#Smells like over sharing and over thinking in here .... Smells like Over

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yandere Boarding school thoughts... (Gender Neutral)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, drug usage, horny posting.

(AN: I have rizz-en from my grave to be horny once more. All of these guys are avaliable for requests, but will be listed under the materlist simply as Yan!Boarding School.)

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters child!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Blackmoore Academy being an all male school, this opens up the availability for reader to be attending.

Students and faculty scenarios and profile:

◇ Harrison Spence, star member of the swim steam, basketball player, and golden boy. Despite jock stereotypes, he's respectful and mature. He always looks out for others, and this lends to why your father suggests rooming with him. Plus... if anything were to happen, your father wouldn't hate to have him as a son in law. He's SOOO friendly when he meets you. Those big strong arms are perfectly suited to lug your bags upstairs to his room. Want help putting stuff away, sure! For a Fem!Reader, he's not suprised how awkward he is when he's unzipping your suitcase, only to be met with some thin lacy garments. He just coughs and backs off. For a Masc!Reader, he wears boxers too! So why does he still feel so hot. He should open a window.

He'll make sure you fit in around campus, mostly steering you in the direction of the athletics department. He'd love to see you at some of his games, cheering him on. You seem so nice, he could really seem himself with you long term, the more he thinks about crushing on you. Besides, you already share a living space. He feels awful about how his body reacts anytime you're too close. You left a jacket behind that smells just like you? He tries not to think about the consequences of fisting his cock into it. Late night out at one of his games? Who cares if you share a dorm and your bed is literally six feet away, it's too far of a walk. Slide into his bed, he's a gentleman. At least until he wakes up the next morning, mind foggy as he instinctively moves his cock up over the waist band, putting a leaky tip against your ass as he resists the urge to press his head into your neck, opting for a pillow instead. He's so, so sorry, but he's gott a deal with it, and you just feel so good. He rationalizes it by saying he's not just some horned up guy, no. You're his roommate, HIS. And what would the Headmasters think! No, he wants a future with you, romance, not just a warm hole to rut...

"Hey, roomie! Listen, practice is running kinda late tonight, so I'm gonna grab food on the way back. Why don't you text me your order, I can bring it back. We can make a whole thing out of it, no need to pay me back! I'm thinking burgers?"

◇ Carter Matthews, student body president, scholar, and in every AP class possible. Even some dumb ones. He doesn't pay much mind to you, you ate very attractive but so is he. If he felt the need for a relationship, he could get whomever he wanted. But he hates... hates how you make the other students, even some of the faculty act. He can't help but follow you around, making sure you obey curfew, and don't get into any trouble. He likes to keep order around here, and it bothers him to have to ignore his student body presidential duties to make sure some delinquent isn't trying to slip you a spiked drink, or some jock has you under the bleachers trying to get your mouth wrapped around their tips.

Eventually, he decides you could be helpful instead of a hinderance. He's busy, may need a form of stress relief, and given babysitting you when Harrison isn't around is one of the main sources of that stress, why shouldn't you help him out. Besides, you look so cute flustered. Maybe it starts small, he tells you your uniform bottoms aren't regulation, and while he tugs them down to 'fix' them, his hands wander a bit too much, grazing the soft skin of your ass. During random room inspections, he may let his hatred of the sports program taking up all the funding by mentioning how obvious it is your roommate wants to stick it in you. Harrison can't stand him, not trusting the cold creepy gaze of the prefect. He'll force you to come to student council meetings, under the guise of assisting him with preparing for a faculty dinner to appease your father, only to get you under his desk while he writes, trying to guide you with one stern hand. He doesn't like to go too deep, not one to enjoy gagging or unnecessary sound that would distract him from working.

"Keep it down." He scolds, cold eyes peering down through blonde bangs. With a sigh, his free hand strokes your cheek. "Just suckle, alright? There'll be plenty of time after I'm done for you to make sweet noises around my cock..."

◇ Evan Reed, CAPTAIN of the swim team, and student assistant PE coach. He's used to play basketball alongside Harrison, but got kicked out for being too violent. Shoving, pushing, and going as far as knocking teeth out. He's a fucking animal. He's handsome, of not a bit of a loner. He isn't popular or unpopular, people tend to leave him alone because of that bad boy attitude and his temper, but he's always welcome to party with the jocks, welcomed into parties and known as a keg-stand king. And boy do you catch his eyes, giving that your always hanging off Harrison, or being trailed by Carter. He's more than happy to accompany you to the pool or help you out in gym class, but it's obvious what he wants. He'll get up behind you in the pool, still smelling of cigarettes as he asks mundane questions while trying to pull your swimsuit to the side and get his hands on that sweet spot between your thighs. Or maybe he'll sit on the edge of the pool, congratulate you on how good your doing, legs spread as he pulls you between them, hoping you'll end up accidentally eyeing his cock. If you are a Masc!Reader, then there's definitely some internalized homophbia. He'll make sure you know these are just normal friend activities, even when he's got you bent over in the boys locker room, ass up. He doesn't EVER plan to be the one on the bottom.

He's a player, chasing tail outside of the school, hitting on peers sisters and mom's alike. But now, he plans to keep you around, not because he necessarily feels like he wants a romantic relationship with you, but because he loooooves how pissed it makes Harrison. He never liked the goody two-shoes, and half suspects he's one of the people who pushed to get him kicked out of basketball. He likes to pick on people, but Harrison sees himself as a knight in shining armor. So it gives Evan a major power boner to make you grind up against him on the dancefloor at some preppy party, while Harrison just has to stand by and not crush his beer can. Evan knows harrison will never, ever do anything to ruin your good guy image of him. Ever.

He's pissed, punching a locker as he let's out a growl. 4-0, what the fuck is wrong with his team? How could they get fucked over so bad after weeks of missing parties for shitty practices. Luckily for him, he sees you on the sidelines, probably waiting for Harrison to walk you back to your dorm. He takes this opportunity to slide up behind you, hands on your hips as you can feel his angry erection rutting up against your ass. "You. Me. Locker room, five minutes, stall three. Be ready, underwear off and bent over or I'll take you in front of the guys who are still changing? Got it?" He departs with a harsh smack on your rear.

◇ Joseph Mick, he's in the newspaper, but it's not like he's the head or anything. He just love photography, and he's the only guy at school to have really mastered the dark room. He's known to be a little... odd. He's the youngest in you and Harrisons class, with a petite stature and thin, lanky arms. He's pale, almost gaunt, but that could be a lack of sunlight given that he spends all his time in the dark room or toiling over photo arrangement mock-ups in the journalism room. People avoid him, but he's okay with that. He's more than happy to just watch from a distance, and photography is his real branch to the world. People only talk to him or react positively if he's taking photos for the paper or the school newsletter. He actually meets you at one of Evan's swim meets, he gets good seats for being student press, and you get good seats for just being Evan's new favorite piece of ass. Your aren't even sure why you were invited, you don't even know anything about how one wins a swimming competition. But Joseph does. He's been to enough of these, and you notice, so you lean over and start asking him questions. He's shocked someone is talking to him, and not about getting a bigger feature in the yearbook. He's more than happy to help point stuff out to you, even if he had to repeat himself or stutter his way through something. He's feeling his heart flutter and his hands shake so much so he can barely hold the camera. Soon, he's watching as you walk away, wishing he could grab onto you and hang you up on his wall to admire like one of his pictures. It's only made worse when he sees a pair of masculine arms dragging you into the boys locker room.

He's a stalker, but it's not his fault! For one, he's got no idea how to approach anyone, much less someone he likes as much as you. And since he's got that reputation as a creep, if he approached you in public, Harrison would be polite but firm at shooing him away, Carter would give him a look that makes him feel like a worm beneath his well polished shoes, and Evan would beat him to the brink of death, but then pass him over to his friends. But God, if he didn't think it was worth it sometimes to just be close to you. He can only get as close to you as his high-focus lens will allow. He's got hundreds of photos of you, some taken by him, some by campus security cams, and he treats each one like the piece that's gonna get him into a top art school. He almost feels bad taking risqué shots of you. He's always following you, and he sees the ways those... those pigs are treating you. If he could stand up to them, he would. He sees (from the cameras he's slipped into your bag) the boner Harrison is always sporting when he in your presence, he even caught a glance of Harrisons late night rendezvous with your pillow. He sees the way Carter leads you through the hallways like his little secretary, lithe fingers trying to get up your uniform bottoms. Worst of all is the way he sees Evan humping you in the pool like a dog in heat, with you obviously unsure about how you feel about this. He knows he'd treat you right, if you'd ever consider being with something like him. Notice he almost feels too bad to take risqué pictures. He can't help it if a picture or two from one of his hidden cams has a bit of an upskirt, or gets a little to zoomed in on your pecs. But know that as he drums humps the table in the dark room, those copies are only so he can keep one in his room and one on his person! He'd never, ever share your sexual exploits, not like Evan would, always bragging about what he does with, or more likely to you.

Being on the newspaper staff, he's got a pretty good idea of everyone's schedules. He's more than happy to try and squeak out some words to you if he knows your many admirers are preoccupied. Trust him, he knows A LOT of good spots to share a meal privately or maybe... maybe you'd like to see the dark room? He's even got a pillow in there, a cushion he can place on a soft stool in case you ever came to visit. He hopes he could get a private photoshoot in, maybe with some silly pictures of you, or even some lewd pics, he's just happy to see his collection expand. He doesn't have a lot of money, but he's more than happy to buy you as much cheap vending machine food as you want as long as you'll spend time with him.

"Oh, shi- hey! I didn't realize you'd be stopping by here. I'm just, uh, editing some photos for the paper." You don't notice as he slyly moves a tray of pics taken outside a dorm window that looks suspiciously like yours. He thanks whoever is out there in this moment that the dark room has a sink as he keeps his right hand out of sight.

◇ Tyler Mertz and Percy 'Pez' Goldberg, two outsiders, and self proclaimed 'dudes with bad tudes'. Put into the same headcanon spot because they aren't ever seen apart. Tyler and Pez got in on scholarship, and immediately bonded because they know they don't fit in among the rich kids at Ridgemoore. Tyler got in on a scholarship to pursue culinary excellence, because if he can do one thing, it's cook. Pez was awarded a scholarship by lottery two years ago, and even though he's barely passing most of his classes and is the biggest delinquent in school, he can't be kicked out. The school made too much of a big deal about his acceptance to create some good press, the faculty are planning to just wait the problem out. Repeating a year hasn't helped with that, though. Still, they are attached at the hip. Both struggle in classes, Pez because of a shitty social life and even shittier focus, and Tyler because he's just a little slow. Still, Tyler excels in cooking, and the faculty know he's trying. There's a few ways you might come across the pair. Maybe you decided to take culinary, and got paired up with a sweet, dopey guy who turns out to be a fucking MasterChef, or maybe your a brat!reader, like I mentioned earlier, and you meet Pez in detention, where he's glad to know the schools newest troublemaker is a looker too. Most likely, you come across them when either Evan makes you tag along to buy some weed and half-priced shitty beer for a post-game party, or Carter tells you he'll personally see to it that your father tethers you to him if he sees you talking to those 'deliquents'. Either way, they're probably some of the nicest guys in the school, even though Pez likes to fight. He's not a bad guy, but the school can't seem to recognize half of the shit he does is in retaliation to someone fucking with him or his friend.

Pez will like any kind of reader, any. If you're bratty!reader, he loves having someone to run around and bust shit up with. But he'll promise to leave the statue of your father alone, if that's what you want. If you're an innocent!reader, he can't deny he'd love to ruin that good guy/girl image you have going on. Smoke a little weed, sneak out a little, let him show you a good time. He promises he won't cross any lines or do something that would really scare or upset you. He's not a bad guy, he just wants to show you there's so much stuff out there to do. Unlike Joseph, he doesn't let the fact that others think he's a freak keep him from hanging with you. He wants them to see that you like him. HIM. He thinks your adorable no matter who you are, and frankly, snuggling up on the Headmasters kid is just another act of defiance he's happy to flaunt. Eventually, he might even open up to you about his shitty home life, and the fact he's only called Pez cause' when he's high that candy is all he wants to eat.

Tyler is a huge softie. He doesn't let the thing people say about him get to him, mostly because he's a bit dense in the moment to know he's being made fun of, but also because he's okay with being alone. He's happy with who he is, a nice guy. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't love his best buddy, or mind adding you to there little group. It's just one more mouth to feed in his eyes. He'll walk you to all your classes, slinging his big arms around you and keeping you close to his side. Unlike Pez, he grew up with a pretty loving family, and they're what he misses most about being away at boarding school. Most of the money he makes selling weed with Pez goes back to his family, but they don't really know how he makes it. He comes to see you and Pez as his new little family.

With these two, there will be lots of late nights with bad movies and pizza made from scratch. Being on some rundown couch squished between to large bodies, at least one set of arms wrapped around your waist. I think they both are pretty open about telling each other about the crush they have on you, given that they are best buds. These idiots probably got super high one night, and Tyler let slip that he, quote, 'thinks he wants to put a baby in you', to which Pez replies he'd like to put something along those lines in you too. It wouldn't be hard for them to both come to terms with wanting to share you, they share everything else. They just hope you'd want both of them, Pez and Tyler can't stand the thought of making things awkward by you only wanting one of them, so they both subtly try to transition you into the roll of being their partner.

Pez would be fucking fuming when he starts realizing the things boys at school are doing to you. Whether he witnesses it himself, or you come to him and Tyler seeking comfort, he'll pound the shit out of anyone who tries to touch you like that. If you like someone else, Pez wouldn't wail on them to eliminate a rival like Evan would, but rather he hands it over to Tyler. Tyler would come up with some rumors, maybe a reason the guy isn't right for you, and why would Tyler lie? He doesn't feel great about lying, but thinking about the things guys at this school do to you, fills the sweet chefs stomach with a bitter bile.

They wouldn't outright pressure you into sex, but rather try and find ways to coerce you into requesting or initiating it. Pez has some weed laced with something, nothing too strong, but it'll make even a nun feel a little frisky. He'll lay back or rub your thigh, hoping the weed will relax you enough to come out and say what you want. Maybe an aphrodisiac or two gets slipped into a warm drink Tyler made for you. It gets you feeling all hot, but don't worry, you can stay in their room overnight and wear their clothes, so they can... make sure you're not sick or anything.

"Hey," you can feel a pair of arms wrap around you from your spot at the library table. You look up and see Pez, with Tyler now playfully laying his head on the table beside you. "Heard that shithead Evan's got an away game, so it looks like your freed up after all to spend a little time with your favorite guys." His lips are dangerously close to your ear, making you squirm. "Yeah, man, we've got a bunch of movies n' shit from the store, and I'll even make your favorite. Stay the night, it's not like we've got anywhere to be tommorow, and my beds so cold..." Tyler teases playfully, eyes wide and feigning sadness.

All these boys make it difficult to get any alone time at Ridgemoor, but the men certainly don't make it easier... (Taboo part two with the faculty coming soon, because I'm horny for Dilfs and old men with questionable dynamics with reader.)

[princessbrunette]

boxer!rafe had his anger mostly under control. thats what the boxing was for. but no one’s perfect. there were times he’d slip up.

he’d developed the knack for being able to ignore the other men in the locker room at the fighting grounds. he had his own upcoming fights to worry about, his own family to feed — whilst he used to be a sucker for a good argument, it had become the least of his concerns. they knew that about him, therefore they knew what would get under his skin.

“ayeee, it’s pretty boy!” one jeered as he stepped into the locker room — sore, toned body trudging over to his usual locker to retrieve his stuff so he could get out and go home to you. he was used to the nickname, infact it had even been self proclaimed at some points on the ring. girls held up ‘pretty boy’ signs during his fights, upon winning multiple fights and climbing the ranks he was gifted a chain with ‘pretty motherfucker’ engraved on the pendant. it was nothing new to him.

the chatter continues in the room amongst the men, and he figures he can let his guard down now, knowing they wouldn’t be testing him. they’d heard of his rage through stories, rumours that he’d been in jail for killing a cop in his past. it intrigued people, wanting to see how far they could push him. just as the cameron boy is getting his gym bag together to leave, he’s brought into the conversation once more.

“right? i wanna start seein’ some newer faces in the crowd i’m gettin’ tired of the regulars.” the same douche that addressed rafe when he entered speaks, eyes flickering over to the younger guy in amusement. “hey cameron, got anyone you can bring to spice things up around here? how ‘bout that pretty wife of yours? maybe she can motivate me before the fight—”

he doesn’t get to finish his taunt, before in a flash rafe had pinned him the locker with a crash, doors rippling and padlocks clattering. he presses his arm into the man’s neck, jaw clenched and vein popping out his neck.

“fuck you say? huh? nah, go ‘head repeat yourself.” rafe threatens, practically growling through bared teeth at the man. the other fighter goes to shove him back, but the cameron man is unmovable. if there’s one thing he doesn’t play about, it’s you.

rafe stumbles back slightly, but it’s only to wind up and slam his fist into the man’s face when he dared to smile. the other men start to get involved now, trying to pull rafe off but it only made him angrier. “think that’s funny? yeah?” he yells, and punches the man again, the time harder. his skin cracks and blood splashes onto his knuckles as he continues. he knew this was going to result in at least a week suspension from the gym, and that was with the gym owner being fond of rafe. he shoves himself off eventually, the man groaning on the floor in pain.

full of adrenaline, rafe picks up his bag and heads to leave, but not without spitting out a venomous “lemme hear you talk about my wife again. i’ll kill you. a’ight?”

he’s not proud of himself by the time he’s arrived home. it’s been a while since he’d gotten angry like that, violent outside of professional boxing. it’s so soft in your shared home when he arrives, and it makes him feel ashamed. it smelled like you’d been baking fresh cookies, the house clean just for him. it melts him, because sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still the monster he used to be. something that didn’t belong here.

he stops in the doorway to see you napping on the couch, looking delicate like a petal that had fallen off a flower, drifted in the wind and had just landed there perfectly. the small bump that had only just begun to show through your dress strains ever so slightly against the material and he scratches at his cheek. he shouldn’t be acting like this. not when fatherhood is approaching.

he busies himself off to the shower, hoping to wash the day from him. not long later, the sound of the water woke you — and you appear in the bathroom quietly, stripping yourself of your clothes and climbing in behind him. you press a soft kiss to the centre of his back because you could tell it’s tense, a telltale sign that he’d had a rough day. you don’t need to speak, not yet anyway as he relaxes slightly at your touch — feeling your tits press against him from behind and your swollen tummy when you lean forward. he lets out a long sigh, head running beneath the water.

hugging him from behind, you peer round to see his bruised knuckles. he hadn’t come home with those for a long time, he’d usually wrap them if he was going to spar or whatever.

“what happened?” you can’t help yourself, curiosity getting the better of you.

he presses his lips together, caught. he doesn’t wanna tell you what they said, make you uncomfortable. it’s not necessary and it would only make him mad all over again. he runs his knuckles under the water, ridding them of any of the left over dried blood that he wasn’t sure was his.

“ah i uh… i lost my temper… a little. s’not important.” he huffs, peeking briefly over his shoulder at you. you don’t question it, knowing it was potentially a sore subject. he feels another kiss on his back.

“s’okay.” you’re so nurturing, so gentle. your hands slide around his hip bones, caressing the veined skin on his lower stomach above his cock. the appendage jumps once realising what you were after. maybe it didn’t take long because of the soft kisses and your body pressing to his, paired with the day he’d had — but he’s hard in no time when you start palming at him.

he tips his head back under the water, the droplets racing down his toned back and shoulders as you slowly tug at him from behind, doing your best to relax him. “s’okay rafe.” you whisper once more. “you’re home now.”

he certainly was.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

all my other works

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

But with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hero and healer Villian are married. Villian doesn't want hero to go on dangerous mission, hero goes anyway and Villian due to their anger says NEVER COME BACK HERE AGAIN. hero makes a small mistake on mission and is brutally whipped by their superiors but Villian has no idea. They meet at a gala where things get hot. And when Villian touches hero's back just slightly, that is when they feel it. And hero thinks Villian doesn't care at all what happened to them.

Bonus: Villian's healing hurts even more than getting hurt, and there's no way they're letting their partner go without healing them first.

"Please," the villain said, no, begged between kisses. "Please don't leave me ever again. I refuse to let go of you."

"I thought you were mad at me," the hero said. They sat up on the villain's hips and searched for a way to get under the villain's clothes with eager fingers. "I thought you hated me."

"God, no. I was worried. I was so worried." The villain was (thankfully) nearly done with taking off the hero's clothes. They couldn't fight this burning, that scorching feeling in their chest and this horrible longing they had been feeling for the past week. One week without the hero was, indeed, torture. "I am so sorry for everything. I will make it up to you, I promise."

They pulled the hero against their chest and kissed them, losing themselves on the hero's lips.

Hell, this was their spouse. This was their hero. The sheer thought of being without them was devastating. It was something unspeakable, something blasphemous. At times, the villain felt like they couldn't breathe without them. As if they could only live when they shared a breath with them.

They had found the couch in an abandoned room. Or better, the hero had known about it and lured the villain away from the gala. Once the villain had seen them, their senses had zeroed in on them, completely discarding everything else around them. Their plans, their schemes - all of it was forgotten.

Utterly satisfied, the villain closed their eyes as their hands were ghosting over the hero's clothed back. The warmth, the smell, the love. It was too good to be true. The villain had spent their last nights shaking and freaking out. Rest had not come easily to them. Some time around four in the morning, they had been too exhausted to stay awake.

When the hero hadn't come back, they had been sure they had been killed. It was a miracle to feel them on top of them now.

And the villain wouldn't take their hands off them for a long, long time.

"I love you," the villain whispered against their spouse's neck. "Let's go home."

"I need you first," the hero said. They took the villain's hand that was on their back and moved it further down until the villain grinned.

"Is that so? Do you want me down here?" Their eyes dropped to the hero's lips but something seemed to be off.

The villain knew their spouse's preferences, they knew everything about them and although they appreciated the hero's advances towards them, it was too quick.

Usually, the hero was a talkative person. Someone who wouldn't leave a conflict hanging in mid-air. But today, they had basically thrown themselves at the villain. They were holding onto them as if the villain was the last thing between them and sweet hell.

It was concerning.

"How are you?" the villain asked softly but the hero only replied with rough kisses that seemed more like a cry for help than desire. The villain pushed their spouse away gently. "Hey, how are you?"

"I'm okay, baby."

"What happened?"

"My phone died and I had to work..." the hero said. They thought about something. "It was a longer mission, I'm really sorry."

With a hand on the villain's chest, they pushed them back into the couch and leaned in for another kiss.

But the villain was sort of an expert when it came to lying. Although the villain wanted them, although they really wanted them, the hero’s wellbeing was the most important thing in the world. They knew their spouse hated it. The crying, the cursing — they hated being healed and to some degree, the villain was sure they hated the villain’s powers, too.

Admittedly, the villain hadn’t been a very nice person in the past. Most of the time they'd torture information out of people. Opening wounds and healing them had been one of their many tactics. They couldn’t even tell if they were ashamed of their actions.

"I'm sorry," the villain said. "I'm sorry we fought. I was concerned and angry and...I shouldn't have said those things to you. Whatever happens, we can face it together."

The hero didn't seem that eager anymore. Instead, the villain was pretty sure they could see how glassy their eyes were.

The villain moved their hand slightly. They didn’t need words to understand their hero.

"Can I?" they asked as their hand ghosted over the hero's back once again. The hero looked away. "I know you're scared."

"Please don't be mad."

"You know me better than that," the villain responded. They took the hero's hand and pressed it against their chest. "I need to heal you if you're injured."

"I missed you," the hero said, suddenly heartbroken. "I missed you so much."

They looked like they were about to cry and the villain's heart shattered just as much.

"Is it that bad?" they asked carefully and the hero only nodded as teardrops streamed down their face.

The villain mumbled something close to "oh, honey" and wiped the tears away. Something inside them cracked. Seeing their hero this broken, this vulnerable, was surprising. No villain had ever managed to break them like this.

"Mind if we switch positions?" the villain asked. Their brain was trying to work out who was behind all of this.

Who would do this to their hero?

Other villains knew not to mess with them.

"I don’t want to," the hero said.

"Baby, you’d have to hold yourself up the entire time," the villain said.

"I don't want you to look at it." The villain tried to reach for the bandages under the hero’s clothes with their fingers, just to get a vague idea of what they were dealing with.

"Why not?"

"I think you’d start crying too."

The villain stared at them, eyes wide. And eventually, after five more minutes, both of them knew the hero was right.

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 30. Sebastian (Sleepy/Morning Sex & Jealousy Sex)

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,885 Warnings: established relationship, fluffy, jealousy, silly, somnophilia, creampie Prompt(s): 01 — sleepy/good morning sex + 06 — jealousy sex Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: sweet sweet even sweeter than yesterdays prompt! i wanted to do smth a lil more lighthearted n silly... smth fluffy despite the jealousy sex... so i hope this is to your liking! if anything, i think this is more in line with canon sebastian than how i typically portray him, so it was rlly fun to explore! tysm for taking part in the event <3

Sun splits through the sheer curtains seamlessly, kissing his eyelids good morning with the gentleness one should expect from Summer. Light and soft, prompting him to stir gently under shared sheets, stretching the sleep from his bones as if commanded by the rays of light itself, a yawn soon following as he reflexively squirms behind you with a groan— dead arm still yet caught under your neck, begging him to nuzzle in closer to you.

So he does. Abruptly giving in to his body's desires with ease. Shuffling his warm body to be nearer to your equally as heated frame, heavy free arm draped lazily over your waist in the meantime. He's never been an earlier riser, too preoccupied with enjoying the quiet that the night offers him. But when it comes to the big ol' farmhouse with little ol' you, he finds that waking in the morning isn't so bad. It never could be, not when he has you in his arms first thing in the morning, back to his firm chest as his legs curl up cosily with your own. A tangle of limbs and love, a subtle smile on his lips as his eyes gently close again when snuggled so close to you like this.

Everything is washed in yellow when you're around, worming your way into his stone cold heart, forcefully dragging him out to greet the sun anew; he's so thankful for that, y'know? For not giving up on him, helping him get to the point where he's happy to see the sun again. And it helps that you're so warm in his hold, too. Sleeping so peacefully beside him, the little huffs of air you let out while dreaming are perhaps the cutest thing he's ever heard.

Tainted only by his morning wood, pressing insistently against your backside from how tightly he hugs you. A regular occurrence, even when he was back home. Sleep still resting in his rolled back shut eyes when he lazily shifts against you, not quite fully awake yet as he allows his body to act of its own accord. Which, apparently, seeking to get off against you like some sort of private pervert. Not that he thinks you'd mind, quite the opposite.

You're just soooo comfortable to cuddle up to. Burying his face into the crook of your neck to take a deep, drowsy, inhale of your scent. His favourite in the whole wide world, by the way. The smell of you only serving to aid his throbbing erection, pining after you even as you snooze blissfully in his arms. Ah, he feels so lucky to have you, and more selfishly, to have your ass to grind against. Squeezing at you for a second or two just to strengthen the hug with a huff, and— oh, that's right.

Do you remember last night? Hidden away in the old barn far later than normal, concerning him enough to leave his work unattended to just to see where you ran off to? He was almost finished with that big project too... But you're the most important thing in his life, so of course he got up to investigate. And, if he's being honest with himself despite the residual feelings, the sight that greeted him upon entering the beacon light barn was all too cute to be considered good and fair, his heart hurting at even just the memory of how sweet you looked when cradling the baby calves. A pile of adorableness, prompting him to lean against the barn door in fear of disturbing the all too innocent scene.

However, as much as he loathed to bring any attention off of you and the angelic sight before him, it was rather late, wasn't it? Almost bedtime, if his memory is serving him well.

"C'mon, babe. It's about that time." He smiled, doted upon you from the barn doors, making no such effort to help you up in favour of witnessing your sheer innocence on display. Ah, so cute... The way you seemed to snuggle closer to the babies, pretty pout shot back at him for his chest to tighten at. He couldn't help but mimic your childish display, his tone playful with a faux scolding of: "Promise I'm a better hugger, come and we can cuddle in bed for a bit."

And you know, it's both a blessing and a curse to have such a quick witted wife sometimes, both proud and taken aback by the things you say to him on occasion, scowling against your neck still as if throwing a mini tantrum at remembering your retort to his kind offer.

"I think the cows are better, Seb." Paired with a pretty pout before you nuzzle in closer to them, his heart immaturely dropping at the once beautiful sight as you clearly pick the animals over him. It's silly how upset he got at such a simple remark, hiding his emotions well in fear of being found out acting so stupidly. "They're just so soft, gimmie five more minutes, okay?"

And, look. He knows that you were just kidding, evident from how eagerly you ended up in his arms once returning home, licking and kissing at his pouting as a means to say that you're sorry. But even now, wrapped completely around your frame, pulling you as close as humanly possible as if trying to melt into your very being, he feels the sickly burn of jealousy in his tummy. Seething at the cute baby animals, God, his cheeks feel flush against you given how fucking embarrassing it is to be feeling so honest to God petty over something so minor.

But he just can't help himself! More than anything in this world, he wants to be your favourite. For everything! Struggling even after a good nights rest by your side to accept that you were merely joking, tensing up behind you at the way his tip rubs against your ass with his pitiful writhing. He can't sit still, anxious energy building up in his chest as he ruminates over those playful words. The cows are better, Seb.

He'll show you, he decides. He'll show you just how much better he is than the cute cows, that very same anxious energy pooling in his tummy, worming its way down to his already rock hard cock as he grinds against you with a little more purpose now, rising from his sleep enough to add just a little more power and intention behind his slacking thrusts. Encouraged by his grumpy attitude, fuck yeah he's a better hugger, he'll hug you so good, humping his drooly tip all over your ass as a means to get himself as hard as possible.

The cows could never hope to beat him, honestly.

Morning gold whispers him promises, if only he gets his cock wet to prove himself, to show you how good he really is at cuddling, will make you feel so good with his arms wrapped around you, yeah? Fiddling around under the sheets to let his cock flop out, hissing at the thud of it against his tummy. Already soaked for you, pussy whipped from the moment he wakes up... Pathetic, maybe, but he figures it's a testament of his love for you, a show of his willingness to be the best for you. Then, with expert knowledge (because this isn't the first time he's slipped inside of your perfect heat unnoticed), he tugs your pretty panties to the side to indulge in skin to skin contact. You know, the shiver of pleasure that rolls down his spine the fucking second his tip meets your cunt, chewing on his bottom lip to stifle the wanton whines that yearn to slip. Immediately wrapping you up in his hold once again as soon as his cock is pressed nice and snug between your squishy thighs, a croaked hum finally escaping him at the warm and wet feeling that greets him. "Ah, fuck..." He sighs from behind you, smiling uncontrollably to himself because he loves you just so much. Can't imagine a better way to spend the lazy morning other than by winning your affections one slow hump of his cock along your pretty little slit at a time, silently promising to win the one sided, self imposed battle of best cuddler before you're even awake, muffling his gasped moans amongst your hair as he burrows closer, letting his cock slip deeper against your pretty slit. Helping to slick you up with plenty precum, leaving you dripping in his love and lust, unintentionally squeezing at your frame with both his arms and legs in an attempt to find greater purchase to prove himself with. Do you feel how unable he is to hold himself back when it comes to you? Urged to resolve the upset of jealousy in his core by humping a tad bit faster— the result of which being that your body starts to rock in his arms, and when matched with how tightly he holds onto you, well;

"Sebastian?" He hears you yawn, voice low and dripping sleep. So cute, he thinks to himself, almost slipping out of the envy induced actions that woke you in the first place, but the little wiggle of your thighs that incidentally rubs against his tip easily coaxes him otherwise. After all, he's intent on justifying his actions by angling his hips a little lower, catching his leaking tip against your hole for you both to moan at.

Like he said, s'not the first time he's done this. And, if he has it his way, it certainly won't be the last.

"Mornin', babe." He drawls, mouth remaining open to sigh affectionately at you, to let you hear exactly what kind of things you do to him first thing in the morning. "Wanna— ah, I wanna cuddle a lil..." His voice trailing off and escaping him when you start to stretch against him, the heavy pressure of your soft thighs against his rock hard cock is almost too much to bear, prompting him to buck at your hole with mismatched thrusts. Body acting automatically, brain lagging behind in part due to how tired he is, but also because he's too focused on how nice it feels to twitch against your cunt, to hear you vacantly yawn and groan as he enjoys himself. Almost forgets what he's here to do in the first place, squishing you impossibly close against him now that he knows that you're more awake, and the resulting giggle he manages to wring out of you is music to his ears. Makes him feel like the old bashful boy he used to be when around you, that is until he inadvertently instinctively rolls his hips against you again and he feels your little hole stretch for him.

A collective gasp shared under the sheets, dragged up his throat in a clear display of want for more. Though, he'd be a liar if he said he could ever be satiated. Especially when it concerns the soft hours of the day, giving you a brief few seconds to catch up to the situation before pushing against you a little further, a little harder. Letting his cock twitch inside of your warm cunt slowly, a greedy growl falling from his bitten lips at the way you tremble back against him.

And his mouth moves before he has a chance to screen his words, all rough and raspy, evidence of just how eager he is to win you over this morning. "Feel so good—" He huffs, almost pouting from how perfect you are for him, like it pains him to be so completely in love, adoration lacing his tone as he continues to push his hips against you, all the way until his balls rest against your backside and he feels like he can finally breathe again.

"Feel so good 'round my cock, fuck— Wish we could stay like this all day..." He does pout this time, nosing at your nape while you get comfortable with his girth, his grip of your body tense from how taut his muscles grow in an effort to restrain himself.

But, you make it difficult for him to do just that.

"I know..." You sigh wistfully, but he's unable to decipher whether that's because of how badly you want the same as him, or because you're still half asleep. Either option is cute, he immediately decides, and his cock throbs against your insides in agreement until you lightly pinch at his arm, and he takes the signal to start moving again. Drawing his hips back gently, helping to ease you into the situation you've awoken to, "But, gotta— Ah— I, um... I gotta take care of the animals, and—"

Fuck, God, he doesn't mean to surprise you with the quick snap thrusts your words taunt out of him, but the mention of his motive to fuck you awake this morning riles him the fuck up. Causes his cock to pulse with insatiable need, drooling thick beads of precum all inside your annoyingly perfect little cunt as if begging for more of your attention— as if he isn't receiving enough. The juvenile way he's acting is in stark contrast to how precisely he fucks into you, shifting positions to practically mount you, one leg over your own to gain greater leverage with his thrusts, hovering half over you with his messy bed head hair swaying with every greedy thrust. Arms still locked around you, an act of pinning as much as he's trying to prove his worth. "Look at me—" He wants to command, but he ends up begging from how whiny your cute cunt has him acting, his eyes glazed over and half-lidded with lust. "Look at me when I'm making you feel good, kay?" He continues to hump into you unfairly, letting you feel the weight of his balls so full of seed just for you against your ass, pleading for everything that you are and more with every stroke of your insides. Fucking his cock so nicely into you that the resulting moans he humps out of you cause him to loose himself a little, acting more like a dog than anything resembling a dignified lover, fucking purely based off of instincts in an effort to be number one again.

"I— I'm trying—" You whine so prettily for him, and his arms around you tighten some more, mimicking how well your cunt clenches around his fat cock, the feeling of your hand frantically digging against his pelvis causing his head to hang low against your own. C'mon, you can do it. "But— Fuck, Seb—!"

Your whimpers will be the death of him, he thinks. Knows that you can barely open your eyes to the sunlight as it is, never mind when you're getting fucked so well into the sheets below— it's okay, he won't fault you too harshly for being unable to adhere to his selfish request. Besides, he's treated to the sight of your struggling, a soothing balm to his jealous mind, knowing that at the very least: no one can make you feel the way that he does.

Thrusting a little faster is all it takes for you to cream his cock, especially when you start to flick at your clit, and he'd be a fool not to follow soon after. Sloppy thrusts into your convulsing cunt, leaning into the way your insides squirm and suck him off so well, God— Cumming with a cry of your name. And his face is already so close to your own that it's only natural that he'd find his way to your lips. Letting his tongue poke out and glide against your own, moaning down your throat as he pumps you full of his love, fat load shot right up to your cervix given that he doesn't let up on his fucks even as his orgasm turns him useless to all else.

And even when he's done, fully milked himself into your tight little hole, he still kisses you. Lazily, now. Slower, a sweet sort of aftercare for both his and your own benefit while he keeps hugging you. Keeping you close until your breathing relaxes and he can feel you smile softly against his fervent lips.

Your voice is so sweet, too. All dopey and dumb, he assumes he's much the same right now. Doting on you from above. "What was that all about?" You rightly question him, cockwarming him for the time being so happily that he almost wants to give in to your innocent inquiring. Almost.

"Just... I, well, I needed it." He sputters out, following your bright laughter with a chuckle of his own. "Needed to remind you of who makes you feel so good, s'all."

"Oh? Have I been wandering?" You tease him so effortlessly that he can't help but you hide against you again, still yet smiling at how much he adores you.

"No," He's quick to settle your prompting, allowing his hands to roam up and down your body idly as he thinks desperately of what to say. Anything but the truth. Because the truth is mortifying. Jealous over some baby cows? Fucking as if— you don't need to know the childish nature of his morning wood.

"Just couldn't help myself."

[littlemissmiller]

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: you’ve been billy’s best friend since he came to Santa Fe. You two always got into trouble together, but lately he’s been distant. one night, billy gets into a fight after a poker game gets out of hand. he comes to you, hoping you’ll bandage him up without giving him anymore trouble than he’s already been in. as you help fix him up, you can’t help but notice how truly handsome he is and then, one thing leads to another…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), heavy fluff, smut, p in v , oral (f reviving) slight dirty talk

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello hello hello! i’m back with another lil spicy read. this one is so cute and fluffy and took me forever to write but here we are and i hope to get more out with the show being back. unfortunately I haven’t had time to watch the new episodes but i plan on it tonight. also i do take requests (i mainly write for pedro pascal and tom blyth, but I do a lot of other fandoms too so just ask.) so yeah…it’s a hot fan fiction summer y’all so get ready for the heat 🔥🥵 enjoy loves ♡︎

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

It is a warm night. The kinda night that smells fresh and ready for adventure. Billy’s favorite kind of nights. The kind of nights that Billy just loves to make memories getting into trouble. When you and him were kids, there was nothing better than sneaking out with Billy. Going out into town, sneaking into bars mainly, but occasionally the two of you would ride out into the hills, just to get a better view of the stars. Sharing a bottle of stolen liquor from the local boarding house, the two of you would gaze up, trying to count them all and connecting the dots into your own pictures and making up your own stories. You always had a soft spot in your heart for him, and truly felt as if that feeling only extended to a friendship. That’s what you told yourself anyways.

So tonight reminded him of one of those many nights he had shared with you. As he enters the saloon, he feels lucky and optimistic. But as he exits, he stumbles into the dirt pavement as he’s pushed back onto the ground by another patron.

“You’re a damn cheat kid!” A burly man yelled down at Billy

He spits the blood out of his mouth and glances his eyes back onto the man who hit him. He stands over Billy, his angry scowl growing on his face.

“I play fair. Can’t help you, can't take it on the chin like a real man.” Billy spits at him

With that the man moves in, running up to kick him in the stomach. Billy, quick as ever, turns over and runs back up on his feet. He holds his hand over his holster, ready to defend himself if need be, even though he was still practicing his quick draw in his mirror, he wasn’t a bad shot. The man strode forward, snarling at him, drunkenly raising his right hook. Billy easily avoided him, but suddenly another man grabbed his shoulder and he tried to wrangle himself free. The drunk man launches forward, aiming for his face, missing, but still landing a nasty punch to his stomach. He spits out more blood, but holds his head up. The man swings again, this time landing him square in the jaw. Billy could feel the cold metal of his ring as it grazes against his chin.

Billy grunts, the man holding him from behind knees him hard under his thighs and Billy decides he has had enough. In a moment of quick thinking, Billy kicks in the kneecaps of the man holding him, and he falls back. Billy whips out his pistol, and points it at the drunk man. The drunk man, seemingly not aware or afraid of the gun in his face lunges toward him, but in his drunken state, he falls down. Billy spits on him, kicking the dirt up in his face as he runs off, heading in the direction of your house.

Meanwhile, you’re still awake, deeply immersed in an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. The flame from your candle was slowly lulling you into sleep and just as you’re about to blow it out, you hear a rapid knocking on your door. You have a feeling you know who it is, but nonetheless you call out asking “who is it?”while opening the door.

Billy stands at your doorway, holding his stomach, bent over slightly. His lip is beat and bloody. His eyes look up at your own briefly as he whines in pain. You usher him inside and he limps in.

“Christ Billy, what happened?”

“Man couldn’t handle a poker loss.” He explains, reaching into his back pocket and lays down a wad of cash, about $10 worth.

“You won that?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep some money safe for my Ma. Those assholes were so drunk they forgot how to count chips” he groans, stumbling into your kitchen chair. He continues to hold his stomach in pain.

“They think you tried to cheat them?” You ask

He nods, wincing, his face scrunching up in pain. You rush over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Well, your ma is going to be in a fit if she sees you like this.” You say, fingers dancing across his jaw. You move his chin to get a better look at his swollen lip. Whoever had fought him, had given him.

“Yeah. Plan is to be out all day tomorrow. Let the swelling die down. But for now, can you help patch me up?” He groans

“Oh” you scoff jokingly

You stand up, smiling at him, and heading into your bedroom to grab a first aid kit. You were no nurse, but you knew how to help bandage him up enough so that you can make him look pretty again. It was hard to deny that your best friend is unbearably handsome. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, especially growing up, but this summer he had changed. His face had lost all its round baby fat, and his sharp features showed just how handsome he really was. You think it’s his eyes. They are a deep blue, and stand out from the rest of his features. They capture you and draw you into him.

Nowadays, every time you look into them you nearly drown. Your thoughts get carried away with the thought of him bare on top of you, those same eyes trailing down your body, admiring your beauty. You have to frequently remind yourself to think of other things.

You scurry back into your kitchen. You run over to your liquor cabinet, grabbing the highest proof whisky you have. You turn and kneel back beside him. You open the kit, and get out some bandages. You unscrew the cap to the whiskey and pour some of it on a cloth.

“I’d much rather just drink it.” He smirks

“Fine, but I still need to clean your wound.” You explain, dapping the cloth on his split open mouth. He winces at the sting of the alcohol. He pulls back in pain, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

“Fuck” he grits

“I know I know I’m sorry…just let me…” you apologize, dabbing under his lip and on his jaw where a fresh cut had been sitting on his chin.

“This cut? Did one of them have a ring.”

“I guess so.”

You sigh. He sounds so reckless. So careless in his demeanor. Yet, as you clean him off you can’t help but admire how smooth his skin is, how this closeness felt strangely intimate. The overwhelming feeling to kiss his perfect jawline was a temptation like no other. The way his beautiful eyes occasionally glances at you makes your heart melt, and your breath feels shaky. You calm yourself and refocus your attention back on his bloody face.

“Oh Billy…” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Ain’t my fault I’m a good card player. Ain’t my fault I’m young and better enough to beat them old men at their own game.”

“You just need to be more careful Billy. One of these days you’re gonna get really hurt.” You warn

“I can handle myself.” He quips

“Yeah apparently enough to go on adventures all by yourself now huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him

He scoffs and hangs his head, turning away from you.

“You know one of these days Billy you’re gonna get too ahead of yourself and get into real trouble. Real trouble you ain’t gonna get yourself out of. Then what?” You ask, cleaning up the last of the blood.

At this point, Billy was on the brink of losing it. Why are you giving him so much grief over this? A bar fight nonetheless? Something as naturally occurring as the desert heat in Santa Fe. Angry, you force him to look at you, turning his chin toward you.

He huffs, his breathing heavy.

“Do you really want your poor Ma to visit you in a jail cell?”

You take it too far. Even you know it. The moment the sentence spills for your lips it hits Billy’s ears like a ton of bricks.

“I just- I’m sorry I just…”

Billy grabs your hand, forcing it away from his chin and into your lap.

“No. You’ve said enough. I thought you were my friend. Why you talking down on me like you raised me?” He sneers

“Because I don’t want to see you hanging from a tree!” You shout

Billy’s eyes widen and yours fill up with tears.

“And one of these days I’m afraid that that’s the last I’ll ever see of ya! Since you like to run on your own now. I guess I ain’t good enough to tag along with you anymore either?”

“Is this what you’re mad about? I don’t understand you’re worried I’m gonna get myself into trouble, but you also want to seem to tag along. So which one is it?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe I want to tag along to make sure you stay out of trouble.” You whisper harshly, holding back your sobs.

He hangs his head, sighing your name.

“Maybe I don’t take you anywhere no more to keep you safe. You know I ain’t nothing but trouble these days.”

“You say that like it’s written in stone somewhere. Like it’s meant to be. Why Billy? Why do you think you have to be no good?

“I don’t think I have to be, but if I wanna protect my family then I may have to do things I ain’t proud of…especially if I have to protect you…” he breathes

“What do you mean?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darling?”

You shake your head in confusion and raise an eyebrow

“No?”

He sighs and leans in.

“Because you mean everything to me.” He gasps and not being able to control himself any longer, he swiftly cups your face, dragging your face to his own and kisses you deeply. You moan in surprise, letting his soft lips consume your own. He pulls back all too quickly though, feeling guilty for being so bold. What if you didn’t like him like that? Then you nod and he smiles. His lips look so soft and inviting and you lean back in. You firmly press your lips against his, your hand clutching the back of his head, pushing him towards you. You run your fingers through his brown soft locks. You’re kissing him back, and seem to want more, which Billy didn’t expect.

“See you what I mean?” He mumbles against your lips, smiling.

You nod in response.

“Billy…” you whisper

“Yes, darling?”

You stand up and slide onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you’d reject me.” He smiles, gently rubbing your thigh, hiking your dress up slightly.

“Why do you think I was so upset with you? You smile and with his other hand, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I was so distant, but now you know why I’ve been acting like you’re nothing to me. I’ve been a complete ass I know. Let me make it up to you?”

He leans in again as you nod. Now that your collective previously unspoken feelings have come to light, there is no holding back. For both of you. Billy moves more quickly, his mouth becoming more needy for you, and you love it. He pokes his tongue through, exploring your mouth. You let him in, wanting more of whatever he gives you. You can’t help but moan against his mouth and he holds your face tighter. You can barely keep up with him, it’s so apparent that he wants you based on the way he practically consumes you. Every kiss feels like a flame that burns your lips, seering the very memory of his lip on your own. You could do this for hours. Kissing Billy was one thing, but completely losing yourself in this messy, raw passion was another. He pulls back to look at you, capturing the moment and image of you to memory. You can tell he wants to say something, but you already know.

“I know Billy, me too…”

He smirks and places a quick kiss on your lips. He smiles, giving you the most goofy, boyish look. He rubs your cheeks in his hands, feeling ever so loved by him. He moved them to your neck and continues to kiss you. He moves his mouth slowly to your chin, down to your jawline and onto your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more space and he practically attacks you. You gasp as he moves his hands down under your dress and up your thighs.

“Can I?” He breathes

“You can…take me to my room first” you whisper, batting your eyes at him. He nods enthusiastically, waiting no time to swoop you up into his arms. Your legs dangle from the crook of his elbow and you hang onto him. He kisses your neck and jaw and he carries you into your bedroom. Once there, he sets you down on the bed and slips his suspenders off his shoulders. He starts to unbutton his shirt, then falls onto you, catching himself and caging you with his arms. He just can’t help himself. He wants to kiss you now that he has you all to himself. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tossing it aside and dancing his fingers up to the strings of your dress. You admire his lean figure, his body so toned and handsome.

“Now can I?” He smirks

You nod and he starts to untie the front of your dress. His eyes meet your own, and you start to feel lost in the ocean of his irises. Once he loosens your dress he pulls it past your shoulders, his fingers dancing over your collar bone, following the delicate fabric as it falls down your body. He leans down, kissing the crook of your neck, shoulder and just along your cleavage. You grasp the back of his head, close your eyes and let yourself go under the touch of his lips. You start to slowly and quietly chant his name, fingers running up and down his neck as the sensation of his touch sends you into bliss. He smiles as he presses his mouth against your skin, soaking in the way you melt under him.

“Is this ok?” He asks

“Of course, Billy. Please, don’t stop…” you plea

He slips your dress down more, revealing your chest to him. He gaps in awe, starting to cup and knead your breast. He pinches the nipple before diving down and sucking. You arch your back in response, moaning and biting down on your lip. He swirls it around his mouth, before moving his lips to give the other breast the same attention. His other hand moves down to hike up your dress and he finds the lining of your panties. He looks at you again for approval and you mouth “yes” to him.

With that, he pulls them down and tosses them aside. He trails his fingers to your core, finding your heat and rubbing your clit. He is slow and you love it. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much he loves you and wants to please you. You spread your legs, knees drawing closer to your chest. He shuffles his body more in-between them. He starts to move his hips against you, excited at the idea of seeing you fully bare before him. You simultaneously shift out of your dress, Billy helping to pull the rest down. Once you are fully naked, he takes time to take you in.

“Christ darling, you’re a beauty.”

He rubs your hips, running his hands up to your waist and gripping tight. He pulls you forward as he slides down the bed onto his knees.

“Billy you don’t have to…” you breath

He kisses your thigh and smiles greedily.

“Believe me I want to. Let me?” He practically begs, doe eyes glimmering with desire.

You push your hips forward, readjusting to get closer to his face. You nod wordlessly and he kisses up your thigh. Once he reaches your core, he cautiously presses a kiss to your clit. You gasp, resting on your elbows as you start to feel your body relax on his tongue. He licks a curious broad stripe up your entire slit, before giving it small, precise kitten licks. Then, he wraps his mouth around it, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, you let your moans and whines stumble from your lips. He loves it, your sounds of pleasure showing him just how much you wanted him.

At this point Billy feels drunker than whiskey off the taste of you, your juices a delicious, exotic, elixir to him. Like water in the desert, he drinks you up. He holds your thighs in his arms, massaging them while he moves his face as he also moves his tongue. You grab his hair, his soft brown lock tangling in your fingers. You also grab onto one of the hands grabbing your thigh. He glances up at you, pulling back for a moment to smile at you and appreciating your affectionate attention. You love the way he makes you feel and he can tell.

“Feels so good, fuck keep going…”

“So vulgar.” He smirks

“Are you kidding me, my best friend is eating me out and he’s doing a god damn spectacular job of it. How could I not let my tongue get the better of me.” You smirk, lips sliding into a satisfied grin.

“I’m still just your best friend…”

“Maybe a little bit more than a friend after tonight. Is that what you want?” You ask, dreamily

“Yes, darling, more than anything.”

He dives back in, lapping you up and greedily drinking your juices again. He’s almost animalistic as he moves his month, hands moving to grope your ass. You lift your hips to allow him. He moans against your core, needing more and more of you. He gives your clit a few soft kisses, then pulls back and climbs back on top of you.

As he does, he loosens his belt and starts to pull down his pants. He slides out of them, showing you the growing bulge in between his legs. He takes himself in his hand, stroking and you gawk at him. You had always heard that taller, leaner men had the real tools to satisfy a woman and it seems Billy was living proof. His cock was so long and thick, tip red and ready. He wipes the pre-cum along it, moving it down his shaft, slightly lubing himself. You love that you and him are bare like this and you readjust your hips in anticipation. He licks his hand then places it on your pussy, swirling his fingers.

You clutch his biceps, mouth agape as he rubs your entrance with his tip.

“Please…” you beg

He slides in, stretching you out perfectly.

“Mmmm oh fuck, you’re so perfect wrapped around me.”

He sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits your cervix. You let out a loud groan, adjusting to his size. He cups your face, going back and forth in between your beautiful eyes and the place where his cock meets your entrance. He moves his hips slowly, afraid that he might hurt you. After a few thrusts you start to feel your pleasure return, and you ride your new wave of ecstasy. He feels so incredible, his length filling you up so perfectly and as he speeds up, you feel overwhelmed. The rhythm of his cock so relaxing and mesmerizing, it almost lulls you to sleep. He notices and kisses you.

“Fuck Billy, I wanted you like this so bad.”

“Me too, so fucking bad.”

He quickens his pace, giving you more of him and you smile against his lips. You let out a few breathy laughs and he rocks you on the bed. He keeps going like this for a while, kissing you and admiring your beauty.

“Maybe we should withhold our feelings from each other more often, because I don’t know about you but admitting your love for me like this feels incredible.” You mumble

“Mmm I could be in you all night.” He responds

“I have no quarrel with that.”

Billy and you both share a small, quaint laugh and he rolls you over. He starts to sit up and his lips lock with your own. He starts to move your hips and in return you pick them up and bounce. He pulls back, gasping and watches you as you move on him. He utterly transfixed on how your waist and hips move smoothly, how your tits bounce, and how elegant you are. You’re made for him. He moves his hand up and down your stomach and you steady yourself, placing your hands around his neck. Tempted by the way you move on him, he pops one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at your flesh. He pulls your nipple into his mouth, making you groan and clutch his head.

“My god how did you get to be so perfect?” He questions

“Am I perfect?” You snicker

“More than that, if even possible.”

“Now you’re just being nice” you huff

“Not true darling, not true at all.”

Before you can protest, his lips silence you. Billy pumps into you, lips refusing to leave yours as he feels you clench down on him. You’re close and you cling to him as he sends you over the edge.

“Oh Billy, Billy, you’re gonna make me…you’re gonna make me cum…1fuck!”

He nods into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself becoming undone. You writhe on top of him, arching your back and letting the euphoria overtake you. You reach a peak then slowly come down, catching your breath as you do. He flips you over, eager to satisfy his own needs. He pumps his length into you, messily, his actions becoming more and more sloppy. You can feel he’s close.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum on your stomach okay?” He informs and you nod.

A few more pumps and then, he pulls out. Strings a warm, white cum spill onto your stomach and even up to the valley of your breasts. He rubs himself as the last few drops spill from his tip. He catches his breath, looking around for something to clean you off with. He reaches over on the night stand and takes the towel from inside the wash basin. He cleans you up, then kisses you softly.

“I love you. I always have.” He whispers

“Me too Billy. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

[cheeeeseburger]

Sweet like tiramisu, bitter like coffee Part 1

Part 2

Lance Stroll x Reader

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this one, but I wrote it in honour of the Canadian GP! English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes!

“Lance, I think you should call security. Look who’s here!” Your older brother pointed at you, acting like you were some kind of crazy fan who sneaked in.

You glanced at your brother “They really let you in? Even with your ugly face? It’s going to be bad for their PR, I tell you.” He only sticked his tongue out to you in response.

“Hey, kid,” Lance simply said.

You grinned at Lance, and when he smiled back, it was like you were fourteen again, trying to impress him when skiing at the Mont Tremblant, sneaking glances at him. Gosh, he still had that boyish look that used to make you stutter in front of him.

“Salut, Lance. It’s been a while” you said. He pulled you closed to give you a kiss on each cheek. He smelled like that one hoodie of his that he gave you years ago when you were cold at La Ronde. Embarrassingly, you still wear it sometimes, probably more than you should.

“I know, you’ve changed, kid. You used to be so small. I guess you grew up, huh?”

To prove his point, you gave him a little spin, with your sundress flowing around your thighs. Lance looked at you up and down, noticing that you had grew in all the right places. He flushed a little.

“I guess I did,” you answered, looking right into his eyes. For once, it was him who seemed more affected by your interaction. Your cheeks were only coloured a light pink, a clear amelioration from the tomato look you used to rock whenever you talked to Lance.

Your brother put a stop to the moment you two shared. “Alright, quit showing off. She is still the same as before, only without the braces. Don’t be fooled, Lance, she is still an airhead.” You smacked him on the arm.  “An airhead with a uni degree, dumbass. You’re a college dropout.”

That was a low blow, but still, your brother deserved it. You got a middle finger in response. Lance chuckled, seeing that you hadn’t changed completely.

“You’re still as quick as you were before, kid,” he said, laughing. “What’s your degree in? Engineering, right?”

“Yeah, I just graduated in mechanical engineering. But I’m starting my master in the fall, at McGill.”

He looked impressed at your degree and at the famous Montreal school you attended. “Damn kid, you’re not the type to take it easy, huh? Unlike your lazy ass brother over there.” He lightly punched him on his arm. Your brother pretended to be offended. “Come on guys, do I really deserve all this verbal abuse?”

He saw you laugh, and decided he could not let that slide. “You, shut up, or I’ll tell Lance you had his picture in your locker in high school.”

You gasped. Oh no he didn’t.

Lance laughed, blushing a little. “That’s cute. What about college? Do you have a picture of me at McGill?” He looked way too smug.

This was bad. Very bad. Still, was he just flirting with you?

At the same time, his father entered the paddock. You jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.

“Lawrence, mon Stroll préféré!” You smiled at him. The older man opened his arm to give you a hug.

“Mon sucre d’orge, how are you?” He always had the best hug, making you feel safe and loved.

Lawrence Stroll was like an uncle to you, a father even. Your family and the Stroll family were very close, and you grew up side by side with the Stroll children, even though you were a few years younger than them. You went skiing together during the winter break. You went on vacations together. Your summers were filled with meals at each other house, and you ended up begging to sleepover every single time. To this day, the smell of chlorine always takes you back to endless afternoons spent playing in the pool at the Stroll house.

“I’m doing great, I’m happy to be here!” you replied. You had seen the man only a few weeks earlier, at your graduation dinner, so there wasn’t much catching up to do.

Lawrence exclaimed: “Mon sucre d’orge, you should be at every races! After you finish your master, you should work for us!”

You beamed at the man: “I would like that very much.” It’s true, you would love it. And you had the degree for it.

“So would I. And I wouldn’t be the only one,” he added in a whisper, gesturing towards Lance.

You turned a deep shade of red. Typical you. Lawrence always knew you had a thing for his son. Luckily, Lance did not look like he had heard what his father just said. If he did, you’d have to leave Montreal to live in a country where there are no races.

You brother shook hands with Lawrence, talking for a while. You listened with one ear, too busy sneaking glances at Lance. He was doing the same thing, admiring the silhouette that your dress gave you, the way your hair was framing your face, your slightly parted lips. He surprised himself and started daydreaming about how it would feel to push you against the wall, lifting one of your legs while he stunned you with kisses all over your face.

Lance was pulled out of his fantasy when your brother said it was time to go.

“Bonne chance, Lance,” you wished him good luck shyly, then followed your brother out of the paddock. Oh, your massive crush was so back.

He watched you leave, mesmerized by you, your presence, the way you carry yourself. You were no longer an awkward teen, but a beautiful young woman.

“Poor girl. You know she had a crush on you for years, right? Good on her for moving on.” Lawrence said to his son, sighing. “She really has a heart of gold, and she’s way too bright for her own good. The man who will have her heart will be a lucky man. A very lucky man indeed.”

Later during the day, you received a message from Lance. This was unusual. The last time he had texted you was to wish you a happy birthday three months ago.

Hey kid, it’s me.

You replied quickly, not wanting to bother with pretending to be too busy to answer. When it came to Lance, you were too weak to play hard to get. Also, this afternoon was the first time he had shown signs that he did not see you as your brother's sister, but as a pretty girl. You would be a fool not to jump at the opportunity, if the opportunity came.

Hi, what’s up?

Have you eaten yet?

Yeah, why?

Let me bring you some desert.

What???

Text me your address. Nvm I got it.

Lance, what’s going on?

He didn’t answer after that. Realizing that he was probably on his way, you started tidying up your appartement. It was pretty neat already though, so you mostly did it to distract you. From the corner of your eye, you saw his hoodie and quickly threw it in your wardrobe. If he did come to your place, this was the kind of things that he should not see, like your F1 calendar from last year that was still hung up to the month of January, because he was the picture of the month. But why the hell would Lance show up at your door?

A knock on the door made you jump. You opened it to find Lance on your doorstep, carrying a bag.

“Hey, I brought you a sweet treat”, he announced, letting himself in. You were too shocked to speak. Chat, is this real? He noticed your appearance. You were wearing a silk nightgown. “Are you ready for bed already?” he asked, confused.

Finally, he seemed real enough for you to gain back the ability to speak.

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“What are you, 90? It’s not even 9 yet!”

“So what? I like to be comfortable,” you responded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

He stared at you and your short nightgown, letting his gaze linger on the sight that was the strap sliding of your left shoulder. He wanted to leave a kiss on that exact spot.

“No, no, you’re good, I just expected you to be ready to go out or something,” he said laughing, while walking in your apartment. “You got a nice place.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “Why did you expect me to go out?” You followed him around in your apartment. It was weird to see him there, but he looked so good in his Boss hoodie that you let it slide for now.

“Gee, uh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s a Thursday night and you’re young and in Montreal?” he answered like you had asked the dumbest question. He finally settled in your kitchen, leaving the box he was carrying on the counter. “Where are your plates?”

“Over here,” you opened the cabinet door at the same time he made a move to grab the doorknob, leaving him towering over you. The last time the two of you had been so close was before puberty. Internally, you were screaming. He grabbed two plates.

“What did you bring? And what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to hide the affect that his proximity had on you. “And I do go out, sometimes.”

“Having dinner with my dad and your parents doesn’t count. I bought you your favourite tiramisu, from that Italian restaurant you always dragged us to when we were kids.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Don’t worry, I do go out to shake my ass.” He raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes widening a little. You hoped he was imagining you in a tight dress, dancing in the club. You got out two spoons and a knife out of your cutlery drawer. “Thanks for the sweet treat, but why though?”

Lance opened the box to reveal a gorgeous tiramisu. He was right, this dessert really was your favourite, specifically the recipe they used at this restaurant. You both sat on the stools hidden underneath your countertop. “Can’t a guy do something nice?” he said sarcastically.

You looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Lance, come on, be for real. We haven’t seen each other in years, then you show up unannounced at my place.” You cut the dessert and placed it on your respective plates.

He put his hand in the air: “What! I have no bad intentions, I swear. I just thought you could use some sugar.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Against your wish, you let out a small moan as you took your first bite out of the tiramisu. It really was that good. You turned beet red and surprisingly, so did he. Cute.

“Lance, you know I used to have a crush on you, right? But that was years ago, so if you expect me to fall at your feet and sleep with you, you’re in the wrong place, buddy.” This was a lie. He could have you anywhere he wanted, and you would say thank you.

His eyes shuttered a little when he took his first bite. “I’m flattered that you used to have a crush on me, but also a little insulted. How come you don’t have one right now? And is your opinion of me so low that you believe I could really use you like that?” He really did look insulted.

You took another bite of the tiramisu, this time fulling embracing the moan coming out of your mouth. He looked positively flushed now.

“Lance, I saw the way you looked at me earlier. It was like you finally realized I was a grown woman now.”

He took a bite, and he let his head fall back a little. So two can play this game. You were feeling hot all over. It was like a tennis match between the two of you, a duel. All of this over a sweet treat.

“It’s true that you made quite the impression on me earlier. It must be the lack of braces,” he said sarcastically.

You made a show of licking your spoon when you finished your portion. He looked jealous of the spoon.The ball is in your court, sir.

“Oh really? It wasn’t my curves that my dress showed off nicely, or how long my legs looked with those heels? It’s weird, every other guy there seemed to notice my body. I even got the number of an engineer. I think I’m going to go out with him, I might even sleep with him, all that good stuff.” The look on his face was priceless.

It seems you had won this round. He didn’t touch his tiramisu, only bit his bottom lip. He was blushing hard but wanted to maintain his poker face.

“None of these things crossed my mind,” he answered, though it was a very obviously fake answer. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. It was very good for your ego. If your seventeen years old self could see you right now, she’d be proud.

You hit him with quite the shot when you picked up some tiramisu with your spoon off his plate. The simple gesture had quite the effect on him. His gaze followed your spoon from his plate to your mouth. In your face, sir.

“That’s too bad. I wanted you to notice them,” you said innocently.

He did not take this shot well, and immediately went into attack mode. He pulled your stool closer to his and started massaging your calf. He was not playing anymore.

“Don’t worry, kid, I can see them very clearly now.” He stared at you and the generous cleavage your nightdress gave you. The innuendo in his eyes was very clear. You could cut the tension in the room with the same knife you had cut the dessert with.

You moaned softly. This time, it had nothing to do with the tiramisu, and everything to do with the way his hand was slowly getting higher and higher on your leg. Yeah, it was over. He definitely won the match.

You looked at his eyes, which were now a nice shade of bedroom eyes. You felt all the hesitation you had leave your body, and so did your judgement.

“Lance. I really want to have sex with you right now.” How embarrassing to say this out loud. But it wasn't your fault, really. His face and the tiramisu were a deadly combo.

He smirked at your admission. “I thought you said I shouldn’t expect to sleep with you earlier.”

You responded quickly. “Screw what I said. Wait, no, screw me instead,” you leaned from your stool to pull his hoodie off.

He let you take it off, but he was wearing a shirt underneath. He smirked. “In a hurry?”

“Yeah, and for a guy that drives fast for a living, you’re slow as hell.” He laughed at that, and you took off his shirt too. It was sight to be seen. Niagara Falls is nothing compared to Lance Stroll shirtless. He should be on Canadian postcards instead of Lake Louise.

“Don’t worry kid, I can go fast if need be.” You were getting very turned on, and he had not even made a move yet. “So that means you’ll sleep with me?” You leaned to give him kisses all over his neck. 10 years of wanting him made you desperate like that. He shivered at your touch, and he felt your smile against his neck. How flattering to get a reaction out of him. He gently lifted you off your stool and picked up you like a doll so you could sit on his lap. You immediately resumed your activity and went back to kiss his neck, occasionally leaving a mark.

“You seem to want it so bad, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Our friendship means the world to me,” he said, teasing you.

“Uh uh. Can we add “with benefits” to the title of our friendship? Because I really want to get to the benefits right now.” You said in between hickeys. He was holding your waist to keep you close. How you both fitted on that tiny little stool, you had no idea, but this stool was now considered blessed in your mind.

“Since you asked so nicely. Your brother told me you had a boyfriend though.” His grip on you tightened.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I don’t care about him. He’s probably in a bar somewhere, talking to other women, which is fine, since we are not together.” It was his turn to give you attention. He made a trail of kisses all over your neck and jaw, stopping near the corner of your mouth.

“That’s good. Do you have sex with him sometimes?” he asked possessively, which was very unlike him. Lance had never shown an interest in you, and he now wanted to know who you were sleeping with.

“Yeah.” It’s hard to form complete sentences when your crush of the last 10 years is busy leaving marks all over your neck.

“Is he any good to you?” He stopped to look you in the eyes, but kept you distracted by playing with the strap of your nightdress.

“I guess. But I hope you will change my opinion of what is good sex and what is bad sex.” You put your hands behind his neck and started kissing him. It quickly turned into a make out session. He tasted like tiramisu. This was an Oscar worthy kiss. A painting should be made to commemorate the moment. A page in history books should be dedicated to it. Still kissing you, Lance stood up and lifted you with him.

“Where’s your bedroom?” You must have done something good recently. You felt like one of God’s favourites.

You did not sound like yourself when you answered, “The next door to your right.” It was a very surreal moment. He opened the door and gently put you down on your bed. He was standing up, shirtless, and it looked a lot like the teenage fantasy of him you had for years.

Your hair was spread all over the pillow, and your nightdress had ridden up. Playboy magazine would have loved you back in the days. “You’re gorgeous. You look like an angel,” Lance said. “How come I’ve never noticed it before?”

You blushed. “You were too busy thinking of me as a sister.” Your propped yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him. The sight took your breath away. “Don’t move, I’m taking a mental picture of you. You look so fucking hot right now.”

It was his turn to blush. “Thanks.” He pulled you by your ankles so you could sit on the edge of the bed. He then got on his knees, and ladies and gents, that nearly did it for you. You felt very, very hot. His hand slid under your nightdress so he could take of your underwear. It was hard to remember to breathe.

“Gosh, are we in porn movie or something? No guy has ever gotten on his knees for me before, but they sure as hell expect me to.” You said, laughing in embarrassment at your lack of experience.

“Boys are stupid.” All of Montreal probably heard you when he first touched you with his tongue. It was too much: his touch, the sight of him between your thighs, the grunts he made, you had to grip the sheets to stay still. By the noises he made, he seemed to enjoy himself too.

It took an embarrassing short amount of time for you to shake and scream in pleasure. No guy had ever made you come so quickly, and it had never felt as good. Sadly, it would probably never feel so good ever again. He got out from your nightdress and smirked when he saw you panting.

“You’re the one out of breath, huh?” He licked his lips, and you nearly came again.

“Shut up” was all you had to say. Lance laughed: “Real mature.” He once again took you by the ankles, this time to push you back to the center of the bed. He got on top of you.

“Is this the part where you get inside of me?” He smiled. “You’re so eager. It’s cute. The Aston Martin cap you have is cute too,” he said, referencing the baseball cap on your dresser.

“It’s for Alonso,” you replied, blushing. Lance smirked and whispered in your ear “Yeah, right.” He started kissing your jawline. The whole block probably heard you moaning. Having him on top of you felt so good. Your nails were probably hurting him from how hard you were gripping his back, but he didn’t complain. “Too bad it’s not him in your bed right now.” You shut him up with a kiss.

“Please, Lance, you have to get in me,” you whined. You unzipped his pants and palmed him. “Please, please, please.” He was making pained noises too, and he got out a condom from his pocket. So he had come to your place expecting to get laid. You decided to put the thought aside for now.

You stopped thinking anyway the second he got inside of you. The feeling was nearly overwhelming, and every time he moved, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Lance, goddam, why didn’t we do this earlier?” you asked between screams. He seemed pleased. You arched your back and it was his turn to let out grunts. “Well, we’re doing it now,” he sounded in pain.

“You’re going to ruin me for every other guy”, you complained. Not long after, Montreal heard you scream his name as you came undone for the second time that evening. He copied you a short while later. Both of you were panting, too stunned by what just happened. It was definitely the best sex of your life, but you were too shy to ask him if it was any good. You hoped it was.

You were just about to ask him if he wanted to spend the night when he suddenly got up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused. He pulled his pants back up and zipped them. “I gotta go. Don’t tell anyone we did this.” You pulled yourself to sit against your headboard. You wanted to cry. “Are you serious?”

All he said was: “Yeah, I am. I’ll see you around.” And he left, leaving you speechless in the bed where he just had you. When you heard the door close on his way out, you broke down in tears. How could he be so cruel? He had just used you, ruining years of friendship for this. You felt hurt and humiliated.

After a few minutes of crying hysterically, you suddenly could not stand having his smell on your sheets. It was nearly midnight, but you started ripping them off your bed, and you threw them in the washing machine. There were signs of his passage everywhere in your apartment, and it hurt too bad. You started cleaning manically, from scrubbing the floor to washing your entire silverware. After, it was you who needed to be rid of him. His touch lingered on your skin. You scrubbed your skin until it turned red and shampooed your hair about 5 times. As expected, you broke down crying in the shower. Lance was your friend; he had been since you were kids. Did none of that matter? Were you just a quick fuck to him? A one-night stand that did not even last a night?

You didn’t recognize him. He was such a kind soul. How could you ever face him again? And the fact that he asked you to not tell anyone? The worst thing is, you knew you would never tell anyone, because the humiliation would be too bad.

Eventually, you passed out in exhaustion on the couch. You had to attend the whole weekend, otherwise it would be suspicious, since people expected you to be there. You put on your best dresses, your brave face and you showed up Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. You talked with Lawrence, hanged out with your brother and some friends, you even made small talk with some of the drivers. Your heart hurt like a bitch the whole time, but at least you managed to avoid Lance. That engineer who gave you his number came to see you again, and you made plans for later in the week. Any distraction was welcome.

By the late afternoon on Sunday, you had had enough. You felt tired, heartsick and exhausted after a weekend of fake smiling. Leaving was the only thing you wanted to do. Perhaps you should book a vacation, give your heart a break. Or at least get extremely drunk with your friends. Maybe do both.

You were hiding in a corner, waiting for your brother when a shadow appeared. It was Lance, of course, towering over you. Immediately, your heart started beating fast. Stupid heart. His hair was all ruffled and he was sweating lightly. He had the same look when he was on his knees for you.

“Hey, kid,” he sounded so casual, like nothing had happened between the two of you, like he didn’t have half of your heart.

“Allô. Good job on the race today.” You hoped your voice was not trembling. You did not even attempt to look at him in the eyes, afraid of revealing your pain. The guy you had liked for years made you feel wanted then crushed you in a matter of hours. Of course, that didn’t seem to matter to him.

He put his hand under your chin to force you to look at him, then caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Thanks. Listen, I hope you did not expect anything more than what we did last night. I’m leaving Montreal soon anyway.” Tears started to sting your eyes, but you tried your best to hide them, but Lance was not a fool.

“Not at all. This was just a one-time thing.” You smiled, but tears were running down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb.

“You’re cute when you lie. I’ll see you around.” Lance kissed your cheek, then left you in shock, hiding in the corner. His gaze did not betray any sign of regrets. Your heart was shattered in million tiny pieces that he could crush between two fingers. It was cut into bite-size pieces that he could eat, like that damn tiramisu.

That night, you went home and tried to drown any thoughts of him with ice cream and sad music. It did not work.

A few glasses of wine in, your phone buzzed. It was the man of the hour.

I’ll be at your place in 10.

Against your better judgement, you opened the door to him in your cutest nightdress with mascara tears running down your face. He didn’t bother with tiramisu this time. Nor did he the next time. And the next time.

To be used by him was better than not having him at all.

[danaredbeard]

They’re Coming, Part 1 

Rick

Rick, wake up.

They’re coming.

Still asleep, Rick swung out of bed, grabbed his python, and pointed it into the darkness. 

Michonne was in the doorway. She smiled sweetly, told him to get dressed, and rubbed her extended belly. 

She was already fully dressed. Michonne was carrying a small bag, and her katana was dangling from her shoulder as it no longer fit around her.

Rick had been on high alert for the past three nights. However, last night, he cuddled up extra close to Michonne and stuck his nose in her locks, breathing in the smell of exotic oils. It was narcotic, and he drifted off into a deep sleep. 

He had stood up too fast, was dizzy, and had to sit down. It all changes from here, he thought. We are going from a family of four to a family of six.

Rick tried to hide his apprehension. His track record with pregnancies wasn’t too great. He remembered being so overwhelmed with Carl that he didn’t remember anything; the baby was suddenly there. Whenever he sees a flash of Lori in Judith, he tries to erase the memory of her birth.

Michonne also wore a brave face; her track record wasn’t much better. Losing Andre broke her. Her pregnancy with RJ broke her even more, but in a different way. She had desperately longed for Rick to be in their lives and also she had to destroy children when she was seven months pregnant. It was such a joyless pregnancy, she just wanted it over with.

RJ came out looking just like Rick, making her happy and sad. Michonne knew deep down that if Judith and RJ had not been there, she would have succumbed to despair like Sasha and given up on trying to stay alive and any hope of peace and happiness.

Inhaling deeply, Rick stood up and bumped into the dresser. Michonne shushed him. 

The kids are still asleep. I will go get Morgan to keep an eye on them, while we are away.

Michonne tiptoed out of the bedroom. Rick quickly got dressed and wondered how it was possible to be so terrified and elated simultaneously. “I couldn’t save Lori”. “This is different,” he told himself.

Before going downstairs, he peeked into Judith’s room. She was just a toddler when he left; now she is practically grown. Looking at her bedside table stacked with books, he laughed to himself, she is a voracious reader, just like her Mama.

Then Rick went into RJ’s room and just stood over his bed. “Michonne was right. He is so much like me.” he thought. A child of few words, but he makes his needs and wants known. Rick understood in the first days after his return that he had to accept RJ being the “Man of the House”. He had to be conscious not to usurp RJ’s “position” but to carefully share it with him. As far as RJ was concerned, this was “his house” and “his women”. He felt extremely protective of Michonne and Judith even though he was “the baby”.

Rick met Michonne at the bottom of the stairs and took the bag from her.

You okay?

Yeah

You okay?

Yeah

Morgan appeared from the downstairs bedroom. He was smiling not saying much, but his eyes were glistening.

Can’t wait to meet them, good luck.

Oh, I made some pancake batter for you and the kids , it’s in the refrigerator.

I was thinking of just chucking a few protein bars at them. Morgan quipped.

Rick and Michonne smiled and opened the door. Hand in hand, they walked into the early morning air. The Commonwealth had a fully staffed clinic, and they were following Michonne’s pregnancy.

The first and last time an on-call doctor said Michonne was a “geriatric mother”, she instinctively grabbed for her Katana as though she had been blindsided by a Walker.

Later on, Michonne brought Rick in for the scan.

“TWO!”

Rick had a hard time standing up. He mumbled something about the winter being unusually cold and it was difficult to keep his knees from buckling.

“TWO!”

As they were checking into the clinic, he had to wait for Michonne to be examined. Sitting in the waiting room, Rick thought. “I’m going to miss her belly”. 

She’d rub this concoction of oils and cream all over her belly every night. At some point, she would complain that she was tired and couldn’t reach all the parts and would let Rick finish greasing her up.

Mr. Grimes, Mr. Rick Grimes

Yeah, that’s me

Your wife is ready.

[madomens]

Apocalypse mini series- Chapter 3

TW: gore(typical zombie gore), p in v unprotected sex, oral(f receiving), DRUNK SEX(all consensual of course)

side note: this is my first time writing smut so if it isn’t the best, yes it is

“There’s no way you guys thought Noah’s card was funnier than mine!” Folio shouts.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his outburst, especially considering the winning card was “zombie apocalypse” and the question was “what has been making life difficult at the nudist colony?”

Everyone has let loose more now that everyone is at least tipsy. You haven’t been able to feel this way in years.. Including how the alcohol makes you feel. Looking back and forth between the four of them, you stop as your eyes land on Noah, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

Would it be so bad if you jump his bones right here right now?

Noah hasn’t given you the attention you’re craving, but him calling you “princess” has made you feel some type of way. Thinking of him using “princess” in a more intimate manner makes you squeeze your thighs together to get a taste of some kind of friction.

With the tequila flowing through your system, you have more confidence. When Noah has to go to the bathroom, you decide this is your chance.

“Now that you mention it, it is time to break the seal,” you giggle, getting up from your spot to follow Noah into the shared bathroom.

Folio gives a questioning look but you chalk it up to having too much to drink and continue walking slightly behind Noah, both of you stumbling a bit.

When Noah starts to leave the bathroom, you stop him. With the tequila coursing through your veins, you speak up again.

“I know this may sound like a crazy idea but I was having some thoughts,” you begin.

Noah raises an eyebrow at you, not sure where this conversation is going. “Yeah?”

You take a shaky breath and decide to just spit it out already.

“I’m drunk, obviously. I assume you’re about as drunk as me,” you have the hardest time making eye contact right now because not only has it been a while, but you’ve never had to initiate sex with anyone. He nods his head slowly, waiting for you to finish.

“I’m sure it’s been a while for you. It definitely has been for me. You’re very attractive to me.” Why is it so hard to just say it?

Noah knows where you’re going but he wants to hear you say it. Eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face let’s you know he just wants you to keep going.

“I think we should hook up,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip a little too hard. “I mean, if you’re down.”

The smirk never leaves his face as he walks slowly toward you and leans down so his mouth is dangerously close to yours. You can smell a hint of tequila and the gum he was chewing earlier.

“Was that so hard princess?” is all he whispers as he brings his lips to yours. The kiss starts out slow but it doesn’t take long for it to become heated, lips crashing together with such need that no one could pull you away if they tried.

Without detaching from each other, you both quickly stumble back into one of the showers. Noah pulls your shirt and bra over your head before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You let out a low moan at the contact and arch your back off of the cold, tiled wall, practically begging for more.

After four years of no intimacy, who wouldn’t beg for more? Leaving your lips, Noah finally decides to give your aching cunt the attention it deserves as he all but rips your shorts and underwear down your legs leaving you completely vulnerable. He sinks to his knees and palms at your exposed breast.

Noah wastes no time wrapping his perfect lips around your clit and sucking harshly, and one of your hands immediately grips his hair as the other holds yourself steady. “You’re so wet for me princess.”

“Fuck, Noah,” you whimper as you rut your hips against his face, legs shaking. His talented tongue draws small circles on your clit and you grip his hair even harder, trying not to cum already. He can sense how close you are so he slips a long, tattooed finger in your pussy and curls just right, sending you over the edge. You moan his name so loudly, you wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the guys can hear you. He wraps an arm around your thigh so you keep your balance as he continues finger fucking you through your orgasm.

You regain your vision a minute later and Noah is in the process of removing all of his clothing, leaving him only wearing a gold chain around his neck. Your mouth waters looking over all of the ink that almost completely covers his perfect body. He walks back over to you and gently grabs your face, kissing you again. You can taste yourself on his mouth and the coil in your belly tightens again, thinking of what’s to come.

“You ready?” He asks gently, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit. You hum and lean your head against the shower wall again, reveling in the feeling.

“Use your words,” he halts his movements on your clit earning a groan in protest from you.

You choke out a quick “please” and he turns your body so you’re facing the shower wall, ass perked up as much as you can and one hand gripping the rail. He teases your entrance rubbing his cock up and down your folds before slowly easing into you with a groan.

The sounds of moaning and skin slapping together are the only things you can hear, the echoes bouncing off the walls of the open room. His pace quickens and he reaches a hand around your waist to rub your clit again. With one hand on the shower rail, you instinctively put your other hand over Noahs to feel his fingers playing with your clit.

The feeling of his cold chain against the top of your back along with his fingers and his cock, you know you can’t hold out much longer, overstimulation hitting you in the best way.

Suddenly the creak of the bathroom door rings out as Matt steps in, not anticipating what’s going on in the shower of the shared bathroom. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” can be heard before the door opens and closes once again. You aren’t sure if it’s because it’s been so long or if you’re both just really in the moment, but neither of you showed any signs of slowing down. Noah lets out a slight chuckle and continues his thrusts. You can feel him getting sloppier and his fingers losing the rhythm they carried and you can tell he’s close.

You push your ass up a little more and it gives his cock perfect access to your sweet spot, causing a second orgasm to rush through you, clouding your vision once again. Your cunt tightens around him and he let’s out a string of curses as he pulls out and cums on your ass just as you start coming down from your high.

“Holy shit,” Noah breathes out, eyes still closed.

When both of you finally catch your breath, you decide it’s probably a good time to shower. Much to your surprise, Noah cleans you up and even washes your hair for you before taking care of himself. Not much is said while you get cleaned up but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you mind.

“I do have to wonder why you decided to ask me. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad you did, but you haven’t shown any interest in me since we brought you here,” Noah finally breaks the silence as he pulls his plain black t shirt over his head.

You nibble on your lip for a second, not really having an answer. “I don’t actually have a good answer to that. Something in me just told me to go for it. There’s something about you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

He chuckles at your confession, turning to face you again. Instead of giving his own input, he just replies with, “ Well you finally got to meet Matt.”

Your face turns a bright red as he reminds you that you haven’t in fact, been introduced to Matt and his first impression of you is seeing you getting railed in the shower by one of his friends. “Oh fuck me,” is all you can say.

“Again already, princess?” He smiles a genuine smile and you could melt into a puddle right then and there. It’s hard to tell if you would have liked him if it wasn’t for the end of the world. You’ve always been more into guys who dress like they’re about to go to a business meeting, and this is for sure not him. But there’s just something about the way Noah carries himself that you can’t seem to stop thinking about, and the fact that he’s one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever laid eyes on. There’s something about a man who is so unapologetically themselves that’s such a huge turn on.

You choose to ignore his comment and decide now was the best time to introduce yourself to Matt before the liquor starts wearing off more than it already has. Maybe one more shot first?

Walking back up to the guys, all of their eyes land on you and Noah, each with a hidden smile on their faces, apart from Folio. You finally see Matt, who looks nearly the same as the rest of the guys; straight out of Hot Topic.

A blush returns to your cheeks as you try to hide your face with your long, wet hair.

“Don’t be shy now. I’ve already seen everything you have to offer,” a new voice sounds. You start to think maybe going outside in the middle of a zombie apocalypse would be better than this conversation. You look up, slightly moving your hair out of your face to see Matt with a huge smile on his face. “I’m Matt. You must be y/n I’m guessing.” You give a tight lipped smile in response.

Folio doesn’t look up from his drink during the entirety of the conversation, you notice. Jolly and Nicholas don’t say anything, but the looks on their faces tell you everything you need to know.

Noah walks to Matt and gives him a hug, asking him where he’s been, as if he didn’t just see him pounding into you relentlessly.

“Just needed to chill out for a few hours.I Thought I would come back and get a shower but it was occupied,” he lets out a laugh. At least he isn’t mad about it like you assumed he would be. You take your spot back at the long plastic table and chug the rest of your drink, trying to forget this ever happened. You pick up your cards and pretend to read them over while Noah and Matt converse about the days happenings.

“So,” Jolly starts. “You’ve met Matt now.” You look up from your cards to give Jolly a quick smile and hum lowly.

Folio clears his throat and stands up from the table, stumbling a little as he starts walking toward the furniture store. “I don’t think I can hang anymore, guys. I think I’ll just call it a night.”

Everyone says their goodnights to Folio before he retreats to his own bed.

“Is he okay?” You nudge Nicholas with your elbow to get his attention.

He looks at you in the middle of stacking the black cards together to put the game away. “Oh yeah he’s fine. He’s an early bird most of the time,” he shrugs it off.

You start helping Nick by grabbing all of the white cards you can see and stacking them together.

After everything is back in the box, everyone hangs out for another 30 minutes or so before it’s time for everyone to go to bed. You and Noah hang back for a minute at his request and your first thought is he’s about to tell you that should have never happened and he regrets it.

Instead, he pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips. “I think we should make this a thing,” he smiles slyly. You furrow your eyebrows and nod your head slowly. How could you possibly say no to the best sex you’ve ever had?

“I think we should. But I also think we shouldn’t continue if either of us starts catching feelings. This is the end of the world; I couldn’t let feelings get in the way of my safety and neither should you,” you point out.

He agrees wholeheartedly and both of you return to the bedroom for much needed rest, in your own separate beds of course.

Waking up before the other guys, you decide this is the best time to get a quick shower. You grab your clothes and a new towel and hit the shower, letting the hot water relax your tired muscles. You, Noah, Nicholas, and Matt are going by the cabin you were staying in to get the rest of your supplies today so you’re probably getting two showers today. You aren’t complaining, because GOD have you missed showers.

“There you are,” Noah smiles as you walk back into the bedroom. You give him a small smile in return and throw your hair up in a bun since you’ll be going out today.

“Do you know when we’re heading to the cabin?” You question right as Folio walks into the room.

He strides across the room to grab his fishing gear and mutters a quick “hey” before walking out.

“Uh it shouldn’t be too long. Matt and Nicholas are getting a few things ready for the road. I’ll go check in a second,” he walks closer to you and you freeze for a minute. He grabs a piece of hair you missed and wraps it around your bun, letting his hand linger on your cheek for a few seconds. Even the smallest touch was enough to make you shiver.

“Thanks,” you respond, blushing again. He walks away to see how Matt and Nicholas are doing, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s about an hour walk to the cabin you were staying in so you all packed plenty of supplies for the walk. Halfway there, you stumble onto a small horde, around thirty zombies. Thankfully, there are four of you so taking out thirty dead ones wouldn’t be too difficult. You notice one of them sneaking up behind Nicholas as he’s busy killing the ones in front of him, so you act quickly. Right before it’s about to bite him, you quickly finish off the one you were working on and rush to stab the monster in the head.

Nicholas turns swiftly, nodding a thank you for saving his life before getting back to finishing off the few in front of him. After killing all of the zombies and making sure there aren’t any strays, Nicholas pulls you in for a hug.

“Thank you for saving my ass back there. I owe you one,” he gushes.

You pull away and wipe your knife on the leg of your pants. “Don’t mention it. We really should start looking for a vehicle so we can worry less about this kind of thing.”

“Everyone okay?” Matt asks, checking for bites and scratches on his arms. Everyone checks themselves and after seeing that no one was hurt, continues on to the cabin.

You finally make it there after what feels like a year later. In a weird way, you kind of missed being there. Being alone wasn’t always the best but you didn’t have to worry about other living people and their feelings as well as your own. The makeshift bed you made is untouched and everything looks exactly the way you left it. Nicholas and Matt get to work gathering the remaining food, water, and medicine while you have your own mission.

You grab the baby blue blanket off of the bed admiring it for a minute. The once soft material has turned into a scratchy, coarse piece of fabric. It belonged to your dog, Taz, who you lost at the beginning of the apocalypse and it’s all you have left of him. Most people would probably not bother coming back for a silly little blanket but Taz was everything to you. He was all you really had for years so when you lost him, it turned your world upside down all over again.

Noah notices your red, watery eyes and walks up beside you putting his long arm around your shoulder. “You okay princess?”

You snap out of your thoughts and wipe your eyes quickly responding with “yeah, sorry.” He gets a feeling that you don’t really want to talk about it so he doesn’t push you any farther, just rubbing your shoulder with his tattooed hands.

Nicholas and Matt basically did all the work themselves while Noah was busy looking through the books on the old bookcase in case he found one he hasn’t read yet. They don’t really mind, afterall, free food and water so who can complain?

The walk back to the mall isn’t nearly as bad as before and for that, all four of you are grateful. Being covered in blood and guts isn’t exactly the way you like to spend your time but this is the world now. It’s better than being one of those things chewing on people like they’re nothing.

Back at the mall, Folio and Jolly have their catches of the day laid out on the ‘Chik-fil-a’ counter in the food court. They definitely had some luck out there because not only are there around 15 decently sized fish, there is also a deer they must have gotten to before the zombies did. Do any of these guys even know how to skin a deer? If anyone, you’d think it would be Folio since he seems to have the most knowledge in these types of things.

Staying at the cabin on your own for so long, you taught yourself how to skin smaller animals like rabbits and squirrels, but never game as big as deer.

Matt and Nicholas take turns high fiving Folio and Jolly, who look very pleased with themselves. You decide to take your second shower of the day to get the blood and dirt off of you, but not before Noah invites himself to shower with you.

“Room for one more?” He asks slyly with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Even covered head to toe in blood that isn’t his, he’s still so beautiful.

You nod and move over slightly so he can get into the shower with you and he immediately starts washing your back. You can’t help but wonder who will be the first to catch feelings with him doing sweet things for you mindlessly. Probably you.

After both of you are clear of any more blood on your bodies, you turn to face him to see him already looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. His smile is intoxicating and as much as you hate to admit it, you may have already started catching feelings in the short amount of time you’ve been around him. He leans down to kiss you in the gentlest way possible, making you weak in the knees. There isn’t any rush to this kiss unlike the one you shared the last time you were in this position. This one was slow and sweet. You could taste the faint mint from his toothpaste as he slipped his tongue into your mouth causing you to let out a low moan.

“We should probably let everyone else shower,” you state as soon as you pull away from his kiss. As much as you want him to throw you against the wall, you’re sure Nicholas and Matt are uncomfortable sitting around smelling like yesterday's ass.

“Jeez took you long enough,” Nicholas teases as you and Noah finally walk back out to the hangout area. “Matt was scared to go in there again.”

Noah laughs and playfully shoves Nicholas. “Don’t worry, it was just a shower. Conserving water,” he winks and turns to smile at you.

You walk over to where Folio is preparing the fish him and Jolly caught earlier. “Need some help?” You ask, startling him. “I’ve gotten pretty good at skinning smaller animals but it can’t be too different from a deer, right?”

“Sure,” he replies after a few seconds and smiles one of his toothy smiles you haven’t seen in a few days. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.”

anywayyy lmk what you think

love u❤️❤️

[yutaleks]

eren mentioned 👁️👁️🤲 psssspspsppspspspssp aleks…. let him linger for just a little longer…

Forest!!! while you’re here I’ll give you a little Eren blurb I wrote some time ago that I’ve never posted before. Just for you 🤲🏽

Eren trudges up the stairs outside of his home, his work bag slung over his shoulder, and a napping 6 year old perched in his arm. Her light brown hair–once tied in a cute ponytail by her father that morning, now limp with a hair tie hanging by a thread–brushes against Eren’s collar. Her little arms are wrapped around his neck, and he can feel the light rise and fall of her chest against his as she naps. He smells her familiar scent of lavender shampoo–the kind that you recommended to him some months ago–with just a hint of the smell of grass. She must’ve been rolling around in it at recess, he figures.

With his free arm he digs into his pocket for his keys. They jingle loudly, and he peers down at his daughter to see if the sound wakes her up. Not even when they make it to the front door, and he jams the key into the lock, does she stir. Once the door unlocks, he gives it a little shove, hand still gripping the door knob. He expects to walk into a darkened living room, like he always does.

Instead when he steps in, the lights are on inside the house.

With brows furrowed he steps out of his oxfords in the entryway. He readjusts his daughter in his arms so that he can take off the bag that’s hanging off his shoulder. While he sets the bag down, Eren looks around the living room. Nothing seems out of place. He runs a hand through the loose bangs that hang over his forehead, pushing them back with a sigh. He’s confused, especially when he hears the sounds of metal pans clattering coming from the kitchen.

He opens his mouth, right about to call out and ask who it is, when suddenly there’s a loud noise from the kitchen.

“Shit!”

Instantly Eren’s face relaxes at the sound, a smile spreading across his lips. He walks faster towards the kitchen, and in his haste his daughter starts to wake up. When Eren stands right at the entrance to the kitchen, he stops to watch the one-woman show (read: disaster) before him.

It’s you who’s snuck into his house, he realizes as he grins. Of course it would be you.

“Fuck you,” you curse under your breath as the red sauce splashes back at you, spattering red spots onto your face and your clothes. With the back of your hand, you wipe at the red sauce that stains your cheek. You’re already so annoyed, and the lasagna before you that refuses to cooperate is only making it worse.

“Arguing with the food again?” Eren asks, biting back a smirk as he leans against the door frame.

“Oh my god–Eren! Fuck!”

His voice nearly gives you a heart attack, you’re just so focused on building the layers of the dish that you hadn’t even noticed him come in. His eyes immediately go down to his daughter, who’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Don’t make me restart the swear jar,” he says, a hollow threat that sounds more like a tease.

“Sorry,” you apologize, though behind his daughter’s curious gaze Eren’s holding back a laugh.

He walks further into the kitchen with a soft smile on his face, exhaustion clear in his eyes. Today’s been a long day, and admittedly he wasn’t looking forward to coming home, but seeing you here always brightens his day.

“Is that lasagna?” The little girl perched in his arms, who mere seconds ago was asleep, asks excitedly.

“It’s a good attempt at lasagna,” Eren replies with a chuckle. “Though maybe you should’ve stuck to making it in the pan and not on your face.”

“Shush Jaeger,” you reply, spreading the ricotta cheese in what is the final layer of your masterpiece. “Talking tough now but you’ll be in heaven when you eat this.”

“I want some!” The excited six year old exclaims.

“Don’t worry Ymir, you’ll get as much as you want,” you say as you turn just enough to face her. You both share a smile and Eren once again thinks to himself how lucky he is to have you around, his closest friend.

When he sets Ymir down onto the ground and she runs over to her toys, Eren leans against the kitchen counter. He watches intently as you finish the final layer of the lasagna, garnishing it with what seems like an obscene amount of shredded cheese.

“So what’s all this?” Eren finally asks, gesturing with an open palm to the mess you’ve made on the countertop.

“Well when we spoke earlier on the phone you said you had that big meeting today.” He nods and you tack on with a shrug of your shoulders, “Figured you could use some help with dinner.”

“You’re amazing, did you know that?” He means it, genuinely—what would he do without you?

You laugh, “You only tell me every day. Though it doesn’t hurt to hear it more.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, leaning against the counter. Even with the exhaustion that settles into the curves of his face, you find his expression entirely charming. Handsome.

“I’ll make sure to tell you as often as you wanna hear it.”

[hajihiko]

I don’t use the word kin, but I do say I relate to characters. I believe it’s technically the same thing but idk kin just… bothers me? Fine for other people but not my cup of tea

oh yeah idc if other people use that I just don't

[weenhands]

this site is kinda hell

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[rowarn]

ENAMORED (m.)

soap mactavish / reader !

tags: established relationship, BIG dicked!soap, afab!gn!reader, virgin!soap, sub!reader

cw: loss of virginity, squirting, size difference, teasing, pet names, praise, wet&messy, missionary, mating press, cunnilingus, fingering, pussyjob, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

note: this is the fic from the pwp royale i posted recently! loss of virginity won so here's the result!!! MDNI.

; with a too-big-cock, he hasn't managed to lose his virginity yet. until he shares a sweet little moment with you, the love of his life ♡

5.7k words

Soap had been thinking about this for ages. He had been in positions like this before, without a doubt, with previous partners. 

But there was something deep inside him that was breathless over the fact that it was you situated so cute in his lap, dressed all cozy in some clothes you had left over at his place from a previous night you had spent with him. You two had been dating for some time now but he had done his best to avoid being in this predicament because he was worried it would end the same as it had with everyone else. 

Even though Soap was 28, charming and had a lot of luck scoring dates, he was still a virgin. It was the most embarrassing little fact about him. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course. In fact, all his teammates in 141 were positive he’d gotten laid more times than he could count. But bringing a pretty thing home from a bar always ended the same for him – with them scurrying out of his door with their clothes bundled in their arms the second he pulled his dick out. 

So to say Soap was nervous right about now was in understatement. 

You were so warm against him, smelled so lovely that it made his heart flutter in his chest. Everything about you was so intoxicating that he was terrified this was going to end the same way it always had with other partners – with you becoming intimidated and fleeing with your tail tucked between your legs.

He was so enamored by you that he didn’t think he would be able to cope if you walked out on him like everyone else. 

You pulled him out of his head when you cupped his stubbly cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His hands flexed against your hips, tugging you even closer on his lap. He was growing harder and harder underneath you and he silently prayed that you didn’t feel it. 

Your hands trailed down to his chest, pressing your palms flat against the firmness there as you deepened the kiss. You sighed sweetly into his mouth, dipping your tongue in to taste him as he eagerly kissed you back. His hands weren’t idle either, going from squeezing your hips to kneading your thighs, bared from your shorts.

Suddenly, he pulled back, eyeing the string of spit that connected your lips before smiling at the way you were panting from a kiss. 

“Can we do…more, Johnny?” you ask softly, rolling your thumb over the scar on his chin.

“Are you sure you want to?” he fires back, meeting your gaze under his lashes.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you smile, adjusting yourself in his lap and he has to fight to hold back the groan from how good the pressure feels even though he’s still confined to his jeans, “I love you. You love me. Of course I want you.”

The way you say it so simply and sweetly makes him smile. He suddenly takes hold of your chin and tugs you close so your forehead rests against his, “I’m not goin’ to lie, sweetheart. I…” he nervously cleared his throat, “I’m a big guy.”

You blink owlishly at him for a moment, “You mean like…”

Your hand slips further down his chest and he quickly intercepts it, taking your hand in his with a nod of his head. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth and he can see the way your pupils dilate. 

“Okay…” you whisper, “You can just…work me open, yeah?”

His lashes flutter at those words, a groan getting caught in his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, easily hoisting you up and tossing you onto the other end of the couch before crawling over you. He immediately begins kissing your neck and you eagerly let your head fall back so he can have more access. His chest is pressed against yours, pinning you down with his weight alone as his hands continue to caress your thighs which are splayed open around his hips. 

His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, throbbing with need when he realizes you've started trembling under such simple touches. You lay there so sweetly underneath him, arms splayed on either side of your head letting him touch you and see you however he wants. Pliant.

“So sweet…” he coos, muffled with his lips pressed against your pulse point. 

You sigh contentedly, heart hammering in your chest when his hands finally move north and start pushing your shirt up. Slowly, over your belly button, over your ribs, catching on the swell of your breasts before you lift your head and let him strip the material off. He tosses it somewhere in the living room but neither of you care where it lands. 

“Shite…” he groans when he leans back on his heels, eyes landing on your bare breasts, “You’re somethin’ special.”

Before you have the chance to offer anything in reply, he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. One hand supports his weight beside your body on the couch and the other carefully slips under the fabric of your panties.  You eagerly spread your legs even more, anticipating his touch where you need him most but he doesn’t make any further movements. 

His hand falls completely still, fingertips resting just above your clit, just the slightest twitch down and he would be touching the little bud. 

His tongue eagerly swipes over the pebbled bud of your nipple that’s trapped in his hot mouth. You let out low sighs of pleasure, mindlessly arching your hips up in hopes to get him to move that damned hand lower — but he refuses, intent on teasing you with its presence so close to where you needed him.

He's got you wound taut, tense and aching for him. He dips down and you think he's going to give you what you want, but instead he uses two fingers to peel your folds apart. You feel like the air gets punched out of your lungs, thighs threatening to twitch closed but are blocked by his hulking form in between them. You can hear the sound of your folds parting, wet and sticky and it makes his cock fucking throb. 

“You’re so wet, you hear that?” he teases, popping off your nipple with a crooked grin. 

“Shut up,” you intend for it to come out biting but it comes out weak and soft, which only makes his grin broaden. 

Your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling and leaking into your panties. You feel like you could cum if so much as a breeze brushed over your clit. You've never been pushed so close to the edge from someone teasing you like this. 

One of your hands finds purchase in his mohawk, tugging the short strands so he is forced to meet you in a heady kiss. You whimper into his mouth and his free hand cups and gropes your tits in his large hand, massaging the soft flesh as he eagerly kisses you back. As you kiss, you attempt to rut your hips up in hopes of getting him to slip between your folds and make you feel good, but it doesn’t work and he chuckles. It’s cute you think you can distract him like that. 

The kiss is messy and sloppy, strings of spit connecting your lips when you finally part to take a breath. You look up at him with a dazed, heady look to your eyes that has him pecking your lips once again before descending back to your breasts. You cry out in surprise when you feel the nip of his teeth against the bud. As he tortures you with his mouth, he takes the chance to tug your shorts down your legs. You eagerly lift your hips to help him rid your body of the offending clothing, tossing them to get lost somewhere alongside your shirt.

Once you’re bare, you let your legs butterfly open, giving him a full view of your completely bare body. 

You’re practically panting when his hand slinks down your body once again, parting your folds with that sticky sound that has heat flushing to your cheeks, much louder now that there’s no clothing blocking it. Soap’s eyes drop to your pussy, index and middle finger holding your labia apart so he can see how your clit throbs and your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling down to the couch. 

“So pretty,” he coos, wishing he could roll his thumb over that pretty little clit just to watch your body twitch from the pleasure but he’s on a miss.

He surges forward again to kiss you, soaking in your happy sigh at the little affection, but it doesn't last long before he's mouthing his way down your body — nipping and suckling at your skin as he makes his way further and further down. 

His large, callused hands grip under your knees and pin you embarrassingly wide open with your knees to the couch. He kisses up your inner thigh and over your pelvis, stopping to press his lips against your hip bones before his tongue dips down and swipes over one of your labia. 

Your taste lingers on his taste buds and he practically moans at the feeling. You gasp, hands flying to his mohawk when he gives the other side the same treatment, cleaning up your mess with his tongue. 

You desperately attempt to rut your hips up, whining with your need to feel his touch properly where you need him but he backs off and waits for you to sink back into the cushions in defeat before pressing a kiss above your clit. His pretty, blue eyes watch every pout and furrow of your brows that crosses your face from his teasing. 

He can tell you’re getting frustrated and needy – just the way he wants you. The fact you’re so pliant and at the mercy of whatever he’s willing to give you is intoxicating. You’re so sweet for him. 

It feels like hours that he torments you, kissing around your thighs and lapping over your folds but never giving you what you actually need. He continues to clean up any mess without actually touching where you desire him most, simply savoring your juices on his tongue. 

Your clit aches, twitching with need as it begs for just the slightest touch from him — something to put you out of your misery. 

“Johnny…” you pathetically whimper, fisting his t-shirt, tugging him closer in hopes of getting him to give you what you want.

His long lashes flutter as he looks at you, “What is it, sweet one? Something you want?” 

“Need,” you correct hastily with a tearful glare. He thinks it’s supposed to be intimidating but he only seems to find the display cute.

He laughs softly, a charming smile crossing his face as he looks completely endeared by you, “Need, huh? Are you always this needy?” 

“Only for you, Johnny!” you whimper, moving your grip on his shirt to his hair again, hoping it’ll give you more leverage but he doesn’t budge. 

He laughs softly, “That’s right, little one. Just for me.”

You feel so on edge, like he’s worked you up to an orgasm without ever actually touching you properly. He thumbs your folds apart, leaving the needy little bud open and exposed to his greedy gaze. You wish so badly he would just breathe against you so you could experience something more than this mind-numbing teasing your boyfriend has subjected you to. It’s pathetic, you realize, wishing for so much as a breath against your bud. But there’s just something about Johnny that always has you hanging on everything he does. You’re enamored, in love.

That thought has you whimpering, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

“So sweet,” he coos dismissively, smile only widening as you tearfully glare at him.

His gaze darkens at the sound of a sob tearing through your chest and he bites his lower lip when his cock fucking throbs. He didn’t really think he’d be the type to enjoy seeing his partner cry and he’s not even sure he would be into it if it was anyone but you, but here he was. 

Soap thinks you look so precious like this, defeated and waiting for his next move.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands suddenly, chastely kissing your navel when you finally meet his gaze, unfocused and tearful, “There you go, good. Don’t look away now, okay?”

You nod your head, finding yourself getting lost in his unwavering eye contact. His pretty blue eyes and long, soft eyelashes that you could simply marvel at for hours. He was so handsome and all yours and that alone made you even wetter. Your boyfriend was on top of you, giving his all in making you feel good. 

As you're lost in thought and his eyes, his fingers finally dip down to where you need him most, pressing the pads of his digits against your clit. The little bud is so hard and sensitive that the small amount of stimulation has you toppling over the edge immediately. 

Your eyes remain open and locked with Soaps as you cum with a weak cry of his name. His fingers gently circle your clit, sticky, wet circles over the bud to ease you through the high. 

When you finally slump against the couch, thighs twitching against his sides through the aftershocks, he pulls back. Your eyes flutter closed, panting from the exertion of your orgasm. You’re practically boneless as Soap suddenly moves you trembling legs over his shoulders. 

His gaze falls to your swollen, pulsing cunt. Your folds are covered in a slick film and he can still see the way your clit and hole throbs, drooling your cum messily with every clench. Your eyes flutter open, cheeks heating when you see how intently he’s staring at your pussy.

“Don’t stare…” you whine bashfully, voice dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Can’t help it,” he gives you a crooked grin, “You’re so pretty here.”

You whine at his response, kicking your foot against his back in retaliation.

Suddenly it's like all rational thought flies out of his head and he's pinning your knees to your chest. 

You gasp at the change in position, “Johnny!” 

He chuckles at the way you sound shy, as if he didn't just have you cumming underneath him a minute ago. 

The feeling of his breath against your sensitive folds is enough to make your thighs twitch in his grasp. He makes a show, when he finds you looking down at him through your lashes with your chest rising and falling from how hard you're breathing, of letting his tongue fall from his mouth. 

Slowly, he descends, sliding his tongue between your slick folds. You practically wail, your back bowing against the couch when his tongue swirls around your clit, suckling it into his mouth. Your head slams against the couch cushion as your eyes roll back in your head, your hands gripping at his mohawk as you wail his name. 

“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” you squeal, legs kicking and flailing at the feeling of him eagerly slurping at your clit.

He backs off for a moment, releasing your bud with a lewd pop. You're panting and trembling, your knees still pressed against your chest, open and vulnerable for him. Your precious cunt is now coating in a slick film of your own cum and his spit.

“Keep yourself open for me,” he commends with a sharp look that makes you immediately do as you’re told. Your trembling fingers grip under your knees, hugging them to your chest. 

He spreads your folds apart with his thumb before his mouth finds its place there again, eagerly slurping up your cunt with a moan. He desperately eats you, swirling his tongue over your clit and dipping it into your clenching cunt to taste your juices. He's messy and sloppy, drool and your cum dripping down his chin and neck.

You cry and tremble beneath the onslaught of his tongue, he introduces two fingers, swiping them against your drippy entrance. You barely even seem to notice, too distracted humping your clit against the flat of his tongue when he lays it flat out for you. 

“Oh, Johnny!” you cry out, toes curling in your fuzzy socks the closer you get to your second orgasm, “Don't stop! Please, don't stop, Johnny!” 

He moans against you, the sound and feeling of it sending you over the edge. When he feels your clit throb on his tongue, he finally slips those two fingers inside you. The feeling of suddenly being stretched and filled sends you flying even higher. Soap has to use his body to hold you down as you kick and squirm from the overstimulating pleasure of having his thick fingers crooking inside you, grinding against that gooey little spot. 

“Johnny-!” you cut yourself off with a deep, long moan as you messily squirt all over the front of his shirt. 

Johnny continues to grind the tips of his fingers into that tender little spot inside you until you simply can’t take it anymore and shove him off with a weak cry. Soap pops the cum covered fingers immediately into his mouth as he watches you twitch and tremble against the couch, tearfully staring up at him. 

“Too much, sweetheart?” he asks, once he’s cleaned his fingers off.

You nod, taking a deep breath, “I-I’ve never…” you trail off and he quirks a brow. 

“Never squirted?” he finishes and you nod, “Well, I’m honored then. I guess we’re even.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, finally uncurling yourself from your position with a weak grunt, opening your arms to pull him close to you, finding yourself needing his touch.

His cheeks heat up, realizing it’s time to finally tell you his little secret, “Well…it’s my first time.”

“Making someone squirt?” you offer him a soft smile but it quickly fades when he shakes his head.

“No, I mean…” he clears his throat, “I mean havin’ sex.”

Your eyes go wide, “Really? But you’re like…really good with your tongue.”

He chuckles softly, forehead falling against your chest, shaking his head, “No I’ve got a lot of experience in foreplay. It’s after that I’ve never gotten to.”

You sit up at that, shock apparent on your face, “You’re a virgin, Johnny?”

“Aye,” he solemnly nods, trying to hide the embarrassment that bubbles under the surface.

“But how?” you question, “You’ve dated a lot. You’re good looking and kind.”

He grins at your praise, “I told you, little one,” he sighs, figuring now would be a good time to properly warn you about what you’re getting into, “I’m a big guy. Most people get scared off.”

Your brows come together in confusion, “Really?”

He nods slowly, carefully watching your face for any signs of apprehension. But you only continue to look confused. 

“Will you show me?” you finally ask. 

“You want to see…?” he finds himself stumbling over your question, heart hammering in his chest when you eagerly nod your head.

Wordlessly he sits up on his knees, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the material and he does look big but you want to see him completely. 

He unzips his jeans and reaches inside, hissing at the feeling of his hand wrapped around his neglected length. He finally pulls his cock free, twitching at the feeling of the cool air against him. He’s been leaking precum profusely, incredibly turned on from making you cum twice. 

“Johnny…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes wide as you stare at his length wrapped in his fist, “Holy shit.”

“I told you,” he smiles crookedly but deep down he’s nervous. 

This is the moment that will make or break you. Either he finally gets to be with you, the person he wants to share his love with the most, or you give him that terrified look and go scampering away. 

You reach out and knock his hand away, replacing his grip with your own. His breathing stutters when you give him a few, slow strokes. Your hand is so much smaller than his, unable to touch your fingers around the girth of him. The sight has him biting back a moan because fuck you’re so much smaller than him.

“You’re going to have to really prepare me, Johnny,” you playfully glare at him from under your lashes. 

His brows shoot up in surprise, “You mean you…”

“I love you, Johnny,” you smile softly at him, “I want this with you. Just…take your time, okay?”

“Of course,” he swallows thickly, quickly batting your hand away and urging you to lay back once again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, “Let's go to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah we-we can do that,” he stumbles over his words foolishly, making his ears burn red in a way he hopes you don’t actually notice. 

After some stumbling and giggling, the two of you quickly find your way to his bedroom. After shutting the door, you crawl onto the bed, relaxing into the pillow, looking like his own little piece of heaven all naked on his sheets just for him. 

He strips himself where he stands at the foot of the bed, tossing his shirt into the hamper in the corner before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet. 

He’s on top of you before you know it, bringing you in for a kiss. As you eagerly spread your legs to accommodate his big frame, he reaches between your bodies and grips his cock again. Your entire body tenses up when you feel him pressing the tip against your folds.

“Johnny, no,” you whine, pressing against his chest, “Y-You’ll tear me open if you try to–”

“Not tryin’ to get it in, pretty baby,” he coos, “Jus’ trust me, yeah?”

You watch as he swipes the head through your folds, sliding the length between them, rutting his hips. You gasp as he grinds over your clit, making your whole body twitch from the stimulation. You’re still sensitive from the previous orgasms he had milked out of you. 

Before long, he pauses.

“Look at that,” he grins, “That’s how deep I’ll be.”

You feel your cunt clench pathetically at the sight of his length resting over your pelvis. You know that when you take him all the way, he’s going to be prodding painfully at your cervix. But you know you’re going to love every second of it. 

Not only is he long, his girth is amazing. You know it’s going to stretch you wide, you can practically feel the phantom burning feeling you know will accompany it. His cock is uncut, messily drooling all over your skin. The prettiest fucking cock you’ve ever seen and it makes your mouth water. 

“Think you can take it?” he teases, playfully tapping the heavy length against your clit. 

You whine and nod, “W-Want you to make me take it, Johnny.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” he chuckles softly, “Aye, we’ll make it fit, little one.”

Soap’s hand finds its way between your thighs again, two fingers prodding at your entrance as his other hand cups one of your breasts. You lay back in his pillows, staring up at him like he hung the moon and the stars as he stretches you open on those two digits. 

You’re pillowy soft and wet inside, pretty cunt making sticky clicking sounds as he fucks you with them. Your cum coats his skin and a creamy mess begins to form at the last knuckle when he works that tender little spot up top. 

Before long, he’s introducing a third finger. He slowly presses it in alongside the other two, stretching you open carefully and methodically until all three digits are pressed inside the tight clutch of your cunt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages, “Open up for me so I can give you my cock.”

You whine at that, “Want your cock, Johnny.”

He groans, pressing a kiss against your knee, “I know you do, sweet thing. Jus’ let me stretch you open for it, yeah?”

You nod and toss your head back, working your hips down against his fingers. He carefully fucks you with them, spreading them inside so you get used to the feeling of being stretched and filled for when the real thing is finally pressing inside. 

Fuck, the thought makes his cock ache. 

His thumb sneaks up and presses against your clit. The extra stimulation makes you clench around them like a vice and you moan so sweetly for him. He can’t wait to feel that around his heavy cock. 

“Johnny, please!” you cry, “I want you already.”

“Fuck, alright, sweetheart,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from inside you with a wet sound. 

He wraps those slick fingers around his length, smearing the mess across the soft skin. It’s embarrassingly desperate, the way he grips your hips and yanks you closer to him. You gasp at the forceful handling but quickly relax into the sheets when he leans down and kisses you again. 

As you’re occupied with his lips and tongue, he grips the base of his length and carefully begins to prod at your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he starts to press inside.

Just the tip of him is a lot to take and you can't help but wince when that fat head finally pops inside. Soap feels the way you jump and quickly pulls out, biting back a groan when he sees wet, sticky strings of your cum and his pre connecting his cock to your cunt.

He uses the head to circle your clit, making you sigh in pleasure before he’s pressing back inside. This time he, when the head pops inside, begins rolling your clit under his thumb to soothe the ache.

“Just relax,” he coos, slowly circling the bud as he sinks more and more of his length inside. 

The stretch stings and he fills you up more than you’ve ever experienced before. He feels so heavy and hard inside you and his finger on your clit makes you reflexively clench and spasm around him. He moans at the feeling, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he feels half his cock being hugged. 

Before long, he’s balls deep, deeper inside a cunt than he’s ever been in his life. Its euphoric for him. A painful ache settles in your stomach from how he’s prodding against your cervix. He stills, watching your furrowed brows as you get used to being stuffed full of his cock for the first time. 

It dawns on him suddenly that he’s lost his virginity. To you. He’s got his fat cock buried in the one person he adores more than anything on this Earth. 

He’s overcome with affection, surging forward to press his lips against yours. You whine when the angle change makes him press even deeper inside you but you kiss him back anyway. 

He pulls back slowly, “Just relax,” he assures you again, “That was a lot, huh? You took me so well, pretty.”

After a few moments under his careful caresses and kisses, you relax into the bed. Blinking blearily up at him, you flex your hips and stir his cock inside. You whimper at the feeling and he slowly pulls back so only half his length is left inside. 

“Pretty,” he mutters, “P-Pretty and fuckin’ wet.”

“Johnny…” you sigh sweetly, clutching at his sheets as he begins to fuck you in earnest. 

Your tits bounce in time to his thrusts and he can’t take his eyes off them. He’s still a little shell-shocked from having you speared on his heavy, aching cock. He can’t believe he’s got the sweetest thing creaming around him, crying his name. 

“Johnny!” you cry sharply, hands flying to cup your own tits. 

Your eyes are wide, almost like you’re shocked, “What is it, pretty?” he asks, panting.

He watches in wonder as you toss your head back, squealing and trembling. You’re cumming, he realizes. Squeezing and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

“Shite,” he moans, hands trembling as he grips your hips, helping you rut against him as you cum, “‘S it, ride it out for me. Cummin’ nice and hard, hm? Barely even did anything and you’re creamin’ all over me.”

You whimper, eyes rolling at his filthy words. You slowly sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh, heart racing as you stare up at him. Soap loves seeing you like this, covered in sweat and twitchy from how hard you came from nothing but his cock stuffed inside you. 

“More, please, Johnny,” you whine, locking your ankles around his back, locking him against you, “I want more. Please make me cum again.”

He scoffs in disbelief, pressing his hands on either side of your head on the bed, “You just came and you want more?”

“Yes, please?” you ask softly, batting your lashes at him. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, slowly grinding his hips against you, making sure his pelvis grinds against your clit, “I’ll give you whatever you want. This cock’s all yours now, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, “All mine, Johnny. ‘S all mine. You’re all mine. L-Love you so much.”

“Fuck!” he growls, fisting his sheets as he works his hips faster and faster against you, “Love you too. Love you, love you, love you.”

He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at his babbling. All he can do is work his hips against yours, listening to your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pretty pussy being fucked. 

Your back arches and you reach between your bodies to circle your clit with trembling fingers. His jaw drops at the sight. He never thought he would have the chance to see a sweet little thing like you working themself to orgasm on his cock like this before. 

“Sweet baby,” he whines, sounding broken and completely broken, burying his face in your neck, “You’re so wet. You’re makin’ such a mess around me. Pretty cunt’s so wet.”

You sob at that, eyes rolling as you toss your head back. You can feel another orgasm brewing, heating your skin and making you tremble underneath your boyfriend's massive body.

“Johnny, please!” you wail, feet kicking against his back.

“What? What do you need?” he pants, drooling against your skin from where his face is still buried.

“Please!” you cry again, pressing against his shoulders to push him back. 

He looks dazed, completely fucked out and stupid from having his cock fucked for the first time. You grab his hand and shove it between your thighs. He quickly picks up what you need and starts rubbing your clit.

“This what you needed?” he pants, “Needed me to play with this pretty clit so you can cum nice and hard again?”

You squeal, jaw falling open as you back bows off the bed. He moans at the feeling of you soaking him, gushing and squirting against his bare chest and all over his hand. His mouth practically waters at the thought of getting to taste you as you cum again.

“Already?” he gasps, “So fuckin’ sensitive, cummin’ so easily for me. Fuck, so good for me. I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You nod your head, still shaking from your orgasm, “F-Fill me up, Johnny. Please. Want you to cum inside!”

“Fuck, are you sure?” he gasps, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You nod your head, “Yes, need it, Johnny.”

He fists the sheets on either side of your head as his entire body begins to tremble. His hips lose their rhythm and with a few more, weak rabbiting thrusts, he’s cumming. He cries your name, rutting his hips against yours. The movement causes him to grind against your sensitive clit, making you whimper and twitch beneath him. He grinds painfully against your cervix from how deep he is but it’s worth it to see the pretty way he cums inside you. It's a hot, thick load that fills you up and oozes out the sides of his cock and drips down to the bed. 

Afterwards, there’s a stillness that falls over the two of you. The only sound you can hear is the faint hum of the TV in the living room and the heavy panting between the two of you. 

Soap can’t think of anything to say, all he can think is to lean down and press his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to him as you cling onto him, still trembling. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers, muffled against your lips because he’s not willing to pull away.

“Johnny,” you whimper, “I love you.”

He smiles crookedly, pecking your nose and forehead over and over again before you’re giggling and pushing him away. 

With his cock softened, he slowly and carefully pulls out of you, both of you wincing from how sensitive you are. Your thighs are still open and he watches as his cum oozes from your thoroughly abused cunt. His hand slides up your thigh, nearing your folds but you quickly slam your thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. 

He looks up to find you glaring at him, “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins crookedly, shrugging his shoulders, “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t fancy a go again?”

“After that?” you cry, throwing your head back to laugh, “I’ve never cum so much in my life, Johnny!”

“Ah, you really know how to boost a man’s ego,” he chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you. 

He pulls you close, tucking you against his side, “Hard to believe that was your first time.”

“Aye,” he hums, kissing your temple, stroking your back slowly, “I’m glad it was you.”

“I am too, Johnny,” you snuggle close to him, kissing his bare chest.

There’s a quiet that falls over the two of you. Your breathing slowly begins to even out and he quickly realizes that you’ve fallen asleep. He hugs you closer, protective instincts urging him to keep you safe while you’re well-fucked and vulnerable like this in his arms. 

His heart skips a beat when his gaze lands on his night table, remembering the ring he’s got hidden away within. He wonders when he’s going to grow the nerve to finally ask you to wear it. 

DO NOT REDISTRBUTE, TRANSLATE, OR MODIFY. DO NOT RECOMMEND ON TIKTOK.