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charnelhouse · 2 years

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boxed cake

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 1.7k Warnings: fluff. mentions of smut. ghost is a legit simp, but has had it up to here. barf. Summary: Things don't go as planned. Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Red's birthday doesn’t go as planned. Ghost is used to order. He’s used to predicted results and should the path shift, he will accommodate. He can work with outliers, delays, and hostiles poking up in places they shouldn't. He has twenty-five back-up plans. Fail-safes.

She just gets so bloody drunk.

The blame lies fully with Soap and Gaz. While Ghost is distracted with finishing reports, the two of them drag her to some pub and feed her shots until she’s texting him:

c’m4ere boob

bobe

fuc no meant babe*

When he calls, her voice is syrupy with alcohol. She’s slurring her words, whimpering and begging for him to come to her.

It’s my birthday, Ghost.

Yes. He knows. He had a plan. He had things he wanted to do for her before those two fucking cunts had snatched her from the base.

I want you.

Simon.

She’s got that familiar desperation rushing beneath her tongue. He knows it well because it’s the same tone she uses when she’s pleading for him to finish her, let her come, make me come, i don’t fucking care, Simon, please.

But now she’s begging for him in public and he can hear Gaz and Soap drunkenly hooting and hollering in the background like a couple of fucks.

“Stay there,” he orders as he shoves away from his desk, boots knocking against the metal.

He’s irritated, striding down the hallway and shouldering past the newest recruits who give him a wide berth. The muscles in his shoulders bunch up as he rolls his neck. He chews his tongue until it throbs.

The day has changed. He must adapt.

He doesn’t understand why he feels so out of his element trying to do something that doesn’t involve bloodshed.

***

When he storms into the pub, the atmosphere is already clouded with celebration. The TVs blare. String-lights spilling from wood beams. The clack of billiard balls. The yeasty scent of beer and cigarettes. Cherries.

Price is leaning against the bar, grinning at something Red's said before his gaze falls on Ghost. Immediately, his expression tightens, his lips slanting to a grimace.

Then, Gaz notices him, followed by Soap.

"Fuck me," Gaz mouths as he whips the vodka bottle behind his back.

The both of them sport hangdog faces as they slink closer to Price. Soap's skin is visibly flushed as he squints at Ghost. There's no doubt that Johnny is already pissed.

“Their fault,” Price loudly declares, gesturing to the other two. “Not mine.”

Red frowns before spinning around on her stool. “Whose fault- Ghost!”

It’s cute. She’s glassy-eyed, her lips are swollen from too many drinks, but everything brightens when she sees him. His chest expands at the sight, his fists uncurling as he relaxes. She throws her arms open and completely topples off the back of the stool.

***

Red groans as Ghost holds the ice pack to the crown of her head. There’s a slight lump, but he can’t tell if her symptoms are from intoxication or a concussion.

“Red! Red!” Soap interjects, shouldering Ghost. “Follow my finger, lass.”

“That’s three fingers, you daft cunt,” Ghost growls. “I can’t believe you didn’t catch her.”

“She was too far away! Here, bonnie Red, my sweet ole’ Fox, follow my -”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters in a voice so chilling that it fogs the air.

Soap straightens, jerking his head apologetically before shoving a finger in front of Red’s face.

She grimaces, but follows the movement.

“How’s your vision?” Ghost asks.

“Meh.”

“I need more than that, kid.”

“It’s fine,” she groans. “No dizziness. Just hurts.”

“We know how to solve that, eh?” Gaz slides a foamy glass of beer down the bar top. She grins, plucking it daintily before downing half.

Ghost blinks, unsure how she’d managed to do that so quickly. He shoots Gaz a death glare, but the man is oblivious, already sauntering toward the center of the room to chat up some girls.

“Here, lass,” Soap coaxes. “You can have this one, too.”

Lightning fast, Ghost snatches the bottle from Soap’s outstretched hand and Red makes a low, frustrated noise.

“He’s a stick in the mud,” she accuses as she prods him in the chest. Her skin is hot to the touch, sweltering from too much liquor, but he can smell her. The eucalyptus scent of her hand lotion. Grapefruit. A bit of leather. She leans into him, pressing her cheek to the place she’d just poked and sighs. “But he’s really not, actually, basically.” She pauses and peeks up at him through her lashes. He inhales sharply, focusing on the wet slip of her tongue over her lower lip. “He’s not at all,” she murmurs. “Definitely, not in bed-”

“We're done!” Ghost announces before dropping the pack of ice and lifting her off the bar stool and into his arms. She goes easily, a cloth doll without its stuffing. He’d toss her over his shoulder, but the head wound is worrisome.

Price slaps him on the back. “Get her home, then.”

“Affirmative,” he replies as he carries her bridal style out of the bar. Soap hollers after them, shouts something about stopping by later and Ghost flips him off.

Outside, it’s cool and clear. The air tastes good enough to drink. The pub was too overwhelming, noisy and viscous and not at all what he had in mind for tonight - for her. But then again, she’s not him. She’s charming and ruthless and being in her proximity is akin to having the midday sun beat down on his bare face. She's popular. She should party.

He lowers his chin, studying her as he takes them both back to base. She looks slightly ill. Definitely piss drunk.

Still beautiful, though.

Truthfully, she could be covered in blood and gristle, and he'd find himself speechless.

She swallows, gaze sliding sluggishly up at him before covering her eyes with her hand.

“Fuck,” she mutters.

“What is it?”

“I-I think I’m going to be sick.”

***

He strokes her back as she wretches over the toilet. He’s sitting against the wall, legs spread with her kneeling between them. Her bathroom is so tiny that he takes up half of it. He can press the bottoms of his boots against the wall.

“Ughhhhhhhhh...”

She’s trembling, the muscles in her back spasming as she braces herself over the rim and vomits again.

“Just get it out,” he urges softly as he palms her waist. Her shirt is crumpled in the shower, her jeans somewhere else.

“Kill,” she shudders, fingers tightening on the toilet seat before she swallows. “Soap.”

“Was already planning on it, Duchess,” he assures her as she crumples into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, hunching his head to drag his bare cheek against her own. His mask is gone, secured in a drawer, now that they’re in the privacy of her room. She smells a little sour, her skin salty with sweat, but he kind of loves it. He loves when she’s dirty, slick under her knees, between her thighs. He loves her vulnerable and wanting his comfort.

After a nightmare. After a really horrendous mission. After he gets hurt, after she does.

She’ll reach for him in the dark. Simon. Please.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “This is so gross.”

He shrugs before lowering his head and claiming her lips in a fierce kiss. Surprised, she freezes and he slips his tongue behind her teeth, stroking it against the roof of her mouth. She finally yelps, pushing him away and he chuckles. “I’ve had my fingers in your artery before, darling. I don’t care about this.”

“You’re a freak,” she mumbles as she buries her nose into his neck. His stubble chafes her forehead, audibly rasps against her softness. She reaches up and tugs on a lock of his hair and he hums in contentment.

They remain that way for a long time. Her body curled in his lap, fingers threaded together, their hearts thumping at the same, even pace. With his eyes, he traces characters in the cracked tiles of the floor. He sketches her name. He finds her mouthwash when she complains and sweat pants.

“I have something for you,” he reveals, lips a breath from the lump in her skull from falling.

“Your dick?” she replies sleepily, which only makes all of his blood rush downward. He gets hard, twitches in his jeans and she giggles. “Definitely your dick.”

“No,” he retorts as he snags his arm under her knees and lifts her up. “That’s for later, missy.” He lowers his mouth to her ear. “If you’re even awake to enjoy it.”

She huffs. “I am very awake. Definitely ready. We should - ow-”

He plops her on the shitty, threadbare couch before heading to her fridge. Seeing as she’d only had a hot plate, Ghost had to sneak into the barracks kitchen at 3 am. He didn’t need the recruits watching him attempt this.

“Ugh,” she moans from the couch. “I shouldn’t have had that second beer.”

He shakes his head as he slips his lighter from his pocket.

“I don’t think I can be on top,” she continues. “Definitely a potential hazard, but I can lie-”

She abruptly shuts her mouth when she sees him, her pretty eyes widening. He holds the aluminum pan out like a bomb. The frosting is haphazardly spread across the top. “Happy Birthday” is written in pink icing, the scrawled letters similar to spider legs. He’d managed to find a single candle to place at the center.

He shuffles toward her, before crouching low so that she can read it. “It’s just from a box,” he explains. “I thought it might be dangerous if I tried to do it from scratch.”

She blinks at the cake and then up at him, her mouth parting. “You can make a wish,” he offers lamely and she nods, shutting her eyes, licking her lips and then blowing out the candle.

Finally, she takes the cake from his hands and carefully places it on the shitty wooden coffee table. She turns back to him before grasping the hinges of his jaw and pulling him forward. He doesn’t expect it, his hand flies to the edge of the couch to brace his weight, his other landing beside her hip and sinking into the cushions.

“Easy,” he warns, but she doesn’t seem to care. She holds his face and kisses him tenderly, sweet and insistent. Their lips move together, savoring the other and when he moves his head, she follows so he can deepen it. It’s indulgent. More intimate than anything else they’ve ever done.

He draws away to stare at her, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Is it alright?”

The cake.

Him.

This.

She grins - her white teeth splitting her face in two. He’s never seen her smile like that, glimmer like something out of the sky. Galaxies. The sun. It reminds him of Afghanistan and when they’d found a moment to themselves. It had been when everything between them was new and strange. She clung to him in the desert, tangled herself around his body after he’d been inside her. She’d been damp and sensitive between her legs and he’d traced the seam of sex, teased it until she flinched.

“No more,” she’d pleaded; he’d sat up because he thought she was done, sated, full of him and ready to quit.

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“Stay.”

And they’d counted stars.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #cod fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley

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the-californicationist · 10 months

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The Fox & the Hound (Ch. 01)

Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.

MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS

AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated

You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?

Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part.

He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you.

It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous.

“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”

The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,

“You gonna make it, lass?”

“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”

“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional.

It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?

Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying,

"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good."

You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.

“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”

You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle.

Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,

“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.”

“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen.

“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”

“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino.

Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,

“No charge. Just want it to be right.”

“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”

Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.

“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.

If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered.

You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him.

When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy.

He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body.

Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,

“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”

You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,

“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”

You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,

“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”

“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”

You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist.

“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”

Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands.

You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said.

Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,

“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”

“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”

You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface.

You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work.

“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”

His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks.

You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?

“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”

Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,

“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?

Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,

“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”

The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,

“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”

He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.

“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”

Mike’s head popped over his iPad,

“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”

“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops.

He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so.

“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles.

“Sorry!” You whispered to him.

He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,

“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”

Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”

You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,

“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”

“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes.

You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own.

He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft.

“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”

In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again.

He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft.

“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”

The camera man laughed,

“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”

“Shut up, mate.”

You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point.

Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,

“How are we doin’, lass?”

“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in.

“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”

His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,

“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”

His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,

“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”

“Light,” someone told him.

“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”

Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,

“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”

Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again.

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”

He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.

“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.

“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”

“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”

“I just need my bag.”

Mike’s sigh was theatrical,

“Everyone take five.”

The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls.

“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.

“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.

He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,

“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise,

“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”

He laughed,

“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”

His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular.

“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”

You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much.

Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded,

“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”

He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,

“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”

You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth.

“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”

You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt.

Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you.

“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly.

Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.

Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch.

You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.

Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,

“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”

He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole.

“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”

You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full.

“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”

“You’re so tight, lass.”

He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him.

Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside.

You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy.

Mike’s bell went off in your ear.

“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”

Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound.

“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.

“Sure, bonnie.”

You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible.

The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door.

“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.

It was Johnny.

“Got room for one more, lass?”

You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,

“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam.

At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,

“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”

“Me, too,” you laughed.

“Class,” he smiled.

There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly,

“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”

The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you.

You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement.

Smiling up at him, you took a chance,

“Your couch or mine?”

Chapter 02

#call of duty fanfic #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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choppeddreamworm · 2 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if you could do young!hook x gn!reader dating hcs? thank you!

Of course love! I’ve never written Headcannons so I hope this lives up to your expectations <3

- nini 𓄿

Dating Young Hook headcannons SFW

Pairings: hook x Gn! reader

Warnings: none

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That man did not leave you alone when he started realizing he had feelings for you

He tried to pretend like you ignoring his advancements didn’t hurt

He hits a sexy pose against the wall you were leaning against. “lass do you have a compass by chance?” You reluctantly answer with a hesitant look in your face, “…no?”. His lips stretch up in a grin his gaze trailing from your chin up to your orbs as he inched closer to you, “‘cause I’m lost in your eyes”

Boooo 🍅

He was convinced his pirate pick up lines would work on you (far from it)

Even after you started dating he didn’t waste an opportunity to use them thinking he had some amazing charm

It eventually started working on you because after all it was cute your little pirate still trying to impress you

Please call him James

it drives him feral cause it feels more intimate

PET NAMESSSS?!

Love, darling, sweetheart, angel, prince/princess, my little duckling (stole that from Harry hook)

He loves possession going both ways

like how he addresses himself

Your pirate, your captain, your villainous boyfriend

YOURS YOURS YOURS

This bleeds onto needing to have at least a hand around you at all times

Loves having both hands, hook and everything on your waist

his head on your shoulder being the cherry on top

He isn’t super big on other parts of PDA but will show it in its entirety when he feels threatened

Jealous! Hook

Even if he’s a very confident man and knows his worth he gets easily defensive

That person over there was staring at you?

He’ll want to Gauge their eyes out with his hook

You’ll make him realize he’s insane though dw! No harm will come to them unless you ask of it from him

HE IS THE IT GURRRLLL

don’t try to outshine him in the relationship he’ll always eat with his outfits and one up you every time effortlessly

You have a pretty boyfriend and you should appreciate that

Always checking his appearance on the reflection of his hook

Apart from his looks going to his head he always bloats about his amazing pirate adventures

He over exaggerates too much in an attempt to impress you that your convinced most of his stories are fake

You don’t tell him that though

Him gossiping is the besssstttt

The way he drops lore on any person you don’t like is crazy

You’ll spend hours talking smack about anyone at Merlin Academy

He’s sassy 100%

Snarky clap backs if you try making fun of him

But he is also the most romantic person you’ll ever meet

Him being a gentleman compensates for his sassines

Convinced he’d always bring you flowers whenever coming across them in the forest or on school grounds

Administration probably knows him as the flower bandit by now fr

He loves roses 🌹

You’re always on his mind and he never passes up an opportunity to show you that

Adds a little note to the flowers he leaves in your room

Tries to make his writing so fancy it becomes unreadable but you can always inquiry another person to help

————————————————————————————————————————

#descendants x reader #hook x reader #descendants rise of red #descendants 4 #captain hook x reader #captain hook #james hook #james hook x reader #x gn reader #fanfic #disney descendants #disney captain hook

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flowerfreya · 20 days

Text

Cherry Wish

Heat Sick

Cherry Wish masterlist

CW: a/b/o dynamics , talk of heats , unintentional neglect, beta!reader,omega!simon, alpha!soap pairing: reader x ghoap Soap did something bad (not on purpose) and now needs reader help to fix it.

You haven’t seen them in almost a week and you're trying to not make it seem like a big deal but since it’s just you and your mind. It’s a pretty big deal. Everytime you hear the buzz of the automated door, you look over and see if it's them and every time it’s not them , you deflate little by little. You hate to admit it but you miss them. You're not used to people actually wanting you. Not used to people trying to be with you. Being a beta means that your dating pool is usually reduced to other betas and alphas that can’t find an omega. Your scent is not as strong as other betas, so you’ve been told by past partners but everyone knows that a scent is elevated when you feel something for your partner, which you have never. ~ You're walking into your shift when you hear someone call your name , turning your head , you spot Soap walking towards you in almost a haste, looking a little concerned. “What’s going on”, you say slowly, a little concerned because you don’t see Simon anywhere. “Lass, yer busy”, he says, something must be wrong. There was no preamble. No hello. Soap is usually annoying with how nice that he is. Something must be really wrong. “Where’s Simon”, you ignore the question he asked, opting to ask your own question, because you had a feeling that Soap question had a lot to do with where Simon is. “Answer me question first”, Soap growls. It shocks you and that’s really look at Soap. He seems sick. Bags under his eyes, face is dry and crusty, and his signature mohawk is deflated leaning over to one side. You decide to spare him , he needs it more than you. “Well yeah, I’m going to work. Only reason I would be here”, you say to him with a deadpan look. If you didn’t have to work the grocery store would be last on the list of places that you would go for fun. “You got heat leave”, Soap questions. “Why would I have heat leave when I’m a single beta”, you answer back. Starting to get annoyed. The store made you fill out paperwork when you got hired asking about your home life and designation. While heat leave is mandatory to give out, only omegas and spouses of omega’s can have it. They don’t want people to abuse it since they don’t need actual proof of a heat happening and still have to pay for full salary. Soap mutters under his breath , looking from side to side. Paranoid. “What’s going on”, you ask again. More harshly this time. Walking closer to Soap. That’s when you smell it. It’s like a bitter coffee, burnt wood and like when someone leaves the iron on the clothes for to long. It has you taking a step back , not expecting it. Then concern like no other washes over you. Simon. “Soap, tell me what’s going on”, you're scared that maybe Simon is hurt and alone and Soap is here asking about your schedule. You're confused and you need to get to the bottom of it. He starts to pace, hand pulling his fingers so hard you think that about to come out of the joint. “Can yer come with me”, he ask and before you can answer the question, he rattles a couple more: Do you have enough PTO to get a couple days off? They don’t give out PTO here. I think you may have imprinted on Simon. Shocker but not really considering how much they come to the store? His gland is swollen and it wont go down and he keeps asking about you?

Then with pleading eyes and a low whisper, “we need you”. “Okay”, you whisper back, already following him to the car. ~ You find Simon laying down in the backseats of the truck that Soap drove here. The smell of distressed alpha and omega is very stagnant in the air. You try your best to boost your calming and neutral scent to hopefully mask the smell of scared and afraid in the car. “Beta”, Simon whimpers, craning his hand towards you but not opening his eyes to do so. Turning around in the front seat , you're almost horrified to see Simon sweating and red with an engorged scent gland and tears in his eyes, “Hey, Simon baby”, you coo at him hoping to help with at least the emotional side of things before getting to the house and taking care of the physical. “Are you real?”, Simon ask. Taking his hand in yours, “Yeah baby, ‘m real”. Turning slowly to Johnny and trying to calm down so the smell of angry won’t waft off of you, hissing, ”what the fuck Soap”. He glances over to your face and then back at the road, “didn’t know what to do , he just kept calling for you and I thought it would resolve but then it just kept getting worse and worse” , his hand are gripping the steering wheel so tight they are turning a pale shade of his color. “You're his alpha, you're supposed to know when things are wrong or right with your omega”, when an omega goes into heat, all the responsibility for their wellbeing goes to the heat partner whether that be another omega or a beta or an alpha. An alpha has the easiest go of it since it has a great sense of smell and can easily tell when their scent changes. “How long has he been like this”, directing your attention back to Simon. Rubbing your wrist against his trying to get him to calm down. “Two day”, Soap say. “Two days?”, you growl which causes Simon to whimper not understanding that you aren’t mad at him, “not you baby”, you whisper to him causing him to relax once more. “What the fuck is your problem, don’t know how to take of an omega ?”, you say between clenched teeth. If it was any other alpha they would have been insulated that you're suggesting that they don’t know how to take care of their omega. Soap just hangs his head,shrugging his shoulder, “I guess not”

#reader x ghoap #simon riley x reader #johnny soap x reader #omega!simon #alpha!johnny #beta!reader #a/b/o dynamics

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fandomwritingbit · 6 months

Text

Sweet girl pt.6

Dbf William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

Synop: Your parents are throwing a neighbourhood party, you're looking forward to it. It's too bad you're going to miss all of it.

Warnings: smut, oral, taking of virginity, public sex, coercion, corruption and manipulation. William is pretty evil ngl.

Imma just link to the masterlist, this series is getting well too long lol.

A/n: I've never written cherry-popping before I hope this is okay. This is so far from my experience it's hard to believe it'd be the same even lmao. Also my writer's block has been so fucking bad recently, I need all the slack you're willing to give.

It sounded great when your parents first put it to you: a barbeque a few weekends from now, the whole neighbourhood invited to enjoy some good food and sunshine. The perfect excuse to flaunt a gorgeous lavender dress you bought months ago, it caught your eye on a sales rack, a perfect flowy fabric that clung to all the right places. Your size, a match made in heaven. You can’t help but shiver with the thought of how William will react to it, handsy is the word that springs to mind, not that you are against that.

The day of, you step into that dress, the fabric soft and almost soothing around your body. It’s hot today and you’re glad for the lightness of the material, though you think that maybe the heat on your face is from anticipation. He’s all you think about, the danger of him asking you to touch him with your dad barely 10 feet away, the beautiful feeling of his fingers inside you tearing an orgasm out of you like nothing you've had before, the nights you’ve spent calling him and getting off. You’re addicted to all of it and it has your fingers dipping into your panties at any given opportunity.

You pad downstairs about ten minutes before people are set to arrive, finding your mum and dad hurrying around. “Oh you look lovely, sweetie.” Your dad says in passing, carrying an overly big bowl of salad towards your dining table. It was full of all kinds of buffet bits, but enough space left for guests to contribute things, as tends to be customary. Right now the amount of food seems over the top, but you know that once things get going your house will be full of everyone with a tie to the community.

…

And you were correct, your house is swarming. People in the living room, the dining room, outside, all chatting and greeting neighbours that ‘they really should see more often’. You’re herded around groups of people by your mum and dad, introductions and re-introductions said to what felt like hundreds, but was likely only twenty or so. You are as polite as you can, smiling through small talk about your education and how much you’ve changed since last year, but your heart’s not in it, your eyes are constantly flicking around for William. It should be easy to spot him, he's a tall enough fella, but your searching keeps turning up empty.

Your glancing around the room is interrupted by a squeaky, “Oh my god, y/n?” You turn to where the voice is coming from, instantly recognising the girl of your age who was squeezing past your dad to get to you. “I haven’t seen you since… school.” She pulls a face at the word ‘school’ which you commiserate with, you can’t place this girl's name but the mention of school makes you frown. Your manners are important to you but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that if you haven't seen someone in years, there’s most likely a reason why.

“Yeah… It’s been a long time.” You agree, giving her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. In the middle of this awkward interaction you clap eyes on him and your heart jumps in your chest in such a ridiculous way you pray it doesn’t show on your face. He’s talking to a bloke you know from three or four houses down, a small smile on his face that has an air of amusement like he’s laughing internally at the gentleman’s expense.

You are almost physically pulling away from this conversation but the lass doesn’t stop talking, oblivious to your lack of interest as she tells you all about her cosmetology school and her apprenticeship. You just don’t have the rudeness in you to walk away so you grit your teeth and ride out the conversation, eagerly watching William out of the corner of your eye.

It takes so long trying to get her to leave that by the time she’s got out her phone and is part way through finding you on instagram, William is slinking out of the room. The moment she’s done, you brush her off with a polite see you later, leaving the room in the path your bad influence had used. You’re experiencing some kind of withdrawal from not having his attention, it’s pathetic but it’s true, and achingly obvious in how you walk your house searching for him… again.

You find him in your living room and you edge through a group of chatting neighbours to get through to him and as you get near still unnoticed you find your mum standing beside him, looking up at him and talking through a wide grin. “It feels like a long time since I’ve seen you properly, William.” It takes you no effort to lock onto your mother’s words, they make you frown instantly.

“Yeah I’ve been busy with work.” He shakes his head, “I’ll have to come and see you and Chris soon.” And your lovely daughter, he mentally adds, though some of the intention must show on his face because the woman in front of him puts her hand on his arm. His eyes widen.

“Anytime.” She says, doubling down on it, “I mean it, any-time. I like having you around.” Something about the tone of that turns your frown into a scowl. It’s flirtation, and you burn with anger. Jealousy, yes, you can’t help it, it’s instant, but for god’s sake your dad is right fucking there. You don’t consider how you could be overreacting, the indignation is too strong, so you leave the room in a huff, feeling like a fucking idiot for spending your whole day looking for a bloke who clearly wasn’t looking for you. It stings and in a flurry you remind yourself that all the things you’ve done with him are only your first times, not his.

You’re out of the house before you know it, keeping your head down as you go far to the bottom of your garden where a hedge gives you respite from turning heads. You’re not crying, but you’re not a mile away from it either. Maybe it’s that withdrawal again, but you stand in the corner feeling let down, lonely and stupid. Anger at your mum outweighs anger at William, but the latter is still strong.

You stand there for a while, getting a better grip on your emotions, you need enough of a hold to walk back inside and either brave more of the party or hide away in your room. This is when people need a smoke, you think to yourself, wondering if a fag could actually help relax someone in this state.

Calming yourself down takes a good few minutes but once you get there, you decide that yeah, you need some quiet for a bit, then some thought about why you went off the handle so quickly, why you’re so enamoured by William. But to do that you’re going to have to escape this whole party, preferably without being noticed because if someone asks you how you are right now, you don’t know how you’re going to react.

So you slip out your hiding place, peeking around the hedge to see the silent picture of people through your back windows. Here we go. You cross the garden pretty quickly and soon get your hands on the door handle into the house, you step inside managing to smile at the few heads that turn your way. But that smile soon drops away when he appears. Your heart jumps at the sudden confrontation, so long of trying to catch him but now you don’t want him anywhere near you.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” William’s voice drips with honey and you try to ignore the warmth already settling in your core, but you know it’s a battle you won’t win.

You turn from his invasive gaze, hands a little shaky as you try to close the sliding door behind you. “Hey, where are you going, hm?” His eyes narrow at the blatant way you’re ignoring him, he can’t hold a serious expression though so a confused smirk rests on his face, how sweet you look with that pet lip. He puts his hand on your arm, halting the process of closing the door easily, no force necessary, the touch is enough. “Come with me outside, sweetheart, come on.”

You look up at him frowning, partially from previous anger, partially from fear that someone else will see, how he can dare to be so obvious is beyond you. There’s no room to reason with him, not when he’s already opening the door again, already guiding you through it, that grip still present on your arm. It’s not a firm hold, it’s barely there but, the skin to skin contact has you enthralled.

He takes you all the way back to the hidden spot you left just minutes ago, only this time it doesn’t feel like such a safe space. Once out of view he lowers his head down to look you in your face, not liking when you turn away and so catching your chin with his thumb. “Are you alright, sweet thing? What’s wrong?”

His sickly sweet tone is enough to spark a flash of anger as bright as it is sudden. “Why don’t you ask my mum?” You snap, your voice much more petulant than it is clever, the patheticness of it has your cheeks hot but you double down. William just grins, confusion leaving his brow furrowed. This is new, he thinks, you’ve never taken that tone with him before, it’s fun, shiny-new and exciting.

You continue, provoked by him not understanding what you mean, “...You seemed to be enjoying her company anyway...” You speak dejectedly, your jealousy running riot with you. You want to pull away from him, the lack of genuineness in his expression inflames you, he thinks it’s all a game and you can’t believe you’ve only just cottoned on.

William hums in acknowledgement before dropping his hand from you, you’re glad that he’s taking you that bit more seriously but it’s downright shameful how you miss the contact already.

It takes a lot in him not to laugh, the unfounded envy practically has your eyes glowing. This is good though, such passion all from feeling cast aside, you so desperately want him to want you and that is just perfect. For him. He faces your glare dead on, being very careful not to patronise you too much. “What exactly are you jealous of?”

You open your mouth to protest, hating yourself for being so easy to read. You know your bitterness is written on every inch of you, your closed stance, your harsh jaw, the immature tone of your voice, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s no point denying it, so you don’t bother. “There…” you stumble, having to abandon your daggers to continue, “You didn’t have to flirt with my mum right in front of my face like that… and my dad’s.”

He nods, sighing before answering you through a slick grin, “I think maybe your mam was teasing me, a little.” That grin simply blossoms, thorough amusement peeking out of hiding, “But you more than anyone should know that flirting with me isn’t half as boring as that was.”

You don’t have time to fight the way you flush, it’s not fair, are you really this easy to win over? He’s doing the William equivalent of batting his eyelashes at you and you’re falling for it, you must want to deep down. But you still don’t trust him as far as you could throw him, which is needless to say, not far.

“Come on, why would I even consider your mother when I have her sweet girl looking at me so moody right now, huh?” You roll your eyes at that, moving to turn away and think for yourself but he stops you, his hands on you holding you still and muting the dull noise around you. “At least tell me what I can do to make it better. How can I earn your forgiveness?” He speaks with a certain glee, prideful of his art form, like you’re some puzzle he’s solved before. And with his face close to yours he adds mockingly, “Or have I got it already?”

You want to touch him, shut him up, but you’re a mere corner away from the whole neighbourhood. “You’re slimy.” You speak honestly, well maybe you’re sugar-coating it even, “And I’m not stupid.” Your conviction is there, but the physical support isn’t, you’re looking up at him like a doe, breathing quicker than normal, your chest rising and falling fast in your new dress.

He laughs, “True. But watch it, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He has something else to say, some other mocking teasing syrup, you don’t let him, throwing yourself towards him. Your lips press against his in a sudden desperate way, like you’ve something to prove. Your lack of finesse could be mistaken for hunger but he knows you better than that, he dominates the kiss without much effort, easily pulling you along with his rhythm. He likes you like this, smart, able to see through him, it turns him on. Because what’s better than spoiling a naive young woman? Spoiling one who knows it’s happening and can’t help herself either way.

William breaks the kiss, hands eagerly taking in your shape, “Let me make you forgive me, right here.” As he talks his touch slides low, over your arse and making your back curve against him. “I’m dying to pull this cute dress up.” You need it, just whining some form of approval, wordless at that predator’s glint in his gaze. He slides his hand between your legs and you’re keen, shivering at the spark of pleasure and eagerly angling your hips for more.

He pauses his touch for a moment, breath staggering as he thinks about what he’s going to do, you hardly notice for your own need. When you do look at him, you see him shaking his head, snickering at something unbeknownst to you.

He moves then, debasing himself by dropping to his knees on the grass, hands grabbing your skirt fabric up above your waist band, gathering it there in one to rive your panties down with the other. The cool air invades you, unwarned exposure making you moan. “William-”

“Shush.” He chastises bluntly, as if his thumb wasn’t now resting against your clit and giving it a perfect gentle pressure. He knows what you’re going to say, “You don’t want anyone to see, huh? Well, bite your tongue. I don’t have to worry about mine.” The words are wicked with innuendo and you have to stifle everything in you except a sharp intake of breath when he shows you exactly what he’s doing with his tongue.

It’s dirty, shame-ridden and debauched, but you’re at the mercy of his mouth devouring your cunt. Parting your seam to toy with the slick plea of your hole. You can hardly stand still, body shaking with fretful want, it’s too much and not nearly enough, you have to battle to keep quiet against the vindictive way your core is tightening.

His tongue drags through your slit and he sniggers against you before cruelly sucking your bundle of nerves. You’re grabbing him, pulling him closer, trying to push him away, as you tingle with need for your end. He’s relentless, playing your instrument just right and you have no faculty to ask for respite. Your coil clenches tight and snaps, and you come undone right there in your garden, waves of bliss so bright your legs shake and you need his arms to hold you up. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t know if they’re because of your climax or the emotional whiplash you’ve just endured. You don’t have it in you to care.

He pulls away from you and you watch over-blissed as he wipes your slick from his face on the back of his hand, letting your skirt fall to its rightful position. “Now that’s the perfect thing, I’ve missed.” He stands, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re a good girl on the phone but fuck there’s nothing like it in person.”

You beam with pride, his praise so much nicer when you’re pliant and glistening from pleasure. How bad an idea that was isn’t lost on you, but it was worth it, even if now you have to pull your knickers up to hide the evidence. As you do, you see how filthy he is, mud coating his knees and you laugh.

Struggling to explain yourself through the shocked giggles you manage to state, “Your trousers are ruined.”

He looks down and sees why you’re so lost in laughter, he had weighed up his options though and tasting your sweet pussy was more than worth the dirt. William attempts to brush some away but it’s never going to happen, and so with a sigh he sniggers, “Am I old enough to have people believe I fell?”

You burst out laughing at that, unable to regain yourself for a while, he deserves that, you think. After some time you are lucid enough to say, “Maybe say tripped instead of fell.” Your cheeks are shiny with both the fit of giggles and the aftermath of your activity, you look so delectable he hardly minds the state of his clothes.

“Why don’t,” William begins, still smirking, and you give him as much of your attention as you can, “you show me your room? I’d like to see it in person.” He’s testing to see how much forgiveness he’s won, you know that, but the prospect of what’s to come is motivation enough to give him it.

“Okay.” You agree, the idea of it has your chest tight but your core knows better, “Should I be scared?” You’re joking, mostly, your room is a different beast, much more personal. Somehow more bare than what you’ve just done.

“Very.”

Walking through your house felt dangerous, like it’s written on your forehead that you’re doing something wrong. People are eating now though, too self-absorbed to notice the rabbit leading the fox to its burrow, which is for the best, all things considered.

He follows you obediently, mind half-focused on your retreating form, the other half pondering just what he’s going to do about this raging erection he’s afflicted with. You looked so sweet taking him in your mouth, so eager to please, malleable. But your perfect unbroken cunt would be just delightful to rut against. As much as he wants to, he won’t- can’t deflower you just yet, not with all these people around to hear the squeaking of bedsprings, hell, the squeaking of you. The idea makes his cock throb and he’s already palming himself before you reach the landing.

“This one.” You say, opening the door for him, your voice sounds much smaller than it did two minutes ago. You are scared, all jokes aside.

He moves past you inside, you’re the one to shut the door, sealing the two of you inside your bedroom. How out of place he looks, this huge hulking figure in your untainted room, the walls pastel, the sheets light and the curtain frilled.

“I could have told you your room looks like this.” His grin is wolfish, the imposition feels very metaphorical and he revels in it. He’s absent-mindedly touching things, a bottle of perfume on your drawers, then a teddy on your bed, you like how they look in his hands, delicate, breakable.

You find yourself speaking before the words are clear in your mind, “William…” He turns to you, still holding the fucking bear, visible overjoyed to be in your private space, piece by piece you’ve let him in here, first through a camera now this, it’s all very correct.

“Hm?”

You’re flummoxed for words, arms folded across your chest in some vain effort to keep yourself together, “I want to t-touch you. On th-the bed.” The request takes a part of your soul with it, it’s unveiled and glaringly obvious, but there’s no other way to say it, that is what you want. Well, some of it.

Chuckling, he throws the teddy aside, “That is the best thing anyone has ever asked me.” He means it, he could touch the peak now with just how pretty you’re talking to him.

He moves slightly and you interrupt him, the rest of your want raising its whiny head. “You’ll have to take t-that off.” You’re pointing at his trousers and he laughs, remembering the muck decorating his legs, but the laughter dies quickly and he fixes you with a quizzical look, eyes narrowed as he again reads you like a book.

“Because of the mud, or another reason?” He teases and you bite your lip, your answer wearing you, more than the other way around. Much like the way smugness is wearing him. “I know you like to see, you’re quite fascinated, aren’t you?” He grabs himself as he speaks, crude, garish and vulgar, and it prickles your sides.

“You like to see me.” You retort, trying not to feel the embarrassment your brain really wants you to.

“Very true.”

…

Fascinated is perhaps the right word, you are fascinated by him. It’s more than just that he’s handsome or you find him attractive, it’s curiosity, desire to understand. The broadness of his shoulders, the muscle on his arms, the hair on his chest, his legs, his cock; it is fascinating.

You start off sitting beside him on your duvet, enjoying the sight of him with his dick in your hand. Observing what your action is doing, how his breath changes for you, then a deep groan when you smear the precum beading on his tip. It’s driving you crazy and in a sudden realisation you need more. You want it all, want to know how his thickness is going to feel inside you, good, bad, dirty and ugly, you need it.

And you tell him.

The view of William above you is insane, the dark greying hair trailing down his chest leading your gaze down to the sight of him stroking his cock, positioned above your cunt. He presses against you occasionally, your hot slick beckons for him and he thrusts himself through it, restraint a heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s maddening.

“Please…” You whine, any trace of dignity you had is long gone, you’re corroded, worn down to your bare minimum and you need him to feel the same way.

He takes his eyes off your glistening cunt to flash you a devastating smirk, “Please, what?” The teasing makes you shift underneath him, desperate for more, that’s just how he wants you. As he watches you he pleasures himself, it’s bloody stupid how weak your pretty hole has got him.

The lewd words burn in your throat, there’s no debate in saying them, not anymore, “Fuck me… please.” You manage to choke out, but it still fails to convey your need to be filled. His fingers had made you see stars, but you’re greedy for more, you want him to come undone inside you. You want to drive him mad.

Well, he didn’t expect you to say that. You want him to take your innocence right now? Right on your lacy fucking bed sheets? With your parents downstairs? Clearly you’re not thinking straight, you’re too fucked up and that is just delicious. Your plea makes his cock twitch in his hand, he wants nothing more than to stretch your sweet pussy around him but you could hardly handle his fingers. You hardly know what you’re begging for.

“You want me inside?” As he speaks he rubs his cock over your pussy lips, there’s an almost sinister quality to his voice that makes your core tighten.

You nod, squirming away from the teasing of your aching bundle of nerves; that’s exactly what you want.

William sniggers, “I can’t, sweetheart. Not with everyone downstairs to hear.” You hardly notice the noises you make, but you’re vocal as anything, whining from the tiniest touch, he has no doubt his cock would make you scream. The reasoning falls on deaf ears, you don’t care because his power over you is too strong. You just want his cock inside you so he becomes as pathetic as you are.

“Please.” You try again, this time shifting your body to roll your hips against his cock to show you’re serious, but your thighs quiver at the stimulation.

In a sudden movement he seizes your jaw, forcing your gaze away from his cock on your swollen pussy to the dark look in his eyes. The restraint is visible, a clear crack in his in-control facade. He can’t help it, your begging is making him leak again, impatient precum oozing from his tip, begging alongside you for stimulation. How’s he supposed to hold himself back from this perfect untouched cunt right here asking him to deflower it?

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He speaks slow, a singsong tone to the words that’s a little sharper than intended due to the continued rolling of your hips. “It’s not to be taken lightly.”

You watch him wide-eyed, understanding his words is a conscious effort. “It’s not just a quick fuck, sweetheart. It’s me breaking this little pussy. Taking your innocence.” He punctuated the filthy point by lining his cock up with your entrance, eliciting a terrified pang of excitement in your core. “Stretching you open. You know what that means?”

He pauses but you don’t have the speech to answer, he thought as much, “Means it’s all mine. My little toy to use whenever I want. Break it over and over.” At this moment it doesn’t occur to you that this is the real William, not just slimy but the honest William who knows he’s bad, creepy, gross whatever you want to call it. The man who’s blatantly moulding you into something he can use, using your sexual naivety against you and playing your mind and body like a fiddle.

You swallow, his words go straight to your cunt making you impossibly wetter. He looks down at you and his control slips from his fingertips, he knows you’re going to feel so fucking good around him, how tight and wet and fucking warm.

“That what you want?” He blatantly asks, the intention thick in the air.

“Y-yes.” You start, your back arching a little, “I want it to be yours.” You know the words are dangerous, but you have no agency to prevent them from leaving your lips. “I want you to t-take it. Please.”

He lets go of your jaw, a particularly mean expression possessing his face. “God, you are fucking stupid.” He speaks quietly but you hear, it stings and you’re unable to tell if he’s kidding or not. He wasn’t, you are stupid to let him get this far, and he’s stupid for going along with your begging.

His cock is still notched tight against your entrance and he holds you squirming still with a hand on your hip. “You’re going to be quiet for me, alright? I’m giving you what you want.” His voice is thick but you hardly notice he even spoke, your heart is pounding and your whole body tense with anticipation.

He parts your walls, pressing in slightly, just the head and your eyes ping wide. You’re wet, drenched even, ready for it but it still hurts. A noise escaped you, wounded, doubling when he presses just that little bit further. “Shh, fuck.” His curse is very telling, you’re strangling him already in the most perfect way, if he’s not careful he’s going to crack his own jaw with how tight it is in restraint. “I told you.” The words are harsher than he meant them, but seeing the tears already welling in your eyes he knows he was right.

His hand comes over your clit, drawing a circle over the bundle and it works, a blaze of pleasure drapes over the invasion but it doesn’t distract you when he moves, forcing himself a lot further in your cunt. You cry out and in a sharp movement he covers your mouth, grunting at how you tense due to the sudden action. “Ah-You’re going to do it, sweet thing. Just relax, you’re tight as a fucking vice.”

You try, blinking through tears, and focus on his rhythm on your clit, it’s better, easing. He moves, slowly pulling out then back in and you see it. The need for him inside, shaping your walls around him, your body squeezes him eager for him to continue.

Your mouth is open behind his hand, muffled sounds leaving your lips, whining, mewling, hooked on the promise of overcoming the ache and snapping the coil inside you more than ever before. If your mouth was free maybe you’d say his name, or kiss him, or curse him, you don’t really know. His movement becomes better, you can take him, he knows you can. So he thrusts deep, making you accept him, your yelp is stifled and your teeth dig into the palm of his hand, it's unnoticed, overshadowed by the perfect feeling of you cunt swallowing him completely.

“God,” He scowls.

The pain dies again, settling back to the muted ache, you’re reeling, full more than should be possible, breathing frantically through your nose. He’s slow, pushing in and out of your hole considerately, as he’d be sure to tell you. And you quickly realise with a startling joy how he digs just right into a spot deep inside you. It’s almost blinding, engulfing you in a doubly quick need to end.

Your cunt throbs and he flicks his eyes back to your face, what a good girl you are. He can feel the change in you, the rise of pleasure over pain, the way you panic at the growth of your end, your eyes say it all fearful of what’s going to happen. You’re close to an end, body burning and falling rigid underneath him. It hits you like a train, each time he shoves himself deep is electric, it's intense and you whiteknuckle just to take the pace he keeps as you cum around him.

“Fuck, baby.” His words are edged with his own ruin, the rhythm of his pace growing brave, selfish, you’re taking it so well. And he loses it, no sense in him to pull out, he doesn’t care, your perfect cunt wants it. He’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet as his warmth spills inside you, thrusts sloppy to push his cum deep inside you. You whimper, it's a dirty feeling, but a right one and seeing the look on his face you realise that you were right, he looks as pathetic as you feel.

He removes his hand from your mouth, your skin red under his grip, freeing you to moan pitifully. You’re wrecked, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. You don't know how you feel, your climax was like something unreal and when he slowly pulls out of you, you feel empty. William was right, you’re changed.

He sits beside your form still laid exactly as he left you, your pretty pussy flushed and shining. “You alright?”

You blink, like you somehow forgot he was a person able to speak, “Yeah, I think so.” Your voice is hoarse as fragile as the rest of you and it makes him grin.

He looks down at you, and just laughs, at you, at him, at the situation, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now then?”

It makes you chuckle and you run your hand over your face. Yeah, what exactly should you do now?

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #william afton x female reader

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wrixie · 7 months

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🍒 CHERISHING CHERRY | A BACHELORETTE CHALLENGE

🍒 Introducing Josette "Cherry" St. Cloud | Age: 29 | Pronouns: She/Her | Traits: High Maintenance, Self-Absorbed & Dog Lover

🍒 Growing up in Chestnut Ridge, you'd think this little lady would be drawn to horses and the cowpoke lifestyle however she always looked to broader horizons to leave her little town behind and start anew - after losing most of her family to freak accidents, Cherry moved to Brindleton Bay to hopefully get her feet off the ground and start a new life for herself

🍒 Can this high maintenance, self absorbed lass find love in her new town or will she be forced to remain alone in her little trailer off the beaten path?

🍒 Likes: Cherries, Fostering dogs, The color red, Late afternoon, Hardwood floors, The moon, Body Modifications, 70s music, napping and Tommy (her puppy) 🍒 Dislikes: Biting her nails, Cooking of any kind, Summer heat (sweating), Hairless animals, Getting dirty, Thunderstorms and Gardening

🍒 Fun Facts about Cherry:

Grew up in Chestnut Ridge

Iced tea is power source

Dreams of running a clinic for animals

Her favorite drink is a tequila sunrise with extra cherries

Has a southern accent

Hates to cook

Gets jealous easily

Needs glasses/ Can't see

🍒 Contestant Entry Guidelines:

Must be young-adult or adult

Humans are only being accepted this time!

Must have at least one negative trait

Can be any gender, but males preferred

Cannot have the romantic trait

Skills don’t matter!

Should have Likes + Dislikes (if ya like)

Maxis-Match or CC free

I own mostly every pack with the exception of a few kits but I can get them if needed

Must be comfortable with changes such as eyes, skinblend + lashes as I have my own defaults and preferences as well as outfit changes to fit into my game style (the outfits will mostly stay the same if you've styled all of them)

🍒 Remember to at me @wrixie or use #cherrysBC to make sure I see your entry+ ask if you have any questions

CONTESTANTS:

Julian O'Neal @hauntedtrait

Terrance Capman @alltimefail-sims

Nikolas Knight @seyvia

Matt Adler @aniraklova

Billy Pierce @simmenycricket

Wesley Drakos @druidberries

Bruno Aguado @bramblewoodsims

if you haven't already please send me your hunky sims <3

#she looks so serious lmfao #she'll cry over anything really #high maintenance bitch xD #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #c #ts4 bachelorette challenge #cherishing cherry

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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an undercover beach episode

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summary: You find yourself undercover again with Gaz but this time your uniform is a cherry red bathing suit and his are swimming trunks. He can't help but flirt a little especially when you're wearing his favorite color.

Part of @glitterypirateduck Gaz Fest! Please check out the tag to see other amazing works or consider participating :) Category: undercover Prompt: "You're not going out in that"

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader (codename: Genesis)

warnings: swearing, violence, the male gaze

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“Genesis, it’s almost time to go,” Price called as Gaz emerged from the adjacent room. Gaz smoothed out his swim trunks and looked at his name tag on the waistband. He mumbled something to Price about hating the uniform for this mission. “Just give me a second,” you replied as you tried to tie your bathing suit top. “God why am I always undercover,” you grumbled. Despite your technical skills on the field and being just as good of a sniper as Ghost, you someone always found yourself in some kind of outfit. It also somehow was always with Gaz. But you didn't mind being paired with the gorgeous man. “Gen let’s go!” Gaz's voice sounded through the door. “Fine but you’re going to have to tie this for me.” With that, you grabbed your sheer white coverup and put a pair of sunglasses on your head. You turned the knob to see Gaz standing on the other side.

He practically dropped the file in his hands when he saw you. You were glistening with suntan oil as you eyed him. You held the strap of your red halter bikini top, and Gaz’s eyes traveled down your fit body. The red perfectly matched your skin tone and the suit accentuated your assets. Is this heaven, he thought to himself as his gaze traveled from your chest downwards to your hips and thig- “Kyle?” you pulled him out of his daydream, “can you please tie my top? Then we can go.” He shook his head as you looked at him confused. “You’re not going out in that,” he coughed and tried to slow his rapid heartbeat. After many missions and shared safe houses, he wondered if there was a future between you too. The bathing suit was not helping, especially when he knew you were being used as bait. You rolled your eyes at his comment. “I only packed one bathing suit and plus we’re going down to the pool,” you explained, annoyed, “trust me I wish I was on holiday wearing this and not here.” He continued to stand there, dumbfounded. You tried to cover your wandering gaze to his muscular chest by feigning annoyance. “Can you please," you practically shouted and he brought his hands to yours.

Your fingertips brushed as he fumbled with the stretchy fabric. "Too tight?" he questioned as he finished and you shook your head. "Now how do I look?" you said, turning with a smirk. “Nice uniform, Gen” Ghost commented from near the balcony. You turned your body to him and Gaz took a moment to notice how the bathing suit barely covered your ass. He was glad you couldn't catch him peeking a look. “Shut up, you should be the one wearing this,” you mumbled as you glared at him. "You have a good look from here?" you asked as you motioned to the glass doors. Below sat the beaches on the Amalfi coast and beautifully striped cabanas. "Good enough," he said, lowly, "as long as you and Gaz can get the mission done then I shouldn't have to intervene." You nodded before turning back to the rest of the task force. "Ready to go, Gaz?" you asked, trying to avert your eyes from his sunscreen-covered body which looked perfect in his server uniform. He nodded and you allowed him to go first with Soap and Price following after.

After you exited the room, you went your separate ways. Gaz blended into the service bar while Soap and Price in their beach attire, took the elevator with you. "That come with more than a string, lass?" Soap joked as you descended the floors. You made sure to crush his toe in response. "Let's just get this over with," you mumbled before ignoring the eyes of the other guests and making your way to the warm sand. When you reached the cabanas, you placed your sunglasses daintily on your nose as you looked for your target. "Bingo," you whispered to yourself as you made your way to the Italian crime boss. "Mind if I join?" you flirted and he looked like a bull seeing a red muleta. "Of course, you can," he responded and gestured you into his cabana. You closed the white curtain slyly and sat on his lap. You hoped Gaz noticed you entered as you made a flirtatious conversation with the older man.

"I have a glass of sangria," you heard through the curtain and took a deep breath upon seeing Gaz with a tray. The man gestured to the table and Gaz went to put it down, accidentally spilling it on the ground and the man's feet. You jumped back with the man saying a handful of swears in Italian. As Gaz tried to clean the spill with a towel, he bent down and pulled out a syringe. The man barely had time to register the situation as Gaz plunged it into his thigh. You laid the now dead man down on the light blue couch and turned to notice Gaz's eyes on you. "Stop that," you demanded and he looked away. "I'm not the only one in a bathing suit," you joked before motioning for him to exit first. "See you soon, Gen," he winked and you hid your blush with your hands. You left soon after and pretended to say you'd be right back. With the mission successfully completed, you rendezvoused in the hotel room. Everyone was packing up their things as Gaz laid on the bed.

"What was in that thing anyways?" you asked as you fell next to him. "Lead I think?" he questioned, "Laswell gave it to me." You shared a small laugh at her ingenuity. Gaz suddenly turned to his side and you reflexively covered your exposed chest. The sheets felt cold as you felt heated at his gaze. "Red looks good on you," he smirked and you couldn't help but feel a little flush. "Really now?" you retaliated, mirroring his position, "Don't tell me it's your favorite color." Gaz couldn't hide the attraction to you and got up to avoid your interrogation. As he left you called out to him. "Maybe I can get this to be my swim uniform!"

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

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