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urdepressedslut · 1 year

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Tickle Fights

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky discovers you’re ticklish, leading to a tickle fight which shifts into something not so innocent.

♡ Warnings: fluff, SMUT unprotected sex, (p in v), boob worship, riding, cockwarming, language

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ CONTENT

The room was dark besides the glow of the TV, shining on you and Bucky. You were cuddled together, engrossed in the crime documentary that was playing. It had been a calming day, running into the night. Day spent eating out, going to multiple parks, flower collecting— your favorite. Lastly, you ended the night with some entertainment, mostly taking advantage of the down time to melt into each others embrace.

You never wanted the days to end where it was just you and Bucky, wishing that everyday could end up like this one.

You let out a small yawn, Bucky’s warmth too comfortable. His body shook with a light chuckle.

“Tired already? It’s only nine.” He teased, pulling you tighter against him.

“I can’t help it, you’re so comfy.” You mumbled, snuggling deeper into him.

He chuckled again, lowering his arm from your shoulders to your side, gently grabbing the flesh to pull you closer. His fingers digging into your sides had you letting out a gasp, tensing in his hold. Bucky noticed and furrowed his brows, eyes wide in concern.

“You okay baby? What was that?” He asked with genuine worry.

You relaxed back into his hold, trying to steer the conversation away. You waved him off.

“Nothing, just getting comfortable.” You tried to convince him.

Bucky stared at you for a couple more moments, until a grin started to form on his face. He repeated his previous action, softly gripping your side— his theory being confirmed when you gasped and tensed again.

“Doll… are you ticklish?” He asked, grinning at crimson flushing your cheeks.

You scoffed, shaking your head in ridiculousness.

“No— I was just getting comfortable.” You argued.

“Then why’d you jump?” He pushed, loving the way you were getting all flustered.

“You caught me off guard that’s all.” You tried to convince him, but knew it was a pathetic try.

He hummed in agreement, letting you think for just a second that he believed you. You huffed out in small celebration, relaxing back into his arms. The room went back to a comfy silence, almost ready to drift off— until you felt his hand grip your side again.

You yelped, jumping in his hold. You whipped your face to his, not surprised to find a mischievous grin.

“Bucky…” You warned.

He chuckled again, keeping a firm grip of you, trapping you in his hold.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” He observed, watching you squirm under his stare.

“Yeah well, this is why I didn’t want you to know.” You tried to sound annoyed, but your chest was warm with joy.

“You make it sound like I’m gonna torture you.” He says sarcastically.

You attempt to escape his arms, blushing profusely under his stare. To no avail, he is much stronger than you, and if he wanted to keep you held in his arms. There was no way to escape it— not that you really wanted to.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” You tried to brush off nonchalantly.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but the thought passed through you. Before you knew it— you were poking Bucky’s side. Your eyes widened, a huge grin forming on your face when you witnessed him jump.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing in challenge. Before you could process what was happening— Bucky dug his hands into your sides, wiggling his fingers into your flesh.

You gasped, laughing uncontrollably at his attack. You tried to pry and push his hands away, but your attempts were weak. Your whole body was buzzing, pleasure morphing into a dull agony.

“Bucky please! I can’t— Please I can’t!” You pleaded, breathing heavy from the laughter.

Bucky ignored your begging for him to stop, instead he slipped his flesh and metal hand under your shirt— and started to tickle your skin directly. You gasped, and whined at his deeper attack.

“Okay! You win, you win! Bucky please!” You whined.

He chuckled in triumph, maneuvering himself where he was falling backwards against the couch— lying down and pulling you on top of him. He quit his torture on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. You felt as if you were coming down from a high, breathing heavily on top his chest.

You could feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, the thumping against each others chests. Calmed enough down, you glanced up into his eyes. His orbs sparkled with contentment, his gaze loving and warm.

The slight shift of your body had you realizing the position you were in— impossibly close. You circled your hips just barely over his crotch, the slightest friction pulling a gasp from him. His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish doll.” He warned.

You bit your lip, circling your hips again— this time harder against him. His hands fisted into the back of your shirt, his breath heavily fanning your face. You tilted your head, pouting innocently.

“What? I’m just trying to get comfortable.” You teasingly hinted from earlier.

Bucky’s eyes darkened at your teasing, licking his lips in hunger. His member beginning to strain between your bodies. Aching for more friction, he bucked his hips up, earning a gasp from you.

Your teasing demeanor disappeared, your throbbing core desperate for more. You sat up, stayed straddled on him— grinding down hard. The friction of his outlined member on your clothed clit was delicious.

He watched you whimper with shaky breaths, attempting to chase your release.

“Getting comfortable huh?” He breathed out.

You needed more, your hunger insatiable. His voice was dark, husky— sending shivers through your body. Your nipples aching, pushing through your shirt.

He bit his lip, sneaking his hands under the front hem of your shirt. Caressing your soft skin up until he got to your breasts. You grabbed both his wrist desperately, placing his hands on your mounds. He chuckled darkly at your neediness, rubbing his thumb over your swollen bud.

You instinctively leaned into his touch, whimpering at the sensation, the feeling shooting straight to your core.

“You like that baby?” He purred, circling his thumb around your nipple.

You nodded, leaning your head back, chest pushing into his hands. He flicked your bud, making you whine.

“Words baby.” He demanded lowly, swiping his thumb back over the raised flesh.

“Mhm yes… feels good.” You moaned out, hips instinctively grinding over his.

He removed his hands, quickly removing your shirt, leaving your chest bare to him. He leaned up, his metal arm keeping you on his lap. He licked his lips, lowering himself to your chest. He captured your nipple with his lips, his tongue circling around before swiping across the flushed tip. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, nearly falling apart from just the feeling of his mouth of your chest.

“Oh Buck— feels s’good.” You keened.

He switched to the other one, giving your nipple an open mouthed kiss, swirling his tongue around— before he gently grazed his teeth over the bud. You whined loudly, pushing your chest further into his face.

You cradled the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his thick locks. Occasionally you’d give a slight tug of his hair, the sensation of his mouth sometimes too much to handle. Plus, you knew how much he loved having his hair pulled.

You started grinding harder, faster against him. The sensation of his mouth on your tits added with the friction of his clothed member to your clit had you dizzy. Your whimpers were growing needier.

“Fuck doll,” He moaned out, his straining member aching for more, “Hold on.”

He slid you off his lap, quickly removing his pants and boxers. He sat back into position, his cock painfully hard— springing up to his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of his flushed tip, his slit leaking precum.

“C’mere baby.” He patted his lap.

You held his gaze, shimming your shorts and panties off and climbing back on his lap— straddling him. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you down onto him. You both sighed at the feeling of each other, completely bare and warm.

He snuck his metal arm in between your bodies, running his fingers through your wet folds. You whined from the coolness meeting with your hot flesh.

“You’re so wet… All from just getting comfortable?” He teased, grazing his metal digits over your clit— making you jump and gasp.

You tried to respond but couldn’t voice the words, instead letting out a breathy moan— grinding yourself on his fingers.

He gathered some wetness and brought it to your clit, rubbing slow circles around the bud.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He breathed out, his breath fanning your neck.

“I’m all yours James.” You moaned out, looping your arms around his neck— faces close and your noses touching.

Hearing you say his real name had him groaning, the way it sounded rolling off your tongue— needy. He instinctively bucked his hips up into his hand— into you.

He removed his metal hand from you, causing you to whine in starvation. He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I know baby,” He cooed, bucking his hips up again, letting the tip of his member bump through your folds, “You’re so whiny.”

You rubbed yourself against him, covering his cock with your juices. You were just finding a comfortable rhythm before you were lifted up slightly by him. He ran the head of his cock through your folds a couple times before lining up with your entrance. You were buzzing with desire, immediately sinking down on his cock, letting him fill you to the brim.

“Fuck James.” You moaned out, fingernails digging into his shoulders— only making him groan with desire.

This certainly wasn’t the first time you and Bucky were having sex, but he never failed to make you feel so full. He was able to hit spots that you didn’t even know existed.

“You feel s’good baby.” He breathed out, staying still despite the difficulty, letting you adjust.

You started to lift yourself, until his tip was almost out— then you were lowering yourself down again. You started repeating the motion, hands gripping his shoulders harshly.

He practically growled at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock. The slight pain of your nails digging into his flesh only adding to the pleasure. He bucked his hips up into you, matching your rhythm. A particular hard thrust from him had your vision spotty, his tip grazing your sensitive spot.

You slowed your hips, body jolting from the sensation. He was watching your face scrunch with pleasure, his heavy breathing hitting your cheeks. He thrusted again into the same spot, his tip meeting the bumpy flesh. You whimpered as your back arched, pulling him tight to your chest.

“Oh James… R- right there.” You barely whined out, breathless from the feeling, your vision hazy.

He smirked, pulling you flush against him as he thrusted up into you at a rough pace. You were thankful that he had a firm grip on you because the sensation was becoming too much for you to stay upright.

The familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach had you snapping from the haze, your breaths heavier as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

He heard your breathing change, and quickly lowered himself to your chest again. Licking and sucking on your bud while his cock was hitting your spot repeatedly.

The feeling had your eyes rolling back, your arms going slack around his neck— the only thing keeping you upright was his strong arms holding you tight to his chest.

“C’mon baby, let go.” He purred out, before latching hip lips back around your bud.

You whimpered from the stimulation. He grazed his teeth lightly over your nipple and with a final deep thrust into you, the coil snapped.

You cried out, vision going black as your body twitched. Bucky moaned, his own eyes rolling back at the feeling of your fluttering walls massaging his member— milking him to his own release. He held onto you tight, letting his forehead rest against yours, your breaths mixing as you both came down from your highs.

You were coming back down to earth, your hearing and vision coming back gradually. You let out a breathy moan, the feeling of his twitching member inside you wondrous.

Cracking your eyes open, you found Bucky gazing at you with hooded eyes— his orbs sparkling with tenderness. You smiled with flushed cheeks, giving him a weak and lazy kiss. You felt his arms tighten around your lower back, the two of you just molding together.

“I love you so much baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“I love you James.” You gave his lips one last peck.

You snuggled up into him, burying your face into his neck as your eyes started drooping shut from exhaustion. He smiled to himself, leaning back into a comfortable position on the couch, gently rubbing your back.

The forgotten show played as a soft ambience in the background as the two of you fell asleep in each others embrace. All while his member was still buried deep inside you.

A/N: i don’t write smut that often so pls tell me what you think 🥴

thanks bestie for helping me with ideas @foreverrandomwritings <333

#bucky barnes #marvel cinematic universe #the winter soldier #reader insert #fluff #buckybarnes #sebastian stan #marvel imagines #oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #smut #literally ruin me

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pseudowho · 1 month

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Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento (feat. Grey/Post-Shibuya!Nanami) #4, Laundry

18+, MDNI

"I'll hang that out," Kento had reproached, pulling the laundry basket from your hands. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "You promised me iced tea."

He had been out there for half an hour, you thought, stirring a sweating glass jug of amber tea. Jewelled ice and fruit swirled within. Ambling, probably, somewhere beyond the white sheets and cicada-buzz heat of summer. You felt a bead of sweat run down the small of your back beneath your cornflower sundress.

You walked onto the whitewashed porch, setting the jug and two glasses down by your swinging chair. You tried to spot your husband between the parallel lines of laundry, billowing like a ship's sails beneath the beating sun. Perhaps he was somewhere in the overgrowth, ethereal in long wildflowers and meadowsweet? You missed him already-- beautiful man, where are you?

Halfway down the sun-bleached steps, your heart gripped in your throat-- Kento's eye patch, discarded on the grass by the empty basket.

"Kento!" Your voice raised, panicking, all flesh-memory of near-loss, "Kento!" Your feet carried you, bare and running, flinging through white curtains and cotton fluff. Feeling another cry rise from your chest, you stopped between the two lines of laundry; Kento lay on his back in the grass, between them...asleep. His scarred face was soft and boyish with sleep, in the shade.

"Oh," you whispered, kneeling over him, straddling his belly, and smoothing your hand over his scars, "...god, you really are. Beautiful." You felt so serene, watching him rest, so at peace and free of pain. He had reeled you in.

Kento's hand shot up to grasp yours, and he laughed at your squeak; "Got you."

A white sheet caught on his leg as he flipped you onto your back, and settled over you both, hiding you in a dappled pocket-universe of your own. Kento knelt over you, trapping you to the grass and daisies, a hungry glimmer in his remaining eye.

"I was waiting for you," he hummed into your skin, his mouth hot, tasting the sweat off your neck. You sighed into his kiss, your back arching up. His hands explored you with a slow urgency, pulling down the front of your sundress and kneading your breasts, grazing your nipples until they formed sweet peaks.

"...I thought..." you breathed, lost in his mouth travelling down your breasts, and his hands pushing your sundress up to your belly, "...thought...you wanted iced-tea..."

"I do," he whispered, his lips now working at your pussy over the thin cotton of your underwear. He shivered to hear you cry out into the cool, not-quite-dry sheet, "I just think...it needs a little extra something, first." You mewled, your fingers tangling into Kento's hair, to feel his tongue dip inside you.

Only the fat lazy bumblebees and the meadowsweet knew how Kento made love to you in the garden, that day.

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goldenatreides · 1 month

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- training season -

[ paul atreides x reader ]

2.7k words, oneshot, smut, friends to lovers

summary: in a pinch, a dusty old weapons closet is just as good a hiding place as any.

content warnings: 18+ (minors shoo!) no use of y/n, all characters are over 18, f!reader, smut, religious imagery, mentions of violence, use of the Voice, implied consent, m/f pairing, fingering, PiV sex, semi-public unprotected sex, creampie, uhhhhh overuse of italics, gurney halleck jumpscare,

author’s note: you will pry my italics and religious imagery from my cold, dead hands. i need to be sedated. all feedback is appreciated and lmk if u find anything wrong, it’s my first time writing in a decade i think!! thank you to @earthshells for editing and teaching me about shrimping in bjj <3

🤍 masterlist 🤍 about 🤍 read on ao3 🤍

The clash of two blades resonates through the training room of Caladan.

Paul swipes at your side with his blade but you dodge, elbowing him hard in the ribs, catching him off balance. As you back away, he grabs your arm and pulls you down with him, pinning you against the ground; your face down on the cold stone floor, his legs straddling your back.

Your chest burns at the impact, flush against the floor. You feel his entire weight on top of you, heaving from exertion. His legs keep one arm locked at your side, under him, the other still caught in his grasp, pressed to the ground. Your blade scrapes against the stone.

“Do you yield?” His voice is much closer than you expect. His breath is close, tickling the back of your neck, too close, too warm—a shiver snakes down your spine.

(Why does it do that?)

Dark messy curls fall into your field of vision, some brushing the shell of your ear. A prickle against your jugular taunts you — his knife at your throat. Your shield buzzes with the contact.

(Ah.

He’s pressing it harder today than ever before.)

You make a small noise in answer, sound muffled by the ground.

Paul shifts his weight on top of you by sitting up, his legs still caging your back, knife at your throat. He relaxes the hand that holds yours bound.

(That’s new.)

Instead, Paul grabs a fistful of your hair at the back of your neck, lifting your head slightly. It hurts — but you can’t lie and say it’s… entirely unpleasant.

(Oh.

That’s new too.)

“Well?”

You can hear the teasing grin in his voice. Years upon years of training with him and still, he knows your left side is your weakest. But you’ll be damned before you give Paul the satisfaction of beating you for the third time in a row this week.

You wriggle slightly under him, testing his hold — why is he still clutching your hair? — and finding it looser than you expect, you rotate, using your free arm to lurch back and upwards suddenly, knocking him off you. You hear him land to your side with a thud and a surprised grunt, blade clattering to the ground.

Fingers curling around the hilt of your blade, you spin around, hooking your legs against his to trap him. Now, you straddle him, your knife pressing against his throat.

“What’s gotten into you today, Paul?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” he answers, still grinning.

His eyes are deadly, dark green.

Ignoring his choice to play stupid, you hiss: “Do you yield, Atreides?”

His holtzmann shield buzzes a bright red at his neck.

Your pulse buzzes too.

(Just the adrenaline.)

You want to wipe the smug grin off his face. He could have won so easily, you were distracted, why didn’t he?

Maybe he let his guard down too soon, or maybe — and you’ll never forgive him in this case — he’s going easy on you.

You feel the pinprick echo of his hands clutching your hair. A knot ties in your stomach, but you refuse to associate the two feelings.

(It must be close to lunch by now.)

Surely that must be it.

Paul laughs. It’s bright, airy — did your heart just skip a beat?

“Never.”

He reaches for his blade — that he shouldn’t have lost in the first place, he knows better than that — and as you lean forward to stop him, he uses your momentary distraction to free his other hand.

Which he promptly knots into your hair again, pulling you down by the back of your neck. Your legs slide out from under you against the slippery stone floor. Curse whoever built this castle.

Your own shield joins the buzzing, his knife finding your neck once more, yours still pressed against his, noses a hair’s width away.

His chest moves yours with each breath, every exhale waving strands of your hair that escaped his grasp.

You lie frozen above him for a moment or two. His eyes are so close you can count every individual lash, his pupils so blown you can see yourself reflected back at you.

Something about them is different today.

You’ve been staring at those eyes your whole life. Countless wishes cast on those same fallen lashes, gold flecks sparkling through a sea of forest green. You’ve seen them beam with childish mirth when you stole pastries from the kitchen, both your hands sticky from the bun you shared, giggling under a heavy oak table. You’ve seen them sorrowful and sullen, his under eyes as dark as bruises as he snuck into your room for comfort in the middle of the night after a bad dream, innocent adolescence.

Now, from so close, they’re dark, darker than you’ve seen—a raging sea, so bewitching it can drown you with no warning if you don’t tread with caution. You’ve caught glimpses of it before, in darkened hallways and after too many glasses of crimson Caladan wine, when he didn’t think you were looking—but never with such feverish intensity.

(Just the adrenaline.

He’s just caught up in the fight.)

Paul’s lips part slightly as his chest heaves up and down beneath you. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks, and a mirroring rosy blush dusts his high cheekbones. Few faint freckles dot his cheeks during the summer season and you see them now like clusters of little stars.

His eyes never leave yours, but his tongue darting out and slightly wetting his parted lips grabs your attention and you can’t help but stare. You trace your gaze along the dip in his cupid’s bow, the regal arch of his pointed nose, the cheekbones sculpted as if from marble of antiquity.

(Oh, Maker.

I’m staring.)

You cough to clear your throat from the thick silence that settles over the two of you, broken only by your mingled breaths. His mouth closes, lips curling into a coy smile as he sees you flush more under his stare.

“Something wrong?” his voice comes out husky, deeper than you’ve heard before. Why was the room suddenly so hot? The castle’s heating never worked so well.

You refuse to meet his piercing gaze again, mortified at the situation, desperate to look anywhere but at the boy below you. The boy —your childhood best friend, you remind yourself in an attempt to clear your head of whatever is happening—is different today.

(And whatever is happening is definitely not happening.

It’s just Paul.

He’s just messing with you.)

Still avoiding his eyes, you sit up, excuses already tumbling from your mouth—cut off by Paul tightening his grip on your hair, sending electric sparks tingling at the roots of your scalp.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his voice comes out not fully his own—distant, many echoing voices folding in his own all at once, commanding your undivided attention and acceptance:

“Look at me.”

Your stomach falls through the floor as your eyes snap to meet his. Maybe all those lessons he skipped to hang out with you were not so useless after all.

You feel every point of contact with him a thousandfold. His hand in your hair, yours on his chest, his toned waist between your ever-so-slightly trembling legs. His other hand drops his knife, and slides up to rest on your waist, lithe fingers delicately brushing the stitches of your clothing.

“Paul—” Your voice comes out more of a whispery mumble than you expected.

(Maybe the floor will open up and swallow me whole.)

The hand in your hair relaxes, and his palm slides down to the back of your neck, fingers light as a feather. They hook your jaw, cupping your cheek. You think you’ll suffocate under the weight of his gaze on you.

Paul breaks the stare first, his eyes clinging to your mouth.

His thumb gently traces the outside of your lips, teasing your bottom lip. You hope he can’t feel how your pulse thunders against your neck, your heart threatening to escape your chest at his very touch.

(He definitely can.)

Heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway outside break the spell and you both freeze in a moment of panic. A familiar voice calls out for Paul, as you jump off him and he scrambles to his feet.

He looks around the room quickly, and seeing an old and dusty weapons storage closet, he grabs your hand and pulls you into it, shutting the heavy door as quietly as possible behind him.

Not a moment too soon, as you hear Gurney Halleck’s voice coming from the training room.

“Paul?”

After a beat of silence, Gurney sighs in frustration and you hear the training room doors click as he leaves.

You and Paul breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve both skipped out on one too many tutors this week, but the consequences can wait until…later.

Your eyes adjust to the lack of light in the closet. In the inky darkness, you feel Paul standing in front of you, so close in the cramped space that with each breath his chest flushes against yours. He smells of cedar, of bergamot, of honey. Comforting. Familiar. Paul.

What the hell just happened in that training room? You’re not willing to break the heavy silence first. Neither is he.

Instead, he kisses you.

Your mind goes blank as you feel his lips, softer than a pillow, press against yours. The kiss is gentle, shy, nothing like the fierce training you were practicing earlier, nothing like the commanding voice of the Atreides heir.

(Oh, fuck it.

Maybe it is happening.)

As Paul starts to pull away, you open your lips and kiss him back—feverish, hungry, devouring—your heart hammering out of your chest.

It was as if a rubber band had snapped, releasing whatever was holding either one of you back. He deepens the kiss, and you melt into it—his lips crashing against yours, his tongue tracing against your own. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and softly pulls, wrenching a deep moan from you that he stifles with his lips.

His hands find your waist and he pushes you back against the wall, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his middle as he presses into you, his hips slotting perfectly between them.

The sudden movement sends a rack of old weapons crashing down, a cacophony of metal and plasteel, undoubtedly ancient and expensive, startling you both.

He pulls back from you for a moment and breathes heavily, both of you straining to hear if anyone noticed. As you relax, he presses his forehead against yours. A stray curl brushes your lashes. If someone were to find you here, like this, you’re both good as dead for the foreseeable future.

In the darkness, your labored breaths intermingling, his voice comes out as barely a whisper.

“Is this alright?”

Your head spins and you think if you don’t have him right now, immediately, you might die.

Instead of answering, you grab Paul’s face and pull him back in for a kiss. He moans into you, a deep guttural groan, rolling his hips forward, starving hands roaming against breathless skin.

Heat pools in your stomach as he continues to roll his hips against yours, his lips plush and addicting. You knot your fingers into his unruly curls, gently tugging and the groan that leaves his lips is more holy than a hymn.

(Maybe you could stay like this forever.)

He peppers desperate butterfly kisses along your lips, along your jaw, along the length of your neck. As he presses his lips to your pulse in the crook of your neck, you hear him chuckle as you feel the thud-thud thud-thud thud-thud of your racing heartbeat.

His hands fall from your waist to cup your thighs as he continues to kiss and nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along your pulse, leaving barely a mark. The heat between your legs only grows, electricity shooting upwards with every push of his hips. Even through the layers of cloth you can feel him against you and every cell in your body screams more, more, more.

Paul’s hand slides up your inner thigh, and grazes a sensitive spot through the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you arch into it, but he stops and pins your back harder against the wall until you can’t move an inch, trapped by his arms and his presence.

You know he’s grinning like a devil in the dark. You don’t want to wipe it away this time.

He toys with the waistband of your underwear, slipping a finger behind the fabric, teasing in lazy, languid strokes. You whine softly, unspoken begs for more of his touch that set your cheeks ablaze and your head whirling.

“What is it?” Paul asks, lips at your neck, kissing at a delicate spot right under your jaw.

“Please,” you groan.

His breathing is ragged as he continues toying with your waistband, a teasing finger occasionally traveling down between your legs.

You think you’re going to die waiting.

“Please what?” He’s toying with you, his voice laced with honey.

If you do die, you’re going to drag him to hell with you.

But in between bruising kisses, all you manage is a whimper that Paul swallows with his kiss.

“Use your words, my star.”

His lips trace the shell of your ear sending electric shivers down your spine. His teeth tug slightly at the lobe and the world echoes until the only thing left is him and his hands and his voice.

“I need you, Paul,” you breathe, the words leaving your mouth before you even think of them, pulled out by his Voice, “Please.”

A lithe finger finally slips under the fabric, pushing it aside. His thumb traces hurried circles around your clit, everything already slick from his relentless teasing.

He presses his lips to yours again, silencing his own groans. Just as the knot in your stomach starts to build, he slides a finger down your slit, and you sigh at the loss of his rhythmic movement.

But you don’t have time to voice your discontent—you feel him slide one of his long fingers inside you and you press into his touch. You don’t even have time to think before another finger slips in and you feel the slight burning stretch. Your head falls back against the cold wall as you pant, and his hands work in and out, chasing your pleasure.

You dig your nails into his back. His hand works faster and faster, and in between whispered curses and pleading prayers you find your release.

Through the haze of your high and waves of bliss, you’re vaguely aware of Paul’s belt buckle falling to the ground, somewhere. In the tangle of roaming hands, messy hair and skin plastered with a thin sheen of sweat, Paul’s shirt buttons come undone — likely by your doing — and your own soaked underwear gets lost in the dark — definitely Paul’s doing.

However, you’re very aware of every inch of Paul as he slides himself into you, your name falling from his lips like a prayer over and over again.

“You’re doing so good for me, my star,” Paul sighs into your ear, his hips flush against yours, fully inside. “You’re doing so well.”

With every thrust of his hips, you welcome the feeling of fullness as your nails rake down his back, leaving delicate red marks and half-moon indentations. Every push, he reaches a deeper part of you, his hands guiding your hips to meet him again and again, goosebumps covering your skin at his feverish touch.

Through half lidded eyes, you see his silhouette in the dark, tousled dark curls haloed by a sliver of light from the doorframe, strong shoulders and toned arms keeping you pressed against the wall even as his hips stutter in his desperate rhythm inside you.

He falters and you feel him twitch, consequences be damned, as he sinks completely inside you, hands bruising your hips and voice groaning as his own release catches up to him.

He looks almost holy this way, completely undone inside you, and whispering your name as if it can save him.

(Maybe it can.)

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blueicequeen19 · 8 months

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Night of Screams

Warnings: primal kink, cnc, restraints, Halloween vibes, overstimulation, orgasm denial, forced creampie, slight knife play

Thank god the carnival was over and no one else was around because the way she screamed when I finally caught her had my dick rock hard in my shorts. She fights me with everything she has, taking us down to the ground where I finally pin her arms above her head after she raked her nails down my bare chest. She spits at me and I laugh, running my tongue up the side of her perfect face.

“You can mark me all you want. I’m hard as fuck.” I taunt, attempting to press my lips to hers but she jerks away.

“Ugh! Get off me!” She screams, as I clamp both wrists in one hand and yank her dress down to reveal her gorgeous tits.

“Don’t you—.” Her words cut off on a moan as I suck her pebbled bud into my mouth, her body trying to arch into mine. Fuck, she tasted good.

“What’s your safe word?” I ask around a mouthful of her flesh before moving to the other one. There’s a pause as she trembles against my touch so I take her nipple between my teeth and tug.

“F-funnel c-cake.” She shudders, making me smirk as I continue to suck and twist her nipples.

“Not exactly what I had in mind but it’ll work.” I’d never done this before but I knew everyone had limits and if I reached hers then I wanted her to have the control to call everything off. My body was buzzing in my costume as I sat back on my heels and yanked my bandana free from my pocket to secure her wrists together. I was so excited that my fake-blood soaked hands shook as I checked to make sure there was no way she could slip the bandana off.

“What are you going to do?” She whispers, her eyes ablaze and her tits bouncing with every breath she takes. I lean down so she thinks I’m going to kiss her as I take one of her nipples between my fingers. She pursues her lips and I pinch her nipple.. hard. She cries out and I shove two fingers down her throat like I would my cock, making her choke until tears leak from her eyes.

“Whatever I want.” I murmur back. Fear and desire flash in her eyes before that fight kicks back in and she bats my hand away with her bound hands. I chuckle darkly as I rise to my feet and she attempts to kick me in the nuts before I haul her up over my shoulder.

“Go ahead and scream. No one is coming to save you.” I can’t help but slide my hand under her dress and stroke her soaked slit. She growls as her fists pound against my back and ass as I walk over to the dark, empty fun house.

I played in this thing so much as a kid that I even know where the hidden trap doors are. The metal creaks as I move up the steps and she shouts profanities at me until I swat her ass hard then squeezing in warning. I love that she’s wearing a dress. I press firmly against her clit and she gasps, falling still as I stroke her slit.

“So compliant when a little pleasure is involved.” I laugh and she growls, digging her nails into my back as I walk us through the tight maze.

“Fuck you.” She spats and I suddenly drop her to her feet, shoving her back against the wall as my hand finds her throat.

“No—.” I growl, shoving two fingers inside her tight cunt and watching her eyes nearly pop out, “— fuck you.” I finger her hard and fast, her knees nearly giving out as she pants and moans. These Kook girls were all the same. You get a little rough or mean and they spread their legs so easily. Just when I know she’s about to cum, I stop to suck my fingers clean.

“Wh—.” I cut her off by tightening the hand on her throat, my lips finding her ear as I whisper.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to try and hide and I’m going to chase you. If I catch you, I fuck you until you can’t walk let alone run out of this place.” I pull back and all I can make out in the dark is the whites of her eyes as she stares back at me stunned.

“But—.”

“Don’t let me catch you.” I bite out, half wishing I’d stripped her naked before getting started. I step back and she sags against the wall, her chest heaving with every breath.

“You have sixty seconds. Run.” She takes off without a backwards glance, the metal whining with every step she takes as she runs and slams into the plastic panels hanging from the ceiling. I start to whistle the nightmare on elm street tune as I lean against the wall, listening as her footsteps find the stairs surrounded by a wall of chains.

I palmed my dick when her footsteps stopped. I was so hard it hurt. I wanted to torment her. I wanted to bring her to the edge over and over again but never let her finish while also wanting to just fuck her hard and fast until we’re both hot, sweaty messes.

I turn towards a trap door that contained a ladder to the next level and silently made my way up until I was standing behind a dummy wall. I could hear her panicked breathing close by and I resisted the urge to laugh as I slid out of the next trap door. I kept my steps light, avoiding the weak spots that creaked as I moved to the floor level tunnel where she was no doubt hiding. Most people were too afraid to crawl through the tunnel when the fun house was open in fear of getting caught by one of the actors in such a weak position but seemed like Y/N was up for the challenge.

I kneeled beside the opening, keeping myself hidden as I listened to her terrified breathing. If I waited any longer I was going to have blue balls for the rest of my life so I lunged. My hands shot out and wrapped around her calves in the dark and she screamed as I yanked her out. Her dress rode all the way up to her stomach as I grabbed her hips before tearing her panties clean off. Her nails bit into my skin again as she fought me. My blood was mixing with the fake blood of my costume and that only fueled me on.

“Remember your safe word.” I growled, shoving her legs apart and thrusting two fingers inside her. Her body tensed at the intrusion even as she moaned like a pornstar. Her legs opened wider and her body arched before I chuckled and she suddenly remembered she’s supposed to be fighting back.

“Get off me.” She snaps, shoving my hand away and rolling over as she attempts to crawl away. I slap her ass and yank her back as I tear open the pants of my costume to free my aching cock. I straddle her wiggling body and push down on her back as I slide my dick between her cheeks.

“Stop it, you freak!” She cries even as she arches her ass up for me.

“But you’re so wet.” I purr, rubbing my dick through the wetness between her thighs. She was dripping like a fucking fountain.

“Your pussy is begging to be fucked by a freak like me.” I notch my cock at her entrance and we both suck in a breath as I push inside her. Her tight heat wraps around my cock like a vice and I find myself on the verge of cumming already. I hesitate for a moment as I realize we never talked about condoms or birth control but with the way she’s squeezing me.. I don’t think I could pull out even if I tried.

My hips snap forward, her body lurching beneath mine as she moans loud and long. I could hardly breathe or think any longer as I fucked her slowly with harsh thrusts, my fingers bruising her smooth skin. Her pussy was tightening as she approached her high and it took every ounce of strength I had to keep from cumming too fast.

I had the sudden urge to taste her so I pulled out and positioned her on her knees before leaning down to lick her from front to back. She keened, reaching back to fist my hair as I fucked her with my tongue.

“Don’t stop. Oh god, please don’t ever stop.” She cried. I smirked at her even while fucking her with my tongue as I moved my fingers from her clit to her entrance.

“You seem to think this pleasure is for you.” I murmured, her taste driving me mad as I sank two fingers inside her. Her hands slapped the metal flooring like she needed something to hang on to.

“Trust me, it’s for me.” I moved my tongue higher and probed her tight little rosebud until she screamed, her pussy quivering with an approaching orgasm before I yanked away. I started to laugh until she reared back and kicked me square in the chest. Now I was even more excited while mildly pissed off. She started to crawl away but I yanked her back, manhandling over my shoulder and taking her to the next room of the funhouse with my dick still hard and swinging freely.

“Put me down!” She screamed, her nails raking down my back just as I tossed her onto the prop bed. I was on her before she could register what was happening and I secured her hands to the headboard with the waiting cuffs, fake blood splattered all over the sheet and pillows like a scene out of a horror movie.

“What are you doing?” She gasped as I bound her ankles next then took out my pocket knife. Her eyes were glassy with tears and fear as I wadded up the material of her dress and stuck the knife under it. I jerked once, cutting the dress completely in two as she whimpered.

“You wanna cum, baby?” I teased, bringing the blade to her exposed nipples as I pressed my thumb to her plump, swollen clit. She knew to remain still or risk getting cut but the look of purse anguish on her face was fucking worth it. She wanted to ride my hand so badly with how her entire body trembled.

“Girls like you walk around, flaunting your shit while guys like me are left knowing we’ll never be good enough as we rub one out at the thought of seeing you choking on my cock. But even then it doesn’t take care of the ache. The need.” I stab the blade down into the bed and she yelps, her eyes wide and hair a mess as she watches me kick my boots and pants off. I’m covered in sweat and fake blood but I don’t give a fuck. This is for me. Not for her.

“So I’m gonna fuck you until I’m sated.” I kneel between her legs, hauling her halfway up my thighs before slapping her wet pussy.

“JJ, please..”

“I don’t care how many times you cum or if you even cum at all.” I growl, sliding the thick head of my cock through her slit until I finally reach her opening.

“Just know.. we’re not stopping until I’m the one that’s satisfied.” I surged forward, impaling her completely on my cock in one brutal go that has her body arching and her cries ringing in my ears. I couldn’t stop my wicked grin even if I wanted to.

The cheap metal bed frame slapped the wall as I fucked her savagely. She was so fucking hot like this. Her body slick with sweat, her tits bouncing, her face streaked with makeup and tears. I might be in love. Her pussy was so tight that every push and pull of my cock had my eyes threatening to roll back. I’d been on the verge of cumming for awhile but I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted her to be sore. I wanted it to hurt when she walked back to her Kook life, that ache deep inside her pussy being the ultimate reminder of me. She’d never forget what happened between us and when she came back crawling for me, I’d ignore her like she did me all these years.

“Oh— god—-!” Her cries rang out as she came, her pussy gushing around my cock and sucking me in deeper. I grunted, coming down on top of her to suck and bite her nipples as one orgasm turned to two.

“You like being fucked by a Pogue? This pussy is so fucking wet and tight. You couldn’t lie to me even if you wanted to.” I bit her nipple and she thrashed as she screamed, her slick walls pulsing around my cock.

“I bet Rafe never made you feel half this good. Or was it Topper? I can’t keep up with you Kook sluts.” My hand moved to her throat and her eyes rolled back as she came again, her face red with exertion.

“J—.” She choked hoarsely, her body weakening with fatigue.

“Are you going to beg?” I growled, slapping her tits with my free hand. “Beg me to stop? Or beg me to keep going?” I kissed her then. Her tongue stroked mine like it would my cock and I couldn’t stop myself from cumming. My cum shot out of me in jets, filling her to the brim until it pooled beneath us on the bed as she came violently. I bared my teeth as the tight channel threatened to push me back out and she bit down on me lip as she squirmed and panted.

“I didn’t tell you that you could cum inside me.” She breathes, her voice hoarse and her eyelids heavy.

“I didn’t ask. Plus, you fucking loved it.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #tw dark content #blueicequeen19 #tw unprotected sex

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janaispunk · 6 months

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takes one to know one

another extra from the dress series universe, but can be read as a stand-alone!

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.3k

summary: “Not a sound,” a deep voice snarls into your ear. A familiar voice. You turn your head ever so slightly to make out his face over your shoulder, your wide gaze meeting his, the brown eyes that you know so well almost black as he drinks you in. You whimper against his palm and he smirks.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), consensual non-consent (it’s not explicitly mentioned but they have a safeword), Dave breaks into reader’s place and chases her, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Dave, sub!reader, degradation kink, knife play, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (reader is on birth control), rough sex, slapping, spitting, choking, established relationship, hints of fluff because i can’t help myself, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, as always: let me know if i missed anything please <3

i want to make it very clear that cnc has been discussed between the both of them before and that reader is consenting throughout the entire scene that i’ve written here. still, check the tags and if this kind of content upsets you, please don’t read it 🤍

a/n: I’m still struggling with the plot for the main series, but I was horny aaaaand that’s really all I can say for myself. Because I know of several people who have written or want to write about some variation of the ✨knife riding✨, let’s not open up some kind of plagiarism discourse about this, please <3 I got my inspiration from this post and I know others have too, and honestly, I’d read a thousand fics about that shit because it’s fucking hot, so to anyone who wants to write it: PLEASE DO IT

dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here!

You’re sat on your couch, headphones over your ears, typing away on your laptop when a large hand wraps over your mouth, trapping the surprised scream that’s fighting its way up your throat. The headphones are roughly pulled away as you’re frozen in shock, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Not a sound,” a deep voice snarls into your ear. A familiar voice. You turn your head ever so slightly to make out his face over your shoulder, your wide gaze meeting his, the brown eyes that you know so well almost black as he drinks you in. You whimper against his palm and he smirks.

You hadn’t expected him for another few days and you sure as hell hadn’t expected this, but a twisted sensation of anxious excitement is thrumming through your veins.

Your eyes flit over his figure, taking in his dark clothes, more casual than you’re used to and a black cap that you’ve never seen on him before that accentuates his hard jawline and his dark eyes. A buzzing desire shoots through you before you can stop it. He quirks an eyebrow, seemingly amused by the reactions replaying on your face.

You take another breath, your brain running a mile a minute, clocking his hold on you that’s strong but not as strong as it could be and the door in your back that leads out of your apartment. Before you can overthink it, you twist out of his grasp, driving your elbow into his side sharply. His surprised and slightly pained intake of breath barely registers with you as you bolt for the door, your bare feet hitting your hardwood floor. You throw the door open and fly down the stairs as quick as your feet carry you, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You’ve never played the scenario like this before, but the thought of him chasing after you, his dark figure hunting you down, and the things that he might do to you once he’s caught you, have you breathless with excitement.

You step out onto your street, which is thankfully almost empty in the early evening hours, and take off to one side without thinking. You don’t dare to turn around to check if you’re being followed before you dart into a small alley between two townhouses and press yourself against the wall, praying that he didn’t see and will pass you without noticing.

Your breath is coming in short pants and your gaze is glued to the street while you’re staying hidden in the shadows, determined not to miss him when he -hopefully- passes your hiding spot.

It feels like several minutes tick by, and while you can’t really be sure in your current nervous state, you start feeling anxious. You begin to creep towards the opening between the houses when a hand covers your face for the second time this night, the other hand wrapping around your wrist in an iron grip.

“Boo,” Dave whispers into your ear from behind you, making you jump, his body crowding you in as he spins you around to face him.

“Thought you could run away from me?” he smirks, his hand moving away from your mouth to possessively wrap around your neck. “Let’s get you back home, doll.”

He keeps a tight hold on your slightly trembling body, much tighter than before, and the adrenaline is slowly being replaced by more nervous excitement as he leads you back to your place, up the stairs until you’re standing in front of the door. He pulls the keys out and opens up, shoving you inside before he slams the door shut behind the both of you.

He holds your weary gaze while he locks the door, then he’s on you, pushing you against the wall, his hands clawing at your body, sliding under your shirt and tearing at the waistband of your leggings.

“P-please,” you whimper, pushing weakly at his hands.

“No,” he growls, capturing both of your wrists and holding them above your head while he glares down at you.

“You thought that was funny, huh?” He motions with his head towards the door, his voice an angry snarl. “Thought you were smart, that you could trick me?”

“N-no, please, I-” You shake your head, your voice thick with tears that are brimming in your eyes. He gathers both of your wrists in one hand, the other hand roughly slapping your cheek and causing your head to fly to the side.

“Shut up,” he spits, “I don’t want to hear another word from you, is that clear?”

Traces of real fear are coursing through your veins, but this is exactly how you wanted it to be, exactly how you had asked to be treated. Despite the fear, you feel wetness gathering between your thighs, and desire blooming in your whole body.

“Please,” you try again, not sure what you’re even begging for, just playing into the feeling of being completely at his mercy that you enjoy so much.

His hand hits your cheek again, twice in quick succession this time, and a whimpering moan escapes your mouth. “Not another word,” Dave repeats, his cold eyes boring into yours. He reaches for his belt and raises his hand a moment later, holding a knife that looks concerningly big, especially with how close it is to your face. He presses the blade against your throat and you freeze, your heartbeat loud in your ears and your eyes wide, your entire focus on him.

“Not another word, or you’ll regret it. Is that clear?” he asks again, his voice low and drenched in coldness. You manage the tiniest nod, scared to move against the blade that you can still feel on the delicate skin beneath your jaw.

“Good,” he grins, slotting his knee between your thighs and it takes everything in you not to grind down onto him. He removes the knife from your throat and presses his mouth onto your skin instead, his hands sliding under your shirt and groping at your tits while he sucks and bites on your neck with a roughness that is surely going to leave your skin sore for days. He kneads your breasts and pinches your nipples, sending jolts of equally pain and pleasure through your body. Your head is leaning back against the wall, your eyes pinched shut and high pitched whimpers falling from your lips.

He stops abruptly and gathers your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and his fingers. “Stop complaining,” he snarls, “you think I can’t feel the way you’re soaking my pants right here?” His other hand cups your mound over your leggings, fingers digging into the drenched fabric and you can’t stop your moan, nor the way your hips buck to chase his touch when he pulls it away again.

“Desperate little slut, so fucking easy, just waiting around for someone to come and fuck you, weren’t you?” You try shaking your head and he tightens his hold on your face. “Don’t lie, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a cold whisper, “you love being treated like this. Love being put in your place. I think you should thank me.”

You give another small shake of your head and he lets go of your face to wrap his hand around your throat instead. His hold there tightens slowly and your eyes grow wider as he arches an eyebrow at you. You start feeling dizzy and your hand flies to his wrist, tugging desperately, but he just chuckles, squeezing your throat tighter. Desire burns between your legs as you’re gasping for breath, finally giving up on the defiance, like you both knew you would.

“Thank you,” you force out, almost choking on the words, and Dave grins triumphantly, loosening his grip on your throat.

“See,” he coos, leaning closer until you can feel his breath on your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He grabs your neck again and maneuvers you into your bedroom, where he orders you to strip, to show me what I came here for, doll, while he leans against your doorframe, watching your trembling form with a smirk in his face. You do as he says, pulling your shirt over your head and your leggings down your legs until you’re standing in front of him in nothing but your panties.

His eyes flit over your body, lingering on your breasts with an expression of hunger on his face, until they stop at your underwear. “Those too. Unless you’d rather have me cut them off?” The knife is back in his hand and he’s twirling it mindlessly. Your gaze follows the motion for a second, mesmerized by the casual ease with which he’s handling the weapon, until you remember his threat and hastily strip out of the panties, leaving yourself completely bare while he’s still fully dressed.

He stalks towards you, crowding you in and his fingers wander between your legs, swirling through the wetness at your entrance and making you gasp when he flicks your clit. “I knew it,” he grins smugly, “you’re so fucking wet for me. Like it or not, sweetheart, you love being treated like this. Best to just accept it.” He leans in to bite at your neck again, still playing with your clit while his other hand splays over your ass, causing you to flinch when the knife’s blade makes contact with your skin there. You’re helplessly turned on, so many sensations all over your body that you can barely process and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking about it, just wanting him to give you more, to make you feel good the way you know he can.

“Good girl, there she is,” he whispers into your ear. Then he pulls back, stepping around you and throwing your naked body down onto the bed, looming over you, the knife still clutched in his hand. He straddles your thighs, smirks at you and pecks your lips, then he pulls back and drives the knife into the mattress beside you in one fluid motion, tearing through the material until only the handle is visible, sticking out of your bed.

A small scream had escaped your throat at the sudden motion and another slap lands on your face. “There,” he grins, the amusement clear on his face. “You so desperately want to have your cunt filled - use this.” Your stare flickers between him and the knife a couple of times, understanding slowly growing inside your mind.

“Y-you want me to ride? …T-this?”

Dave pets your cheek almost affectionately, then nods towards the handle. “Exactly. And you better get on with it, you don’t want to test my patience, do you?” You gulp and shake your head, wearily eyeing the intimidatingly large piece of black material that’s sticking out of your mattress. Dave clicks his tongue impatiently and you scramble to your knees, positioning yourself until you’re hovering over the knife.

Your insides are burning with the humiliation that he’s putting you through, but there’s also a twisted sense of excitement bubbling inside of you, knowing that no one but him would push you like this, which is why no one like him makes you feel like this. Your slick is dripping down your legs and you know that he can see it, with the way he’s watching you closely as you’re still hovering, anxiously biting your lip.

You look up at his face and despite the cold and cruel mask that he’s been wearing all evening, you can still see the fire in his eyes, making you feel warm, telling you that ultimately, despite everything, you’re safe with him and he wants you to enjoy yourself, will push you to enjoy yourself if necessary. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t take you out of the scene, but his voice is still clear in your head, speaking words that you’ve heard a hundred times. For me, sweetheart. I know you can.

You take a deep breath, your brows furrowing in concentration, and start sinking down. It’s an awkward angle at first and you need to adjust your position, but then the knife’s handle is pressing against your entrance. You gaze up at Dave again, whose eyes are trained on your pussy, watching eagerly as you sink down further. It feels strange, not unlike a toy, you think, but the shape isn’t exactly right and with a toy you wouldn’t be worried about cutting yourself with a wrong move. Your walls stretch around the foreign item and you gasp at the sensation, the feeling of finally being filled up giving you the sweet pleasure that you had been craving.

You begin moving your hips over the handle without further instruction from Dave, sliding up and down in careful motions, still aware of the sharp blade that’s currently buried in your bed, but sparks of pleasure are traveling up your spine nonetheless.

Dave reaches out to tweak your nipples again and you arch your back towards his touch, causing him to laugh. “That’s right, slut, fuck yourself on my knife. You’d do anything as long as that greedy pussy gets filled up, wouldn’t you?” You nod mindlessly, chasing your pleasure, the whole situation sending your arousal into overdrive.

Standing beside you, Dave finally pulls his dark sweater over his head, then opens his belt buckle. You eagerly drink in the sight of him, his broad chest and shoulders, his strong arms and his softer stomach, the smatter of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

“Please,” you whisper, once again not certain what you’re even asking for, but you want more, more of him.

“Open your mouth,” Dave demands, leaning down to your level when you obey eagerly. He spits into your mouth, his saliva pooling on your tongue, the degrading but weirdly intimate motion making you moan desperately. “Keep it open,” he mutters as he pushes down his pants and underwear in one motion, your eyes flying to his cock before you can help yourself. He glides his hand along his length slowly, watching you while you’re still riding his knife, your combined saliva pooling in your open mouth and the desperate longing clear on your face.

He steps closer and taps the head of his cock on your tongue, eliciting another moan from you when you feel the familiar weight. “Yeah, need all your holes stuffed, one just isn’t enough, huh?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and thrusts into your mouth, holding your head steady as he presses his cock into your mouth until he’s nudging at your throat. You try your hardest not to gag and shudder in his grasp, tears spilling from your eyes and mixing with the spit that’s drooling out of your mouth.

He pulls back a little, letting you suck on him instead while you try to keep up your rhythm on the knife’s handle. “So good,” he groans, his hand curled in your hair, “taking me so fucking good.” He starts fucking your mouth again in quick thrusts and tweaks your nipples until you moan around him, the vibration causing his grip in your hair to tighten. “Think you can come like this?” he pants, “does riding my fucking knife while I’m fucking your throat turn you on that much?”

You nod as best as you can, pleadingly looking up at him. “Dirty fucking slut,” he snarls, landing another slap on your cheek that has you clenching almost painfully around the knife. “Go on then, touch yourself.” Your hand flies to your clit at his words, rubbing at the tight bundle of nerves and shuddering at the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins. You come almost embarrassingly quick, the different forms of stimulation flooding your senses until you’re writhing on your knees, moaning around the cock in your throat as waves of pleasure roll through your body.

You faintly register Dave getting on the bed behind you and his hands on your shoulders. He pulls you off of the handle roughly and you fall back against his chest, still on your knees, barely keeping yourself upright. “Good fucking girl,” he coos into your ear as he pulls you into his body, his large hands pressing into your flesh. “You’re a quick learner. No need to get hurt when you’re obedient like this, see?” Then he pushes your head back down until you’re at eye level with the handle, still drenched in the wetness that your pussy has left behind. “Open up,” his cold voice demands from above you, underlining the order with a sharp slap to your ass when you don’t react quick enough. “Clean up your mess, make it all nice and shiny while I fuck this dirty little cunt.”

You feel a new wave of wetness between your legs at his words and obediently close your lips around the tip of the handle, moaning at the taste of yourself. “Just like that,” you hear Dave from behind you before his hand is in your hair again, pushing you down further. His other hand’s fingers are digging into your hip as he’s lining himself up and thrusting into you in one rough motion. Your scream at the sudden stretch gets muffled in your mouth and you hear his faint chuckle before he starts moving, setting a brutal pace right from the beginning that has you writhing, your hips stuttering with the force of his thrusts.

“That’s it, good girl, take it just like that,” Dave pants, his voice wrecked, “good fucking girl.” Getting praised while being in this degrading situation has your head spinning. You hear the wet squelch every time his cock presses inside of you, the smack of his flesh against his, the touch of his hands feeling so rough but so right on your body.

Dave is groaning behind you, sliding into you in hard thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your head and moving against your g-spot again and again. You feel yourself tightening up around him, more wetness seeping out of you until you can’t take it anymore. You tip over the edge, your whole body tensing up, shudders running through you as stars explode across your vision and your pussy clenches around his cock rhythmically.

You hear him swear behind you, his hips stilling and his hands pulling your body back against his chest, his cock pulsing deep inside of you and painting your walls with his release.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs and presses a gentle kiss against the soft skin under your ear. You nod, your mind still dazed but a tired smile growing on your face.

He gently pulls out of you and moves your body up the bed until your head is resting on the pillows. He cleans you up, peppering your entire face with kisses, muttering praises against your skin, replacing his demanding hands with soft, featherlight touches.

You watch with wide eyes as he carefully pulls the knife back out of your now ruined mattress and puts it down on your nightstand. The handle is still glistening with the remnants of your spit. Dave catches your eye and grins in that cocky way of his that almost makes you want him between your legs again immediately.

“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new one.” You smirk and stretch your arms out towards him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down into a kiss, his lips softly moving against yours, the dominating persona all but blown away.

“You better,” you murmur against his mouth and his responding chuckle makes you smile.

tags: @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @catchallfangirl @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

i’m going to stop using a taglist, so if you want to get updated on my fics, please follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications <3

if you liked this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, you’d really make me suuuuper happy! 🤍

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories #the equalizer 2

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Northern attitude

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a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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wheelsvoid · 5 months

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WE FOUND YOU ; THE MAZE RUNNER

⇢ you have been stuck at WCKD for months, when the gladers finally find you

masterlist

genre: platonic, angst

word count: 888 words

warnings: mentions of torture, kidnapping, weapons and violence

The last time I could remember seeing the boys, they were all screaming in terror. You’d think they were on the brink of death, and maybe they were, but it was the sight of me being dragged away that was the source of their pure fear.

It made me feel guilty to think of that.

WCKD had stolen me from the only people I could call family, and after months of torture and testing, I was getting tired. Some nights, I couldn’t even remember my own name.

I was the most scared when I started to forget their names, too. Minho, Thomas, Newt, Frypan… every person I could ever call a friend, I tried to keep track of every night. The only thing I had to remember them by were memories, but I didn’t trust my own mind to keep those.

I sat alone in my room. A sterile smell was in the air, and the blank walls and cold bed were in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. I continued to repeat the names of my friends. My brothers.

Minho, Thomas, Newt—

The door creaked open loudly, cutting off my train of thought. I slowly turned my head, my neck had a dull ache from lack of movement—a result from the hours of staring up at the top, empty bunk.

A woman stood there, with a man close by. I didn’t know either of them. I couldn’t remember if we had met before, and I didn’t care.

My eyes glanced down at the gun the man held tightly in his grip, before I met his eyes. His stern ones stared into my hazy ones. “Get up.” He said. Before I could even move, he shouted the command again. “I said, get up!”

My legs ached much like my neck did as I stood on them, but I didn’t make any move to disobey the man. I had to be smart about it. He had the gun, and I had nothing.

I let him lead me down several hallways that I had grown uncomfortably familiar with. The woman, who was a doctor with a clipboard in hand, was leading the way, completely unbothered with the violence.

It was routine at this point. Every day I was dragged out of my room to be tested on—to find out what made my brain different. The results were usually the same, but they were beginning to see improvement. It felt like I was the only one who saw that I would never be good enough to be the cure.

Typically, the hallways were buzzing with the sounds of technology, footsteps and soft voices. Something was different today.

The sound was quiet at first—distant—but growing louder. Stomping footsteps grew closer, gunshots rang though the hallways, and three familiar voices caught my attention.

My eyes grew impossibly wide, and I held onto the almost faded memory of their faces. I knew them.

With the man’s surprise, he wasn’t ready for me to snap out of my daze, whip around and punch him in the face, but I did it so quickly that he was out in seconds.

I was quick to pick up his gun, rushing away to follow the voices, while being mindful for other guards and flying bullets.

“Come on, this way!” I heard a voice echo down the hallway to my left. I snapped my head in that direction, and my heart stopped. I held my breath.

Three boys had stopped on the other end, focused on hiding from the gunfire. They had yet to see me, but then the blond shot the final bullet, and the gunfire stopped.

They let out heavy breaths, slowly backing away before turning to face me. Once they saw me, standing there with my jaw dropped like an idiot, and my appearance a complete mess, they froze.

The four of us looked at each other, and slowly, each of us began to grin.

“Y/N!” Thomas’ voice was shaky as he began to sprint in my direction, the other two following quickly behind. I ran as well as I could, my legs being somewhat shaky, but I didn’t fall or trip. I was determined to stay standing like I had all these months trapped within the walls of WCKD.

Thomas reached me first, pulling me into a desperate hug. Minho was next, and finally, Newt. The four of us stood there, trying to stretch out the moment.

I don’t think any of us thought I would ever be saved, so we were holding onto the fact that this was real and we were together.

“We’ve got you.” Minho said. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. WCKD had shown me a lot of things to get my mind going. Nightmares, illusions. But this… felt so real. I felt a tear slip from my eye, landing on Newt’s shoulder.

We pulled away, and I looked at each of them closely, noting the relieved smiles on their faces. “I missed you so much.” My voice cracked. I couldn’t help it. I’d been through hell.

The boys smiled at me. Thomas’ lips pulled down like he was trying not to cry. Newt held a firm hand on my arm. Minho had his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“We missed you, too.”

#the maze runner #x reader #the maze runner x reader #platonic #platonic x reader #tmr newt #tmr thomas #tmr minho #fanfic #fanfiction #the scorch trials #the death cure #the maze runner x you

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hyperiondickrider · 1 month

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Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 7)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

“Aww, c’mon bebé~ don’t fall asleep on me, hmm?” Val cooed at you, one clawed hand gripping your jaw as he squished your cheeks together in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“S-sir~” You whined at him in response, growing impatient at his lack of visible intention. You pushed yourself against Val, clutching his silky shirt, desperately trying to gain any skin contact possible, taking in a deep breath and inhaling his familiar scent.

Valentino always smelt like tobacco and sex. The stench of substances and bodily fluids clung to him, furthering your arousal.

One moment you were clinging to his arms as he grinned down at you, the next, you were sprawled over thin silky sheets, dampened by your sweat and arousal. With shaky legs you tried to rise to your knees, clearly upset at the distance between the two of you, but quickly collapsed with a yelp as your weak legs buckled.

The moth snickered at your pathetic display, before firmly putting out his cigarette in a glitzy ashtray, and finally approaching his bed.

“Y’know coñejita,” Val began to speak as his 4 upper limbs began caressing your midriff, a pair wandering up to roll your nipples between fingers, or maybe to grope and squeeze at your flesh. The other pair descended lower, lightly grazing your searing core, teasing your entrance through your soaked panties.

“I think I’m starting to see why Vox likes you so much~”

“M-Mr Val, p-please touch m-me! Hah~, I c-can’t take it!” You whined, trying to grind down against the moths hand before he swiftly grabbed your hips, preventing you from moving any more.

Suddenly, you felt the mattress shift as if a weight had been lifted off of it. You turned, panicked, to see Val approaching a wardrobe, humming a tune, as if oblivious to your struggles. After rummaging for a few moments, he re-approached the bed, concealing whatever he had retrieved.

“Now, bebé bonita, it’s time we had some fun. You’ve just been sooo impatient, and I’ve been nothing but accommodating, hmm?” With speed and grace, his lithe fingers wrapped around your wrists as he procured a pair of garish fluffy handcuffs, effectively binding your hands behind your back, just above your twitching cotton tail.

“S-sir?” You began to question his motives with a shaky voice, unsure of how the overlord will approach the situation.

“Come now, don’t be shy, hmm? We’re about to become very well acquainted~” with a sharp pull, you were forced against Val’s chest, facing away from him. Your legs were sprawled out, trapped by his own, as he peppered kisses to the side of your face. Hands bound behind you, you were utterly trapped as he gently licked your sensitive ears, the stimulation causing you to cry out and shudder. With a chuckle, Valentino then revealed what else he had retrieved from the wardrobe.

In his hand lay a small, bullet vibrator.

You visibly gulped at the realisation, causing the moth to smirk against your neck at your reaction.

“I promise it’ll feel so good, bebé. Don’t you trust me?”

With a swift click, the vibrator came to life, buzzing. He gently lowered it to your core, tapping your clit and circling your entrance. Your clit throbbed in response, begging for more stimulation.

Reacting to you bucking your hips, Val added more pressure, pressing down on your clit and you moaned lightly, liquid gushing from your clenching hole. Aware of your sensitivity, the pimp gently pushed your panties to the side, the cold air bringing relief to your swollen clit.

Finally, Val relented and pressed the bullet to your clit, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, legs shaking. Toes curling at the intensity, you struggled in his grasp, a conflicted desire for more stimulation and to escape from the intense pleasure.

“M-mr Val, I c-can’t hold it!”

“Hmm? Who said anything about holding it in, coñejita? Let go, bebé~”

“Ahh~ ‘m cummin’!”

With a violent shake of your body, your gushing pussy squelched, squirting your cream all over Valentino’s hand and wrist. With a nefarious chuckle, the moth simply increased his pressure on your clit, flicking up the vibration intensity. Catching you by surprise, you whined harshly at the overstimulation, hips shaking as you shied away from the vibrations.

Pleasure began veering towards pain, bitter tears welling up in your eyes as your second release built up rapidly. With a yelp and twitching ears, black spots shook your vision as you drenched the vibrator.

Exhausted from the stimulation, you collapsed against the bed, eyes rolled back. Your arms were numb beneath you, cotton tail jumping every time you brushed against it.

“Feelin’ better, bonita? Good, ‘cause I got shit to do. I’ll be back in a few hours, gotta check up on something first.”

Vision faded rapidly, as you lost consciousness. Mumbling incoherently, you watched the vague form of Valentino drift out of site, towards the door.

But you were asleep before you could even hear it shut.

A/N: asshat didn’t even undo the cuffs :( sorry for late upload lol I am busy af

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu @avatarobsessedgirly @taintedgenre @madiomadonnasanta @random-theater-kid @corvid007 @juskonutoh

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino

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axelsagewrites · 8 months

Text

Roy Kent*Whats That?

Pairing: roy x f!reader

Kinktober Day sixteen: caught in the act with Roy Kent – when Roy came home all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you but when he heard a buzzing from under the sheets his plans took a very different turn

Word count: 1202

Warnings: sex toys, masturbation, p in v sex, teasing, roughish sex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

After a long, long, long, day of yelling at Jamie, scolding Jamie, and swearing at Jamie all Roy wanted to do was collapse onto his bed and pull you into his arms. Despite his size and usual aggression Roy enters the house as quiet as a cat, setting his stuff down as he trudges round the downstairs looking for you.

When he can’t find you, he first assumes you’re away for one of your usual mid-day naps that he often loves to join. He’s all ready to strip off and dive under the sheets to fall asleep when he gets to your bedroom door. its slightly open so as quietly as possible he opens it just enough to slip into the dimly lit room.

For a moment when he sees you under the sheets Roy thinks he was right, and his sweet innocent perfect little girlfriend was sleeping peacefully. However, it didn’t take long for him to hear a familiar buzzing noise.

A grin spread across Roy’s face when he realised what you were really doing under his sheets with your back to him. Roy crept over to the bed, noticing your eyes screwed shut and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “Having fun?” Roy said, grin in his voice, as he slammed a hand down on either side of your body.

“Fuck!” you squealed, thrashing round till you were on your back, staring up at your boyfriend, and trapped beneath the covers, “You scared the hell out of me you fuck!” you scolded him, slapping at his shoulders.

Roy just chuckled as he moved to sit next to you, “Oh yeah?” he teased, his hand reaching for the covers, “what’s under here then?”

“Nothing,” you said instantly, your legs tightening out of instinct accidentally pressing the vibe onto your clit. Your teeth clench as you tried to look unfazed, but the way Roy was smirking was making it near impossible not to crack.

“Really?” he teased, his hand gripping the covers before tearing them away, “so that’s where that went,” Roy chuckled, his hand slowly moving down your body only covered by the jersey you had stolen from in, “and what do we have here?” Roy asked but before you could respond his hand slipped between your legs, pushing the vibe up and directly on your clit.

Your hips bucked out of instinct making another low chuckle leave his throat. Roy leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your cheeks as his lips brushed your ear, “Did somebody miss me?” he whispered, shivers fanning down your spine.

You whined when he grabbed the vibe, moving it in slow circles over your clit, “Such a needy thing,” he said, his lips moving to press kisses along your jaw, “Tell me, what do you think about when you touch yourself love?” his words made your breathing stop as you tried to stutter out a response, “Cmon doll I won’t judge,”

Fuck whenever this side of Roy came out it made it hard to even breath but as he kissed the hollow of your throat you were finally able to reply, “You,” you tried to say but it came out as more of a whine when he pressed the vibe closer.

A low growl left his throat as he pulled away the toy, turning it off in an instant and settling his legs between yours, “Bit naughty doesn’t you think princess?” he husked, grinding his hips against yours making you realise how hard he’d already gotten though his jeans, “What? Cat caught your tongue?” he teased, his hand moving to your jaw, pulling open your mouth with his thumb, “How long have you been thinking about me?”

“All day,” you replied, mesmerised by the man on top of you.

Roy’s hand moved from your jaw to your hips, gripping them tightly. You squealed as you felt him flip you on your front, “This what you’ve been thinking of?” he asked, leaving no time for you to answer as he pulled you up till you were on your knees, ass on display for him as your hands gripped the sheets in anticipation.

You shivered when you felt him run a finger up your slit, hips bucking for more friction, “Fucking wet already,” Roy said and when you heard the zip of his jeans you couldn’t help but bite your lip, “This what you want then?” Roy husked, “me fucking this pretty little pussy?” he asked, running his tip up and down your slit.

You bite back a moan as his tip rubbed against your sensitive clit, “Yes,” you eventually whined out and this was all it took for Roy to lose his composure.

You gasped when you felt his tip push in, hands tightening in the sheets as you took him in. Roy eased his length in, grunts leaving his lips as he finally sunk all the way in, “Fuck,” he gasped, “you take me so fucking well,” he said, his hips starting to move in slow and steady thrusts.

You had in fact been thinking of this all-fucking day like Roy had accused you off but somehow you forgot how good it felt to be fucked into the pillow by your boyfriend. When his hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head up and deepening your arch you gasped as his cock hit deeper spots than before.

Living with Roy was amazing for so many reasons but right now you were grateful no one was around to hear the filthy moans coming from your lips. Just as you thought life couldn’t get any better you heard a familiar buzzing, “What’s that?” you tried to question but you gasped when Roy pressed the vibe against your clit, his hips still setting a steady pace.

You couldn’t stop the loud curses or whines as you felt your peak quickly approaching. Your legs went weak however before you could crash into the mattress Roy had dropped your hair, your face burying into the pillow, as his arm slipped around your hips to keep you up.

“Fuck,” you heard Roy curse, but you were too busy having your eyes roll into the back of your skull to care. a familiar knot tightened in your stomach and your body jolted when you felt Roy press the button again, the buzzing increasing against your sensitive nerves.

You felt your walls tighten around his length, your knuckles going white as you clutched the sheets as your orgasm washed over you. Roy grunted at the feeling, his pace growing sloppier as he felt you squeeze around him.

Once he was sure he had fucked you through your peak he dropped the vibe, his hands moving to grab your hips tightly. Your body jolted as his thrusts grew harder and messier as he chased his own release, and it didn’t take long for him to catch it.

Soon Roy dropped down into the bed beside you, sweaty and breathless as he went to grab a towel, “Fuck,” was all you could say as you stared at your boyfriend, “What got into you?”

“Jamie Tarts a prick,” was all he could bark out as he helped clean you up.

“Thank god for Tartt,”

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasson smut #ted lasso season one #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent smut #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction

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perpetualfox · 1 year

Text

Hide and Seek - König x GN!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Dub-Con, Stalking, Manhandling, Creepy Behaviour

Wordcount: 1152

Had an incident at work where I got closed in a dark basement by accident. Sure wish a certain Austrian was there.

→The buzzing fluorescents hanging overhead flickered once and died, plunging you into near complete darkness. A strangled cry leapt from your throat—an undignified noise caught somewhere between indignant and frightened. There were no windows in the basement, but by a stroke of pure luck, you’d left the door open when you’d come in, and a shaft of light spilled in from the hallway.

→You stood, dusting off your knees and trying to orient yourself in the darkness. The light switch wasn’t far from the door, laying just beyond the dim halo of hall light. If you could make it there, surely you could just follow the wall until you reached it.

→Your fingers trailed against the edge of a shelving unit, keeping you steady and grounded in the pressing darkness. You hadn’t thought the lights were on a timer down here, but it seemed like the most likely explanation—it couldn’t be a blackout if the hall lights were still on. However, as you rounded the corner of the shelving unit, your heart jolted in your chest. A shadow was eclipsing your light—the door was closing.

→Someone must have wandered by, and thinking there was no one in the room, had turned out the lights and tried to close up.

→“Hey!” You called, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was out in the hall, “Hey! I’m working in here!”

→But there came no response, and the door banged shut, snuffing out the last of the light.

→You swore, fumbling in your pockets for your phone or your keys, whichever you could lay hands on first. You’d been trapped down here once before when the generators had failed—too afraid to move lest you knock into something and break it, or worse, yourself, you had sat in the dark for hours until the lights had flickered back to life. Unwilling to be caught out like that again, you had attached a little flashlight to your keychain. It wasn’t very powerful, but it would be enough to get you where you needed to go with your shins intact.

→As your fingers closed around the jagged metal of your keys, a soft sound caught your attention. Your head snapped toward it—you knew exactly what it was and where it had come from. Though the door had made an almighty bang when it had closed, the quiet snick of the lock turning frightened you far greater. The door did lock from both sides, but you hadn’t heard the rattle of keys against the door—and that sound, that sharp little click—the latch that made that sound was on your side.

→You weren’t alone. Not anymore.

→The back of your neck began to prickle with the sudden and terrible realization of your own vulnerability. An icy wash of fear flooded through you, tingling in your extremities like adrenaline. You were alone—adrift in an ocean of darkness, exposed on all sides. You strained against the shadows, looking and listening for any sign of movement in the blackness. But there was nothing.

→When at last, you felt the faint whisper of moving air against your skin, heard the near silent creak of a leather boot against the floor, it was already too late. You had time to register a single panicked thought—he’s behind me—before an arm, thick and hard as a metal bar seized about your chest. A gloved hand clamped down over your mouth, smothering your scream.

→You bit down, teeth sinking into the skin of the glove. The figure behind you—a man, you thought—grunted, and shoved you forward. The momentum carried you both forward, and you collided with a shelving until, the cold metal digging into your cheek. Your head buzzed with pain, your flesh singing where it had smashed against the metal.

→You struggled, kicking at the base of the shelf, trying to use it as a springboard, to propel yourself backwards to topple your attacker over. But it was no use. He was like a great wall of stone behind you, solid and unmoving. He let you struggle for a moment, seemingly enjoying the show, before jerking you backward. You stumbled back, unable to keep your footing as he dragged you along. You jabbed at him with your elbow, clipping him hard on the ribs, and earning a wheezing groan. You had barely a moment to bask in the triumph before he had swiped your legs from beneath you.

→He rode you to the ground, digging his knee hard into the knobs of your spine. You struggled, writhing in vain beneath his bulk as he bore down upon you, pressing you hard into the concrete.

→“Aww, Schatzi. Schatzi. You know I love it when you fight me,” His tone was simpering, dripping with a sweet cruelty that made your cheeks burn, “But that was just too easy.”

→You’d know that voice anywhere: the elongated vowels and clipped consonants, the thin, reedy growl beneath his words—König.

→His hands shook as they caressed the side of your face. His touch was so gentle, calloused fingers stroking over your cheek with such reverence, one might have thought you a holy relic—something so blessed he could hardly bear to touch it. His breath was coming hard, and you could feel it hot and wet against the back of your neck even though the damp cloth of his hood. He leaned forward, the rough fabric dragging against your skin as he kissed you. He did not remove the hood, but you could feel the arched bow of his lips through it all the same. It made you shudder.

→His gloved fingers slid down the column of your throat, catching around your clavicle and pressed down. Hard. You wriggled beneath him, your pathetic attempts to dislodge him dragging a rough laugh from is throat.

→“Ah-Ah.” He chided. “Hör auf damit, oder ich lasse dich nicht kommen”

→You bucked beneath him and surged forward, pressing his mouth against your ear, “I fucking said, ‘Stop that.’”

→He pressed his knee harder into your back, bone grinding against bone. You stilled, a hiss of pain on your lips.

→“There,” His finger stoked at your cheek, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

→You could feel the grin spread across his lips, beneath the hood. “Nun werde ich dich in den Boden Ficken, Schatzi. Ja?”

→He lowered his hips against your ass, grinding his cock against you and letting you feel just how much he liked it when struggled.

→“You’ll let me take you here on the filthy floor like a fucking slut, won’t you? Ja? Like a good Hase?’ He barked out a laugh, the vibrations of it jangling around in your ribcage. “Of course you will. Afterall,” His fingers closed around throat. You heard the jingle of his belt as he began to unbuckle it onehanded, “I caught you fair and square.”

Translations (Huge thank you to @habuu for correcting my grammar and phrasing):

→Schatzi - Little treasure/darling (condescending)

→Hör auf damit, oder ich lasse dich nicht kommen - Stop that now, or I won't let you cum

→Nun werde ich dich in den Boden Ficken, Schatzi. Ja? - Now. I want to fuck you into the floor, darling. Yes?

→Hase - Rabbit

#konig x reader #mw2 x reader #konig mw2 #chose schatzi as a pet name because he's a mean little bugger #konig cod #konig smut #mw2 smut

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

Text

Trapped

Kinktober Day One Prompt: Getting Caught

A Jack Harlow x Reader Fic

Warnings: Smut, Language, Mentions of Phobias

"I feel like you're not taking it seriously." You roll your eyes as you step onto the elevator car, taking your spot on the far end, pressing your back against the cool metal panel. There's a tiny bit of alcohol still coursing through your veins from dinner; you nursed a single glass of wine the entire night, only feeling a bit of the residual tipsiness an hour later. Jack follows behind you, turning on his heels to face forward before leaning over to press the button that leads to his penthouse apartment.

"You're right, I'm not taking it seriously." He lets out a quiet chuckle, glancing back at you while he strokes his beard.

"But it won't make sense if we don't do it together." You snuck up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder as your hands wrapped around his waist, patting his lower stomach. "No ones gonna know I'm a happy tree if you don't show up as Bob Ross."

Jack pressed the button a couple more times before the elevator began to move, shaking beneath your feet. He turned in your hold, cupping your face in his hands. "Not gonna happen." He gave you a quick peck before you could object, your mouth hanging open in disbelief as you parted. You felt your stomach drop to your feet as the elevator climbed one floor after another.

"I thought you wanted to go as Batman and Catwoman?" You scoffed at his question, having nixed that idea immediately when you heard there was going to be a costume contest at the Halloween party you were attending. "Sexy doesn't win costume contests, babe. Creative does. You already have the hair and everything." Jack smiled as he leaned in to kiss you again, his nose brushing against yours as your lips pressed against his forcefully, causing you to moan into his mouth.

"I don't know. If you show up as a pussy...cat", he lingered with his words, "I think you're taking home all the prizes." You playfully hit his chest, your cheeks turning red. Your gaze dropped to his lips, Jack pulling you in tighter at your invitation. "That costume is strictly for the bed-", you were startled by the elevator coming to a screeching halt. Jack barely caught you by the arm as you stumbled over your heels.

"You okay?" Jack helped you up, receiving a nod from you as you got your barings. "Yes, what happened?"

"I'm not sure." Jack searched the control panel, frantically pressing the penthouse button, which was still illuminated. He listened for any movement, but it was silent, aside for a few creaks above them.

"Jack...", you let out a shaky breath, white knuckling the metal railing.

"Its fine, baby." Jack pulled out his phone, groaning when he realized he didn't have a signal. "We're fine. I'm sure its just a quick problem that they can fix with the press of a button." He was trying to keep you calm, well aware of your claustrophobia.

"How are we supposed to get out of here?" Your voice came out squeaky, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. You pushed past him, aggressively pressing every button on the board, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. "One of these buttons has to make this thing start up again!"

"Babe, I don't think that's going to help." Jack pulled you back, holding you behind him while he pushed the "Call to Help" button. It buzzed for a few seconds before someone picked up the line.

"Building Services."

"Hi, this is Jack Harlow, I live in 13A. We were riding the elevator when it suddenly stopped on the 8th floor."

"Mr. Harlow, so sorry for the inconvenience. Please stay on the line while I contact our maintenance team."

"See?", Jack lifted his eyebrows as he turned to you, seeing that your face had gone pale. He pulled you in close, cradling the back of your head. "They'll send someone to fix the elevator, and then you can put that Catwoman costume on for me tonight." Jack bit on his bottom lip, trying to distract you, but you could barely hear him, your ears ringing.

"Mr. Harlow?" Jack rushed back over to the panel, bending over toward the speaker. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Sir, I'm sorry. Our maintenance team has gone home for the night. We've reached out to emergency services, and they'll be here as soon as they can."

You felt your knees go weak at the thought of having to spend another minute in this enclosed box. “Jack…” you whispered out, this time more like a warning, before you felt yourself collapse to the ground.

“Hey, Hey! Alright.” Jack easily lifted you up, gently pinning you against the wall with his leg. “You’re okay. Hey, babe, look at me.”

You made eye contact with him through labored breaths, trying your best to focus on his face. “I-I can’t be in here anymore. I-I can’t breathe.”

“Listen, let’s just think about something else okay?” He placed his hands on your hips, his digits digging into your flesh. “Like what?” You stiffened in his hold, fear still controlling your body.

“I dunno, tell me more about this Bob Ross costume idea.” You felt Jack’s large hands move to palm your ass, the tips of his fingers grazing the underside of your skirt.

“Jack.” You felt like a broken record at this point, but your call fell on deaf ears again, as Jack latched onto your neck, placing wet kisses below your ear. “Keep talking.” He mumbled against your skin, hiking your skirt to bunch around your waist.

“Well, we just need to tease your hair a little bit, maybe darken your beard with some dye, fuck”, your eyes rolled back as you felt him slip his hand down the front of your panties, pressing against your clit before dragging his index finger through your wet folds.

“Keep going.” His words felt like an invitation for more than just costume discussion, but you were having trouble focusing on anything but they way his hand felt inside of you, as he pressed two fingers into your weeping hole. You lifted your thigh up, pressing your knee between his legs to give him better access, feeling his bulging erection through his jeans.

“I don’t know. I was gonna glue some leaves on myself or something, just don’t stop”, you grunted out, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and steady yourself, your other hand fumbling with his belt buckle, desperately trying to expose his cock.

“Fuck, faster” you moaned out before crashing mouths with Jack, your chest heaving as he pumped in and out of you furiously, his thumb circling your sensitive bud.

“That’s it baby girl, it’s just you and me.” He praised you, feeling you already racing to your peak, your muscles clenching down around his hand. You chest heaved with each thrust, your mind already forgotten about your situation.

Feeling yourself close to orgasm, you made quick work of undoing his zipper, Jack doing the rest as he pulled his length out, precum dripping from the tip.

“Fuck, baby, careful”, Jack groaned as he watched you grab at him, your fingers barely reaching around his girth. He pushed your panties to the side, exposing your glistening pussy to the air. You stroked the head of his cock, grinning as he fell into your hold, before he pressed himself inside of you, your back arching at the stretch.

His first strokes were a mixture of pleasure and pain, the tip of his cock hitting your g spot just right, but your tailbone hitting the railing with each thrust. “Shit, shit, shit.” You gritted out between clenched teeth, lifting yourself up in tandem with his movements. Jack noticed immediately how you pulled away from him, so he spun you around, grabbing your hips and rutting into you with no break, your back arching so more of you was exposed to him.

“Is it wrong that I’m picturing Bob Ross fucking me right now?” You uttered out in jest, your cheek pressed to the metal paneling. Jack let out a deep chuckle before ramming into you again, all of the air leaving your chest.

“Can you not ruin a childhood icon for me right now?”

“Sorry”, you giggled, feeling Jack’s movements begin to stagger as he pushed deeper and slower into you, teetering over the edge of his orgasm. You met each of his thrusts with a push of your hips, slapping your ass against his pelvis, knowing the sound drove him wild.

You were close to your own orgasm, slipping your hand down the front to frantically rub your clit, the coil in your stomach tightening with each passing second.

“Shit, I’m coming, babe.” A shiver traveled down Jack’s spine as he came, his release filling you up as he continued to fuck you, your orgasm traveling through your body, fatigue immediately starting to set in, as you muscles pulsed. You didn't even hear the elevator door begin to open, the firefighter standing on the other side not really sure to make of the situation.

“Uh, excuse me, sir, ma'am. Louisville Fire Department. Everyone okay in here?” The officer cleared his throat, waiving the flashlight around the elevator. Jack quickly pulled away, adjusting himself, pulling his zipper up. He turned away from you, blinking into the light while he shielded you from the firemen so you could collect yourself. You fixed your panties, feeling his warm cum pooling in the cotton. You pulled down your skirt and tucked your hair behind your ears, trying to erase any evidence of your illicit activities. “Yeah, we’re good. Would really love to get out of here, man.”

"We heard some distressing sounds, wanted to make sure we didn't need to call the EMTs." You pinched Jack's side, making him cry out before he could let out the laugh he was working so hard to stifle. "Ow! M-my girlfriend is claustrophobic, she was starting to panic." You wished you had the ability to burn a whole through his head right at that moment.

You stood back as the firefighters worked to open the door, letting you off on the eighth floor. You made a quick glance at the corner of the elevator car, growing wide eyed when you spotted a camera, a camera that probably caught every second of the nasty sex you just had with your boyfriend.

“Thanks so much” you quietly stepped past the men, hurrying to the stairwell out of embarrassment. Jack took his time thanking everyone individually, most of them recognizing him and asking for an autograph or handshake. You were pretty sure they were also congratulating him for all of those "panic" noises they heard.

You stood out of view in the stairwell waiting for Jack. He had an annoying post coital glow about him when he caught up with you, a cocky grin on his face.

“Did you see the fucking camera?” You edged out. “Yes, every elevator has a camera.” He shrugged, nonchalantly.

“You knew?! First we get caught by the firefighters, now the building has us on camera?!” You slapped him on the arm, considerably less playful than earlier in the evening. “You didn’t? What does it matter? It got your mind off your fears, didn’t it?” He furrowed his brow at you, genuinely confused.

You scowled at him, prepared to cuss him out, but held your tongue, too embarrassed to go at it with him tonight. You stomped up the stairs, the first of five flights you’d have to take up to his place.

“Do you think they’ll let me have a copy of that tape?”, Jack called up to you, just smitten with himself. “I think it’s probably some of my best work.”

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

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@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfiction

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

Text

Cowboy Romance

Striker x GN!Reader

TW: Fighting, NSFW at the end.

A/N: I love me a cowboy- especially an evil cowboy..LOVE IT. So let me say- cowboy enemies to lovers?

-☠️ Striker doesn’t believe in love- he thinks it’s a weakness and a weakness anyone can exploit.

-☠️So when he sees you, oh god he immediately wants to take you out of the picture. He has a whole plan and back up plan. This man hates you so much.

-☠️ So whenever you keep evading his attacks or just ignoring him it pisses him off even more. Don’t you get it? He hates you so you should hate him.

-☠️ While you- you maybe a farm hand or just another assassin that’s looking for some kinda work or just visiting the Wrath ring! You’ve seen him around and you don’t give a shit about him or you do but you're keeping it hush hush.

-☠️Either way the constant run ins with this crazy man are enough to piss you off to the point where you fight back! Setting up a trap or two, staying up at night cause he’s a sneaky bastard and possibly getting a hit on him, he’s not invincible but he’s strong. So good luck.

-☠️ All in all- this ends up with a lot of sexual tension and then later that evening when your patching yourself up you realize you have a crush on the sneaky bastard. But when he realizes that he caught feelings? Oh boy his anger ramps up to 100% and he’s about to fucking snap. He can’t be having a moment of weakness!

-☠️ And one faithful evening he comes to kill you off for good but it goes sideways and now you both are making out.

His gloved hands slammed you down onto the ground as he crawled on top of you, never breaking the kiss that has you both breathless and grasping at each other. Your fist balling up his shirt as his tongue easily evades your mouth asserting his dominance over the situation but by how his hands keep touching you tell you how desperately he needed you close to him. “This doesn't mean shit.” He hissed out as he pulled away from the kiss, his tail whipping around behind him. “Uh huh, sure thing cowboy.” You replied, staring up into his yellow eyes, noses brushing together as neither of you made a move to get away. But how he pressed his lips onto yours in a much more gentle manner told you otherwise.

-☠️ So when y’all are in a relationship after months of him breaking into your house or where ever you were staying to make out with you. He’s much sweeter, still kinda rough around the edges but you only get to see the softer side of him.

-☠️ He strikes me as a man who loves it when you rub his back as you both are laying down. Or when you take his hat off of his head to cover up the fact you are kissing.

-☠️ He lets you ride Bombproof with him, and if you don’t know how to ride a horse, he’s teaching you. Like the whole nine yards, don’t worry he’s right beside you guiding the horse around like the true cowboy gentleman he is.

-☠️ He’s constantly busy but he tries to make time for you and on special occasions say date night, birthday, anniversary, etc and he can’t make it because of work? He’s sending you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a promise of being home as soon as he can.

You huffed watching the clock tick silently, Striker was out doing Satan knows what and you were stuck in a safer place than he was, your phone buzzed alive with texts but not from him. He always called on a burner phone or didn’t call at all. As the clock struck midnight you frowned, he had officially missed your date but you knew his job so you couldn’t hold it against him. A loud knock shook you out of your pity party causing you to rush over and open the door, a random imp holding the large vase of your favorite flowers. Taking it from the imp you quickly say ‘thank you’ before closing the door to put the vase of flowers on the table. A note hidden in the flowers catch your attention, you quickly open it and read it as a smile graces your lips,

‘Sorry for the late bouquet, Darlin. I’ve been busy as you know but I wanted to make it up to you since I can’t be there but I promise as soon as I’m finished here I’ll be heading your way to actually make up for it. With love, yours truly ~S’

-☠️He likes to have a hand on you all the time, his tail curls around your leg or your tail if you have one. If you’re out on the road with him and Bombproof, he’s letting you cuddle up to him the whole time.

-☠️ He loves singing to you and about you all the time. Some folks who have been his targets have heard him singing about his little ‘Desert Flower’ before meeting their untimely demise.

-☠️ He loves showing off for you and showing how tough he is. He’s like a little peacock, please give him some kisses so he can stop flexing for you.

-☠️ Won’t let you touch his weapons. Not because he doesn’t trust you with them but they are super fucking dangerous and he wants to protect you. Speaking of protecting you- this man is super fucking protective and will not hesitate to either put a bullet in someone or break their bones for putting you in harms way.

NSFW BELOW HERE MINORS GET OUT 18+

-☠️ Most of the time you both are making out, it turns into ripping your clothes off one another and fucking like wild animals.

-☠️ He’s a dom for sure. Like you can try be somehow always wrangles you to the ground so he has more control over how he fucks you.

-☠️ Has a thing for being called ‘Sir’. No, I will not apologize.

-☠️ His favorite position is either missionary, cowgirl or you sitting on his lap. He just likes to watch your face as he pleasures you.

-☠️ Grab his horns if he’s going down on you, he loves it so much. Also wear his hat, if you know you know. Honestly wearing any of his clothes usually does the trick.

-☠️ He can be gentle and will be gentle if you want him to be but he likes it rough. Especially when it starts off gentle and slow then escalates to everything being rough.

#helluva boss x reader #gn reader #striker helluva boss #striker helluva #helluva striker #striker x reader

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ofbluesandyellows · 1 month

Text

Blueberry Wednesday - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Peter has a new noisy neighbor and he doesn't know how to deal with that -including bright plates and tasty food.

Word count: 2,086

a/n: Hiya! This is a new little thing that came to mind a few days ago, it's so nice to be back to share something with you. Hope you enjoy it let me know if you want to read more :)

Peter had been living in this new apartment for a few months now, the building was nicer than the last, the hot shower worked fine and the electricity didn’t have that buzzing sound that made his migraines unbearable. It was in an okay area and it was close to where he worked.

His life had been monotonous for the same amount of time too, maybe even longer, waking up, shower, coffee, work, lunch, patrol, kick some ass, fix his wounds —when needed—, sleep and back to square one. Peter didn’t feel the need of anything at the moment, Mary Jane had broken up with him for the second time, and even when he was heartbroken, and cried to sleep when he missed her, he was not pushing her to accept him back, he knew it was for the best. Pushing everyone away was the thing he was masterful at.

But this banging and screeching coming from the floor on top of his was causing his body to flinch every time that mother fucker sound appeared. His jaw clenched, his fist tightened. Peter had given whomever this person was, about an hour to come to their senses but this was enough. He stood up from his bed, leaving his badly sewed spider-man fixed suit splattered on the bed. Heavy steps and the slam of his door didn’t give the owner of the apartment a clue of what was coming for them, so when he banged the door two times, he waited but nothing happened, instead a wave of noise came through of it, as if the air and life were doing it on purpose just to add more stress in him; music the loud kind, instruments clashing against one another as if they had no rhythm to go with.

He banged the door, this time with white knuckles and a fury bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly the music stopped and Peter inhaled, oh, he was so ready to give this person hell, he was even expecting a fight to go down. This didn’t have anything to do with MJ dating another person, of course not, this was about the noise, yeah, that was it.

The door swung open and Peter puffed his chest, but it deflated the second his eyes landed on your frame.

“Hi!” You said chirpy and jolly, waving a hand. Your hair was messy as if a wind swirl had trapped you and now you had to deal with this new crazy hairdo and a sweaty forehead.

Peter tried, he really did but his eyes betrayed him and went up and down your body, pink shorts, with strawberries, that was something. Your shirt was spotty with breach, it was an Arctic Monkeys one, he liked them. You looked… not as annoying as he expected.

He gulped and inevitably sighed. “Um hello, listen, I came up here to make you stop with the noise but I was not expecting to find you here, so um, yeah sorry. Just would you keep it down?”

All the hot bubbly anger settled down, he was in no way going to fight a girl let alone an adorable looking one.

“Oh, I had no idea, sorry!” You smiled sheepishly. “I just moved in this morning and I was trying to move a few things around because they just left them all scattered and I kind of wanted to— anyway yeah I am so sorry about that.”

Peter nodded, he caught the pink in your cheeks going brighter the more he stared at you.

“You’re fine, really, maybe I’m just being a little dramatic.”

Dammit enhanced hearing.

“I bet you aren’t, I put the music too loud to avoid hearing the screeching myself.” Scratching your cheek you looked at him in the eye and quickly looked away.

“Well, I live downstairs, do you… er need some help?” Peter looked past you, his eyes landing on the piled boxes and the furniture indeed resting in the center of the room.

“No need, I think I caused enough mayhem,”

“Nonsense, I would be also doing it for myself, if I help you you will finish early, hence I can have silence in my own apartment.”

After a second you nodded, stepping aside. “Alright then.”

“My name’s Peter Parker by the way, I live literally below you.” His big hand extended, you met his and soon you two were moving furniture around the apartment, the music didn’t sound like noise in Peter’s ears any more, he in fact found out you really liked The Strokes.

The next morning Peter woke up with a banging headache, a brick wall fell over him when he tried to save a dog from a fire down by Little Italy. Only positive thing about his heroic act was that the owner of the dog handed him a little coupon card for free pizzas for the rest of the year at his son’s pizzeria two blocks down. He was definitely using that one.

A soft almost imperceptible knock startled him as he swallowed two ibuprofens with a big gulp of black coffee. The coffee was cold but he couldn’t care less.

As if he wasn't sure the knock had been on his door, he opened it slowly, you couldn’t be too sure anyway. At least his spider senses weren’t skyrocketing, which was always good.

His eyes found emptiness, there was no one at his door, his head popped out, looking to the right then the left and then a sweet smell caught his attention. Syrup-y, vanilla like.

Eyes went to the floor instinctively, right at his feet there was a yellow plate, a baby blue sticky note on the plastic wrapping it.

His brows furrowed as he squatted down.

Hi, Peter Parker.

I’m so sorry I disturbed your peace last night,

take these pancakes as an apology and as a thank you for your help.

Have a good day,

- your noisy top floor neighbor.

Peter felt a flutter in his chest, he hadn’t eaten pancakes in so long, and these looked extremely good. The plastic wrap was forming little condensation drops, so he picked it up, with a smile forming on his lips.

As soon as the wrap was discarded his apartment filled with the smell of sweet homey goodness. Even a little plastic pot of syrup was resting at the side of the pancakes. He looked at them for a good minute, just appreciating the looks of it.

“Okay…” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a fork, his cold coffee still half drunk near his left hand.

Peter firstly dipped his pinky in the syrup and as he sucked on it he couldn’t help to make a sound of pure joy. Pouring the gooey thing over the spongy misshapen circles was making his mouth water and the first bite was like a whole new experience to him. He noticed how the pancakes were soft like he imagined clouds were, then he chewed on something sour his eyes widened, looking down he noticed the very well hidden blueberries.

It was like having a party in his mouth, warm, sugary with a hint of sourness and then all combined, he moaned as his forehead hit the surface of the counter in his kitchen.

“You have to be kidding me!”

Peter was a fan of berries in general but there was definitely something in the blueberries that made him extremely happy, it was almost childish, it was probably the memories of his mom adding them to his cereal when he refused to eat something else.

The whole thing disappeared in less than a few minutes. He was both flattered and a bit insulted by you for giving him six pancakes instead of the common amount of three but he was also very grateful, he hadn’t had a breakfast like that since he lived with May, and that had been years ago. This made him feel warm inside, almost loved.

The water of the sink cleaned the remains of the food and he stared at the plate, a big pink smiley face was painted on the center of it, this made him chuckle, one that vanished as quickly as it came. How was he supposed to give you back your plate, he was not good at cooking, well… only if you appreciated instant ramen or mac and cheese coming from a box.

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of returning your plate empty, made him feel ungrateful, even though he had been the one handing you his services, it hadn’t taken much from him to help you anyway, you had been nice and chatty, he even enjoyed being around you, and Peter didn’t enjoy being around many people.

With a deep sigh he left the cheery plate to dry on the rack, he had to go to work now.

Working for this new lab was something he didn’t expect to feel excited about but being part of the genetics department was probably the best decision they made for him, he could check all kinds of weird things, giving him access to classified information that was also helpful for his arachnid counterpart.

But just today wasn’t one of those days, his mind kept on drifting to you and your plate and those freaking incredible pancakes. Deep down he thought of finding ways to help you so he could eat those delicious fluffy things at least once more. For now he had to just entertain the idea, soon he focused on options to give you back your stuff without even going knocking at your door.

Because that would be weird? Isn’t it? To knock and give your plate back with a nod and then disappear without a word. It seemed too impolite and somehow Peter wanted to seem like a complete gentleman with you, after all he had been a bit forward last night, he was tired and upset and you were being so noisy but now here he was in a dilemma.

Lunch felt like a slap, like a bucket of cold water, his sandwich tasted like sandpaper –not that he had tried it but he guessed that’s what it tasted like–not even his favorite drink from the vending machine seemed good enough in comparison to his three Michelin star breakfast. Swinging back home felt a little better than going in the subway, he made a mental note to fix his motorcycle, he didn’t need to deal with the heat of the city when he could drive to work and back and enjoy the breeze.

You know how destiny and coincidences are such a funny thing, Peter decided to take the elevator to his floor instead of just crawling up to his window. He just felt like it, so he stood there waiting until the door clinked sliding open, revealing a figure inside, your sparkly eyes was the first thing he saw.

Peter almost gasped.

“Peter! Hi,”

“Hey! Are you heading out?” duh how are you so smart, Parker? “I mean yeah of course you are, if not you wouldn’t be here.”

You chuckled. “Yes, I just ran out of milk.” Cheeks going pink, Peter smirked.

“Right, well, I won’t get in your way.”

“Okay, see you around.”

Peter walked in the elevator and just as you walked past him, he held the door open just to see you for a little longer.

“Hey!” he quickly shouted. your hair flipping as you twirled to face him. “Thanks for the pancakes, they were really good, like exceptionally amazing.”

“Ha, wow no, thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday, hopefully there won't be more disturbances in the future.”

“Please, be my guest, if you need something you know where to find me.”

“Will try not to bother you much but it’s good to know, thanks!”

Peter was grinning. “By the way, the blueberries were quite the surprise, they’re my favorite.”

Your whole face brightened “Good! You were lucky, then. It was Blueberry Wednesday.”

Chest fluttering and all, Peter saw you wave at him and disappear out the door, his way to his apartment felt light, like all his worries had suddenly evaporated. His apartment seemed cozier too. Kicking off his shoes, he went to grab a glass of water, his eyes finding the happy yellow and pink plate, he almost choked.

“Oh shit! What am I going to do with you?”

Scratching his neck, he really needed an excuse now. He wanted to see you again.

#Peter Parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm x female reader #tasm peter parker fic #fluff #fanfiction #tasm fanfic #tasm! peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #andrew garfield peter parker #tags are hard #fluff and nothing but fluff #andrew garfield spiderman #tasm! peter fic #andrew garfield

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harlowtales · 2 months

Text

Y/N feels trapped with a baby on the way and Jack distances himself to think

18 Plus Only - Adult Themes and Content

Nobody knew you were pregnant yet. You asked Jack to wait to even tell his family as it had just passed 3months and you didn’t want to jinx it. He was being super paranoid not letting you do anything, and barely go anywhere. He was hyper about germs and the cleaning lady had to be extra careful about how she disinfected every surface.

“Baby come on wash your fucking hands” Jack said one day exasperated and whipping out wipes to wipe your fingers like a child.

“Jack I can lick my fingers I’m at home.” You shot back with your mouth full of popcorn. “Hey when are we going out tonight?” You asked casually assuming you would be going to The Hub with your fiancée and asking to see what time you should get ready. Pregnancy was already making you more tired than usual and you wanted to take a nap before you left.

“Uhh WE?” Jack asked you back

“Yes. When are we leaving?” You repeated

“Baby.” Jack said calmly and sat down looking you in the eye “You won’t be going.”

“What??” You fumed “What the fu…” you firmly clamped your mouth as Jack was trying to not swear around the future baby.

He shot you a disapproving glance. “Please babe, stay home from now on k? Can’t have you in the mix anymore.” Jack explained and thought that would be that with a kiss on your forehead.

“Oh the fuck I’m not going. I’m not sitting home pregnant while you go out and girls seeing you ALONE?? Are you mental?” You raged.

“You don’t go on tour with me and I behave” Jack said to his credit. “You trust me I know you do. You just want to party.”

“No…um not true.” You said as he caught you in your true motives. You loved being out and hanging with everyone. “C’mon baby…Pleaaaassee” You begged flashing your megawatt smile and fluttering your eyelashes.

“That ain’t gone work.” Jack said sternly

“What about this.” You said going down on your knees and starting to pull down his sweatpants.

“Ok baby stop. You’d suck dick to get to go?” Jack said laughing.

“I’m going to be trapped for months after the baby is born.” You said pouting to which Jack finally relented.

“Ok mama you can go.” He said “But I’ll take a rain check on that sloppy toppy, I got some stuff to do before we leave.”

You took a nap and woke up around 6PM to get ready to go. Excitedly you texted your friends Jack actually said yes. You were only slightly showing with a hint of a bump. Most people had no idea you were pregnant, and you weren’t a heavy drinker so the fact that you turned down alcohol the last few weeks didn’t raise any eyebrows either. Urban knew and a couple of Jack’s friends who did security for him when he went out. This was to ensure you had extra protection.

You put your hair up in a ponytail with a longer extension for fun and put on a jumpsuit that wasn’t too tight to give the secret away. To go to the Hub you didn’t have to dress up. Jack thought you looked adorable which got him going even more than you looking ultra sexy.

“Mmmm” he said looking you up and down and pulling you close. “Can I jump in your jumper with you?”

“You passed on a blow job remember?” You reminded him as he kissed you.

Just then your driver and security buzzed up, it was time to go have fun one last time.

The energy of the club is what you needed. You dodged Jack and his friends successfully until the club started getting full. Jack sent Timo to hunt you down and bring you to where he was heading to behind “the wall”. “The wall” was the literal wall Jack’s friends formed in front of him when he went out to clubs so no random people could get too close to him.

Unfortunately for you who had just been convinced by your friends (who didn’t know you were 3 mos pregnant) to dance on the bar and you took the challenge, not because you were drunk but because you just wanted one last crazy thing to do.

“Whooo!! Go Y/N!!” They encouraged you as you twerked a little sticking your tongue out with plans to come down right away but Timo caught you and Jack spotted you texting Timo furiously “BRO TELL HER TO GET DAFUQ DOWN!” Jack texted in all angry caps.

You were in the process of coming down when you met Timo face to face as you touched the ground with his help. “Y/N! You are in trouble young lady.” He said sternly “Come with me.” He said taking you by the arm and whisking you off to where Jack was waiting beet red. You looked back at your friends who felt guilty for egging you on.

“Don’t” Jack said turning his head away as you went up on your tipi toes for a kiss. “I can’t even talk to you right now.”

“It’s called having fun old man.” You snapped “ I went up there on a dare for 2 mins”

“Can you act like a mother for 2 fucking seconds?” Jack angrily whispered. People nearby were trying to hear what was going on but fortunately the thundering bass drowned him out.

“Maybe I would act more like a mom if I wasn’t trapped!” You shot back hurting Jack deeply. All he had been doing was protecting you. He said nothing in return and sipped on his water to calm down. He reasoned you were being emotional given you were pregnant.

“Ok fine. 2 can play this ignoring game.” You said to him to which he pretended not to hear knowing it drove you nuts.

“Ok girly let’s go to the bathroom.” Urban’s girlfriend said taking you away to talk about what was going on with you. It was not like you to be so irresponsible. For once she agreed with Jack. “What’s going on mama?” Azura said kindly hugging you.

“He tells me what to do CONSTANTLY!” You said bursting into tears.

“He does always tell you what to do. Jack is like a stern father, I don’t know how you stand it.” Azura said trying to influence you to jump to Jack’s defence. Her and Urban had just got back together and she didn’t want to see you go through fighting with Jack while pregnant.

“Jack is not a stick in the mud” You said in his defence which Azura knew you would. “He is just trying to…oh I see what you’re doing. Nice one, making me realize my man just wants the best for me and his baby and maybe dancing on a bar is a bad idea.”

“Bingo!! You catch on quick” Azura said sarcastically making you laugh.

“Ok girl let me go apologize to my man.” You said feeling horrible for how you had spoken to Jack.

He was vibing in a corner not talking to anyone. The way you had acted had him down. He had fulfilled his obligation to appear at the club so he was just waiting for you to get out of the bathroom so the both of you could go home. He should have stuck to his guns and made you stay back. Now gossip blogs were going to be reporting about your 5 secs dancing on the bar and the obvious argument the two of you had. When they did the math months later and found out you were pregnant when you were up there, it’s going to be a mini-disaster.

“Ready? We’re leaving early, I have an early morning.” Jack lied.

“Baby…Jackman” You said reaching up to turn his sulking face to yours “I will never do anything like that again. I love you”

“Babe…no come on” He said avoiding your kiss as you reached around his neck to pull him down to you. He was really irritated and sad. It took you by surprise that you couldn’t work your magic and smooth it over. Urban and Azura exchanged concerned glances as you and Jack made your exit.

He was silent all the way home which thankfully wasn’t far from the condo. It was so awkward. When you got back you didn’t push him to talk to you and got ready for bed. Usually by now you guys would be joking again already. Jack didn’t come to bed with you. He sat in his studio room listening to a beat on loop with a pen and pad out. You tossed and turned while you heard the muffled beat through the bedroom walls. When you tipi toed into the studio you found him laying on the floor staring at the ceiling like he often did when he felt depression setting in. There was a whole bunch of scrunched up balls of paper that he had missed the waste paper basket with.

You said nothing and laid down on the floor in the same position next to him. At first he didn’t notice you and then glanced over but maintained his silence. You took a chance and reached out to hold his hand. He took it slowly and held it gently giving you a sense of relief. “Nice beat.” You said quietly

“Thanks. Clay made it.” He said expressionless

“Writer’s block?” You asked referencing all the crumpled up paper on the floor.

“Um sort of” He said turning to you propped up on his elbow “Do you believe in destiny baby?”

“To a degree. I’m not sure.” You said honestly turning to him. “Why?”

“I dreamt you and then I met you.” He said with a whimsical smile taking you by surprise and giving you tingles. “And now you have a part of me inside of you. We’re bonded forever now. Do you understand that means everything to me?”

“Not until now. I…I have felt trapped and sometimes…replaceable.” You said blinking to hold back tears coming.

“I could never do better than you.” Jack said moving closer and kissing you passionately. “Will you just trust that I always mean to do right by you?”

“Yes Jack I will.” You nodded as tears started to fall down your cheeks and he wiped them.

“I will always be here for this moment and wipe every tear as it falls.” He vowed in a near whisper. That’s it!! He said suddenly making you jump. “That’s the song! I’m unstuck! Thank you baby.” Jack said kissing you roughly on the head and leaping up to grab his pen and pad.

“Happy to help.” You said sarcastically “Don’t stay up too late.” You said yawning and heading to bed.

“Oh I’m coming to get some don’t worry” he said looking at your ass in your pyjama pants as you walked away.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader

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