realisticunrealistic

[realisticunrealistic]

druid!bf wants you in every form .ᐟ

﹕It started with a kiss.

Just a soft one — lips against your shoulder while you lay tangled in the mess of him, naked and raw and still trembling from how hard he’d knotted you an hour ago. He was always like this after. Gentle. Worshipful. Like you were the only thing anchoring him back to himself.

But this time, the kiss lingered longer.

His nose pressed against your skin next, breathing you in. Then came his teeth — careful, grazing the curve of your neck, like his body wanted to bite but his mind was holding the reins.

You felt it in the way his hips shifted behind you. Restless. That low, familiar heat building again. The weight of his arm draped over your middle, hand splayed over your belly like he could still feel the place where he’d filled you. Claimed you. Marked you.

Then he whispered.

“…Can I ask you something?”

His voice was hoarse. Deep. That post-shift rumble still clinging to it like static, like something that didn’t want to leave.

You nodded, soft and sleepy. “Anything.”

He kissed your shoulder again, but this time his hand tightened on your stomach.

“If I asked to take you in every shape I can wear… would you let me?”

Your breath caught.

His cock was hardening again, you could feel it — thickening behind you, pressing to your ass, heavy and flushed and different. Not quite human anymore. Not yet. Like his body was already preparing for what his mouth was too cautious to beg for.

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered, heart fluttering. “Would it hurt?”

He pulled you tighter against him, his voice molten honey and smoke.

“No. Never. I’d never hurt you.” Then, lower: “I’d stretch you. I’d fill you. I’d fuck you until your body remembered me in every shape it could hold.”

You shivered.

“Which… which ones?” you breathed, heat licking down your spine.

His hand moved down. Slow. Possessive. Palm dragging over your mound, then lower still, dipping fingers into your folds where you were still messy and warm.

“The wolf,” he said first, voice graveled with hunger. “Not full. Just enough. Big paws on your hips. My snout buried in your throat while I fuck you from behind. Knot thick and heavy, your cunt wrapped so tight I can’t even move once I’m in.”

Your thighs twitched, breath stuttering. His fingers circled your clit — lazy, coaxing, like he knew you were listening, drinking in every filthy syllable.

“The bear,” he went on, breathing against your ear now. “Massive. Slow. Strong. I’d mount you while you sleep. Wake you up full and ruined. Your tiny little body trembling while I grind into you like I’m trying to put a cub in you.”

You whimpered. His cock throbbed, hot against your back.

“And the stag…” he growled. “Gods, the stag. Tall enough to lift you off the ground and impale you from below. Antlers scraping the trees while I rut into you, over and over, until your voice breaks from how hard you’re screaming.”

You moaned — softly, helplessly — and his fingers slipped lower, easing two thick digits inside your dripping cunt. You clenched around them, already soaked.

“Please…” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what?” he rasped, fucking his fingers deeper. “You want me to fuck you like that? You want to feel all of me? Every piece of the wild I can wear?”

You nodded, feverish.

“Say it,” he growled, teeth scraping your shoulder. “Say I can shift and fuck you however I want.”

Your mouth trembled. You tried to speak, but all you managed was a broken, needy, “Yes…”

And that was all he needed.

He pulled his fingers out, slick and shining, and shifted — just a little. Just enough for his hands to roughen into paws, claws dulled but firm, gripping your hips and rolling you onto your belly.

You looked back over your shoulder, eyes wide, lips parted.

And there he was.

Not fully wolf. Not man either. His face was still familiar — mostly. But his eyes glowed, wild and gold. His chest was broader. Legs longer. Cock impossibly thick, heavier than before, tip already drooling.

He pressed the tip to your folds and leaned over you, panting against your ear.

“First the wolf,” he growled. “Then the rest.”

[realisticunrealistic]

witch!reader x demon part 1

you knew what you were doing when you made the doll.

the commission arrived wrapped in runes you hadn’t seen in years—old dialects of summoning and sanctification, layered twice over in the kind of spellwork that whispered. that wanted. that hungered. the buyer gave no name, just a location scrawled in ink that shimmered when touched, on parchment that pulsed beneath your fingers like a living thing.

you shouldn’t have done it.

but you were curious. tempted. there was a reverence in the request, a kind of obsession that made your magic twitch. and somewhere—under the layers of spellcraft and secrecy—you hoped whoever received the doll would use it the way they clearly intended to.

would use you.

and now—days later—you’re panting, spread open in your own bed, soaked and overstimulated and writhing through another invisible orgasm.

no one’s there.

and yet your cunt pulses like it’s being fucked open, like it’s full. stretched. worshipped.

whoever has the doll, they’ve been diligent. devout. every time they touch her, you feel it. every stroke between her legs shivers down your spine, every kiss to her throat drips down yours like melted candle wax. you wake up gasping, soaked, aching. hoarse from crying into your pillow.

you should be scared.

but you’re starving.

it doesn’t take long to find the trail. the magic isn’t subtle anymore—it tugs at you like a leash. and when you follow it to its source, you find yourself standing in the ruins of a forgotten cathedral, scorched by hellfire and thick with infernal heat.

he’s there.

the demon.

not just any—a high one. purebred, ancient, the kind of being that kingdoms have fallen to. black horns curling from his skull like gilded bone. wings like stained glass soaked in oil. and sprawled on the altar like a king.

with your doll between his thighs.

your doll who looks just like you.

he’s hard already, half-slicked with the aftermath of something recent and ruined, glowing faintly with the last traces of his last orgasm.

his eyes find you.

“witch,” he purrs. “finally.”

you approach like a supplicant. or maybe a queen. unhurried. watching the way his cock twitches as you draw near.

“you used her,” you murmur. “a lot.”

his smile is sharp. “you felt it.”

“i liked it.”

his brow twitches. he wasn’t expecting that.

you reach out, trail your fingers over the doll’s flushed cheeks, over the darkened spread of her thighs. she’s glistening.

“you fucked her like a relic. like you were praying.”

his breath hitches. his hips twitch.

“i was.”

you look up at him slowly, hand closing around the base of his cock. he shudders.

“you came in her,” you whisper. “every time, didn’t you?”

he groans. “yes—”

“good.”

you toss the doll aside and straddle him, letting your heat ghost along the aching length of his cock without giving him an inch of relief. he grabs at your waist, but you slap his hands away.

“you don’t get to touch.”

“i summoned you—”

“you earned the right to feel me, not to fuck me.”

he grits his teeth. his wings twitch, fanning behind him in helpless reflex. his cock throbs against your soaked panties.

“witch, I need—”

“you need nothing,” you hum, grinding against him just enough to make your slick drip down his cock. “you took my body without permission. you played with it. came in it like it was your personal relic.”

he twitches. moans. his eyes burn with shame and want.

“and now,” you purr, dragging your soaked core up the length of him again, “you’re going to beg. for the real thing.”

you rock your hips—slow, obscene—and the friction makes you shiver, even as you deny yourself the fullness you’re desperate for. his cock twitches again, leaking, glistening with both your slick and his earlier indulgence.

he growls, voice like thunder cracking beneath a lightning strike. “let me inside you.”

“no.”

he jerks, panting, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the glow of his eyes. his claws dig into the edge of the altar.

you lean forward, letting your chest brush his through your robes, and press your lips to his ear.

“tell me what it felt like,” you whisper. “fucking the doll. pretending it was me.”

he gasps.

“say it.”

“i—i used her,” he chokes. “like a temple. i kissed her. fucked her on my knees. came in her while praying your name.”

your cunt clenches.

“i imagined your voice,” he groans. “every time I touched her. i wanted to feel you squeeze around me—”

you finally pull your panties aside.

and hover.

just the barest press of your slit to the head of his cock—hot, wet, maddening.

he snarls. twists under you.

you don’t give in.

instead, you reach back and grip his cock, slow and firm, guiding it against your folds but refusing to let him in. just enough to rub. just enough to tease. you slide along his length with sickening, perfect friction.

“beg.”

his breath catches.

“i am not—”

“then I’ll get myself off right here,” you murmur sweetly, starting to grind with slow, brutal pressure. “I’ll use you like you used me. you’ll feel it—me dripping down your cock while I don’t let you inside. while I deny you every inch.”

he growls—full, desperate, rattling.

“witch—”

“beg.”

he gasps. trembles.

“…please.”

you smile.

“please what?”

“please let me inside,” he whimpers, hips twitching under you. “i want to feel you. i want you to take me, ride me—ruin me—”

that’s when you sink down, slow and steady and relentless, until his cock fills you completely.

he chokes on a groan.

the sound is unholy—like something ancient, torn open. his claws rake sparks across the stone altar. his magic shatters like glass against the air.

and you ride him.

like a priestess and a sacrifice.

every thrust is calculated torment—deep, slow, too much and not enough. you roll your hips in slow circles, grind down hard at the base, whisper every filthy thought you’ve ever had right into the hollow of his throat.

“is this what you dreamed about?” you whisper. “this pussy milking your cock? my thighs squeezing you while you pray for permission to cum?”

he’s drooling. his face is wet with sweat and desperation.

you lean down and bite his lip.

“do you still think you’re a god?” you whisper.

he shudders.

you clamp down around him—hard—and he whines. actually whines.

“you’re just a fuck toy now,” you purr. “a leaking, pathetic shrine to my cunt.”

he sobs. “yes, yes, yes—fuck—please—”

“still not allowed to cum,” you hiss.

you ride him harder, hips slapping, cunt gripping, until the air is thick with heat and sex and magic. until his cock pulses deep inside you, filling you perfectly, slick with need. you tighten again and he jerks.

“i should’ve made the doll with a plug,” you murmur. “a self-tightening charm. something to keep your cum in all day, sloshing inside me. something I’d feel with every step.”

“f-fuck—”

“should i make another?” you coo. “a new doll, to milk you dry?”

he whines—hoarse and cracked and so close.

you finally let go.

your walls flutter as you sigh, fucking him through your orgasm like a star exploding—your magic tearing through the room, lashing the walls with raw, molten light.

only then do you let him cum.

and he does. with a snarl.

he spills into you in hot, punishing waves, cock twitching helplessly inside your fluttering cunt, his whole body arching as he empties everything—magic, will, reverence—into you.

he collapses.

shaking. panting. wrung dry.

you kiss his throat. his cheek.

stroke his wing while he curls around you like a broken thing.

and when his voice returns, cracked and reverent, he asks—

“do I still get the doll?”

you laugh softly and tilt his chin up.

“no,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. “you’re mine now.”

he shudders, a strangled whimper escaping as he pulls you closer. “okay.”

witch masterlist

[realisticunrealistic]

you’ve been working here for exactly three weeks.

it pays pretty well. not many corporations hire dhampirs—something about not being “human enough,” plus the usual drivel about your “distractingly human” traits.

but this company hired you for your passion. so it’s not that bad.

well, except for that one time you glanced up from the shelving ladder and saw a magical girl suplexing a demon into a parked vespa through the window. the demon snarled, and the girl just screamed back, glowing wand (which vaguely resembled a dildo?) aimed at his balls.

weirdest part is.. they kind of looked like two of your coworkers from upstairs.

well, whatever. it’s not your business. you’re not getting paid to think about that, so you file it under “probably corporate espionage” and move on.

you go back to filing grimoires.

then you hear the rumors.

apparently, someone from marketing had to take a leave of absence—not for burnout, not for bloodfever, not even because they got temporarily turned into a ficus. no. sexual frustration.

hell leave, your coworkers whisper. went back to the pit for some “self-care.”

which, okay. sure. you are working in the humanity outreach branch of one of the largest multi-realm corporations in the universe. and sure, demons are known for their "passions." but in your experience, anything labeled “demon” in a record is usually crusty, leathery, and smells like grave moss.

so you expect… like, an old guy. horns like broom handles. smells like egg. maybe three limbs, maybe seven. you don't judge.

you do not expect him.

you're in the stacks, shelving a particularly heavy tome on infernal contracts when you feel the shift in the air—static, hot, crackling like a kiss before lightning strikes.

and then he’s just there.

tall. broad-shouldered. business-casual, except for the sleeves rolled up over forearms carved by regret and gym memberships. eyes like heatstroke. horns like they've seen some shit. tie hanging loose like a promise.

you yelp and whirl, the spellbook slipping from your hands—and in a moment of inspired dumbassery, you try to catch it midair.

the pages flutter open on impact.

there’s a hiss. a pop. a sharp, wet ping that echoes in your chest. and then—

“shit,” you mutter, one hand flying to your throat. your skin is hot. your spine feels like a tuning fork. your thighs are—

your thighs are wet.

beside you, he swears softly, voice fraying. “fuck. that hit me too.”

oh no.

“you alright?” he asks, voice low and kind of… gravely. not gravel like rock. gravely like a man in mourning. maybe for his dignity. or his sex life.

his pupils are blown wide. his hands shake slightly.

you look up at him, your vision already going a little floaty. "did i just hex myself with a lust glyph?"

“...yeah. pretty sure you did.” he pauses. shifts on his feet. “also me, too. definitely also me.”

"oh." you lean back against the nearest shelf and fan yourself with a loose demonology appendix. "oh no."

being a dhampir usually comes with advantages. heightened senses, supernatural stamina, the ability to endure a lot of caffeine and the sun. but apparently, it also makes you really susceptible to cursed erotica.

your knees buckle. your pulse is in your gums. the grimoire at your feet hums once and goes silent. like it’s politely excusing itself from the upcoming HR report.

and he’s just there, steadying you with hands that could probably break your spine but are instead brushing your wrist like you’re something delicate.

he’s flushed, jaw tight, like he’s trying—and failing—to keep his breathing level.

you’re burning up.

and the worst part?

he smells incredible. like ozone and smoke and something you probably shouldn’t be getting into at the workplace.

but fuck it.

you’re pressed against the wall behind the reference table, and his tie is bunched in your fist. his mouth is already on your neck, hot, and open, and hungry. like he’s starving and you’re the last girl in the buffet line before armageddon.

“i can’t believe this,” he mutters between kisses, lips dragging along the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “two months in the pit and this is what does me in. some horny new hire with bad luck and pretty eyes.”

you gasp as his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, sharp enough to make your pulse stutter. “don’t blame me. blame you, for sneaking up on a nervous girl with a loaded spellbook.”

“you launched yourself at me like a spell-seeking missile.”

“i was startled.”

“you clawed my shirt off.”

“i panicked!”

his hand is already sliding up your thigh. your skirt is bunched around your hips, underwear shimmied down just enough to give him access. and holy hell, does he take it.

his fingers glide through your folds before entering you, and he growls under his breath. “fuck. you’re soaked.”

“yeah, well,” you breathe, rocking into the touch, “i’m cursed.”

his laugh is wrecked and stupidly fond. “i’m gonna be cursed too if you keep looking at me like that.”

you blink, dazed. “you are cursed. we both are.”

“fuck,” he pauses. “right. right. i forgot—did i mention i’ve always been pent up?”

then he lifts your leg around his waist and presses in, slow and thick and maddening, until you’re gasping against his collarbone, nails digging crescents into his shoulders. he stretches you open with obscene ease—like you were made to take him.

you choke on a moan. “you’re—fuck—you’re big.”

“i’m being gentle,” he mutters, voice frayed at the edges. “does it hurt?”

“you’re halfway in already,” you whimper, clenching around him. “finish what you started, demon boy.”

that’s all it takes.

he slams into you the rest of the way, a hand rising quickly as your head falls back to stop it from hitting the shelf. your whole body quivers—burning, trembling, wet, and wholly overwhelmed—as he starts to fuck you in earnest, sharp thrusts hitting deep enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

“shit—fuck, you feel..” he groans, rutting into you like he can’t help it, like you’re something sacred and filthy all at once. “so tight. so fucking hot.”

your hands are in his hair now, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands. his horns graze your wrist. his breath comes ragged against your jaw, and every drag of his hips hits something deep, something that makes you keen and bury your face in the crook of his neck to keep from screaming.

“i’m gonna—oh god—” your legs are shaking. your thighs clamp tight around him, pulling him impossibly closer. “i can’t—too much—”

he kisses you, sloppy, desperate, tongue tangling with yours as he swallows your moans and grinds against a spot that has you seeing stars.

“cum for me,” he groans, thrusts turning frantic. “fuck, please—need to feel you.”

pleasure explodes low in your stomach, bright and blinding, and he fucks you through it—his pace losing rhythm as he chases his own high, chanting broken curses in a language older than sin.

he follows you with a whine, buried deep and twitching inside you, heat spilling over as your bodies shake and lock together.

you’re panting. boneless. your blood sings in your veins like you’ve just drank sunshine.

somewhere above, a filing cabinet rattles from the impact.

afterward, you find yourself tangled in a blanket he pulled out of his bag (affectionately named “tiffany”), a sticky mess between your legs and a smug, dazed demon curled around you like a heater that fucks.

you’re both still thrumming with residual magic, like the glyph hasn’t quite let go yet, just softened into afterglow.

he stares at the ceiling, cheeks flushed and tie somehow still hanging around his neck like a badge of honor.

you reach over and pat his chest.

“feel better?”

he covers his eyes with one arm and mutters, “i’m going to propose to you.”

“you don’t even know my last name.”

“i’ll learn it. i’ll take it. i’ll hyphenate. i don’t care. oh, are you okay with cats? i have this cat, greebo. i named him after this book series i really like. if you're allergic i'll leave greebo with my mom—oh, my mom!"

you stare at him, amused.

"you can meet my mom," he continues. "she’s down in hell right now, but i’m sure we can use our vacation days. she’ll love you."

you snort. "i work in archives."

he exhales slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth curled into something dangerously close to a smile.

"god, that's hot."

you open your mouth to reply, but pause when you hear voices echoing from up the stairwell—two people bickering in low, irritated tones. you peek from behind the shelves just in time to catch a very singed steve from accounting arguing with a girl in a glitter-stained outfit and star-shaped earrings, both looking like they’ve just crawled out of a dimensional explosion.

you blink. slowly turn back to the demon beside you.

“that’s,” he says, reading the question on your face. “why i had to go on leave.”

you stare at him. then nod.

“yeah,” you mutter. “that tracks.”

[realisticunrealistic]

Trapped in him

A/N: Inspired by this video and in honor of the weird monster week I’m doing over Patreon. Enjoy!

Slime monster x fem!reader || dub-con, overstimulation, free use (kinda)

You know it’s not a good idea. You’ve never had a good idea after midnight, but you are still a stubborn researcher that likes to take too much interest in her investigation. So out of pure scientific curiosity and your search for discovery, and against all recommendations, when everyone leaves the lab, you open the container of the life-form you haven’t yet decided what exactly it is… And you stick your hand inside.

The reaction is instantaneous, your whole body lurches forward until your other hand is resting against the slimy creature and you can feel the vibrations of it. You can see through it, but in a way, you know it’s sentient. You know it can feel you touching its surface the same way you can feel its texture under your fingers.

You are so mesmerized by the way it moves and the touch of it, that you don’t realize the slow caress of it’s slime form up your arm, until it reaches your shoulder. You try to pull back, but it doesn’t let you, your body is almost stuck in it. You struggle a bit harder, and the blob hums, a low vibration that travels up your arm.

You can feel a static sensation on your cells as your body reacts in the weirdest way, going plaint against its form and surrendering as heat pools in your lower abdomen.

It continues up your body. Its body wraps around yours, embracing you into a bubble of heat and slick that leaves you breathless for a second before your brain dissolves into emotions and sensations so profound and deep that you can’t process what’s happening for a second.

You stare into the horizon as the slime surrounds your body and your clothes start to disintegrate around your body. It’s weird, it barely touches your skin, the compounds it is dissolving don’t hurt or burn, your clothes just disappear into its mass and you are met with a warm something around you.

And then it starts moving and you can’t do nothing but groan as it starts thrusting, caressing, groping… It’s everywhere at once and you are being thoroughly fucked. Your brain is short circuiting as your whole body is overthrown with pleasure so intense that you can’t scream. You can’t move. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

It keeps moving around you, the slimy texture around your body sends you into another orgasm. And another. And another… Your pussy feels raw and moist at the same time, overstimulating you until you are crying and coming again. And again.

It’s not until your coworker arrives that you realize how much time has happened, her scream bringing your consciousness back to your body as you smile tiredly at her, your body too tired to do much more as you orgasm one more time…

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[realisticunrealistic]

profile pic explanation

[realisticunrealistic]

Ok but I do need to be taken by a large monster and fucked within an inch of my life. Their cock so insanely large it should never fit, but they force it to anyways. Claws digging into my hips as they pound my little human pussy. Hot breath on my neck as they growl in pleasure. My stomach bulges with the size of them with every thrust. When they finally cum it fills me so full it overflows. I'm left a broken mess who will never be able to go back to human cock again

[realisticunrealistic]

Hello ! I was just wondering about certain monster related things. Now this may seem a strange topic to ask but do different monsters have different currency? I'm a big collector of coins and would love some info from DoMA about it if possible!

Thank you for contacting the Department of Monster Affairs. There are many interesting concepts of currency found in the magical realm.

To start, the humans that have lived in the magical realm since the Division have continually used precious metals (e.g., gold, silver, copper, aluminum) as their typical coinage. While each country sets creates its own coins, most have agreed on a set standard weight and size for these coins, allowing for easier trade across countries. Much rarer are platinum coins. These coins rarely leave their homelands because the mixture of platinum metals used is different for each country, making them unable to be standardized. The rarest "coin" is mercury. As mercury is liquid at room temperature, these coins are actually magically reinforced glass balls. They are used only when trading among the wealthiest for large purchases or Mages. The Mages, of all species, tend to use these mercury balls as arcane currency among themselves.

Regarding the monsters, many have adopted human currency in their dealings to help facilitate trade. However, there are still cultural norms surrounding debt and currency that do not align with human values. For example, Orcs were a barter-based society when they were not raiding for supplies. However, in their bartering, they represented debt through notches on iron rods called "favor iron." Favor iron represented someone's debt, and when that debt was cleared, the iron was smelted down. This favor iron could be considered a type of currency for collectors, as the debt was occasionally traded around within a tribe.

Some monsters do still maintain their own cultural currencies even if they trade with humans, using only human coins for these trades. One example is elves that facilitate trade with other elves through seeds, tree cuttings, young trees, eggs, and occasionally live animals. This helps to promote genetic diversity in their forests (or other biome type) but also adds to the beauty. The rarer the flora or fauna is, the more valuable it is to the elves. Another example is dwarves, who use gem currency, where raw or polished gems are used as currency, with their value based on clarity and rarity. A final example is merfolk who use driftwood as their currency. Since wood in the ocean is scarce, it represents a relatively finite source, with new driftwood needing to be found or processed. Merfolk carve this driftwood into rings to more easily carry them underwater as currency. Interestingly, this makes old wooden shipwrecks a treasure trove similar to ore mines for humans.

Hopefully, this satisfied your curiosity. If you wish to collect currency from the magical realm, there are many monster cultural organizations that may be able to facilitate your interests. Thank you once again for reaching out to the Department of Monster Affairs.

[realisticunrealistic]

ghost bf lifting up your skirt while youre leaning over the kitchen counter and fucking into your cunt while you have to keep conversation with the guests you have over

[realisticunrealistic]

youre walking through the forest, enjoying the sunlight coming through the leaves, when you notice a ring of mushrooms in a clearing.

you walk over, bending down to examine the odd arrangement, when the grass lashes out, wrapping around your wrists and pulling you forwards, your knees hitting the forest floor with a thump

panicked, you attempt to fight back as more grass ensnares your limbs, pulling your chest to the ground, pinning your feet to the soft forest floor, the grass snags your clothes, lifting your skirt and pulling down your blossom, leaving you exposed in the clearing

a tinkling sound, like a bell, approaches, and you see a small shape whizz into the clearing. a fairy! the fairy flies around you, observing your situation. you call out for help, only to be ignored

the fairy circles around behind you, flying closer and touching the lips of your exposed pussy. the fairy, only slightly larger than your palm, begins to poke and prod at your pussy, tinkling at the wetness that gathers

the tinkling noised continue as the creature roughly grabs your clit, causing you to jolt, protests cut off by a surprised moan. moans and pants continue to fall from your lips as the heated sensation of the fairy's mouth radiates from your clit, kissing and sucking as the creature pulls and moves your clit

the stimulation builds along with the shame on your cheeks, pleas and pleasured cries filling the clearing, your body rocking into the fairy's ministrations, legs shaking, a line of drool coming from the corner of your mouth. the grass keeping you restrained has started to pull at your nipples, tugging and rolling them in time with the fairy's sucking on your clit

you are cumming, a long broken moan clawing from your lips, your cunt spasming around nothing as pleasure floods your body, the impossibility of the situation making your orgasm that much stronger

as you lie panting against the ground, trying to right yourself after the dizzying experience, you see the fairy hovering in front of your face, it winks at you, skin glistening with your juices, before it zips away. the grass releases your body, and you slump to fully lie on the forest floor, bewildered and blushing in satisfaction

[realisticunrealistic]

*sigh* a girl can dream…

saw a pussy portal story, and omggggg i wish, imagine sitting bored through a lecture and a monster decides to use your portal???? getting absolutely wrecked by a giant ridged cock, panties ruined with your slick and the precum as this monster pounds your little pussy and you are forced to wobble off to the bathroom, curling up on the ground and letting the monster force broken and desperate little ah ah ah ah ahs out of your mouth, uncaring of other student who hear you cumming over and over in the stall, clenching and squirting on monster cock

[realisticunrealistic]

Monk's Temptation (part 6)

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3-1 ] [ part 3-2 ] [ part 4 ] [ part 5 ]

a/n: God have mercy on Atanas' soul, he will do something utterly unholy. Also, we have some lore about his species! content: nsfw, fingering, spitting?

Did he scare you? Yes, of course he did. Your grandmother - just like any god-fearing woman - told you stories of Karakonjuls when you were little. How fearsome they were a millennium ago, a wild man-eating tribe that tortured medieval humans. And how slowly they calmed down, accepted Christianity, and changed their diet. But still there were… accidents. The transition wasn’t easy. Some horrible events and setbacks demanded new laws and obligations. In some countries, for example, every Karakonjul family, regardless of the number of children they had, was required to give at least one child to serve God, as a way of repaying for their savage past.

You wondered if one of those Karakonjul children sent as a repentance is standing right in front of you, barely breathing as if ready to pounce, emanating intensity and hunger.

So many questions linger on the tip of your tongue. You want to know everything about him. Inward and outward. But should you, is the real question.

“Atanas, do you…” You need to tread this path carefully. “Do you like being a monk?”

Atanas’ eyes turn back to a mellow blonde shade, but they lose their vibrancy and turn to a solemn white. “I…” He takes a long pause. “I like the gardens.”

“The gardens, huh?” You take a step forward, trying to peer into his hood. But aside from two glistening orbs, you can’t even make out the shape of his head. “Why did you want to become a monk?”

His head snaps up. “I didn’t. My parents sent me here.”

So you were right; this wasn’t his choice. He never wanted this life of spirituality and self-sacrifice. You assume nobody asked him what he wanted. Your heart starts racing, as it dawns on you that you are alone with a fearsome Karakonjul, hidden by the pouring rain, wind, and darkness, lulled by the smell of fresh and ripe apples.

“Ani…” You move to touch him, but change your mind. “Can I see your hand?”

His eyes turn to stormy blue as he curls his fingers into a fist and hides them behind his back. “Please don’t. I’m scary.”

You giggle. “I will be the judge of that,” you retort and present your palm. 

Atanas is still reluctant, but there is no escaping your demanding eyes. As if he’s about to be punished, his head hanging low, he places his bony hand into yours. You look at his rough gray skin, speckled with onyx marks, and his long four fingers decorated with sharp black claws. Those hands hunted and killed humans a thousand years ago. And now, barely touching your skin, the hand of this terrifying predator is shaking.

“Ani…” You place your other hand over his. “You are fascinating.”

He gasps. There is some inarticulate sound coming from his hood, but nothing resembling a language comes out. Instead, he squeezes your hand. And the trembling stops. His eyes slowly turn pink, and he looks at you with the same intensity he chased you with.

Your heart is beating in your throat - you and Ani are holding hands. And you are excited about that. What are you, five?

Even though he doesn’t reject you nor accept your flirting, you place his hand on your face. This time, he doesn’t gasp. He just stares at you, like a hawk. He gently cups your cheek. 

“Should I stop?” you ask. 

He shakes his head slowly. You pull his palm across your lips, chin, down your throat, and stop it between your breasts. Are you insane? “Should I stop now?”

He is trembling again, and his claws scratch against your skin. As if he wants to dig them in.

“No…” he whispers. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I should say those words, Ani.” You smile, but the monk just blinks in confusion. It’s too soon, too soon, you reprimand yourself. But you can barely control your thoughts anymore. You are also shaking, your knees slightly buckling. “Ani, I… Do you want to touch me?”

With a sharp rustle of his habit, you are pressed against the rough fabric covering his chest. His other arm is placed against your back, his fingers digging into your soft folds. You are sure he can feel how hot you are, how fast your heart is beating. Does he even have a heart? Does he bleed? Does he have a skeleton? Does he reproduce like humans?

“Yes…” he whispers, but this time he sounds different. As if his voice belongs to another man, another… creature. Does he scare you? Yes, oh yes, so much. And you love it.

Your ache is unbearable. You lift your skirt up to your breasts and lead Atanas’ hand against your soft belly, pressing his palm against your navel. His eyes pulsate in that vibrant magenta colour, and, with a moist breath, heating the air between you, he starts purring. The vibrations spread throughout his body, right to the tips of his fingers brushing against your bush. You wonder does he know how much you desire him. Is he aware of the state your body is in, the edge you are standing on? 

“Touch me, Ani…” you bite your lip, staring into the void. 

Atanas growls, and his fingers slide into your panties. You moan, letting go of his wrist completely to grab his habit. He pulls you even closer, oh-so-closer, and the odor of cheap detergent and incense trapped in the fabric fill your nostrils. You don’t want that smell now. You want to smell him, only him, but you can’t. It’s not important. Not right now, in any case.

Atanas purrs above your head, as his fingers touch your cunt, your folds, your curls as delicately as petals.

“Ani…” You place your skirt higher and spread your legs more. “Harder. Please, harder… That little bud… higher…”

His fingers seem fascinated with how wet you are, constantly rubbing your entrance, gently probing. But you don’t have enough time for that. You need a release now. “Ani… there, right there… press it and… left and right…”

You are mumbling into his habit, hiding your face to silence your moans. Atanas is next to your ear, panting in an almost beastly way, and that drives you crazy. He is painfully inexperienced, but he understands your instructions. Barely. It is too much, not enough, too rough, too gentle, too slow, too fast, all at once; but it is Ani and those are his fingers getting you off. 

“Yes… yes… yes…” He hears your whimpers and holds you tighter, grabbing you by the ass and lifting you. He does something between your legs, his fingers shift in a strange way, but whatever he does, it pushes you right over the edge. You scream against his chest, and Atanas duets with a snarl. 

You are giggling and panting after the strong wave of your orgasm, but Ani lifts your head, forcing you to look up, into his face, into flaming red irises. He pushes his thumb into your mouth and opens it. You are panting, shaking from your climax, but a new sensation overpowers that delight - dismay.

For the first time, something else appears in the face void. A shape forms underneath his eyes. Something is glistening, moving, twisting. But you can’t quite make it. Hot air washes over your face, and a long, thick thread of spit drips right onto your tongue, sliding down your throat.

The orbs flicker, suddenly changing into pale blue ones. The purring and snarling stop in a heartbeat. You blink, and Ani releases you with a nervous gasp.

He looks at his hands as if he sees them for the first time, glances at you again, and runs outside. 

“Ani!” you yell after him. What have you done? You fall to your knees. Fuck. What just happened? You swallow, feeling the strange liquid glide like a warm chocolate down your throat. And what has he done to you?

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

Taglist: @blushycadaver @just-kattt @kittycatkandies @sunndust @guess--monster @rs-hawk @frosch-thefrog @frightfr @faithisthedoctor @sleeplessskeleton @misspendragonsworld @concubus-cuddles @lexariahane @cutiebimbo @aesthetic-dummy [ please let me know if you want on/off ]

[realisticunrealistic]

SFL: His Good Girls

WhoeverxBff(Ophelia)xReader

꯳⃘꤫⃛͡ 2,340 words, pre-discussed terms for sex scene, mxfxf, rope, slapping, choking, no condom(use protection irl), bdsm dynamics, missionary->doggy, riding, creampies, multiple rounds, degradation, name calling/pet names(e.g., slut, whore, sweetie, baby, my girls, ect), making out, crying due to sexual intensity, size kink, intense themes, ect꯳⃘꤫⃛͡

You wake to the smell of smoke, sweat, and the sound of someone crying.

Your tongue is thick. Your jaw aches—in a way that makes your thighs clench.

You try to move. Your arms won’t obey.

And you remember.

You asked for this.

The room is dim, the fire out. The lantern in the corner flickers shadows against the pine-paneled walls.

And in front of you, just like you planned—

Ophelia. On her knees.

Naked. Bound. Gagged.

Tears shining down her flushed cheeks. Her wrists are tied in front with coarse rope, her legs trembling, thighs slick and spread. Her whole body shakes.

But she’s not saying her safeword. She’s not pulling away.

She’s presenting—for him.

You try to speak, but the cloth gag is still in your mouth. Your jaw throbs from it, spit dampening the corners. Your thighs are strapped down. Wrists bound behind the chair. Ankles locked in place.

Exactly how you wanted.

And then—his voice. That low, dangerous purr you’ve dreamed of since he first offered this scene.

"Shh. Don’t interrupt, sweetheart.”

He’s behind her.

Older. Massive. Mean, but practiced. His shirt hangs open. His chest is thick with dark hair and raw strength—earned strength. His dick is hard, thick, already leaking, so big it makes your breath catch. He strokes down her back with that terrifying gentleness that always makes you wetter.

Ophelia sobs once—but doesn’t fight.

He grips her hips, opens her slowly.

"She begged for this,” he murmurs. “Said she wanted you to watch me split her open. Said she wanted you to see her break.”

You strain against your restraints, gag muffling the moan in your throat.

He doesn’t even glance at you.

He just pushes into her.

All at once.

Ophelia jerks, her whole body seizing as a helpless moan bursts past the rag in her mouth.

“Fuuuck,” he growls low. “ That’s it, baby. Take it—take all of it.”

She chokes on a sob—but she’s not trying to crawl away. She’s frozen, twitching, thighs shaking as he slides deeper, slower now, bottoming out inch by impossible inch.

You can hear how wet she is.

Hear the sound of it—obscene, slick, rhythmic—as he starts to fuck her right there in front of you. Her knees spread wider. Her head falls back. And when he reaches down to grab a fistful of her hair and pulls her upright—she moans.

She’s crying.

But she’s moaning.

“Look at her,” he says to you, voice low and cruel. “You see this? That little whimper she just made? That was for you.”

He shifts his angle, grinding into her. She shudders violently.

"You know how many nights she lay beside you thinking about this? You. Me. Her—just like this."

You let out a strangled whine. Your body’s hot. Aching. Soaked.

Ophelia’s head lolls sideways. Her eyes meet yours.

They’re wide, tear-bright, sated.

But her hips are moving now—just a little.

"That’s right, my girls,” he coos, picking up pace. His hips slap against her, hard, brutal, rhythmic. Her breasts bounce. Her wrists twist in the rope.

“We’re gonna wake something real deep in both of you. And when I pull that gag out, sweetheart—”

“You’re gonna tell her you want her to touch you.”

Ophelia jerks, gag muffling her scream. Her back arches. Her whole body shakes like she’s being wrecked from the inside.

“Fuck,” he growls low. “Still so fucking tight. That’s it, baby—take all of it.”

You watch as inch by devastating inch disappears into her, his hips grinding flush. She’s crying now, face slick, but her ass is pressed back into him—begging silently for more.

"She told me she wanted to make you jealous,” he says, starting to thrust. Slow. Heavy. Deep enough you feel it in your own gut. “She wanted you tied up while I bred her full. Wanted to show you how it sounds when she gushes on my cock.”

Ophelia’s head falls back. She moans—a raw, wet sound through the gag—and when he grabs her hair and yanks her upright, she shudders like she’s about to cum already.

"You watching?” he growls. “You hear that? That drip? That’s her pussy crying for more.”

He pounds into her harder. Her breasts bounce. Her thighs shake.

Your eyes lock.

She’s crying, she’s moaning, and she’s grinding back.

“You thought you were the strong one,” he says, fucking her like he’s trying to ruin her for anyone else. “But look at you. Dripping. Gagged. Useless. Hot little cunt just begging for your turn.”

You scream into the gag. Not in fear.

In frustration.

In need.

“She cried for you,” he growls, slapping her ass hard enough to make her flinch. “You didn’t come. So now you watch. Until I fill her up. And then it’s your turn.”

He slams into her with a brutal rhythm, hips slapping, dick disappearing again and again into that tight, slick heat until she’s moaning like an animal.

Ophelia’s entire body convulses when she cums, screaming behind the gag. He holds her still. Stays buried deep.

And when you see the way her stomach flinches as he groans—you know he’s filling her.

“There it is,” he pants, buried to the hilt. “Took it all like a good girl. Stuffed full. Just like you’re gonna be.”

Ophelia crumples forward. Breathing hard. Cum dripping down her inner thighs.

Then his eyes find yours.

“You next, baby?” he says, pulling out with a wet slap. “You keep making noise.”

He stalks over. You try to twist away—he grabs your face.

Big hand, rough fingers. His thumb presses your cheek hard, forcing your jaw sideways.

"You gonna be louder than her, honey?” he murmurs, leaning in. “You gonna cry for me too?”

You glare, breathing hard through your nose.

He smiles.

And slaps you—sharp and fast, just once, across the cheek.

"So stubborn and bratty... I like that.”

He rips the gag out of your mouth, leans down, and kisses you. Rough, wet, full tongue, taking his time. He tastes like smoke and salt and something darker.

“Color?” he asks, kneeling beside you to untie your gag.

“Green,” you pant, throat sore. “Please, fuck me.”

“Mmm.” He kisses your jaw, rough. “That’s my good girl.”

He lifts you like you weigh nothing.

He carries you to the bed.

Throws you down like you weigh nothing.

The mattress creaks under both your bodies. Ophelia’s already there—he dragged her after, still bound, still breathing like a girl in a trance. Her eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide.

You crawl back, but he grabs your ankle. Yanks you down to the edge.

“Don’t run now, sweetheart,” he coos, looking down at you, spreading your legs wider. “You’re about to get what you came for.”

You feel the head push between your thighs—too wide, hot, already leaking. It drags through your folds, heavy and mean, before pressing at your entrance. You’re soaked—squirming at the feeling.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he breathes, rubbing the fat tip against your hole. “Didn’t even touch you yet and this pussy’s begging to get filled.”

He flips you onto your stomach, chest pressed to your back. His hand slides up your neck.

You gasp—his fingers curl around your throat.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

You do.

“Now take it.”

He pushes in—slow, but massive. The stretch is unbearable. Your mouth falls open. Your nails claw at the sheets. You scream.

“Shhh,” he hisses, leaning over you, chest to your back, body flush against yours. “You feel that?” His hand slides down your side, groping your ass, spreading you open. “That stretch? That’s the part that makes you mine.”

He slams in—slow, but relentless. You choke. Arch. Your nails claw the sheets. He doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in. Too deep. Too thick. Too much.

“Goddamn,” he groans. “Tight little pussy just clenching for me. Gonna wreck this one.”

He starts to thrust. Hard. Each stroke drives the breath from your lungs. He slaps your ass, grabs your hair, shoves your face into the mattress while fucking you from behind.

“You hear that, Ophelia?” he pants. “Your little friend's gushing on my dick. She loves it.”

You’re moaning now. He is so deep and overwhelming—you can barely think.

He starts to fuck you harder—thrusts brutal, rhythm tight, hand gripping your throat just enough to make your vision dim at the edges.

“Told you,” he pants. “Gonna fill you up till you match her. You want it? You want my cum stuffing this little hole too?”

You moan—half sobbing, half begging. “Y-yes—please—cum inside—”

You’re trembling. He is so deep you swear you feel it in your throat.

He’s not gentle. He’s never gentle when you ask him like this.

Just pure force—hips pounding into yours, hand tightening around your throat when your moans get too high, your back arching so hard you nearly black out from the stretch.

And still—you want more.

You clench around him.

His fingers slide between your thighs—find your clit, swollen and throbbing—and start rubbing rough little circles. Fast. Cruel.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls. “I want to feel you milk my cock while I’m breeding you. I want you to scream for it.”

Ophelia moans behind you. Still gagged. Still tied. She’s watching with glassy eyes, thighs pressed together. Her lips are trembling.

She’s close again—just from watching.

Your body’s shaking. Sore. Close. "I—mghn!—You're so—ahh—please!—" You can’t stop your moans or incoherent babbling.

He chuckles. Then he grabs your wrists and drags you up—makes you straddle Ophelia’s waist and lay on top of her, he drives back into you from behind.

“Touch her,” he growls. “Kiss her. Show me you’re just like her.”

You lean forward. Ophelia whimpers.

You kiss her.

She moans—and kisses you back.

Tongues, lips, teeth. Her bound hands grip your hips weakly, as if she’s trying to pull you down, closer, while he fucks you harder than anything should.

"Look at you,” he whispers, voice full of cruel wonder. “Two perfect little sluts. My girls.”

Your orgasm hits fast. Rips through your belly and down your thighs.

You cry out into Ophelia’s mouth, trembling as he holds you down and fills you, just like her—deep, thick spurts of hot cum that make your stomach flip.

“There it is,” he groans. “Now you match.”

You collapse beside Ophelia, twitching, dripping, your body a mess of heat and ache.

He kisses both your foreheads.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We’ve got all night.”

He doesn’t leave the bed. He lays back instead—thick, sweat-slick chest rising, still hard, slick with your cum and his. His hand grips the base like he owns time itself, slow strokes, keeping himself ready.

You and Ophelia are curled up against each other, tried and shaking, your bodies still twitching from being used. Cum leaks down both your thighs.

"Up,” he says. “C’mon, sweetheart. Show her how it’s done.”

You don’t move.

His voice lowers. Darker.

“You gonna disobey me? After everything I gave you?”

He grabs your hips, pulls you up and over him—makes you straddle him. You’re so sore you gasp when the head of his cock drags between your folds again.

“Awww, what’s wrong, baby? That fat little pussy still too full?”

You flinch at the slap—sharp, right on your ass—but it sends a pulse through your core.

You line him up.

Sink down.

Too big again. Too much.

Your thighs tremble as you take him, inch by inch, your insides stretching painfully slow around that impossible size. He holds you there. Watches your face like he’s drinking you in.

“There she is,” he whispers. “My pretty little whore. Thought you were tough. Now look at you—crying on my cock.”

Your hands are on his chest. You’re moaning through gritted teeth, riding him in broken rhythm—more like being moved than moving.

“Tell her,” he groans. “Tell Ophelia what it feels like.”

You look over. She’s still bound, watching, breathing shallow.

You don’t want to speak.

You don’t want to admit it. But your hips keep rocking.

"S-splits me open,” you whisper. “I c-can’t—he’s too… big—”

"Louder.”

“He’s too fucking big. I can’t stop.”

"Good girl,” he breathes.

Then he pulls Ophelia over.

Drags her to his chest and makes her kiss you while you ride him—makes her to feel how soaked you are, how broken.

"Tell her how much you liked watching me ruin her,” he purrs to Ophelia.

“Tell her she made you wet.”

Ophelia whimpers. Nods. Shame burning in her cheeks.

"I—I liked it,” she whispers. “I… wanted it.”

He slaps her too—gently this time. Just enough to make her gasp and sting

“You both wanted it,” he says. “You came to me... told me I could do whatever I wanted as long as I—fuuck—didn't pass any hard limits.” He holds onto your hip with one hand and teases Ophelia with the other while you ride him.

Your next orgasm builds slow—dragged out—his dick grinding deep inside, hitting that same spot over and over as you tremble on top of him, thighs clenching.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on it. Keep going. Look her in the eye while I fill you again.”

You do.

You stare at Ophelia as he groans—and buries himself deep—and you both feel it: hot, thick spurts of cum spilling inside again, stretching you from the inside out. You cum immediately at the feeling, body trembling, vision blurring.

You collapse against his chest, shaking.

Ophelia’s pulled up close beside you, whimpering and whining.

Your eyes flutter. You don’t even realize you’re drooling.

Then—a new hand.

Ophelia.

She’s untied now. Still messy, dazed, lips wet and parted. She climbs beside you, trails her fingers through the mess dripping down your thigh. Brings it to your lips.

“Open up,” she whispers. “If you’re gonna let him stuff you like that, you better taste it too.”

You do. You suck her fingers, eyes locked, and she moans soft and low—before straddling you, chest to chest and kissing you deep, sloppy, tongue pushing into your mouth as his cum leaks out of you.

“My good girls,” he says behind you, stroking his cock slowly as he watches. “So fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper as Ophelia kisses down your neck.

He leans in.

“Ready for round two?”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

I lost my mind writing this.

Dividers by @anitalenia

All works © liliacwiine 2025. Do not modify, plagiarize, or repost my work. 

[realisticunrealistic]

Beauty and the Beast

Cursed to transform into a beast each night from midnight till dawn, Geralt of Rivia hides away in a ruined castle where a Princess fleeing a fate of torture and captivity seeks refuge. Will their growing bond become the key to breaking his curse- or falling deeper into it?...

More Mood Boards

[realisticunrealistic]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty, hurt/betrayal, feelings of abandonment

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13 - part 14- part 15!!!!!

-------------

“You know I just don’t understand him sometimes.” ghost vents to soap as he walks through the halls back at base.

“He’s scared.” soap says understanding where their captain is coming from.

“Being scared isn't an excuse we’ve ever used before, he’ll lose her and we'll have to deal with it.” he says in a tone that suggests soap shouldn’t respond.

They pass by their captain's office with the door wide open. He sits there unpacking all the work that needs to be completed, the work that doesn't need to be done on base. Their eyes then travel to the military issued pillow and blanket that’s neatly folded at the corner of the couch in his office.

“No intentions on seeing the lass then I presume?” soap says stepping in as the ghost continues down the hallway not in the mood to see his captain.

“Not right now, i've got too much to get done.” he says in a tone that soap can't quite register.

“Why're you running?” he asks.

“I'm not running, I'm focusing on what needs my immediate attention.” soap clicks his tongue and sighs.

“Captain you and I both know that's far from the truth, at least give her a call, let her know you're okay.” he says while tapping the door frame before walking out.

The captain gives his phone a glance. Considering it but in the end decides against it and continues to drown himself in work.

—------

“I'm just worried sick.” you say into the phone, your newest friend and coworker who's also dating someone in the military hums in understanding.

“Have you tried calling the number one of his sergeants you called from?” 

“No, I don't want to overstep John by calling him.” you say biting your nails, a recent habit you've picked up. 

“How long has it been again?” she asks, wondering if the man you're talking about is someone her boyfriend knows.

“Nearly seven weeks.” you sigh out leaning your head against the cold countertop.

“Babe, I know it's hard, but you can't let it get to you like this, especially if you really see a future with him, and I know you do.” She's been a staple piece in your life during this time. It's easier to listen to her when you know she speaks from experience.

“I know I'll let you go though I just heard your front door open.” She laughs softly on the other end as no one other than her boyfriend greets her.

“Wait, what's the name of this guy? Let me ask caleb.” she offers.

“John price.” you hear her ask and can only hear her mumblings of him speaking before she starts talking again.

“Any news?”

“None you're going to like.” she says disappointedly and a little nervously.

“What?” 

“According to Caleb he's been on base for nearly two weeks, and you definitely didn't mention him being a captain of his own task force.” she says with an impressed tone. “Didn't know how much I was allowed to say.” you say it sadly, now wondering why he's avoiding you.

“Good girl, and don't worry until he gives you an explanation.” she can practically hear a million thoughts rush into your head.

“Okay i'll talk to you later, bye.” 

“Bye babe.” she says with a click.

—---------

You spend the rest of that afternoon pondering on plenty of things, too many things. Were you overbearing? Is he regretting this? Had he realized you were as clingy as you said? All of it was a waste though cause like camilla said i won't know till he tells me.

Whenever that will be.

—---------

Week 8

“What are you still doing here john?” Lasswell says when she curiously pops into his office surprised to see him there. 

“Just making sure I have everything straightened out.” he says, not making eye contact.

“It's been three weeks since your mission ended, no amount of paperwork would keep you here that long unless you didn't want to leave.” she says giving him some honesty.

“What's it with everyone feeling they have the right to my personal life.” he snaps sternly.

“Let's not get out of line, if you want to rot here I won't stop you but I won't let you lie to yourself either, you're scared and it's keeping you here like a cage.” she says in the same tone he offered her. “I'll be leaving now. I have a wife at home waiting for me.” 

She shuts his door with a slight force. He sits there overwhelmed and tired. He stares at his phone wondering how you are and what you're doing and that's when he finally picks it up.

It's on its final ring when you answer.

“Hello.” you say in an unfamiliar tone.

“Hey sweetheart, it's john.” 

“I know.” you tried not to be angry, key word tried.

“I just got back to base and-”

“Don't lie to me.” you say voice breaking a little.

“What're you talking about?” he says just digging the hole deeper.

“You've been back on base for weeks now.” he's silent.

“Am I wrong?” you say as a few tears slip from your eyes. How badly you had wanted to be wrong.

“No.” you hiccup slightly and just stay quiet.

“Who told you?” he asks, slightly frustrated.

“That's what you’re worried about?” you laugh, wiping your dampened face with the sleeve of your sweater.

“No its just-”

“I've gotta go john let me know if you need me to mail some of your clothes to base.” you say before hanging up.

John stands smacking the lamp on his desk onto the floor huffing out a couple of deep breaths. He could have kept this from you, saved you the hurt of his uncertain emotions but someone had to ruin that, let you hurt and guess why all alone, how long had you known for? At what point did you decide to just let him be? A knock sounds at his door and rips him from his thoughts.

“Captain, we heard the commotion and just wanted to see if you were alright.” Gaz says standing beside the two other men.

“Which one of you called her?” he asks deeply.

“What?” they say in unison.

“Which on of you fucking called her and told her we’d been back.” he asks again getting angrier by the second. Ghost silently prays soap hadn't done something that stupid.

“None of us have and you of all people should know not to bring your private life into work, for christ sake captain you need to figure this shit out.” ghost says before shutting his door.

“Johnny for god's sake tell me you did not do that.” he whispers as they descend slowly down the hallway.

“I didn't.” he admits honestly.

“Gaz was it you?” to which gas immediately shakes his head no.

“Then who the fuck was it?” 

—-------

John tries your phone multiple times that night before deciding on being a big boy and going home to you. He packs his duffle bag and is on his way in no time. With a high speed he made it home in nearly an hour leaving the clock at 4AM.

He gets out of his truck quietly unlocking the front door and setting his stuff down in his room before making his way to yours. He tries opening your door till he realizes it's locked, which leads him to knock.

“My love it's me.” he says desperately. He gives a few more knocks, firmer ones, before he hears you rustle out of bed.

“Yes john?” you say sleepily as you open the door.

“I'm sorry I just-” he starts.

“Can we just talk about this in the morning I worked all day and i'm really exhausted.” you say carelessly cutting him off.

“Can I sleep with you?” at that you give him a weak laugh.

“If you can willingly, by choice, sleep on base for three weeks alone, you can go another night, goodnight john.” you say before softly shutting your door.

He stands there heartbroken at the clear hurt etched onto your face and heard in your voice.

------------------

well look who it is<3

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[realisticunrealistic]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: separation, John being John.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13 - part 14

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my god i’ve missed you!” your sister says as she gets into your car at the train station and although a piece of home has left it also feels like a piece has come home.

“Thankyou for coming.” you smile pulling her into an uncomfortable hug over the center counsel. 

“Coffee and a good movie that perhaps includes phone time?” she says as you pull away.

“Good god you mastermind.” you two laugh while  backing out of the busy parking lot. 

“So tell me everything, like what the hell this is?” she asks while grabbing the photo strip of you and john you keep on your dash.

“That day we went to the winery and they have a really popular black and white photo booth.” She smiles at the way your eyes light up when speaking about him.

“You complement each other well.” 

“Thank you, you’d love him, maybe when he gets back you could meet him.” The suggestion isn't one you'd ever see yourself making again after your last embarrassment of a boyfriend.

“Of course.” she says with a soft smile.

—-----------------------

“Do you think she’s okay?” John asks Simon who sits next to him on the foreign base.

“I do.” 

“I wish I could call her already, just to be sure and shake this feeling.” He was told calls weren't permitted until clearance that the location they’re at is secured.

“Captain, she can handle herself, she's going to be fine and if this goes to plan we’ll be back in no time.” John just sighs, his breath making a cloud into the cold air. By no time Simon means a month, a whole thirty days without you, he might just die from heartbreak. 

“You think you'll marry her?” Simon has always been one for deep conversation but it’s always random and spontaneous.

“Jesus son it hasn't even been seven months.” John says with an awkward laugh knowing he has an answer to the question.

“That's not what I asked the captain.” Simon replies.

“I'd be lucky to, I'd give everything to make that woman my wife, it’s just too soon, I don’t want to scare her off.” he says with a hopeless sigh.

“Time is an illusion, captain, don't wait forever.” 

“What are you, A fucking poet?”

“Yeah.” They both laugh as Simon opens a pack of cigarettes offering one to John and grabs one from the pack for himself. 

“Like I said if I'm lucky.” 

“I think the perfect woman falling into your hands proves you're as lucky as it gets, i mean look at those idiots.”he says gesturing towards johnny and gaz who arm wrestle on a wobbly table.

“You're right.” 

—----------------

The days have been stretched long, you think to yourself. It was good though, the distractions of shopping and hanging with your sister was nice and relieving but now it's four in the morning and she's fast asleep beside you and your eyes won't even shut for more than five minutes before the anxiety becomes too much.

It's been a long time since you’ve had a night like this and you don't wish to have many more but while johns away you most likely will. 

You get out of bed quietly and head to his room to grab a shirt of his, anything to feel closer. Walking in you realize you and john are very rarely in here and dust collects on the clothing drawer you open.

“I've missed these.” you say pulling your favorite pair of undies from the bottom of his pajama shirt drawer wondering when he could've gotten them then it hits you, these are from the night of your first date, you laugh quietly before putting them back.

You pull the shirt over your head right then and there, discarding the one you had on before, leaving it somewhere on John's floor before heading back to bed.

“Where'd you go?” your sister mumbles, scaring the life out of you.

“John's room real quick sorry for waking you.” you reply in a whisper.

“Yeah I thought a man got into bed with me.” you figure you've become a little blind to how strong his cologne can be and apologize. 

“Night.” you say before sliding under the duvet.

—-------------

“That was close too close, almost got caught.” John says very sternly to his task force who just returned from their first outing in this foreign country.

“But we didn't.” gaz says, and it's true was it close yes but there've been many other occasions just like it.

“But we were close!” The captain's booming voice makes them all fall silent.

“Next time I say to pull away you listen, do you understand, let me expect more from you.” he pointed at simon.

“Understood.” he says with a nod. 

“I'll see you all in the morning.” the captain says before walking away and into his tent. The boys all spare eachother side glances before Johnny starts.

“He needs to get laid immediately.” 

“He just has something to live for now I think and it's scaring him.” ghost replies and it's troubling him, because although he understands his captain has to get his emotions under control before this mission blows up in their faces.

“Go talk to him Lt.” Gaz says pointing towards where the silhouette of John is visible through the tarp of his tent. Simon gets up without another word walking to the tent asking if he could open it.

“What do you want?” John says to him, still agitated.

“Captain i understand your emotions are high right now you miss her and you're not allowed to call yet but understand we are soldiers and as a team we understand each other-”

“I'm the captain and I'm glad you understand each other but it's my job to understand the situation.” 

“You're trying to understand the situation here and at home, and it's going to get us killed.” Simon says before leaving. John realizes then he has had his mind in two places and he can't afford that. Swallowing his pride he approaches the team who's still sitting where he left them.

“I apologize for my outburst, let's reread some files and figure out an action plan for tomorrow.” 

—-------------

It's been nearly a week and not a sound from John, you're worried sick and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Your sister has a life to return to and you'll be alone with these thoughts for however long.

“Alright babe till next time.” she says hopping out of your car back at the same spot you picked her up from. You get out to help her get her extra bags that she acquired from shopping. 

“I love you, call me when you get home.” you say giving her a big hug trying not to cry.

“Will do, love you.” you watch her board before leaving. You're back home before you know it, getting back basically on autopilot.. You decide to call it a night at six, the emotional baggage of the day and the possibility of going another day without speaking to John is enough to get you to sleep heavily. 

And sure enough not only another day passes with no contact but another week goes by.

—------------

“Good job out there today, that was beyond successful.” John says, patting everyone on the back as they all file back into their temporary base.

“Hey captain, have you spoken to the little lass?” he was cleared his fifth day here to call home but simply hasn't.

“No I haven't.” 

“Why not?” it takes soap by surprise, the captain went from being worried sick about you to not even mentioning your name.

“It's a distraction I can't handle right now.” Simon's ears pick up on this and he just shakes his head in disappointment, that man only ever hears what he wants to. 

“Okay, she probably misses you though.” soap continues.

“Don't johnny.” the captain demands sternly leaving him to just walk away.

John misses you he does, so much so it makes him sick but he can't afford to think about you more than a little before it consumes his thoughts, what're you doing?Where are you?How are you?It's all too much.

He stares at the phone he was issued long enough to the point where he picks it up and dials your number and of course you answer first ring.

“John, good god hon i've missed you.” he doesn't say anything just listens to your voice fill his ears.

“John hello you there.” he stays silent trying to hold in this rush of sadness he hadn't expected.

“Johnnnnnn hello, i think your connection is bad or maybe it's mine.” he feels guilty for doing this to you, just like he gets the comfort of hearing you again you deserve that too but he just can't bring himself to speak, so he hangs up and sets the phone down leaving his tent to drown himself in work and whatever else there is to do.

—------------

The confusion and uncertainty that followed with the click of the phone was immense but there were no tears left to cry by now. You've just accepted the fact that he couldn't talk right now reminding yourself that you knew what you were getting into when he asked you to be his girlfriend or as he says it his partner.

—------------

Another week, then another passes

“He hasn't called, I'm just worried.” you say while on facetime as you fold laundry.

“Maybe it isn't allowed.” she says trying to comfort you by making that stupid face people make when they don't know what to say.

“But he told me he could, so I just don't get what changed you know, but maybe you're right, I just miss him.” 

“And that's okay, it's healthy.” Since she's left, her phone is full with nothing but you and your rants about life, your day, how much you miss john.

“How long has it been now?” 

“Four weeks going on five.” you sigh while getting up to put some clothes away in your closet.

“Well he'll be back soon hopefully, I got to go when my break is over.” she says while blowing you a kiss through the phone.

“Okay bye.” —--------------

You're woken up at four in the morning the next night from your phone buzzing under your pillow, excitedly thinking  it's John. You quickly grab it looking at the number and although it's similar in area code some numbers are different but nonetheless you answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey it's Johnny we’ve met. I'm a friend of johns.” soap says into the phone simon and gaz next to him listening.

“Hey is everything okay, is john okay?” you say in a bit of a panic.

“Yes yeah everythings okay we’re or I’m just calling to see how you are, make sure you're okay?”

“Yeah I'm fine are you?” You say a little mind boggled that Johnny is calling you before your partner.

“Yeah I’m well actually.” He says as if this is casual conversation.

“Johnny, why isn’t John the one calling me?” You finally ask, he doesn’t know what to say he looks at the two other men who shrug and are obviously thinking of what to say. 

“I don’t know.” Gaz rolls his eyes and Simon pushes the side of Johnny's head at the obvious lie.

“Oh okay. If you can tell him I miss him and that I love him.” All their heads fall into their hands as the choke in your words is obvious.

“I will.” 

“Is he avoiding me?” This hadn’t even been a possibility in your mind until right now.

“No, I'm sure he’s just um he’s just busy.” They hear the captain tent start to unzip.

“Okay lass got to go stay safe and do not ever tell the captain about this.” He says before hanging up without another word.

—————

“Who were you talking to?” The captain mindlessly asks as he approaches them sitting down beside Johnny. 

“A little lass I met not too long ago.” Not a lie but not the truth.

“Okay, anyways Tomorrow should be our last day. We've got to secure one more piece of information then we’re out of here.” 

“Excited to get home?” Gaz asks.

“Yeah but I’ll probably stay at the base a little longer to do these files.” 

“Why?” Simon questions, wondering what childish excuse his captain will come up with. 

“I’ll be distracted at home.” Simon stands without another word leaving into his own tent.

“What’s his deal?” The captain asks the other two remaining.

“Just being himself.” The captain nods even though there’s definitely more to it. 

——————-

Thank you for reading, comments and reposts are immensely appreciated<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving @maladptivedaydreaming

[realisticunrealistic]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: separation, flirtatious commentary, mentions of sex (lmk if anymore

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13

--------------------------------------------------------------

“There’s our love stricken captain.” Gaz says as John finally appears through the heavy compound doors. As they all look at him it's very noticeable he’s in love, their captain looks well, the boys all assumed the bags under his eyes were permanent but looking at him they seem to be fully gone and all his features look brighter. 

“Come on let's debrief.” is all he says while walking to his office, the three men immediately rise from where they were sitting and follow behind him.

“Pants looking extra snug captain.” soap mutters.

“Yeah it's called happiness son, ever heard of it?” John swifty jabs back, swinging the empty room door open.

“No, unfortunately I have not.” 

“And stop looking at my ass.” John says while sliding manilla folders across the table as their hands each reach for one.

“Yeah Johnny, stop looking at the captain's ass.” gaz adds.

“I wasn't!” soap says flipping the folder open harshly.

“Back to business.” John says as he begins speaking through their plan of attack.

—------

“How’d the missus take it?” john likes the term simon uses to refer to you, gives him hope that one day you will be his Mrs.

“Good, at least that's what she made it seem like.” Simon  reads right through the soft frown that covers his captain's face, it wasn’t easy for him.

“Did she cry?” Simon says as the both come to a halt scanning their access cards to the armory.

“A little, felt like a fucking bullet to the chest.” 

“At least you know she actually likes you.” Simon was never good at comforting people but that outright made his captain laugh.

“Yeah at least, not like sharing moments of intimacy in our own world and exchanging words of endearment was enough.” John's smile creases at the side of his eyes as he lightly shoves Simon's shoulder.

 —------------

Back at home you slept until late in the evening only waking up from your buzzing phone vibrating under your pillow. Not checking who it is because quite frankly you don't care, you press the phone to your ear with a sigh.

“Hello.”

“Doll?” you sit up looking at the name on your phone it’s an unidentified number then you realize immediately pressing it back to your ear.

“John!” 

“Yeah, everything alright?” he worriedly replies.

“Yes I was just sleeping.” you say softly smiling tears already filling your eyes.

“Alone I hope.” 

“Want a picture?” you say seductively. 

“On this government issued phone? Absolutely.” He cracks a smile at the sound of your laugh, his task force stares at him like he’s a zoo animal, inspecting closely, especially the soldiers who don’t know him as anything apart from brutal.

“I'm actually calling to let you know I'll be on a helicopter for the next couple of hours and don’t know when I'll be able to contact you again.” he says, turning around to view the sunset, the same one he knows cascades your guys’ room in a beautiful shade of orange.

“Okay, stay safe, call me when you can, and I love you a lot and I don't even know what to say.” your charm travels through the phone like electricity and he just wants to kiss your face.

“I love you, keep safe till then. I left my card on top of the kitchen table for anything and everything. Please use it.” you sigh and he can practically see you shaking your head. He couldn’t promise his safety when he basically sold it once he began this occupation.

“John you slick man, you don't have to do things like that.” you say as the helicopter rotors start spinning.

“Yeah but I do, gotta go doll talk soon.”

“Bye hon.” With that he hears the click, biting the inside of his cheek as anxiety creeps its way up his neck, he’ll be far from you further than ever and can only pray for your safety instead of ensuring it and it makes him sick.

—-----------------

You moped, and good god was it humiliating, you'd been a single independent lady for years before meeting john but now it was like being put into an isolated home after living in new york city. There was nothing to do, you cleaned, cooked, painted but nothing was curing the pure ache of boredom and yearning. 

The morning after his departure was single handedly the hardest, the weight of his body creased beside you, keeping you warm even in little clothes, his breathing that'd softly blow atop your head had not been there.

Still no call you disappointedly noticed when you hurriedly checked your phone when it had started buzzing, just a spam call you sigh rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

“I should call my sister.” you say to yourself in the mirror with a small nod. Happily walking back to bed you dial the phone.

“Hey stranger, been a while.” she says with subtle amusement.

“It's been like four days?” you smile.

“That's a lifetime ago.”

“Want to come over, stay for a bit?” you ask for the first time in a long time.

“I don't kn-”

“Please.” 

“Yeah, I'll try to catch the next train. Let me pack some clothes and I'll call you back.” when she hangs up you sigh in relief, nothing in this world could cure loneliness like spending time with her.

—------------

“So you’re trying to tell me YOU HAVEN'T HAD SEX!” soap exclaims.

“I didn’t say that I said I'm not disclosing my personal intimate life with you.” John says while huffing on a cigar tired of being in this goddamn helicopter with a four year old.

“Same thing.” 

“Johnny shut up good grief.” Gaz says, rubbing his forehead in defeat when Johnny starts up again.

“You guys are so boring, how much time do we have left anyways.” he sighs out dramatically.

“An hour.” Simon replies.

“Oh so he speaks.” Johnny happily says looking at Simon with wide eyes waiting for a response. Pindrop silence overtakes the cabin.

“Or maybe he doesn’t.”

—-----------------------

thank you for the love and support <3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving @maladptivedaydreaming

[realisticunrealistic]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissy kissy, sudden departure , flirtatious banter, I hate goodbyes.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Baby i’ve got to go.” John whispers into your ear early in the morning, darkness still accompanying the sky.

“Hmm?” you say turning on your side, sleeping heavily considering you fell asleep a measly forty minutes ago.

“There's been a breakthrough on location and if we get there by tomorrow this mission might not be months again.” that wakes you up.

“Wait, so you're leaving right now.” 

“Yes lovie.”

“No.” It's not what you meant to say but it's all you could have in the moment.

“What?” he says softly, brushing hair from your face as you sit up.

“I'm sorry I mean, I mean I wasn't expecting this.” you say trying to fight back whatever this feeling is in your throat.

“I know and I'm sorry.” John says as he intertwines his fingers with yours appreciating the efforts you are putting in to seem strong.

You realize as you fully come too that he's already dressed in his military attire, only lacking the heavy jacket. He looks handsome, yes extremely, but he also looks like he's about to slip from your grasp for god knows how long.

“I miss you and you're still sitting in front of me.” how you make a strong man weak.

“Oh love.” he says before resting his head on your chest basking in the feeling of your fingers snaking through the hair at the base of his neck, the feeling of home.

“You'll be back.” you say out loud but he knows you're talking to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?” you say as he sits back up looking towards the medium sized duffle bag that will hold everything he needs for the next while.

“If by everything you mean clothes, medicine and meaningless items, yes, I do.” But he seems to be leaving the most important part at home.

“Kay, I'll walk you out.” you're trying so hard not to cry, you knew it was coming, you're as prepared as you could be. 

“Alright.” he stands offering you his hand as you slip off the bed.

He throws the heavy duffle over his shoulder as you follow him out wood floors creaking extra loudly because of his heavy boots, his shoulders surprisingly are slightly slumped which is not usual for john, he usually stands as straight as a board. 

You slip on your slippers by the door and throw on his coat that hangs on the rack. He opens the door for you as you walk out into the chilly air waiting for him to join you at the bottom of the steps.

“Best behavior yeah?” your bottom lip softly trembles.

“In your dreams.” he smiles, bringing your lips to his, cusping your chin ever so softly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your teeth and graze of your tongue. You're just trying to be present in the moment, you also should have known John gave one hell of a goodbye kiss.

“I'll probably have wet dreams about that kiss.”

“I'm glad that it induces those feelings.” he says before leaning in close to your ear “but remember they'll never be like the real thing.” he finishes with a kiss to your cheek standing tall again.

“I love you.” you say.

“I love you.” his voice does something akin to a shuttery breath.

“Call me when you can, yeah?” you say as a tear falls from your eye.

“Every second i get i will, i promise.” he says kissing you quickly one last time, the sun beginning to rise giving the sky a beautiful hue of purple.

“Bye john.” you say taking in a deep breath.

“Bye love.” he whispers before walking to his truck hopping in quickly, starting the engine and putting it in drive he sends you a wink and a smile before descending down the road.

You cry freely once he's out of sight grasping the side of your shirt that your hearts beneath, his cologne that lingers on the sweater wafts around you. Slowly you turn around heading back inside locking the door behind you. Slowly but surely you make your way into your bedroom throwing yourself down onto it praying for sleep to come back to you and suffocate you.

John makes it to the start of the highway before a tear slips from his eyes, that tear turned into one too many when he realizes he accidentally took your favorite lip liner that you left in his car from your last date. It's agonizing, he thinks but he's so grateful that you've given him a newfound reason and a strong motivation to make it home as quickly and safely as possible.

------------

trying to figure it out and if you're still here reading I love you beyond the moon and the stars<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving