving dog I've ever known. He was found in a junkyard living in a truck and when we adopted him he didn't even have a name, just a number which was the date he was taken in by the shelter. He has a tiny little tail that wiggles like crazy when he's happy. He loves sitting in the car, not even to go anywhere, just to hang out. He's a huge fan of cheese and memorized the sound of a cheese stick opening so that he could get a small bite of mine whenever I had one. He's so good at "shake" that when you have a treat for him, he will paw the air wildly with one paw and then the other to show you just how good he is at doing it and how much he deserves his treat. Sometimes he gets the zoomies so insanely that he has to bolt all around the yard, in and out the door so fast that you'd think he was a cheetah in another life. He can turn on a dime. He's scared of fireworks and loud sounds because we made the mistake of taking him with us to a historical reenactment once and all the muskets and cannons scared him. He learned how to pull a cart once but we never kept up with it. He knows the word "rabbit" and loves to chase them around but never catches them. When he's happy to see you he'll press his whole head into your knees and lean so much that he almost knocks you over. He likes to press his whole body against you. When he lays down he sometimes splays his paws out to either side like a seal. His favorite toy is his stuffed rabbit and he cuddles with it all by himself.

I love him, so, so, so, so much. I can't be with him right now and it's killing me. I'm grieving him before he's even gone because I can't comprehend a world where he isn't in it and I don't know how else to prepare myself.

I don't know how to end this. He's still with us right now, but I don't know for how much longer. Please hug your pets for me tonight. Hold them close and remind them how much you love them. We don't get to have them in our lives forever as unfair as it is. I only wish it could be a little longer.

#lulu talks #pet death tw #i mean. not yet. god. but the mention is there. #fuck. i can't believe we just have to keep going to work every day while the world is ending.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Criminal Markers and how they were so seamlessly integrated in NDC/Satellite culture with little fuss or blowback

I'm sure it all started with a "good idea."

(It wasn't good, it was never good, but politicians are pros at making remarkably terrible ideas seem good.)

The idea of being able to recognize a dangerous criminal on sight would seem to be desirable if taken only at face value. Consider: You're taking your kid to school and you see someone with the mark identifying them as an abuser within a mile of said school? Well, you don't want that person hanging around and potentially hurting kids, right? So you call the cops. All well and good, you may have just saved some kids some trauma. Or maybe you're driving around looking for a parking spot and see someone hanging around an open space with a grand theft auto mark? Well, you're not going to park there now and risk your car being gone when you get back. The person walking towards you on the street has the mark of a murderer? Give them a wide berth or cross the street so you won't be the next victim!

At face value, it seems great, right? So the politicians peddling it keep it that way, distract from anyone trying to look to too deep, get their bill passed, everyone is happy.

But the problem is that "good ideas" are very slippery slopes.

They start out only marking the "big offenders": murderers, sex offenders, "those" kinds of people. But prosecutors and judges alike slowly begin to push the bill. Murderers and sex offenders...and major theft. And they push a little more. Murderers and sex offenders and major theft...and illegal narcotic sales.

They do it slowly, one crime at a time, always with "good" reason -- so slowly that no one questions it because if x is punished this way, why not y? And the people who never questioned it in the first place don't stop to question it now either because why would they when it makes perfectly logical sense?

And they keep pushing, one crime at a time, right down the line.

And then, 15 years later, they find themselves marking an 11-year-old for shoplifting a candy bar. Because theft is theft, and it doesn't matter that this is a literal child or that the purchase price is barely anything at all. There is no line anymore of what "deserves" to be marked for because time has whittled it away and now this child has a past they will never be able to outrun because its literally written on their face.

It didn't start like this. It wasn't supposed to go this far. But it did anyway, and now there's no one to question the morality of it because everyone has been entirely (achingly slowly) desensitized to a process that is entirely dehumanizing and never should have been put into practice in the first place.

It doesn't matter that people can change.

It doesn't matter that sometimes a mistake is made.

And there's no one left to care to change it.

#yugioh 5ds #ygo 5ds #felt like talking about the criminal system of ndc tonight i guess lol #fr though this is usually how terrible things like this start #step one: make it seem like a good thing #step two: desensitize everyone to horrible it really is #step three: do whatever the heck you want bc now there's no one to stop you #this isn't exactly how i thought this post would turn out but eh whatever #i mean i didn't even talk about the segregation that happens as a result #anyway #long post #as i say to my good friend mackenzie: #'yugioh is not what you think it is' lol

[hallowed-nebulae]

i drew @ephemxras ‘s hoa sen ngyuen! i’m only just now realizing that i forgot to draw his goggles, after i’ve already saved the image and closed my art program,

#kingdom hearts #khux #khux player #keykid #scribbles #was a bit of a challenge figuring out how i'd do his eyes but ultimately i think it turned out pretty good #that holo particle brush i got from clip studio assets continues to be a lifesaver re: drawing freckles #anyways i had fun drawing him!! i hope i did okay with the colors #my style isn't as Soft as rika's is but i like to think that my texture-y brushes make up for it #look at those lines. look at the crunchy texture #ALSO ALSO painting his hair and earrings was very fun #the sketch? time-consuming. placing down each color one layer at a time and then painting? artist brain go nyoom #this is all a rambly way of saying that i had a lot of fun making this piece and i'll definitely be wanting to draw hoa sen again some time #not tonight bc its like four minutes past midnight #and my last highschool final is tomorrow so i cant do anything next morning #but we'll see #the art that never was #oc: hoa sen nguyen

[hexplaything]

my life has been never ending waves of tummy aches for like a week now :(((

#can i please eat something without wanting to cry from a tummy ache Please #tonight isn't turning out how i want it to :(( #i napped for like 5 hours after work when i rly wanted to take #game* #which okay sure me and my body needed the rest #but now i'm tryna game and TUMMY ACHE #makes me just wanna lay down again :( #i have most of the day tomorrow. but i think i am hanging out with a friend getting dinner and shes gunna help me clean the coffee stain #off my car seat #i might cancel tbh bc if this tummy ache keeps up im not gunna want to leave the house #good girl speaks

[ramonathinks]

(18+, minors/blank accounts dni)

jealous ex husband gojo who just can't keep stand seeing you with someone else. he hates that you gave up on him, hates that you don't wear your ring anymore even though he does and he wears it proudly.

"you have a date tonight, the girls tell me." busted. you cringe and eye you little daughters, only six the both of them but you told them to keep quiet about the situation.

"yes..." you reply, anxiously awaiting his response.

you could just picture his face now, nose a bit flared and lips pursed. with clenched teeth he said, "alright, have fun." but it wasn't that simple.

he always kept close watch on you and it made you nervous with how simple it left the conversation. "well, i could come pick the girls up before then. about 8-ish?" he asks and you say yes before hanging up.

gojo was always too busy which was what led to the divorce. you'd both married young, 20 and stayed together since but when the girls turned 3 you had enough and just left. he wasn't being there enough for you or the girls and it hurt.

when he pulled up you cursed yourself for getting ready so early. your hair in long curls and a knee length skirt with a small slit on the left leg. he didn't bothering knocking or waiting for you to open the door, he had keys and you knew this so you continued with your makeup.

he was standing there watching you but you ignored him. or tried to but he walked closer and closer until he was right in your face. "how beautiful, you are." he held your jaw and forced you to look at him.

"why don't you ditch this date and come with me?" he asked, bringing your lower reign to his. "don't you miss me baby?" he nipped at your skin and the memories and feelings were coming back.

you had to be strong. you swallowed and pulled his back from you. "you have to stop this, im sure you have someone out there satoru, but she isn't me." you tried to walk off but he grabbed your wrist and brought you to your bedroom.

"y/n, so you think anyone can make you feel as good as i make you feel? don't you know i love you? my feelings never left and i know yours haven't." he rubs you through your panties and kisses you on your lips.

"everything can be different now." he promises, easing his way between your legs. his heavy cock entering you slowly, it was only the tip so far but it was splitting you open. you'd been without sex for two years and now tears were in your eyes.

"you think he can fill you up like me?" he adjusts himself and enters more of his cock into you. he was still so big, you were choking. you could feel him in your tummy and in your throat.

"you're always going to be mine, so stop running." he told you as he jerked his hips. "stop trying to let this go baby?"

"satoru—"

"mommy! the door!" one of the girls yelled.

"shh," satoru brought a finger to your lips and leaned forward to make love to your mouth. it was too much and you both were drooling after just a few minutes, he pulled himself out of you and looked at his wet cock.

"think about what i said." it was hard to forget. you clenched your legs together after you cleaned yourself up, not even wanting to face your date.

not even wanting to face your ex-husband either.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #ramonaᝰ #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen thirst #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

[awearywritersworld]

poker night — fushiguro toji x reader

warnings: unprotected sex. implied age gap. pet names (pretty girl/baby/sweet heart). "daddy". creampie. sub par writing.

mdni.

toji shows up early to poker night, an event your father hosts once every week, when he hears you're home after graduating from university.

he's exceptionally pleased when you answer the door in nothing more than a thin tank top and tiny pajama shorts, inviting him inside even though your father isn't home yet.

he makes himself comfortable on your living room couch, his broad frame and long legs taking up an impressive amount of space.

"so, you find yourself a boyfriend yet, pretty girl?"

your cheeks grow warm and you struggle to meet his eye. you've had a crush on toji for as long as you can remember, but he would never actually be interested in you... right?

"not yet," you answer, biting your bottom lip nervously. "most of the boys at school seem a little clueless when it comes to girls."

"that so?" he questions, eyes unabashedly trailing over your body. "maybe you should find yourself a man instead."

you're ashamed how quickly you wind up on your back, toji's cock greedily stretching out your pussy. really, it's almost pathetic— he didn't even have to work for it.

"f-feels s'good, daddy," you whimper, your hand clutching his bicep.

"oh, that's just wrong sweetheart," he chuckles, gripping your hips so harshly you're positive he'll leave marks. "you wan' me to be your daddy? hm?"

it is wrong. it's wrong and it's unforgivable and he loves it. why else would he be fucking you on the very same table he'll be sitting at tonight, playing poker with your father and their friends?

you nod weakly and his lips twist into a sly smirk.

lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, he uses the opportunity to land a smack to your ass. "words, baby."

"yes, ple—" you gasp sharply when he readjusts his angle, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing steady circles there.

"what was that? couldn't hear you."

"yes, toji! wanna be yours. please."

you don't have to ask him twice, not when your pretty little pussy is the best he's ever had. no one else even comes close.

his fingers thread through yours, an uncharacteristically soft gesture. "you are, sweetheart. all mine."

he feels you clench around him in response, and the sensation pulls an absolutely sinful noise from his throat.

you're so painfully close to your release that your eyes grow teary and your head lolls to the side.

"tch, i don't think so sweet girl," he chides, grabbing your chin roughly and turning your gaze back to him. "wanna see that pretty face while i fuck you."

you cum on his cock four times before he's decided you've had enough. he makes you beg him to fill you up, even though there's nothing he wants more than to see his cum spill from your cute little hole.

the two of you fall into a simple routine after that afternoon and for three whole months, no one has any idea that you spend most of your nights wrapped around toji's cock.

that is, until you interrupt poker night when the men sitting around the table have all had one too many drinks.

"hey, daddy?" you question, planning to ask your father if he knows where your mother is.

but before he has a chance to reply, toji speaks up. "yes, baby?"

#brrrrrrrrrr #been thinking about this for a while #m!writes!smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #toji imagines #toji fushiguro imagines

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

#miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel/reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

[loveindefinitely]

01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.

Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.

You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?

It had left you pissed off to no end, so.

Here you were.

"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.

You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.

"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.

Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.

"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."

Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?

"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.

"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.

There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.

"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."

A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.

You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.

"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"

"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.

"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."

"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.

You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.

There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...

They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.

Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.

Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.

Or.

One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.

Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?

Then, there's a knock on your door.

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.

"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"

You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.

The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.

"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.

A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.

"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.

So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.

You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.

This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.

Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.

Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.

Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.

It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.

It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.

You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.

Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.

You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.

When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.

"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."

"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."

You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.

Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.

"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.

"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.

"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."

You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.

"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.

You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."

There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.

"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.

You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.

Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"

If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.

You softly shake your head.

"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.

Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.

"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.

"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.

You swallow, mouth dry.

"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.

Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"

Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.

Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."

The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"

All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."

He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.

The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.

He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.

"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.

You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.

"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.

His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.

You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.

When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.

"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.

His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.

It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.

He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.

"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.

He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.

When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.

Like kissing the four men he warned you about.

Like doing more, maybe.

...Maybe.

His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"

And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.

"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"

Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.

"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."

The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.

You feel filthy, and you love it.

Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.

He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.

You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.

"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.

"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"

"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.

Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.

Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"

"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.

Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.

"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.

With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.

"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.

It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.

"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.

Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"

You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.

Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."

There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."

With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.

"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.

"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.

Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.

"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.

Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.

"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.

Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.

You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.

"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.

Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.

"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.

Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.

"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.

"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"

Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.

As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.

"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.

Dangerous men.

Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.

He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.

Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"

Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --

"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."

You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.

Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.

"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.

You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.

It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.

Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.

"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."

Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.

You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"

Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.

Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.

It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.

The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.

Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.

If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.

Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.

"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."

"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?

No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.

You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.

Oh. God.

"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."

What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?

Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."

There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.

You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.

The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.

It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."

You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.

His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.

Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.

"Get off me!"

Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.

And those specific words, what --

"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.

Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.

You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.

"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.

But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.

"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.

"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."

"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"

Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.

Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.

There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.

"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.

There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.

First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"

And then...

A bullet.

The sound of a trigger being pulled.

The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.

The sound of a final breath.

Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.

Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.

He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.

And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.

a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah

#🤍 : lust for life #⌨️ : love's writing #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #mw2 #simon ghost riley #soap cod #tf141 #tf141 x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz garrick #cod #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #soap x ghost #soapghost #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod smut

[gojoux]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo would raise a brow at you and then say, “Huh? Why would you do that when you can sleep with me on our bed?” He would wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him. “Don't you want to sleep with your handsome boyfriend?” When you brush him off, he would huff and pout as he crossed his arms, “So you find me that annoying, huh?” You didn't say that, he's just petty. “Then I guess I'll let you sleep on the couch tonight.” Yet he'd come back after you settle yourself and squeeze in with you, no matter how.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

He'd hold a small smile on his face but that's it. “Oh, I see. You want to sleep on the couch tonight. Just for tonight, right?” He doesn't look that upset that you want to sleep somewhere else. He doesn't say it but he's trying to figure out why you want to sleep alone tonight. “Are you mad at me or something?” He would ask you while looking at you with a raised eyebrow. In the end, he'd try to persuade you to sleep with him anyway.

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

He doesn't say anything when you tell him that you're going to sleep on the couch tonight. He would cross his arms, giving you a look and says, “Who do you think you are, telling me that you're not sleeping with me tonight?” He wants you badly and he won't accept the answer ‘no’ from you. When he says you will be sleeping with him, then you will sleep with him, that's it. He walks towards you and pulls you close by the waist, “Let me show you what you're missing tonight,” he smiles smugly before sweeping you off your feet to bed.

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He'd give you a questioning look. “Sleep on the couch? Why not in our bed, love? The couch isn't exactly as comfortable as the bed.” He'd wrap his hands around you and bring you closer to him. “Are you mad at me? Is there something I did that makes you want to sleep on the couch alone? Let's talk this out like adults.” He speaks as his thumbs caress your cheek. “I'm already tired of sleeping alone. Let's go to bed together, love.”

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

Choso would look at you confused, “Why?” that's all he could ask. “Don't you want to sleep next to me tonight?” His shoulder is tense, the feeling of doubt and worry wash over him. He starts to overthink why you want to sleep on the couch alone, yet his expression doesn't really give in. He just looks at you with an intense stare, and reaches out to grab your hand, “Are you upset with me? I'm sorry, love. Please, come to bed with me.”

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He would just stare at you silently for a while before laughing out loud after hearing your response. “Ah, you're funny.” The corner of his lips turns up into a suggestive smirk, he wants to see how far you'll go by doing this. “Don't worry, I can fix that very quickly.” He'd walk to you and throw you on his shoulder, he can and he will. “You won't, 'cause that's not going to happen, darling.” He'd slap your ass. “I'll make sure you'll sleep with me, that's final.”

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

He doesn't know what to say when you tell him that you are going to sleep on the couch tonight. He looks at you with a question mark above his head when you insist on sleeping on the couch and not with him on the bed, “Why not? Is something wrong?” He'd cross his arms and look at you with a raised brow. “Please, let's sleep on the bed...” Then his voice becomes more quiet, adding, “with me...” He doesn't mind if you sleep on the couch but he really wants you to sleep with him. “We've slept together every night so far. Why not this time?”

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

“Yeah, let's sleep on the couch tonight. It sounds fun and comfy.” He doesn't mind the change this time so he'd smile and pat your head. “I don't mind sleeping on the couch tonight.” He'd be serious and wouldn't really be against the idea if it's for you. You'd deny him saying that you want to sleep on the couch alone, and he'd be confused, “Wait, what? What's going on? Don't you want to sleep with me?” He looks at you with a slightly worried expression. He doesn't want you to be far away from his sight and he just wants to cuddle with you.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

“Huh? Why are you sleeping on the couch tonight?” His voice is filled with concern, thinking he's done something to make you don't want to sleep with him, and that leads to overthinking mixed with anxiousness. “Do you need some time alone? Are you mad at me?” He'd tilt his head slightly, “Please, don't tell me we're not sleeping together tonight.” He's borderline pleading now, “There isn't a reason for you to sleep on the couch alone. I can't handle it, please sleep with me.” The poor boy doesn't know what he did wrong in his mind.

Kinda similar to the waiting for him until you fall asleep now that I thought of it, even though I wrote this first.

#ೋღ—物語. #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader

[shotmrmiller]

Simon is enthralled by you, John Price's cat. Oh, how beautiful you look on all fours, rubbing your face on his jeans. How lovely the mews that spill from your lips sound— music to his ears.

He grabs you by the hips to lift you onto his lap, mindful of your tail and brushes his covered nose against your cheeks. "Aren't you just precious?" Simon lifts his mask enough to expose his lips and nips the tip of your human ear. "I wonder if this pretty kitten has a pretty pussy, too," he softly says. Your half-lidded eyes look at John, who's chosen to be just a spectator tonight.

"You heard him, kitten. Show Simon what he's asking for." The bell in your collar clinks as you lift to turn yourself around in his lap, and he grabs your waist with his large hands to assist. "Careful, I don't want you falling off and getting hurt." Simon extends his long, thick legs which gives you a bit more space to work with.

Keeping your knees together, you place your bare, dainty feet on each shoulder, and with a trembling exhale, your knees drop open.

Simon intakes a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of your glistening cunt spread open— a flower in full bloom. The grip on your waist tightens to what should be considered pain, but to you is just acute pleasure.

"She's a fuckin' sight, sir," he admires without looking up. He drags a blazing trail with his fingers from your waist to your mons, pad of his thumb hovering over your swollen, slippery clit. "I'm curious, though, kitten," You look at him, cheeks flushed, and answer him with a tiny little mewl. "I'm curious if you'll purr for me, too," and draws agonizingly slow circles, that is exactly what you want, yet not enough. The whimpers slithering out of your throat make his cock achingly hard, and if you turned around, you'd see a sizeable tent in John's trousers too.

John's voice is thick with arousal as he says, "She likes it when you let saliva dribble from your mouth onto her pussy, isn't that right, kitten?"

You bob your head, mouth open, a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. Simon's touch is magical. You've got liquid fire in your veins, every precise circle rubbed onto your nub tightens that coil in your lower stomach, and when he spits onto your pussy, the warm glob of spit that lands directly on your clit almost has you coming from it alone.

Simon notices how your hips start moving on their own, picking up speed, forcing more friction on your clit when he stops touching you, removing all stimulation. The keen you let out is primal, a high-pitched whine. "Oh, I know, I know," he coos at you, "I just gotta ask your owner for permission, s'all."

He tips his head to the side, looking over your shoulder, and nods. John must've agreed to whatever he's thinking because Simon's dark eyes gleam as they meet yours, a feral, toothy smile on his lips.

Simon taps your hips lightly and orders, "Hips up." Your feet lower from his shoulders to flatten on the couch— thighs spread wide from how broad, how wide his body is. Your hands rest on his knees behind you, and you rest your weight on them to lift up. Simon lets out a snarl and completely hooks your knees over his shoulders forcing your arms to give way. Your head lolls on his thighs, upper body almost completely upside down, and his hands cup your arsecheeks—mindful of the tail— and raise. What—

His warm, wet tongue licks through puffy lips, and flicks at your clit. The arousal that had waned comes back, and it comes back harder, faster, more intense. He's eating you like you're his last meal, and now you definitely sound like a cat, albeit a dying one.

Simon gives your bud a suck and your neck cranes back at the sensation, and that's how you see John, upside down, leaning back, one arm on the backrest holding his drink— the other stroking his cock through his trousers. He looks—

A sharp slap to your arse has your spine curling, legs tightening around Simon's half-covered face, stubble prickling into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Eyes on me, kitten."

Your spine curves and you realize that you can see Simon, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and that he can see you. You wanted to care about the unflattering angle he's got you in, but it all melts away when his mouth opens wide to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit, and his lip is curled on one side, so you can see his unnecessarily pointy canine.

Once Simon realizes he's got your full attention, he eats. Unrelenting as he chases your climax like it was his own. The pulse of your heartbeat is deafening in your ears, your vision darkens as he forcibly drags you to your finish line, and with one final lap at your stiff bud, he tugs on your tail, and you burst.

Mind-numbing pleasure sweeps through your body, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing into you, prickling at your nerve endings, leaving you a shaky, slobbering mess on his thighs.

Simon doesn't even give you a moment, doesn't grant you reprieve because, within seconds, he's manhandling you and sinking you down onto his massive cock, spearing you in half, stretching your soaked channel to its absolute limit. It burns, it stings and yet the only thing that comes out of your mouth is an airy moan.

"Atta girl. Your pussy's suckin' me in like it wants to keep me in it forever," and his head tips back as he groans, "You're squeezing me so tight, m'not gonna last."

John's gruff voice comes from behind you, commanding. "Then don't, Simon. Fill her up."

Simon's answering smile is, honestly, a bit scary. He looks like the predator he becomes on the battlefield, the one who snuffs out life like a fire on a candle wick. Vicious, cruel, ruthless.

"Yes, sir."

He spreads his thighs, feet flat on the floor, and picks you up with his forearms, only to bring you back down on his cock. Impaling you. The tip of his cock is hitting so deep, you vaguely wonder if the flared head is being pinched by the tiny hole of your cervix. He's destroying you, but at no point in time does it ever turn into physical pain. Simon is using you like a pocket pussy, yet is angling your hips to hit your sweet spot. And oh so sweet it is, because it takes you exactly seven (7) thrusts of his hips to make you come around him, frothy, milky essence coating his cock.

"Fuckin' hell, pet. Fuckfuckfuckfu—" and he brings you down harshly, grinding his hips up, as he shoots rope after thick rope of cum into you.

Simon's exposed chin is dripping sweat, as he pants harshly in front of you, trying to catch his breath. Your body begins to slump tiredly when you feel your tail being caressed, beard scratching your neck as John peppers your damp neck with kisses.

"It's my turn now, isn't it." The bell on your collar chimes as John pulls you to kneel on the floor, face pressed in near Simon's softening member. Faintly, a zipper opens, and the swollen, long length of John's cock pushes into you, pushing out Simon's cum, dripping down your abused cunt to make space for him.

"Mewl for me, kitten," and grabs you by the hair, craning your neck to look up at Simon, who's gazing down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. He curls two fingers underneath your collar, restricting your breathing, and says, "Go on. Let us hear you."

what a delightful day to be John Price's cat

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mwii #cod #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #john price smut

[lovifie]

A Ghost Of The Past

Prompt 15 - High school sweethearts reunite and find love again from @glitterypirateduck Ghost challenge - masterlist

Cw: mentions of Simon's childhood, some inaccuracies, little idiots in love, oral sex (fem receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, some glazing, cum play, afab reader

Loving Simon Riley was easy. It came naturally. How could you not? 

Throughout every single year of high school, you were seated next to him. Every project was done together. Homework was done together. Study sessions were done together. Everything was done together. 

You were never invited to his house, even though you invited him to yours a thousand times. 

It was really hard to distract him during class, always saying that he had to pay attention during class because he couldn't study at home. Curiosity always urged you to ask the reason for it, but you never did. Not wanting to risk the friendship by sticking your nose where you shouldn't.

Still, as the two of you started to grow; puberty passing by, changes, new problems, harder courses, harder decisions. Simon found it harder and harder to concentrate, his sight constantly trailing off to you. 

He would shake his head, constantly reminding himself to stay focused. To be realistic. You were his friend and you didn't think of him in any other way. 

His movements would catch your attention, your eyes lingering for just a bit more than what would be considered casual on his face, on his frustrated looking face. Lips slightly pouting and furrowed eyebrows making you smile. 

Still, even as you were growing closer and closer; there was also an abyss threatening to open between the two of you. High school was ending in just a couple of months, and it didn't look like you shared the same plans after graduation. 

You were worrying about university, which degree to choose, your exams, where to go and Simon… Simon kept getting to class with new bruises and cuts. And every time you tried to pry in… he would push you back. 

“That looks like it hurts…” You said one morning, your forearm resting on his shoulder as you pointed at his busted lip.

“Well, aren't you a genius?” He harshly said, pushing your arm off his shoulder and making you sit straight so as not to fall. 

“Well, aren't you nice?” You said back, an annoyed tone in your voice as you turned to your notebook. “No need to be a dickhead, I haven't done anything to you.”

“You never do anything.” He mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that.” You say, turning your head at him.

“Do you want a prize?” He said, with a fake smile on his face.

“Fuck off, Simon. Talk to me when you get the stick out of your ass.” You say standing up, picking up your things to leave. 

He didn't say anything. 

What he did, was knock on your window in the middle of the night. The glass shaking in the rhythm of the Jurrasic Park movie theme song. You ran your blinds, coming face to face with a bloodied nose Simon; so you unlocked your window, staring at him as he looked ashamed to be there. 

"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” 

“..... c’mon in.” You whispered after a minute, taking a step back to give him space to enter. He swiftly did, silent as ever, his feet barely making a sound when connecting with the ground. 

You grabbed his hand, his first reaction was for him to avoid your touch before relaxing. You pulled him to the bathroom down the hall, trying your best to not make a sound. Pushing him to sit down on the toilet, and opening the cupboard under the sink for clean tissues. “I'm still mad, you know?”

“I know… I'm sorry, things… things have been difficult at home, I'm sorry.” He said, looking up at you as you cleaned the dried blood from his face. 

“You could have just told me… vent a bit, something. That's what friends are for, you know?” You say, throwing the bloddy paper in the trash can.

“It’s always friends with you, isn't it?” Simon groaned before he could register what he had just admitted. “Forget it.”

“What?” You stopped your movements, looking at his face.

“Nothing, forget it.” He said, trying to take the new paper towel from your hand.

“No, I don't want to. What did you say, Simon?” You ask again, putting your hand away from his reach. 

“I like you, okay! There, I said it. You can laugh now or whatever, I don't care.” He grumpily admitted in a whisper, standing up to his full height to drop the tissues on the sink and clean his own nose. An obvious blush flourishing on his face. 

“N-No, I… I don't want to laugh.” You say, standing behind him, looking at the eyes of his reflection. “You… like me?”

“Yeah, no need to take the Mick out of me for it.” He groaned again, his face finally clean of the blood.

“I'm not. I'm not teasing you, I… I like you too, Simon.” You whispered back, but he heard it loud and clear; turning around in a blink.

“What?” He asked, too loud to be hiding in the bathroom causing you to shush at him and make him cover his mouth with his hand. “Sorry… but what? You? You like me? Why?”

“What you mean why?” You ask, chuckling softly, your hand resting over his chest as his hand slides from his mouth, catching yours from pulling away. “I just do…”

You notice his gaze travel from your eyes to your lips and the moment you catch his intentions, you feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Simon looking just as flustered. 

Still, you look up at him puckering your lips slightly and before you can regret it, Simon does the same; pushing his lips forward and closing his eyes tightly before crashing his mouth against yours. 

It's just a second. Maybe even less. But it's enough to have the butterflies in your stomach growing wild, your face more and more red as you realise you just gave your first kiss to your crush. 

Simon feels just the same, like his face is about to explode from how hard he's blushing, like everything was worth it, like getting his nose broken was a good thing… his nose!

“Fuck!” He whispers, clutching his nose when the high from the kiss comes down and he realises he smashed it against your face just now. 

You chuckle at him, handing him more paper when you notice the blood running again. You want to kiss him again, and again, until you lose count. So you wait patiently for him to pull his hands back. 

“Young lady, do you mind explaining what's going on?” Your father's voice makes you jump, taking a step away from Simon. “Simon, what are you doing here?”

“Dad, Simon just-” You try to come up with an excuse before Simon cuts you off.

“Sorry, Sir… I, well. My dad and I had a little… disagreement and I didn't have where to spend the night, I… I'm sorry, I'll leave, I don't want to cause problems.” He quickly says, throwing the blood-stained paper towel on the trash can with the rest. 

“I'm not throwing you to the street, Simon…” Your dad answered, sighting as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Simon wondered for a second why he wouldn't when his own father had no problem doing it. “Just… let's go to sleep, I'll give you a sleeping bag.” 

Simon and you look at each other for a second before turning away embarrassed of getting caught. You are the first to walk out of the bathroom, Simon diligently behind you turning the lights off. 

When you enter your room your dad is setting the sleeping bag on the floor, stealing a pillow from your bed and laying blankets on top. “That's one of my pyjama trousers, sleeping with jeans is not too comfy. Go change.”

He throws the pyjama at him, Simon gives him a quick nod and makes his way back to the bathroom. Once out, your father turns to you as you slip inside of your bed.

“He better not get out of the sack, you hear me, young lady? I'm trusting you two to not make anything stupid, you are too young for those things, am I clear?” He asks, pointing his finger at you.

“Yes, Dad.” You say, dragging the vowel. 

He hums, before walking out, sliding past Simon and telling him to behave too, pointing finger and a scowl on his face. Simon enters the room, the tip of his ears still flushed pink, closing the door behind him and sliding on the sleeping bag. You lean over the edge of the bed, propping your head on your hand as you look at him. “Comfy?”

“Very much, yeah.” He says as he shimmies himself into the blankets. 

You chuckle at him, slightly raising your blanket just to see his reaction. “You don't want to join me?”

He looks at you, utter disgust on his face. “Share a bed with you? What are you planning to do to me?” He asks, covering up to his face with the blankets. Only uncovering his face to say: “whore”

You slap his arm making him laugh, and he grabs your hand with yours. “I'm playing, I'm playing. Let's just go to sleep, I don't want your dad to kick me out.”

“Alright, alright… prude.” You say, teasing him back making him groan as you laugh. 

The next morning, when your mom came to wake you up for school, she didn't say anything about your arm hanging from the bed just to hold Simon's hand.

But this confession, the hand holding, the furtive little pecks here and there, was not enough to fix the abyss pulling apart. Because the argument was not the reason for it, it was something else and you only found out on your graduation night. 

When you were sitting on the curb, having dinner from the first fast food place you both could find; still dressed in your fancy clothes and picking the soda cup off the ground.

“I think I'm gonna go into math” You suddenly said.

“Math?” Simon asked, laughing softly. 

You nodded. “Yeah… that or physics.” You said

“You are such a nerd.” He said laughing, earning a kick to his feet.

“Shut up! Not my fault you can't count.” You laughed back. “And you? What are you picking?”

The smile on his face quickly turned sour, disappearing into a frown, worry growing in the pit of your stomach. “I'm actually enlisting.”

“Enlisting? Like… like in the military?” You asked, looking at him even though he was looking forward.

“Yeah… exactly like that.” He said, nodding, still not looking at you. 

“Why? I thought you hated it, like… Simon, why would you join the military? You don't -” You started to say, food resting on its wrapper on the ground. 

“You said it yourself, I can't even count.” He said, dropping his food too. “At least this way I can be useful… I could actually protect somebody.”

“That's not true, Si. You know I was just playing, you are smart. Don't say that.” You say, trying to catch his gaze.

“I barely passed the exams, and… and I already signed in, anyway.” He admitted, looking at his hand. 

You remained silent for a second, switching to look forward too. “So that's it, no? No point in telling you my mind when you're already in, not that you seemed to care about my opinion.”

“That's not it, don't get it twisted.” He says, trying to grab your hand to make you look at him. “Love…”

“Don't ‘love’ me, Simon!” You say standing up. “When were you even going to tell me? Were you even going to? Or were you planning on just disappearing like nothing?” 

“I was going to tell you, I promise.” He said standing up. “I just didn't want to ruin tonight for you.”

“Well, now is too late!” You exclaim, turning around so he cannot see the tears pooling in your waterline. 

“Love, c’mon…” He whined, walking behind you. “You are thinking too hard, they are not throwing me into the battlefield in a week. I'll train, I'll become a good one, I'll get strong, I'll protect you!”

“You can't protect me if you are dead! And what do you need to protect me from, Simon?! Why are you so obsessed with protecting?!” You say, still not turning as you walk towards your house.

He called your name, making you turn to look at him. His heart clenched in pain at the sight of the tears threatening to fall from your glistering eyes but too stubborn to do so. “You don't… you don't get it.”

You sniffle before talking. “You are right, Simon, I don't! Good luck in the military.”

That was the last thing you said to him, venom dripping from your voice as you did. Before disappearing into your house slamming the door behind you. 

He drifted a week later, without another word being spoken between the two of you. And even though he didn't live a day without thinking of you, he never spoke to you until 18 years later. 

He kept tabs on you, always making sure you were fine, alive and happy. And to benefit his selfish mind, unmarried. 

“We are in the middle of fucking Manchester, Laswell! We cannot simply stay in the open without risking civilians' lives! We need somewhere to hide!” His captain's voice barked into his phone, Laswell's response not loud enough for Simon to hear.

He knows your house is just a couple of blocks away, moving out of your parents' house a couple of years after finishing university. He could visit you, drop by, but it is the middle of the night and he is working… no reason to go to you.

“We are on our own, Laswell can't fly us back until the morning. She said they seem to have lost us, so technically we are not being followed so we are safe, we… Let's find some coffee shop or something.” Price says, putting his phone away. 

Kyle groans beside him. “I'm fuckin’ starving… and peeing myself.” The sergeant complained.

“Just take a wee on the bush, Garrick.” Soap grunted at him, exhausted after the strain of the mission. “I just want to fucking sleep, I'm gonna pass out…”

“Kids! The bunch of you!” Price barks again. The prolonged deployment clearly wearing down all of them. “We cannot just go to a random house, knock a secret code on the door and be let into a warm bed and hot food. So coffee and a chair is all we are getting if we get lucky.”

Except they do. Because even though you haven't heard from him in years, he knows that you will open your door to him. 

“I know someone who will let us sleep in their house.” Simon said, hands resting on his vest. 

“You?” Soap asks, looking at him from the curb he is sitting down on. “Who?”

“A friend.” Simon says after a pause, taking his phone out; looking for your number hidden behind the ‘IT Support’ name of your contact. 

“.... you got other friends?” Soap asks with his eyebrow raised. 

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” He grumbles back, his phone dialling. For a moment he expects you to not pick it up, but then he hears your sleepy voice. “Hello?”

“Hey… This is Simon. Riley, Simon Riley.” He says, his fingers pulling at the flap of his trousers pockets. 

Gaz looks at Price, only to be met with the same confused expression. That's not how you talk to a friend.

You take even longer to answer, being just woken up not helping with thinking too quickly. “Simon? ...Si? Where have you- What are you- Why did you- What? Simon, what? I don't-”

“I know, I know, love.” The nickname slipped past his lips like a second nature. “It's a long story, I'm sorry, I know I own you a long, long, very long explanation, listen-”

“Simon, it's 3:00 in the morning, this is…” he can hear you sigh on the phone. “I don't think this is the conversation to have over the phone.”

“That's actually why I called, I'm… I'm back in town for a little, do you… do you think I could sleep at your house tonight? You know I wouldn't ask if I had another choice…” Simon says, biting his glove, unable to bite his nails. 

You sigh again. “You haven't changed, have you? I'll send you my location, it's close to my parents" Simon knows. “Don't take too long, I need to wake up early.”

Before Simon can answer, you have already hung up. He puts his phone away, a smile on his face when it buzzes knowing you sent him your address; and he turns to the expecting men. 

“C’mon, all set.” It’s all Simon says, starting to walk without looking back. 

“Are you going to explain?” It’s Gaz the one who's brave enough to ask. Simon simply looks at him before answering with a deadpan expression on his face. “No.”

Meanwhile, you stay lying on your bed, wondering what to do next. You certainly don't know what to expect next, it's been a lifetime since the last time you saw him.

The scrawny lanky kid that kept talking about protecting you, about becoming strong, about being better… has he been kicked out? Was he simply kicked? Was he injured? Why was he back? 

He doesn't give you much time to contemplate about what can be the reason for his visit before you hear the knocking on your door. You finally kick the covers off, walking to the door yawning; but the sleep gets quickly kicked off your body when you look out the peephole.

Four massive men standing outside of your door, barely able to fit in the steps in front of it. Obvious guns hanging from the straps of their vest, but any of that it’s as terrifying as the skull mask looking right at you as if he could see through the door. 

You can't even see his eyes, only the back voids of shadows; the street lights behind him only hiding his face more. He is the tallest, you can't even see the top of his head, and his shoulders are so wide you doubt he will fit through the door. 

Neither of these men is Simon and suddenly you just want to step back into your bed, away from the danger, call Simon and tell him not to come until these people leave. But the man with the skull mask raises his hand again, and then he knocks on the door; the Jurrasic Park movie theme song sounding loud and clear. 

You hear laughs outside, a gruff voice complaining to shut up, and you open the door, the short chain the only thing keeping it from opening completely. 

The masked man turns to you at the sound, everyone's eyes on you but you can't peel your eyes from him. You hear the alarm bells in your head telling you to close the door, too many stories that start with a dumb decision just like this one. 

But you are not the only one unable to move, Simon's eyes are locked on you. He sees the changes, how you have grown older just like him, but you have just grown breathtakingly beautiful. It has his heart beating on his ears and butterflies turning in his stomach. 

Butterflies? At his grown age? 

But he can't help it, not when your lips look so soft, your hair frames your face like the most perfect frame in a museum, not when your eyes look so… worried? Afraid? You have never looked at him scared before. 

He noticed then how you are almost hugging yourself, using your arms to pull distance and how you frantically look at his face. What are you looking for? What's wrong with the mask? 

…

He quickly pulls the mask off of his head, realising his mistake and seeing your face relax when you identify the dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead. 

He is Simon still.

You breathe more easily once he takes it off, not completely relaxed at the image of the still unknown men standing right behind him. But you know him or used to, and he is your Simon. 

“Sorry, it is… part of the uniform.” He says, a tone of voice any of the men have heard him use before. You look at them, clearly not wearing the mask and catching his lie. He ignores the look you send him, a bashful smile on his face. “Can we come in?”

He leans his body forward, quickly stopping when he notices you move the door closer and look at the man behind him. “They are my team, it's okay, I'll explain it later. It's alright, they are Price, Kyle and Johnny.”

Calling it an awkward situation would be an understanding, when the guy at the back with the mohawk waves at you like a child you sigh; closing the door to undo the chain and open it back up to let them in.

If they wanted to murder you the door was not stopping them.

“Please, c'mon in.” You say, a slight tone of annoyance too difficult to miss in your tone, but it still makes Simon's heart jump at the sound of your voice. “You can leave your shoes on the rack, and well… everything else.” 

They do a quick work of their shoes, resting them on the rack leaving a healthy space with yours; the dirt from them remaining away from them. They take off their bags, vests and belts next; their size not shrinking in the slightest.

Simon simply remains massive, his t-shirt stretched out over the wide span of his shoulders, growing looser around his waist, hiding under his trousers that are just as stretch-out over his asscheeks and massive thighs. It’s then, when you are staring at his ass that one of them talks to you, catching your attention. 

“I'm really sorry, but can I please use your bathroom?” Is Gaz the one asking, a tiny silly dance of stepping on one foot and then the other as he awaits your response. 

You nod quickly, pointing to the door of your bathroom. “Yeah, that one. The light switch is outside.” He quickly moves past you, making you smile when you hear him dramatically groan as you hear water splashing.

“Garrick, close the door!” One of the other men says, the one with the funny-looking beard. “Apologies, he is usually better potty trained; but it's been a long deployment.”

You lift a hand waving it slightly, letting him know that it is okay. Simon can see how you look at him from the corner of your eyes, still awaiting the explanation. Until the loud noise of a stomach rumbling with hunger makes everyone whip their head to the man that waved at you before; a hand on his abdomen and a little coy smile on his face. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask as if the sound erupting from him wasn't an obvious sign. 

“It's okay, I'll live, don't worry.” He quickly says, not wanting to abuse anymore of the hospitality. 

You stare at him, unsure, until his stomach screams again and you move to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Any allergies?”

You get a group “no” as an answer before you make quick work of the cooking. Simon walks in, coming to your side and asking. “Can I help?”

You shake your head. “It's okay, go wash your hands. All of you.” He nods quickly, instructing your orders to the rest as they quickly move back to the bathroom. 

You throw the premade garlic bread on the oven, throwing an obscene amount of pasta noodles into boiling water as you work on the sauce on a pan. You already struggle to measure pasta for yourself, how do you measure for four men built like a brick house?

The oven dings, throwing the bread back onto the plate with your bare hands quickly. You leave the plate on the counter, throwing the noodles on the pan; almost spilling out of it and mixing it quickly. 

You pick two of the plates, turning to leave them on the tiny table in your kitchen; almost sending them flying when you jump, not expecting the four men sitting and waiting at the table surprised with how silently they moved.

“Bloody hell, almost shit my pants.” You mumble as you put the plates in the middle of the table, letting them pick their favourites. You turn twice more to pick the rest of the plates, and once everyone is served you sit down too. “Hope you like it, sorry if it's too poor.”

The one who was the hungriest looks at you like you just insulted his mother before diving in, being fair; after living on MRE for months, a warm plate of food is priceless. 

You smile when they eat happily, making you wonder if you did too little. You let them eat, standing up to go out of the kitchen; but Simon grabs your hand as you walk past him. You turn to look at him, catching how he swallows hardly the half-chewed bite, before asking. “Where’re you going?”

“To get the beds ready.” You say, smiling when he offers his help again, refusing it. He lets you go, his eyes glued to you as you walk.

“So… a friend.” Johnny says, moving his eyebrows up and down. “I think Sisi has a crush…”

Simon turns to him, his usual stoic expression back on his face. “Shut up… We… we used to be together when we were kids, that's all.”

“Wait… So she's your ex?” Gaz asks, looking at the hall where you just disappeared.

“Lower your voice, will you?!” Simon shouts in a whisper. “It was 18 years ago, it doesn't… it doesn't even count.”

“It counts if it has you blushing.” Johnny says with a singing tone.

“I'm not blushing.” Simon grunts, but he rests his head on his hand, trying to discreetly cover his red ear, making both sergeants chuckle. 

The sound of you puffing as you lay down on the sofa has him turning his head, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees you lay a blanket over you. He stands up, walking to you; the three men at the table exchanging a knowing look. 

“Hey, lovie…” Simon says as he leans over the sofa, smiling when he sees you yawning. “Long day?”

You nod at him, rubbing your eyes and looking at him. “And a long night… will two beds be enough for the four of you?”

“Why are you sleeping here, luv? You should be in your bed…” He says, unconsciously moving your hair out of your face. 

“Because none of you would fit in the sofa… besides, it’s easier to clean the sheets than the sofa. No offense but you are all stinky.” You say, digging your pointer finger into the muscle of his ribs making him smile.

“Sorry for invading your house like this.” He says, his hand moving to caress your cheek with his thumb.

“That's okay… my doors will always be open for you, Simon.” You say looking up at him, your hand moving to rest on his arm. “Even when you come back looking unrecognisable.”

“What do you mean unrecognisable? I look exactly the same.” He says, cocking his head with a fake confused look on his face making you chuckle.

“You look like you have eaten the Simon I used to know, have you come back to eat me now?” You ask without thinking before talking. “Wait, no, that came out weird.”

Simon barks a laugh, making you laugh again as he peels your hand from his arms letting it fall; an offended look on his face as he mutters. “Whore.” Earning himself a slap on his arm just like 18 years ago.

Still sitting at the table, the three men smile to themselves. Seeing a new face of their lieutenant, leaning over the woman and almost waving his imaginary tail like a happy pup.

It's hours later, after they all finished eating and you told them to leave the dishes on the sink and that you would clean it in the morning. 

After you told them where the rooms were, and Johnny jumped at Gaz to share the room with him. 

After they all said goodnight to you and went to sleep.

It's after all that, that you get woken up by the sound of dishes moving on the sink; sitting up to look at Simon in the kitchen looking at you and groaning when he realizes he woke you up.

“I told you to leave them, Simon.” You say, voice hoarse with sleep as you stand up.

“It isn't fair, you already cooked.” He says, turning to keep cleaning them. “Plus, I couldn't sleep.”

“Why?” You say as you walk up to him, sitting on the kitchen table. 

“Price snores like an old car going up a hill, and he is way too close to ignore.” He says making you smile. “And I didn't like you being down here alone, the door’s too close.”

He closes the tap when he is done, grabbing the towel to dry his hands as he turns to you. You sigh at his words, rubbing your eyes. “You really haven't changed, have you?”

He steps closer, standing between your legs and resting his hands on each side of your body. “Can't say I have, no.”

You stare at his face, at some point after you fall asleep he must have washed his face, the black paint that covered his eyes before now gone.

You let your arms rest around his waist, leaning your chin on his chest and looking up at him as his hands rest on your back. “You still need to explain yourself, Simon.”

“I know.” He says, his eyes taking in every spot on your face, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, the way you wet your lips; so he doesn't miss the way the tear rolls down your cheek. His hand quickly moving up to dry it with his thumb. “Hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying, love?”

It's there, engulfed in Simon's embrace that every worry for his wellbeing in the last two decades comes down on you. No matter how hard you tried to lie to yourself, there wasn't a day that you didn't think of him, of what he was doing, if he missed you, if he was still mad at you, if he was fine.

“I thought you died, Simon… I thought you died hating me, because I was an asshole that didn't want to listen to you.” You admit, rubbing your eyes with your hands to hide the tears. “I was afraid of something happening to you and losing you because of it, and I was an asshole that pushed you away, I'm sorry.”

“No, no, no, love.” He says shaking his head, his long-ignored heart cracking at the sight of your tears. He hugs you again, making you bury your face on his chest as he leans his forehead on your crown, his own tears threatening to spill. “I should have told you better, I should have talked to you the day after, or anytime in the last 18 years. Something. I was the asshole, love, I should have done better.”

He feels you shake your head, pushing back to look up at him from under. And god damn if he can't feel his heart beat at the sight of your wet face. “You are not, we… we were kids, it was no one's fault.” You say wiping your face with the back of your hand. “We were kids.”

“We are not kids anymore.” Simon whispers, his hands moving to cup your face as your hand moves back to his waist. You can see on his face that he is waiting, for a sign, a word, a something, to let him know that it is okay to go ahead. 

Is like all those years ago, in your parent's house’s bathroom; when you had your first kiss. But so different at the same time. He is not the young boy with the broken nose, he is the grown man with the bump on his nose from where it never healed. 

And instead of just pushing your lips out, waiting for him to move, you lift your hand, catching the dog tags hanging from his neck with your finger and pulling him down. 

There it is. 

The sign he needed.

So he leans down, your face still between his hands, and softly presses his lips against yours. 

His warm dry lips, dancing along your salty wet ones. Butterflies in his stomach doing twirls and crawling up the walls. Your hand on his waist digging your fingertips pulling him closer, your tongue probing at his lips and Simon groaning against your lips when he finally tastes your mouth. 

It stops being an innocent kiss, not with the way his tongue pushes inside of your mouth, his hands moving down to your hips to pull you closer, his thighs so wide you let one of your legs between his. He groans on the kiss, his fingertips digging into the softness of your body making you groan back at him.

It’s when you move your leg, reaching his groin and causing him to grind his hardening aching dick against your thigh that he pulls back; suddenly unsure of how far you want to take it. “Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

You slap his chest, grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt as you do and pulling him close again. “Don't you run away from me again, Simon.” And with the look of absolute lust and hunger in your face, he can't help it but crash his lips with yours again, your legs circling around his waist and your hand pulling his face to keep him close. 

Every inhibition, every second thought, every doubt, easily kicked out of the equation. Everything getting replaced by the need to feel the other, closer, harder, and nothing else but the other. 

The only thing that can be heard inside of the kitchen is the heavy breathing of both of you and the filthy sound of your tongues dancing. His tongue reaches every corner of your mouth, your hums reaching the back of his throat directly. He pulls back once again, resting his forehead in your as he sucks in a breath. “Are you sure you wan-”

“Fucking hell, Simon. Yes, yes I wanna.” You chuckle looking at him with a beaming smile on your face. 

“Thank goodness for that.” He says stepping back, helping you on your feet and lifting your shirt; groaning at seeing your naked form. He leans down, his lips catching your hard nipple and sucking it in making you hiss as you pet his head. 

His wide tongue moves flat over your ribs making you shudder at the feeling, using your hand to lean into the counter. “How have grown so fucking beautiful, sweetheart? I should have come back so long ago, come back to you, my sweet girl.” He slowly turns you around, moving his lips as he kisses up your back; goosebumps erupting as he moves higher, kissing up your shoulder and behind your ear, kissing your ear and biting your lobule. 

His massive hands rest on your hips as he grinds his own, making you feel his hardness against the flesh of your ass making you whine in anticipation. His hands move, his thumbs getting under the waistband of your shorts and your underwear; pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles. His lips move lower again, following the line of your column down your back, you sigh at the feeling, leaning forward and letting your body lean on the counter.

After the torturous couple of minutes, Simon takes to come face to face with your cunt, you don't have to worry about the man teasing you or making you wait. Not with how desperate he is to feel your taste melt into his mouth. 

So that's what he does, as soon as his knees touch the ground he's pushing his face forward, burying his face between your folds. He slides his tongue down, pushing your hood back to suck your pearl making you moan as your hips buckle at the hard suck making him chuckle. 

He kisses your skin, all around your folds, in circles that grow smaller and smaller as he gets closer to your needy clit. He kisses it last, a soft kiss just like he kissed your lips just a minute ago before the kiss turns nastier; tongue moving out of his mouth to rub it against it, drool falling from the tip of his tongue, sucking your clit softly making you moan his name as you bite your lip. 

He moves back, licking up the juices that have spilled from your entrance, drinking them up as he moves closer to its source, slipping his tongue right inside making your walls grasp his wet muscle and pushing it deeper. He groans at the feeling, at feeling your tightness around his tongue, at the taste invading his mouth, making his taste buds fall in love with it,  and at the delirious sounds falling from your lips. 

Your hands move back, looking for him and grabbing his hand resting on the side of your hip while his other hand pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself deeper. Moaning loudly and shamelessly at the way his face glides easily against your glossy folds with your arousal. 

The thumb from the hand on your cheek moves closer, slowly sinking into you making your mouth fall open on an O shape. His mouth moves up again on your entrance, thrusting his tongue deep along his finger into you, making you mewl at the slight stretch. 

But the restraint of his hard cock against his zipper has him struggling to focus on how pretty his name sounds when it falls from your lips, unconsciously looking for friction and grinding his boner against the back of your leg.

The hand that is not holding yours moves lower, undoing his belt with it and his button to keep his raging hard-on covered only by his struggling briefs. You look down between your legs, catching the way the angrily red tip of his aching dick pops out of the confines of his underwear when he thrusts forward. 

Your head moves back up as you moan when you feel him switch his thumb with his index and middle finger. It makes you arch your back, slightly moving back to meet the movements of his wrist. The squelching sound of your cunt sucking his fingers in only urging him forward, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. 

He can taste your arousal dripping down on his welcoming tongue, his fingers impossibly sticky with your juices. He peels his face away, moving back to stand and using his hand on your hip to push you back up, hiding his face on your neck to whisper. “Are you going to let me in, hm? Are you going to open your legs for me just like you open your door, sweet girl? Gonna let me repay you fucking you silly? Are you gonna let me get up to here?” He asks, resting his hand on your lower stomach on the last question and when he pulls his fingers back you can't help but whine, missing the feeling as you part your legs. 

“Please…”

“Please what, darling?” He asks, kissing your neck sloppily as he wraps his hand around his shaft, pulling it off of his underwear and rubbing his leaking tip against your clit. 

“Please… Fuck me, Simon, please.” You whine, looking up at him from over your shoulder when he pulls his head back. 

He hums, satisfied with your response and probing at your soaking entrance with his bulbous tip; rolling his hips to fill you, stretching your walls to accommodate the girth of his member. He kisses your lips once more, not caring about the awkward angle of your neck as he does so, making you moan inside of his mouth as he pushes forward; groaning when he finally bottoms out. “That's a good girl. Taking me in so well… fuck, you fit like a glove, love… chocking my dick so tightly, shit…”

Your hips are pushed against the counter, his strong arms holding your upper body; almost floating with how tight he is holding you to his chest. The roll of his hips is slow, making you feel every vein and crease of his rigid cock as he drags against your walls clamping down on it, only for him to push it back inside making you mewl as you feel it hit deeper than you have ever felt. 

And even though he is lifting you, you can still feel the weight of his body behind you. The strength being held back in the way his muscles tense under his skin, the control of his body with how calculated his movements are and the way he seems to have already lost himself with the way the praises and promises constantly fall from his lips. 

“You have always been so fucking good to me… I always loved you more than anyone else on this bloody planet, love. You always treated me so nice, fuck!” He moans into your neck. “I'm gonna pay you back, sweetheart. For every kind word, for every kiss, for every fucking everything. Fucking hell…” It’s such a raspy moan, that you can feel the vibrations of his chest when the deep voice leaves his mouth. 

He leans forward, letting you rest your body over the counter as his hands move lower, caressing the sides of your body as they come to rest on your hips. He admires your body for a second, before coming down to press his chest against your back again. 

His hips push against yours as tight as he physically can, the light push of his body enough to make you land your feet over his; making Simon fight his inner urge to move his feet only to make you sink lower. 

He moves his hands towards yours, keeping your palm flat against the surface of the counter as he interlocks his fingers with yours. Mouth open kisses on your nape making your brain turn fuzzy as his length keeps hitting again and again the lovely spot that has your knees buckling. 

“Simon, please… harder, please.” You whine, needing him to give you more, to touch you more, to move more, faster, deeper, harder, anything, but more. And when Simon chuckles deeply behind you, making you realise how something switches on him. 

He peels himself back from your back, carefully brushing your hair back into a make-do ponytail; making sure to braid his finger between the locks of your hair. “The Princess wants more, doesn't she?” He whispers against your ear making you bite your lip in anticipation. “Well… anything she wants, I'll get it for her.”

He leans back once again, except this time he doesn't let go of your hair making you arch your back. His hips rolling once more, his painfully hard cock sliding easily between your fold drenched in your arousal; his pace slowly rising making your breathing turn into whiny moans as the tip of his dick keeps pushing the breath out of your lungs with each thrust. 

But your moans are not the only ones in the kitchen, his low moans slowly growing deeper as your cunt sucks his dick in, groaning when he sees the white creamy ring of your arousal form around the base of his shaft, pushing him to keep going. To keep thrusting deep, fast and hard even when he feels like he is going to combust at any moment. 

He only worries when he feels you clench around him, worrying about missing your face of ecstasy as you finally come around his shaft. So he turns you around, not even pulling out and twisting you around making you look at him with wide eyes. 

“I don't want to miss the way you look as you cream my cock, doll. I just know you are going to sing like the prettiest of the birds, love.” His hands move to rest on the back of your head, keeping your eyes locked onto him as his dick keeps drilling into your crying cunt, begging for the release you so badly need. 

It can be heard loud and clear the sound of his skin slapping against yours, a harmony of moans falling from the two of you, but still, there is a whiny tone to your moans that rubs Simon the wrong way. “What is it, love?” He whines back, half-mocking you. “What does my pretty girl needs?”

“Simon!” You moan, making him close his eyes to make sure it was engraved into his memories the sound of his name being moaned by you. “Touch me, please.” 

“How can I say no, hm? When you ask so nicely, sweetheart.” He says as he moves a hand to rub your clit with his thumb, though little circles sending shockwaves up your back. “That's what you wanted? For me to play with your tiny little clit, hm? Such a greedy girl…”

“Fuck, Simon, yes!” You moan loudly when you finally feel your orgasm grow closer. “Please, don't stop, Simon, please… I'm so close, please don't stop.”

And Simon could get shot in the back of the head right now and his body would keep moving, nothing could make him stop right now. Not with the way your thighs are pulling him closer and your cunt is sucking him in.

He feels you try to throw your head back, eyes closing as you open your mouth on a silent cry. Your orgasm hits you like a bucket of warm honey being spilled over you, sticking every fibre of your body and making you hold onto Simon as your strength leaves your body. 

You still manage to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper, your mind still buzzing with your climax and little white dots still on the margins of your vision.

Your legs are not the only ones clinging to him, Simon groans, furrowing his eyebrows as he feels every rib of your velvety walls wrap around his length like a vice; making him whine when he finally manages to pull out. His heavy balls pressed flush against your spasming cunt as thick ropes of his sticky white seed spur over the soft skin of your tummy. A puddle of his spend threatening to spill over the sides of your body with your laborious breathing; wrapping his hand around the base of his twitching cock to milk every single droplet left inside.

A groan leaving his throat at the sight of your soft body, all pliant and shattered by the pleasure of the orgasm still flowing through your veins as his essence lays calmly over your soft skin. 

He bends down, collecting the salty substance with his tongue, keeping it inside of his mouth just for the second it takes for his lips to reach yours; spilling it over your tongue. The taste of his seed coating your taste buds makes you moan at the feeling. He pulls back, smiling and hiding his face on your chest as he chuckles realising what just went down.

Then, weighing out the options and to prevent the awkwardness to take over the situation, he moves back; letting you rest on the counter as he picks the rag he used to dry his hands before wiping the remaining of his spend from your stomach. 

“I used that rag to dry my dishes, Simon…” You say looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Afraid my cum will end up in your mouth?” He chuckles when you slap his hand. He finishes wiping it off and helping you get dressed again, easing you down the counter and walking hand in hand with you towards the sofa. 

He lays down, pulling you on top of him, resting your head on his chest and he throws the blanket back over your body. “You still haven't explained much, you know…”

“I know… I need to order my thoughts beforehand, though… there is just so much I have to tell you… but let's just sleep for now, alright?.” Simon says, petting your head as you yawn while nodding..

“You won't disappear again, will you?” You ask, your eyelids falling close with exhaustion but still awake enough to feel his arms tighten around your body. “No. Not again, love.”

The next morning is a bit of a blur, Simon gets shaken beside you waking you up too. “Helo is picking us up in 20 minutes, get dressed.” A gruff voice says over you that you associate with Price. 

Simon groans rubbing his eyes as he stands up, letting you lay on the sofa for a bit more before walking towards the entry. You frown when he doesn't walk to the kitchen, realising in that moment that Simon didn't even take his clothes off last night, his face, hands and dick the only skin you saw.

You sit up, watching how he puts his boots on; swiftly putting back on the vest and the belt, his mask hanging from the back pocket of his pants.

The three men are already around, any of them seemed too bothered by catching Simon sleeping with you on the sofa. Simon walks towards you once more, sitting down next to you and holding your hand on his lap. “You have my number now… I'll call you as soon as I touch ground, okay?” He asks, his other hand brushing your hair out of your face. 

You smile at him nodding, and before you know it, the loud noises of a helicopter touching ground come from outside your door. You stand, as Price opens the door, waving at the pilot and turning to you, shaking your hand making you smile at the formalities.

“Thank you for your help, love. I'll make sure you get something sent as a proof of gratitude” He says, with an honest smile on his face. 

“There really is no need.” You answer, moving to let Soap walk.

“I think she would prefer Simon to deliver it to her personally instead, Cap!” Johnny says as he chuckles to himself, Price slapping his arm as he passes.

Gaz chuckles to himself, trying to cover it as a cough as he passes to walk after Soap. “Thank you for the dinner and the bed, lass. Nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll hear from you soon.” 

Simon rolls his eyes at the sergeant, not a droplet of mean feelings in the gesture before he turns to you once you are alone, an apologetic look on his face. “I think we don't have to worry about them hearing us last night.”

“Nah, they probably didn't, don't worry.” He says, the two of you chuckling again. Until you look up to him, your hand resting on his chest. “This is not the last time I will be seeing you, right, Simon?”

“No, love. A week, two tops before I'm coming back to you.” He says, kissing your forehead and resting his over yours. “Will you wait for me?”

“I have waited 18 years and you are asking if I can wait two weeks?” You ask and he nods, completely serious about his words. “I'll wait another 18 years for you, Simon Riley.”

He sighs as if he was afraid of other possible answers.

“You won't have to wait that long.”

“I better not.’

“You won't… I promise.”

“See you in two weeks, Simon.”

“See you, love.’

And with that, his lips kissed you one last time, before rolling his mask over his face and walking to the helicopter. Waving at you before closing the door and disappearing into the sky until the next time you saw him.

Half a life living with him, followed by half a life living without him; and now, after all those years, finally the promise of spending the rest of your life living it with him by your side, like the time apart never happened. 

Like Simon Riley never left your side. 

And with the promise that he would never do it again. 

This was. the longest single-chapter fic I have written before. So please, if you liked it leave a comment and reblog it 💚💚💚

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

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[rafeandonlyrafe]

mexico

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, soft!rafe, established relationship, overbearing/annoying parents, proposal, marriage talk

“and why would i not want to come?” rafe questions, a soft smile on his face as he looks over to you.

“my family can be… a lot sometimes. i wouldn't blame you if you couldn't be around them for a whole two weeks.” you explain softly.

“but then i would have to be away from you for two whole weeks.” rafe hums. “i can put up with them if it means being with you.”

“stop it.” you whine out. “you're gonna make me all blushy.”

“i love how easily i get you all flustered.” rafe laughs, pulling you onto his lap.

you've purposely only let rafe around your parents in small doses. they can be overwhelming, intense, and if they get on your nerves, they'll certainly get on rafes.

rafe holds you closer to his chest, his mouth finding yours. you allow him to kiss you for a minute before you pull away, much to rafes dismay as he frowns.

“okay, so to prepare you for them-”

“kiss first.” rafe interrupts. “prepare later.”

you can't argue with that logic.

--

“rafe, did you remember your socks and underwear?”

“mom!” you gasp. “he's a grown man, oh my god. you don't need to announce that in a crowded airport.” you hiss out the last part, a warning against any of her antics, not that it does anything to dull her.

“oh, relax sweetie.” she laughs. “i just don't want your boyfriend to have to get to mexico only to have to buy a pack of undies.”

“oh my god.” you grab rafe, pulling him a bit farther away from your parents, hopefully meaning they won't talk to either of you as much. “im so sorry about them.”

“hey, it's fine.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “just think about mexico. we're going to get there and lay out on the beach just the two of us. ill take you shopping and we'll spend all our money on tourist traps.”

“yeah, when my dad isn't forcing us to go to museums or cultural sites and my mom isn't snapping 1,000 pictures of us.” you look over at your parents only to realize your mom is taking a picture of you at this very moment.

your groan is drowned out by rafes laughter.

--

“mama, we are going out to the beach!” you call.

“oh, goodness!” she quickly rushes into the living room, the back patio opening up right onto the sand.

“be back in time for dinner, dears!” she says, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen and adding it to your bag.

“we'll be just outside, mom.” you say, allowing her to kiss both your cheeks. despite finding your parents overwhelming at times, you love them and know they love you too.

“rafe, she burns easily. make sure you reapply for her.” your mom says, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well.

“yes ma'am.” rafe nods.

you make your way outside before she can say anything else, walking until you're closer to shore.

“let me know when you need more sunscreen.” rafe smirks at you as you both lay out towels. “im always down to get my hands on your body.” 

“perv.” you laugh, making rafe growl and reach over to tickle your sides, ending up lying on the same towel in a heap.

--

your hand in rafes is the biggest solace as your dad continues on about the history of the town, deigning himself an honorary tour guide.

“sorry about this.” you squeeze rafes hand. it was interesting at first, but now that you're on the third hour of explanation about the architecture of one building or how the streets were made, it's becoming boring and manatonis.

“no problem.” rafe hums. “seriously you gotta stop apologizing, baby. your parents aren't that bad, plus, they made you, so i kinda have to thank them for that.”

“oh you're so sweet.” you whine, leaning in to turn your voice into a whisper. “you are absolutely getting laid tonight.”

“and you are absolutely getting treated to a beautiful and private dinner. i already talked to your mom about it. she called me a little romantic.” rafe smirks.

--

“you are a little romantic.” you giggle, reaching across the table to hold rafes hand, the flame of the candle flickering in between the two of you, appetizers and entrees finished, waiting for a dessert to split to be brought out to you.

“have to tell your mom she was right.” 

“hopefully they're asleep when we get back.” you can't help the smirk that stretches over your cheeks.

“oh, you are desperate for it, huh?” rafe laughs, sitting back as the waiter brings you out a chocolate cake dripping in fudge.

“it's been like four whole days, of course im desperate.”

--

“oh fuck.” you whisper, head tilted back against the sheets, rafe between your legs, thrusting mercilessly inside of you.

“god, you're so warm.” rafe hums out, burying his cock inside of you repeatedly.

“to-touch me.” you whine out, rafe instantly knowing what you're really asking for. “i need it.”

rafe drops his hand to your clit, rubbing it as he feels you pulsing around him as your high builds.

“nice and tight for me baby. and so wet.” rafe hums out, struggling to keep his voice low since your parents are asleep not far away.

“gonna cum- rafe!” you let out a gasp. “gonna cum, please.”

rafe moves as fast as his tired legs will allow, wishing he wasn't so worn out from the very long walk around the city with your father.

he makes up for his lack of pace with his thumb on your clit, rubbing and flicking over your bud until your high breaks.

your back arches off the bed with a moan as you cum probably a little too loud, rafe releasing inside of you only a moment later with a moan of his own.

--

“some mama and me time would be nice.” you smile, looking at the spa package your mom laid out in front of you.

“mhm. and your dad has something planned for him and rafe.” she says, looking over to your boyfriend.

“are you okay with that?” you ask, looking over at him as he eats his bacon.

“sure.” he nods. “would be nice to get to know him. one on one, ya know.”

--

“where are we going?” rafe questions, looking out the taxi window as it takes him further into the city.

“a shop.” your father just hums out, leaving it at that.

“okay.” rafe allows the silence to settle until they reach the store. he understands exactly why he's been brought here as he sees the storefront, advertising glittering bracelets and diamond rings.

“sir, i should let you know-” rafe clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the velvet box. “i already have what i think you brought me here to influence me to buy.”

your father's eyebrows raise in surprise as rafe continues.

“i haven't asked your permission yet, but i know i want to marry your daughter. i love her very much.”

“we would be honored to have you become part of our family, son.” your dad says, clearing his throat as tears well in his eyes.

--

“last night.” you hum, looking out onto the the water, the moonlight glittering over the waves.

“actually-” rafe smiles, tucking you further into his side. “we are extending our trip by a week. your parents are going home, though.”

“really?” your eyes widen.

“they insisted, actually.” he chuckles. “on one condition.”

“what's the condition?” you question as rafe sinks to his knees pulling out a box.

“that you say yes.”

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