#is he just inhaling them through the fabric??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wyvernest · 9 months

Text

mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

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

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner.

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold.

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you.

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately.

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back.

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight.

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster.

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.)

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his.

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers.

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties.

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust.

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly.

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts.

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin.

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.

Word Count: 4.6 k

Warnings:

The sun has just started to peek itself through the small gap in the blinds covering the window, illuminating the bedroom in enough light that it causes Simon to stir awake with the first signs of life as those brown eyes flutter a few times from the brightness until he comes back into consciousness. Rubbing his bare chest and scratching at the patch of hair on his lower abdomen as he rolls over onto his side to face the other body lying peacefully asleep, his breath hitches at the sight that he’s greeted with.

Your long eyelashes rest delicately against your cheek, your chest slowly rising and falling with your deep, calm inhales and exhales as you still drift mindlessly through your dreams. The covers that are pulled up to your breasts conceal your naked form lying just underneath and the way they cling to your form allows him to follow the contours of your body through the fabric. You are a fucking picture of peaceful beauty.

Damn, you are so perfect he cannot look away and suddenly there is a tenting forming beneath the covers still wrapped around his lower half. It’s not his fault; how is he supposed to keep himself restrained when this is what he gets to wake up to? An ache situates itself in his chest, a gnawing blooming in his stomach to caress all that flawlessness. It is a hunger that only grows stronger the more he gazes until he is compelled to get up.

There are only so many days left in the short bit of leave he has and he wants to make every single second count. That’s why you both find yourselves naked even as you sleep; he needs his body to memorize the way yours feels against his and he needs to fuck you whenever the moment strikes, so there is no sense in wasting any amount of time with superfluous things when you both are about to go months without seeing one another. And right now that is working to his benefit as he wants to shower you with some extra attention to start the day.

Just a taste won’t hurt, he thinks, knowing full well that once he starts there is no stopping. Just till she wakes up.

He moves out from the warmth at your side as carefully as he can to ensure that his movements don’t wake you, not yet. The blanket slips from his unclothed hips as he shifts up onto his knees and positions himself over you, his hands atop the mattress on either side of your body so that he can push himself down your sleeping form while his lips take advantage of all that uncovered skin. Feathery light kisses trail down across the supple flesh of your breasts and over your soft torso as his hot mouth presses delicately into you in adoration for all this beauty that he gets to have all to himself.

All these curves, all this smooth, voluptuous skin always ready for him to caress, it is enough to drive him insane.

Muscles ripple through his bare back as he continues down the line of your body, inching slowly so as not to miss any patch of flesh. He is careful not to drag his face too harshly as he goes along so that the stubble on his jaw won’t prick your skin, opting instead to pick his head up off you as he moves only to lower it back down at the next spot ready to receive his attention. Your skin is heated from being snuggled down in the bed and it invites him to nuzzle his nose into it as he goes.

Simon eventually reaches the edge of the covers that have fallen around your waist from him getting up and he has to lift them out of the way to reveal the rest of your gorgeous body to his yearning mouth. Rolling them back at a leisurely pace, he makes sure not to reveal too much so the cooler air outside of the blanket doesn’t have a chance to make you uncomfortable until the warmth from his lips can keep the skin flushed. Over the curve of your waist, your stomach, your hip bones he places his steamy kisses. It is when he gets to your belly button that the anticipation finally hits him that he is getting closer to his favorite spot: that beautiful place in between your thighs.

The mattress creaks under his weight as he arrives at the foot of the bed so that he can remove the covers and push them off your legs. He can feel his cock throb as he pulls them back and finds what he’s always pining for. A heavy exhale falls from his lips and his mouth begins to salivate as he catches that first glimpse of your legs laying splayed open and that sweet little pussy just there waiting for his mouth to embrace.

Simon can’t ever get his fill of it and God, he needs it so bad now that he sees it again. For a split second he thinks about making his movements more pronounced to wake you up, but a sudden intrusion of an idea makes him stop. You had mentioned recently that you were wanting to try something, to be woken up with his tongue lapping against your clit. What kind of man would he be if he never indulged his sweetheart’s fantasies? Today seems as good a day as any to make your dreams come true, not that he ever needs an excuse to get lost in all that goodness between your legs.

There are times when he is so ravenous for your cunt that nothing else will even come close to satisfying that beast inside him, but today he doesn’t want it to be about the harsh and rough… well, not yet; this morning is all about making you so delirious and overstimulated off his tongue only that you won’t be able to get out of bed at all and he can keep you all to himself for the entire fucking day.

Quietly Simon slides himself off the edge of the bed to situate himself kneeling on the carpet so that he can lay his torso on the mattress, giving him a better angle to be able to move in. Your legs are positioned open in such a way that from here he can easily slip his face up in between them and right against you, but he is in no rush. Ever so gently he pins more tender kisses along the soft, supple muscles of your inner thighs, his lips embracing your flesh with silent promises that everything he is fixing to do he is going to do for you only because you deserve it.

His pretty girl, his sweet thing, so perfectly made as if just for him; fuck, do you make him want to worship the ground you walk on.

His eyes catch the goosebumps forming under his breath along your body wherever he places his warm mouth and he cannot help but smile at your automatic physical reaction to him. Even in sleep you know his touch and respond to it.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers in his husky morning voice into your calf as he continues up the length of your leg. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so goddamn beautiful. I’m one lucky bastard and I ain’t eva’ gonna forget it.”

He continues on without hesitation as he slides all the way up until he is right at the threshold of those delicate petals that he wants his mouth on. A moist heat meets his lips as he leans in and places kiss after kiss to them; never has something felt so perfect pressed against him. If Simon could live between your legs permanently, they would never fucking find the man again.

One of those beefy arms he slips under your leg to prop it up and move it even further out of his way so that he has as much space to work as he needs. Restraining himself from going in fast and heavy isn’t easy, but what he wants is to keep his movements relaxed, not crazed and insatiable like on occasions when he’s had a bad day and just needs to smother against you. No, you deserve the full princess treatment from him and that is what you are going to get. Taking the opposite hand not around your thigh, he uses two of those long, thick fingers to delicately spread apart the lips to get at all that lays in waiting inside.

“There she is,” Simon sighs quietly as he immediately spots that sweet little bean that he desperately wants to suck until it’s swollen and throbbing and then even more until you are coming on his face.

He doesn’t go right for the kill first, instead building the anticipation of your body as he kisses that crease between your petals and your thigh, using his balmy breath to stimulate that sensitive area as he switches sides a few times until he feels you twitch and only then does he continue. Gathering up all the spit in his mouth he collects it on his tongue and presses it through your petals to coat the area until your body can take over. As he pushes that thick muscle into you he catches the sound of a quick rush of air escaping through your nose, followed by a sleepy sigh as you stir.

His movements are tender and intimate, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue and slowly using the pad to make love to your clit. You sigh again heavier this time as you begin to squirm in your sleep the more he strokes, your hips rocking faintly over his face as the sound of your fingers clawing at the fitted sheet is caught. Just a little more stimulation and you aren’t going to be able to stay asleep much longer.

Your quiet, breathy moans become more than whispers now and those amber eyes dart back up to your face over the curves of your body, desperate to watch the subtle changes that ripple across your features as he works at bringing you into consciousness by your pleasure alone so he can witness the very moment you wake.

There is a brightness on the other side of your shut eyelids as you slowly slip back into the realm of consciousness, the sound of your own muted groans filling the quiet around you along with something else you cannot quite distinguish and it feels like you are still dreaming. Then it hits you: there is a familiar glowing, warm sensation in the pit of your stomach that amplifies as you continue waking. Your eyes flutter open as the sensation is so intense that you can’t ignore it anymore and as you look around to gather your bearings you notice that there is a blonde-haired head rocking undisturbed between your thighs.

As you focus you realize that he is staring right back at you and the corners of his eyes crinkle as you feel his lips upturn against your petals; you know he’s pleased with himself at what he is doing. He doesn’t stop or try to speak, he only tightens his grip around your thigh that he has propped on his shoulder and continues to service your clit with his tongue while he presses his face in tighter so that the pressure adds to the stimulation.

The sensation is damn near overwhelming now and you realize that he must have been at this for a bit as it feels like you are about to come. Your head falls back heavy against the pillow as your eyes close to allow the feeling to wash over you completely, needy moans unable to be kept under control fill what was once the silence in the room.

That’s when you feel his lips lock around your clit before he sucks down on it and using the very tip of his tongue he twirls around the bud while his fingers come back into play. He finds your entrances and gently shoves his middle finger inside to rub across your G spot and instantly you can feel your calm shatter into pieces. A euphoric spasm shoots through your entire body, making your limbs start to tingle, and you know by the feeling that it is only a few more moments that remain until you are going to spill.

“Simon, shit…gonna come,” you whimper his name as you grind your head into the pillow. To have so much ecstasy hit you all at once overwhelms you with its intensity and leaves you unable to function. You are about to come, that is all your half-asleep brain can process.

With a few more strokes of that strong muscle and a few more flicks of his finger resting inside you, the pressure building at the base of your spine and the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach reach their threshold and you spill over the edge with a strong jolt that causes your back to arch up off the bed as you cry out. The force of it makes you buck against Simon’s face, but he is ready and digs his fingers in full force until his hold on you is so secure that he isn’t going anywhere as you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Fuck, what a way to start the day.

In your sleepy, mind-numbed state, you forget just how voracious your military man can be and mistakenly believe that at any moment he is going to emerge from your thighs and come lay beside you…except instead of letting you go, he doesn’t stop. Simon keeps at it, only slowing his pace down to almost nothing, but not pulling away from you. Instead he sneaks quick breaths by tilting his head to the side so that it exposes his nose to the air before he buries it right back in against your now dripping slit.

“Simon, baby,” you call groggily down to him as you try to wriggle free of his grasp; it’s the only thing you can do to persuade him to release you, “you can take it easy. It’s still early, we got all day.”

Just a second, you need to take a break only so long as to catch your breath.

Simon hears your pleas, but it falls on deaf ears as he does not even budge. His plan is already set in motion and you are not nearly exhausted enough for him to even think about stopping yet. This day needs to stay in the forefront of your mind for at least a few weeks after he leaves and be the specific memory that fuels your desperate masterbating while he’s gone and not able to fix the ache.

“Shh…” he hushes mutedly against you. “I only have a few more days with ya and I wanna give ya my full attention. And this mornin’ I wanna take care of ya. I’m gonna take care a ya so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Is there a way to say no to that? If there is, you can’t find it and don’t want to. Even through the overly sensitive nature of your body right now, you don’t want to deny him a thing, not when he says it like that. And to be honest now that he has you at his mercy, his tongue still stroking along the line of your slit before coming back up to circle the nub, you are starting to want it again too.

Tiny beads of sweat like mist cover over your body as the feeling of Simon’s arms slithering up your torso are felt running through the perspiration, greedy hands searching for your chest without being able to see. Grabbing onto as much of your supple breasts as can fit in his large palms he pinches the nipples and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger to make your heated body burn until you whine out loud as they stiffen at his touch.

“Shi-i-it, Simon,” you say, your speech starting to slur together as the mindless haze floods your thoughts from the activity at your chest that radiates in waves of arousal you can feel throb in your clit. Keep sucking, keep playing with my tits, don’t stop, your mind screams.

Everything outside this is like a distant memory; your body is floating and your mind drunk as you exist only in a world made of pure ecstasy. Your hand reaches down around his arms across your torso to the back of his head where you can press and push him in tighter to your pussy and you hear Simon hum a deep, contented sigh at the feeling of you forcing him to suffocate even more.

Tha’s it baby, drown me, he thinks to himself as some feral part of his brain gets activated.

There is movement in the mattress that shakes your body up and down as Simon begins to grind his aching cock against it, trying to use the friction to relieve some of the pressure in the swollen tip. Hearing your beautiful music while being smothered in your pussy is like a religious experience that is akin to having heaven on earth.

Your glistening thighs are vibrating around Simon's ears and as each flick of his tongue finds its mark you are brought closer to climaxing again as you spiral into sensory overload. Over and over he engages with your core, his mouth filling with your sweet juices, the tip of his tongue playing in such a way it feels like he is signing his name on his favorite part of you.

His name is falling from your lips in pathetic whines now as the only word you can recall in the fog of euphoria that you are trapped in. Every inch of you is wrapped in a cold sweat that feels like you’re about to burst into flames, the muscles in your belly contract rigid as the pressure in your spine increases with every stroke.

Right there, it’s right there. You have to come to release the tension.

And that tightness finally snaps just like that and you come again, this time harsher and more intense than the last. Your thighs lock tightly around Simon’s head as you writhe wildly, your body struggling to take all that immense euphoria that fills up every inch of you.

Lengthy seconds pass as you come back down from that high while the sounds of your whimpers act as a gauge to the man crushed in your leg lock how long he will have left to stay suffocating. Once you settle back down again into the pillows and release his head from your hold does he actually emerge fully to sit up for the first time since he went down.

Twice is enough, right? For anyone else it would be, but for Simon you know the man is still craving more. He wipes away the accumulation of cum and spit glinting in the morning light off the hairs on his chin onto the sheet he has picked up, a contented grin filling his beautifully stark features as he sets the damp fabric aside and stalks back up onto the bed like a lion ready to pounce. Stray kisses embrace your lower abdomen as he sets himself into position kneeling between your legs.

“Ya ready for more a’ me, baby?” he asks, though not waiting long enough for an answer before he is gripping into your hips to pull your body down over him until your butt rests on top of his thighs.

You shake your head back and forth. “Too much, t-too much,” you plead, but that isn’t going to do anything and you know it. He is ravenous.

Simon licks his raw, swollen lips. “But you’re takin’ it all so fuckin’ well. Your legs aren’t even shakin’ that bad yet, sweetheart. Said I was gonna take care ‘a ya good and I think that means ya need more.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry at the thought of going again. “I can’t…I can’t…” you continue, the back of your head digging into the pillow. His fingers run along your inner thighs to send shockwaves of overwhelming ecstasy shooting up your spine to the top of your head and your mouth struggles to form the rest of the words. “Just give me a minute. Please, Si. I don’t think I can go anymore.”

“Yes ya can, beautiful; you’re not done,” he grunts with a sharp inhale as he takes your legs in his grip and lifts them up so that he can rest your calves over his shoulders in a way that will strap you to him. Looking down at you through the gap in your legs he flashes a toothy, mischievous grin that has you shivering with anticipation as the heat from his breath rolls over your stomach. “Come on, sweetheart, I know ya ‘ave a little more in ya. You’re gonna take it all for me, yeah? I want ya ta fuckin’ soak me.”

You’re screwed.

Nodding your head in agreement, he immediately leans his face in until his nose can nuzzle against that overstimulated button and your back harshly arches right off the mattress, hands gripping with iron strength into the bundled up sheets you’ve gathered in your fists. Those long, rough fingers holding up your sides drive deeper into your hips so that you can’t slip away from his face while you buck roughly as the movements of his tongue settle back into a steady rhythm again.

So velvety soft, so warm, so moist, it makes his engorged cock throb hard and can feel it prod into your butt. He is overtaken by a desperate, burning need that floods his veins like wildfire; he wants to bury his face even deeper into you as if he is trying to fuse himself with your body. That feeling in him is unleashed in all its fury and he laps at your cunt faster and harder with each passing minute and your already weakened body is overwhelmed.

“Fuckin’ breathe, sweet thing,” he says in a deep, desperate growl, ripping his face from within you for only long enough to speak the order, as he looks down to see the mixture of pain and pleasure ripple through your brow before he is right back in.

Hot tears are stinging at the rims of your eyes now as your overly sensitive clit is stimulated again, collecting until they finally break over the edge to stream out from the corners and down over your cheeks. Simon stares at them glinting in crystalline drops as they catch the light from the window before they disappear and gather on the pillow behind your head and goddamn are they so beautiful they nearly stop his heart.

This is it, this is the one that will do you in and his mission will finally be accomplished. He is pushing your body to its limit of what it can handle and you take it all so gorgeously. To see his sweet thing so out of her goddamn mind is something he hopes will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his miserable life.

The heels of your feet dig into the sides of his bare torso until his ribs are stinging under the pinpointed pressure. You don’t know if you have another one in you, but just as the thought burrows into your intoxicated mind you can already feel that gathering warmth in the lower part of your abdomen…except… Something is happening, that feeling of orgasmic pleasure bubbling up in your core is similar, but different.

“Do ya want me ta stop?” he asks with his mouth full, prompted at the feeling.

You whimper pathetically through the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes; as overwhelming as it is, there is no way in hell you can let him stop now. “No,” you say pitifully as you try to push his head back down tighter against you, “don’t, don’t. Please…oh fuck, fuck!!”

“Good girl,” he growls as he dives right back in like he hasn’t already had you twice now.

It’s too much, the pressure is overwhelmingly too intense. A deep sense of release more extreme than any orgasm you’ve ever experienced leads to a gushing sensation from between your legs and you throw your head back as you squeal loud as ever as it just keeps coming. Your body shakes and twitches as everything you have is released onto his face for the last time.

“There ya go,” he praises in between breaths as he strokes you through it, stopping once you lay limply in his grip. “Ride it out for me.”

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, Simon lowers you back down from his face and notices that his lap is wet and there is a markedly large wet stain soaking into the sheet under you both now. His face is just as coated and Simon is quick to realize what has happened.

You can barely move at this point, but still turn your face back towards him to be met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes as he wipes at the moisture covering face to clean it.

“Goddamn,” he says with a grin as he emerges from the same sheet he used before, “my pretty girl gettin’ so worked up she fuckin’ squirts on my face. Ya do know how ta fuckin’ treat me right, baby.”

You’ve never experienced anything quite like it before and are surprised that you are even able to do it in the first place, but if anyone could make you do it, it would be him. For a split second you feel a little self-conscious at this new development, but the way that Simon looks at you as if you have just hung the stars makes you giggle from the combination of nerves and adrenaline and settle back down.

He crawls back up the bed and drops down exhausted, but completely satisfied beside you and once he settles he reaches out to pull you into his steamy, heated embrace, skin to skin against his chest. His hand cradles the back of your head as he simply gazes into your eyes until your breathing slows and only then does he finally go in to kiss the last part of you he has left to claim.

His lips meet yours softly, but with the entirety of his passion for you. This is his little slice of paradise that he cannot help but feel lucky to have. Out of all the shit he’s had to deal with in his life, he found you and that means something to him. That’s why things like this he will never mind doing, not for you. Not if it’s to keep you satisfied.

“Ya know, ya make it so fuckin’ hard for me ta leave,” Simon sighs quietly against your lips as the backs of his coarse fingers caress the delicate skin of your cheek in featherlike strokes. “I gotta make it just as hard for ya. Cause I’m gonna miss ya like hell. Still got two days left; gonna make ‘em count, sweetheart.”

Oh, he will… he definitely will. He always does.

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ridingthatd · 5 months

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𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

choso, nanami, toji, itadori, etc...

contains: fem!reader, rough sex, teasing, dirty talk, multiple positions, masturbation, sub! , squirting, cumming through pants, etc...

choso kamo:

choso who would already be panting. out breath as you place a small kiss on his lips, his eyes hazily looking at you begging for more of your heated touches that causes his cock to stiffen in his pants. giving a full outline of his huge twitching cock that was resting on his thighs almost reaching his knees. it drives you mad how innocent his eyes were staring at your lips, wanting more, innocently not knowing what to do while he holds such a weapon between his legs.

"yes baby just like this open your mouth for me" you warm breath fan against his wet puffy lips- red from how long you have spent sucking on them, biting them between your teeth. choso stare at your lips hungrily as he slowly parts his lips, waiting for your next move. his breath hitch as you close the distance between you again- but this time something warm and wet slides through his lips, entering his mouth.

his eyes rolls at the sensation, at the same time you roll your tongue against his. sloppily sucking his tongue into your mouth. mixing your spit with his. it's your turn to gasp as choso whimpers before he shoves his whole body weight into yours. drool slips past your lips, and choso doesn't hesitate as he licks it up with his tongue before he slips his tongue back in. messily stroking his tongue against yours.

he looked like a dog in heat, his spit was everywhere mixing with yours. he was devouring your mouth like you just gave him his favorite treat. you moan into his mouth as you feel him rotting his fat cock against your thighs, before you feel his cock twitching and a warm wet liquid spurt into the fabric of his pants.

choso was whining into your lips, but he doesn't stop suckling. not even when his body trembls against yours from the sudden orgasm.

nanami kento:

nanami roughly place you on his lap as you make your way toward his desk. seductively yet teasingly swaying your hips. you knew these past few days nanami has been pant up because of work so you're here to make him feel better. you can feel how greedy he was from the way his large hands were rooming every inch of your body, sliding under the dress you were wearing and gripping your perky ass under your panties.

he places his nose in the crock of your neck. inhaling your scent in causing him to growl lowly. you can already feel his hard cock against your thighs. throbbing as you gently run your fingers through his blonde locks. messaging his sculp and placing kissing now and then. nanami finally raise his head from your neck and hungrily stare at you, wanting nothing more then to devour you right here.

"fuck i want to eat your wet pussy baby" he grumbles against your lips, as his fingers make their way to your cunt. his whole palm surrounding it. "can you please let me eat it?" he breathsly mutters, before he capture your lips in to his, groaning at the taste of you. he's been craving to have you like this. to feel your body heat on his.

it all seems to overwhelm him. your wet tongue messily sliding against his. your drool leaving your lips and landing on his. your thighs grinding against his leaking cock. your hot breath mixing with his. it all seems to set him off. because the next thing you knew.

nanami breaks off the kiss, throwing his head back against his chair. whimpering as you feel his cock throb, his fingers digging in into your thighs. your eyes trail down his pants. a growing wet spot now visible on it. he looks up at you, panting and speechless, confused expression on his face because this has never happened to him and he didn’t even know it was possible.

toji fushiguru:

"did ya miss me?" toji whispers into the shell of your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth to suckle on. you whimper had his gut tightening in arousal. a sigh escaped your lips as you gave him more access to kiss down your jaw and neck.

"mhm, it was lonely without you," a shiver crawls up your spine at toji's big hands caressing you. he licks up your neck, feeling a familiar bulge at your backside.

"I had to listen to you play with that sweet cunt through im not gonna wait no more" he grunts into your ear. back in that motel he had stroked his cock alongside your moans, filling his ears with the sounds of your wet pussy. you were so needy and slutty that night, whining filth into the phone while he was cities away.

toji roughly grabs your face and slam his lips into yours not giving you any time to complain. he growls into your mouth as you gently start suckling on his tongue, he breaks off the kiss leaving a string of spit connecting both of your tongues.

his body shakes heatness filling every inch of him. he couldn't help the whine that left him as his sensitive cock start twitching against his boxer. his balls swollen ready to empty any moment.

you stare at him confused as he hides his flushed face into your neck. "fuck baby the things that you do to me" he mutters waiting for his cock to calm down after the embarrassing orgasm he had.

itadori yuji:

itadori never did this before. of course he had a lot of heated moment with you inside your bed of his bed. but he never did anything outside. in public to be more specific. because your cute little boyfriend can't handle such thing, you would give him an innocent kiss on his neck and his cock would already be ragging ready to fuck you.

you would press your lips against his ear wanting to whisper something to him in class and he would already be biting on his lips holding back in a whimper as your warm breath tickles his sensitive ear. and the list goes on, something as simple as holding his hand in public would have him flushed and whinning about going back to your dorm for him to have your sweet pussy against him.

and today wasn't any difference. you were at your boyfriend basketball match. trying to support him and hype him up. and of course after the match he wins you sneak into his changing room to give him a little gift and congrats him.

but as soon as you enter his locker, itadori was all over you. pinning you against the locker just to shove his tongue directly into your mouth. luckily it was just you and him. the room was filled with the sloppy sounds that you're kissing made. it seems to turn you on because you found yourself placing your hand on his visible hard on.

but as soon as your hand make connect with his cock through the fabric of his shorts. itadori trembles. and you feel something squirting against the fabric. but that doesn't stop itadori from grabbing both of your thighs and holding your weight up.

walking over to the bench where he lays down and place your pussy directly on his face after all he needed some water after playing basketball.

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sweetiecutie · 6 months

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Hii! New to your blog and it’s so pretty and entertaining!I love your writing!

Do you think you can write for Konig with breast play and maybe some clinginess ? 🤍

Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, smut, kinda domestic and fluff(?), tit sucking, König is in love w/ you<3

Every single movie night with your boyfriend surely ended up the same way - with König’s head buried underneath your baggy t-shirt, hot mouth latched onto soft pudge of your tits while that restless tongue of his circled and licked and teased your pebbled nipple, one huge calloused hand was busy fondling your other breast, making sure that both of them were getting same amount of attention.

Oh how smooth he is as well! It always starts with König resting one of his hands on your tummy, rough fingertips tracing intricate shapes on your skin, making you all putty and pliant in his loving arms. And the next thing you know is that his mouth scatters wet kisses all over your sternum, movie long forgotten as his whole attention is now shifted to your boobs, caressing the absolute softness of your body, inhaling lungfuls of your scent. But he just loves you so much! Poor thing wants to be as close to you as it’s humanly possible - god, König would gladly crawl under your very skin and live there.

You heard him exhale noisily through his nose, hot air brushing against your torso, König’s unfairly long eyelashes fluttered, tickling bare skin of your chest. You tightened your embrace around male’s broad shoulders, cuddling him closer to yourself and you could swear that you heard König purr for a short moment.

- You getting sleepy? - you murmured quietly, placing a kiss on top of your boyfriend’s head, separated by thin layer of your t-shirt. He just hummed shortly in response, ever so slightly sinking his teeth into your soft tit - not painful at all, just giving you an affectionate little nibble. You rubbed your thighs slightly, sweet arousal pooling in your panties already, leaving a small dark patch on soft cotton fabric.

König’s hips rutted against the curve of your thigh, humping his semi-hard cock against you. Even despite being aroused, neither of you felt like actually having sex - maybe in the morning, after you both had your precious sleep; and if you happened to wake up earlier than König - you’d gladly bring him out of his dreams with your hot mouth wrapped around his throbbing shaft. But for now just lying like that, all cuddled up and cozy, safe in each other’s arms - it was enough.

So just like that, you two were soon fast asleep, tv buzzing on the background quietly, filling the space of your bedroom with soothing noise and subtle blueish light - your personal heaven.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, give writers some love! Requests are open<3

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fayes-fics · 29 days

Text

Mirror, Mirror

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: When Benedict's wife tries on his clothes, things happen...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, cross-dressing, clothing kink, light biting, breast play, a smidge of intercrural sex, very mild exhibitionism, mirror sex, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Request fill for @d-caryophyllus (HERE) about Benedict being aroused by his wife dressing up in his clothing. I hope this fits what you were hoping for, my dear. Thanks as ever to @colettebronte for the beta read. Yes, the title is a nod to Season 3, lol. Err, enjoy! <3

It’s early in the morning on a mundane Thursday when a somewhat daring idea forms in your mind.

Fresh out of your morning bath, you dismiss your maid quietly when usually she would assist you with dressing for the day. As the double doors click closed discreetly behind her, you glance through the open archway into your bedroom; heavy curtains still drawn there, obscuring the sunlight. In the darkness, you can just decipher the outline of your husband sleeping soundly after a late night of carousing with his brothers.

With a little secret smile, you decide that, yes, now is the perfect time. He is asleep, and you have a few hours to spare until your first social engagement - a ladies' luncheon - so why not use the time to satisfy your curiosity?

You stride to your husband's side of the dressing room, opening his wardrobe doors and running your fingers over the items within—a symphony of wools, silks and cotton, all luxurious to the touch. While he is arguably one of the more flamboyantly dressed men of the Ton, with eye-catching jewel-toned waistcoats and colourful cravats, the basics of his outfit are mostly the same every time: dark trousers and a white shirt. A large part of you is envious of that easier choice. Sometimes, it feels like a veritable minefield being a woman during the social season, the looming threat of an unintended fashion faux pas simply by wearing the wrong colour to the wrong event.

Upon a chair, you spy the outfit he discarded when he came home in the early hours, not yet tidied away by your staff. You decide this shall be your choice, a frisson that they are already worn.

Dropping your bathrobe from your shoulders, you grab the pair of his trousers and pull them on. The finely woven wool feels plush on your skin, and there is an undeniable novelty in having fabric between your thighs. They are, however, almost comically long for you, and you have to bend to roll them up a few times around your ankles. Bemused, you briefly catch sight of your reflection in the full-length dressing room mirror, topless in oversized trousers.

You snatch his white shirt and pull it on, pausing to tug the ruffled lapels up to your face and inhale deeply, enjoying the flood of scent there. His woodsy citrus cologne, yes, but also that undercurrent that is all him. That tang you cannot help but bury your face into, be it upon his pillow when he is away or his body while you cling to him, moving together in ecstasy.

You fasten a few buttons, then tuck the shirt into the trousers and loop the braces hanging loose around your hips up onto your shoulders, once again inspecting your reflection in the mirror with a wry smile, twisting this way and that, admiring how different you look dressed in his clothing.

“Wife, what are you doing?”

You almost jump out of your skin as that velvet tone, slightly roughened by sleep, calls out from across the room. You twist to see Benedict leaning casually upon the archway into the dressing room, shooting you a look that is pure menacing intrigue while looking like sin himself—all riotous bedhead, and, as your eyes slip further down, gloriously naked. It makes you swallow hard.

“I… I was trying on your clothes,” you stumble sheepishly, a blush creeping over your cheeks being caught doing something perhaps rather bizarre.

“Any reason?” he queries, bemused, that crooked smile claiming his features.

“They just seem so much more practical and comfortable—especially trousers. I would like to wear such things…” you confess, turning back to the mirror to appraise your appearance again, watching him prowl towards you in the reflection. “Are… are you vexed with me, husband? For taking such liberties?” Your words petering out, mildly abashed.

A large, warm hand wraps around your shoulder, yanking you back almost roughly, making you gasp as your shoulder blades collide with his chest.

“The precise opposite,” he rumbles, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, a sudden burning intensity that makes your lungs feel tight.

Long fingers spider down his brocade brace, draped down your chest, lingering where the strap rests over your nipple, swiping his thumb in a deliberate tease, his face triumphant as you swoon back into him from just this simple touch.

“My clothes look much better upon you than me,” he opines duskily, his lips tracing your temple as his fingertips push the brace aside to capture your nipple through the thin cotton shirt, making you inhale sharply. “Perhaps we should attend a party with you dressed like this?”

“That would be a scandal!”

There is a vault in your stomach at the idea of attending a social event dressed in his clothes, even as you melt under his questing touch.

“Not in the more… bohemian… circles that I know of…” he contends; his breath is a warm gust in your ear as his other hand does the same, fondling both nipples now.

He waits until you meet his gaze in the mirror again, then lowers his lips to your neck and bites gently. His incisors a faint scrape, immediately soothed by a wide, wet lathe of his tongue. A little crest of victory as something sizeable stirs against the cleft of your bottom.

“If I were dressed as you, then what would you wear, husband?”

“Whatever you would like, my darling,” he offers between soft, damp kisses, a tingle running up your neck from his lips to the top of your scalp. “I could wear your clothing should you wish it. Or perhaps just your corset and underwear?” He nuzzles into you, taking a deep breath. “Our little secret…”

Something about his tone, the images he concocts, makes your blood run warm, your hand reaching up and diving into his luscious hair, tugging gently upon his roots so again he feels compelled to use his teeth, a groan bubbling up from within as he does. With a flick of his wrists, the braces fall from your shoulders, and he cups your breasts through his thin cotton shirt. It makes you sigh his name, asking for more, arousal coursing thickly through your veins—a yen to be taken right away.

“The thought arouses you, does it not?” he correctly surmises, trailing his touch down over the shirt, brushing your ribs and belly to the fastening on the trousers, making short work of the buttons.

You nod demurely, biting your lip as you watch his dextrous hands in the mirror, his arms encircling you; it is almost as if he is removing them from himself. The air feels heady as he pushes the loosened fabric from around your frame, and it hits the rug with an audible thump.

Standing before him in just his ruffled white shirt with only a few buttons fastened, you feel his weighted stare in the mirror, lingering on the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs peeking out between the shirt sides.

“I shall prefer you keep this on…” he asserts, popping open a button over your chest so the fabric opens enough for him to slide a hand inside, tweaking your nipple and pulling you back into his frame, rutting his now solid cock against your bottom.

You turn your head to press your lips to his, imploring for more of his touch in a fervent whisper before seeking a kiss. His mouth is hot on yours, rolling his tongue with yours, endless caresses of your breasts as you burn so hot you rub your thighs together in delicious anticipation of more, already more than ready for him, your clit pulsing with each tease of his tongue.

“Here?”

You know what he is asking—if you wish to have sex right where you stand, in front of your dressing mirror, his shirt loose around your body, him naked behind you.

“Yes. Yes please…” you murmur into his mouth, rolling your body against him, telegraphing unmistakable need.

“The window is open,” he points out with a smirk, nodding towards a high window that allows in light to the dressing room but affords you not to be seen; it is open this morning to let in the summer breeze. “What if we are heard?”

“I care not,” you confess, exhaling jaggedly, knowing he likes you in this state, desperate and debauched, uncaring if you may be overheard in your pursuit of pleasure.

Rubbing yourself upon him akin to a feline in heat, moving so his cock passes teasingly between your thighs now as you writhe. He groans and tells you not to stop, hissing his approval. So you squeeze your legs together tightly, allowing him to rut between them, the pass of his cock glancing maddeningly over your engorged clit.

His touch becomes heavier, hands mapping your body as his hips surge, and you see the red, weeping tip of his cock emerging and disappearing in the mirror, an intoxicating sight. You moan lightly with every pass, a tantalising swipe, not enough to bring you real pleasure, just notching your want higher.

He finally takes pity upon you, angling his hips differently and driving into you; you, moaning at the invasion so deep and encompassing, rocked up onto your tiptoes. Every time he has entered your body, it's always the same: a force that steals your breath and makes your eyes roll. His hands are a firm grip around your waist as he withdraws slowly back, then surges in again, capturing your earlobe in his teeth as he does.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, you idly wonder how many other wives are watching themselves being fucked by a handsome husband like this; a bright weekday morning, birdsong wafting in on the scented breeze, body wrapped only in his shirt. You suspect none are quite so lucky.

You moan his name and arch back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck and watching yourself being taken, relying on him to keep your stance steady as he starts to fuck into you in earnest, large hands sliding up to cup your breasts, engulfing them in his warm palms.

Unable to stop the noises you make, each pass hitting all the spots inside that make your toes curl into the thick pile of the rug beneath your feet, your pussy clenching around his invasion, making him growl and move faster, taking you harsher, an onslaught that is as pleasurable as it is powerful.

His mouth is a breathy litany of praise into your cheekbone, your eyes fluttering closed to focus on the carnal moment - the sweat, the skin, the ragged breaths, the meeting of your bodies so primal and glorious, but he has other ideas.

“Look at yourself,” he purrs dulcetly, your eyes reopening to do as he asks, to watch this unrestrained moment of passion, to see the little marks blooming on your body from where his fingers dig into your flesh as he pounds into you now, a flourish of colour on your neck from his thorough attention.

You plead for more throatily, pushing back as best you can against his thrusts, wanting him to make you scream, uncaring of any audience inside or outside your townhouse, only craving the sweet, blissful release he always provides.

Abruptly, he wrenches open the shirt you wear, one button pinging forward and tinking against the mirror before skittering across the floor, your naked body framed by his crisp white shirt, the ruffled lapels tickling the sides of your breasts, catching sight of his handsome face in the mirror contorted in a passionate tempest.

Then one hand slides down your front, you feeling it rippling in your belly and seeing it in your reflection before you until those fingers slide between your legs and hook over your clit with a force that steals the air from your lungs, a sharp stab of pleasure that makes your knees buckle, him pausing in his motions briefly to brace your weight, keep you upright.

Then it is a blur as he restarts his motion, his fingers dance on your swollen pearl, slipping silkily over his touch as he grunts encouragements. It feels like you are circling for so long, so close to something mind-blowing, but then he flicks harshly with his fingernail and bites your neck, and you are hurtling. Everything is loud and quiet at once, no doubt your voice calling his name as you tumble over the edge, clenching hard around him as your whole body shatters and rebuilds in a blissful puzzle. Dimly, as you float, you feel his entire body tense, and with a roar, he follows you over, a warmth blooming inside you as he reaches completion.

There are a few moments of panted breaths as you both recover from the intensity before he spins you around and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you back to bed. There, he lays you down gently and proceeds to turn you into a molten, quivering pile, mapping your body with his lips and fingers until you are begging for him again, which he more than obliges. So much so you are almost late for your social engagement.

If there are a few derogatory looks as you swan into the ladies' luncheon with a blissful smile and a burgeoning mark on your neck from your husband's amorous intentions, well, so be it. You wouldn't change it for the world.

And it is also most definitely not the last time you dress up in his clothes…

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #1k notes #2k notes

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. a woman in uniform.

about. satoru let’s you try his uniform on in the bedroom and loses his fucking mind. not even the strongest sorcerer can resist a woman in uniform.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, power play, pussy jobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), clothed sex, blind folds, some slight sub/dom dynamics, fem!reader. i wrote this with my clit tbh.

i think that gojo goes feral for you wearing his uniform. the whole get up, the blind fold and the jujutsu tech jacket. he’ll try to fight it, the feeling of power slipping away, as you crawl up the bed and between his thighs — your tongue dragging over your lips.

“oh, you shakin’ satoru?” he can see the excitement dancing around in your eyes even through the fabric covering them. he can sense the flare in your energy as you loom over him, ranking your nails down creamy washboard abs while his infinity fizzles away. “poor you. it’s not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?”

if satoru really wanted to, he would flip the situation in an instant — have you pinned to the bed with your clothes askew and your mouth hanging open in breathy whines as you beg for him to touch you. but he doesn’t. he can’t. you have so much power over him when you’re dressed like that and you act like you’re the strongest one in the room. you both know that he has the power to end your free rein over his body.

he is the strongest after all.

your mouth is quick to follow your nails, teeth and tongue trailing a wet path from gojo’s prominent collar bones, between his firm pecs and down his tense stomach. you suck hickies into the bone of his slender hips, shades of mauve and navy-ish blue blooming against pale skin like adding water colours to a blank canvas. satoru inhales sharply, losing control of his invisible barrier just so he can savour the feeling of you ravishing his body with nips and sucks and kisses.

you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“lift your hips, satoru, let me see what you’ve got under all this,” you coo sweetly and it’s as if you’re drizzling honey in his ears. the white haired man follows your command like it’s the law, instinctively bucking up and away from the bed so you can pull down his boxers. “how sweet, you’re so hard.” satoru’s cock springs free from its restraints, sticky and bright red at the tip, pulsing and thick at the shaft. when you touch him and take hold of his length in your tiny hand, kitten licking the entirety of him while you look up at him hungrily through your blindfold… the man is sure he might die. you could kill him like this, with his infinity down…and you’re fully aware of it.

teasingly, you ease his cockhead past the seam of your kiss swollen lips and let it nudge the soft epithelium on the inside of your cheek — lubing him up, getting him ready for more of your torture. “should i suck you off? or should i ride you?” you manage, even though your mouth is full of dick…the next, your nose is buried in a trail of soft white pubic hair.

“don’t do that… please…” satoru whines, chest flushed and heaving, brilliant blue eyes boring deep into your soul. his fists form balls at the sides of his shaky legs, he could reach out and touch you — coax you into giving him more. it’s not like he has any restraints on…except for the metaphorical ones of your will and your control. you let go of him with a lewd pop, a trail of your saliva mixed with milky precum tying you to his sensitive erection. “f-fuck…”

cocking your head to the side, you use a soiled thumb and forefinger to lift the black hand over one of your dangerously pretty and mirth-filled eyes. “do what?” you respond with an inquisitive purr, licking your lips and moaning at the taste of the six eyes on them.

“s-shit,” satoru curses, blood curdling and boiling hot lust spreading through all four of his limbs at the sight. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me…don’t act like you don’t know how feral i am for you…” saliva pools on the pallets of his tongue, slipping in between the sorcerer’s words as you move like a vixen in the woods above him — sliding yourself into gojo’s lap to position yourself perfectly above his aching cock. “don’t—“

gojo chokes on a moan as you begin circling your hips, plush and puffy pussy lips sucking in the length of his cock whilst it lays flat against his tummy. if he focuses his mind enough, pushes through the dark veil of lust you’ve pulled over his mind that works in overdrive, he can just about see his bulbous, leaky tip peeking out from underneath the folds of his dark uniform — the uniform that’s draped so perfectly over the curve of your mouth-watering body. a deep groan anchors itself in gojo’s chest like the roots of a sturdy oak tree and his hands leap up from the bedsheets to grip your peachy ass barely hidden by his clothes.

“don’t this, don’t that,” you hum condescendingly, as you alternate the movement of your hips — dragging them back and forth, back and forth over your lover’s pathetically wet dick. you make sure to clench your slick hole every time it meets his tip, glazing him in a small stream of your arousal. “don’t you know how to shut up ‘n take it, satoru?”

the dominance in your voice has the white haired man in shambles, twitching beneath the weight of your body on his. for christs sake, he’s the strongest, he brings curses and sorcerer alike to their knees just by mention of his name. so why is he so weakened by the sight of you above him? by the sight of you in his clothes, grinding sloppily on his wet cock? gojo doesn’t want infinity projecting him, not when he occasionally slips inside of your welcoming, tight cunt when you thrust yourself down on him.

“g-god…baby, please!” he hiccups, fighting the urge to force you down onto him fully — bully his way into your squishy insides. satoru could do anything he wanted to you, in a single moment he could have you sniffling against the sheets and crying as much as your cunt does…but the way you rein him in just by wearing his clothes stops him.

“what’s the matter, handsome? you cryin’?”

at your teasing, the cream that oozes from his sensitive tip paints your clit adds to your gathering arousal as it soaks through satoru’s uniform. nastily, he doesn’t think he’ll wash it, he wants the memories of tonight to stay with him forever. he wants to remember how you took over him and took his every capability in using his power — reducing the satoru gojo to a pussy drunk fool.

the scent of your sex is the only way he can think to immortalise this moment.

“i can… i can take it. give it t’me, want everythin’ you’ve got,” satoru simpers eagerly over the lewd, sticky pap, pap, pap of your sexes meeting in a salacious bump and grind. he has no idea where to look — intimidated by the control that oozes off of you, the control that he gives you. if he stares at your bouncing breasts beneath his jujutsu tech jacket or your clenching cunt for too long, he might just bust all over you and his inform before he even has the chance to be inside of you.

light laughter escapes you at gojo’s babyish bleats and whimpers — so you lift the blindfold once more, lips spreading into a slow and sexy smirk, much like the kind he would tease you with. “i don’t think you can handle my everything, baby.”

and you’d be right. not even the strongest sorcerer in japan could handle his woman in his uniform.

#tteokdoroki #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

Text

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

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

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foranidalas · 4 months

Text

jj the type to high five you or somethin’ while hes balls deep

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

he’s got a knack for sweet talking your panties off— especially after a long day of mucking around with john b and pope, restless and full of energy and needing to bury himself as deep as he can into that sweet pussy of yours.

it’ll start with a slow kiss and a cheeky, drawn out, “hiiiii, princess”, then he’ll guide you towards the couch, lips still half-attached somewhere along your neck, making you giggle as his mumbles of “missed you so much”’s and “need you, please”’s vibrate against the soft skin of your collarbone.

then, you’re on his lap, his tongue shoved down your throat (because he’s just sooo gross n’ cant contain himself), and his fingertips sneak their way under the frilly material of your tank top.

“you’re so perfect, babydoll, so so perfect,” he manages through a sharp inhale, reluctant to pull away from your soft lips and the sweetness of your mouth, “can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“no, ‘m not” you combat him, frowning slightly against his lips. you were none the wiser to his advances, but how could you be? you were hardly one to deny the boy, much less after a long day in the sun. and you were too happy, having missed him all day, to deny him, anyways. so when his fingers finally fully slide under your shirt, not even hesitating as he pulls the thin fabric over your head, you dont relent. he attacks your hardened nipples with a pleased moan, toying them between his teeth and conveniently ignoring the hiss that escapes you, too lost in his own head.

“fuck, yes you are, mama.” it’s so pathetically easy for him to get to you, and before you know it he’s easing his cock into you slowly, inch by inch, cooing and shushing your pained whines and moans. he knows he’s big, but he’s selfish, and he gets off just at the thought you taking him all, no matter how hard it may be for you.

“‘s too— ngh— ‘s too much, j!” you mewl, and he tuts at you, nodding with a frown as a form of acknowledgment, feigning sympathy for you, when in truth he’s so close to blowing his load inside you because you’re so warm and wet and tight and every movement makes you clench deliciously around his length.

“shh, i know, princess. just hold out a lil’ longer, ‘know you can take it.”

soon enough, he shifts your legs up a bit, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your thighs before he bottoms out completely, earning a long, loud moan from you. he grins, satisfied with himself. subconsciously, his arm raises in front of yours, “see! you did it! up top, baby.”

you manage to roll your eyes, swatting his hand away and closing your legs around the small of his back, “jus’ fuck me already, jayj.”

“alright, alright. gonna give it to you so good, pretty girl.”

#εïз jj maybank prompt !#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj maybank prompt

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bluejeanstrash · 2 months

Text

rule no. 1

summary: you have a no-contact rule going with your ex, choi seungcheol, but fortunately unfortunately for you, he’s not really the type to follow them.

tags: ex! seungcheol x reader, seungcheol’s kind of toxic and doesn’t know how to let go, tit sucking (both cheol and reader), piv sex, protected sex, then unprotected sex (stay safe out there), pet names (daddy, good girl), cheol is written based off EXACTLY how he looks in these pictures | wc: 2.7k

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

8:11 PM

[choi seungcheol] hey

[you] what

[choi seungcheol] can we meet today?

[you] i don’t think that’s a good idea

[choi seungcheol] just to talk. nothing else. i swear.

[you] dude, what are you doing? you know we’re supposed to be going no contact. plus, it’s raining

[choi seungcheol] i’ll come to you

[choi seungcheol] and don't call me dude ever again or i'll seriously kill myself

[you] NO. do not come here. it’s late. let’s talk tomorrow okay?

11:17 PM

[choi seungcheol] i’m downstairs

[you] seungcheol..

[choi seungcheol] you want me to leave? i drove all this way though?

[you] fine.

[you] just talking.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

his shock red hair. that’s the first thing you notice after opening the door, followed by just how good he looks with it. stop.

seungcheol walks straight in, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and dropping them in that little bowl on your shoe cabinet. then he looks at you. no, he checks you out, his eyes slowly sliding up your body to see what you’re wearing.

god, he has no self control. you knew he’d do that, which is why you’d worn your frumpiest PJs. a clear visual indication that nothing was going to happen tonight.

‘just talking’ you reiterate, drawing an imaginary line on the floor with your foot.

seungcheol laughs, extending his arm, signaling you to walk ahead and lead the way. the thing is, he wants to check your ass out. though you may think this is your frumpiest pair, there’s something in the material which makes it cling to your cheeks, making them look extra juicy.

seungcheol follows behind you, maintaining the “line” until you pause abruptly and he takes a step too close. just like that, he’s already crossed it, and then, he’s already kissing you, already taking off his glasses, already tossing his beanie aside, already grabbing your ass, already carrying you to the bedroom.

‘t-this is a bad idea’ you stutter, trying to find some of that self-control you keep asking him to show.

‘i know. so bad’ he breathes into the curve of your neck, sucking on the skin hungrily until it breaks. ex-seungcheol was obsessed with leaving marks of himself on you — hickeys, bites, hand prints.

he stumbles into the bedroom, leaving the lights off, and sets you down on the edge of the bed. no, you can't be doing this again.

‘seungcheol, i really don’t think-’

‘shh, don’t say anything, just kiss me. look at me' he grabs your chin, angling your face up ‘kiss me’ he says like it’s just that simple. seungcheol snakes his long tongue into your mouth, kissing you, his hands busy unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down just enough to let his cock breathe. as you kiss, he lays you down on the bed, driving a knee in between your legs to spread them apart.

‘do you still like it when i do this?’ he asks, as if there’s any answer apart from fuck yes, and presses his knee to your core, grinding hard, sending pulses of pleasure straight through you. you answer with an involuntary moan, stifling it just in time so he doesn't hear.

you see, seungcheol doesn't need an answer from you. he can already guess from your erect nipples which are poking through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, asking to be sucked on. who's he to deny them that? so, he pushes your t-shirt up, above your tits, grabbing and pressing them together, and buries his face into the valley of your breasts.

‘fuck’ he inhales ‘missed this’

ex-seungcheol was all about missing you — missed your smell, missed this pussy, missed your pretty little mouth, missed you. you know seungcheol. you know once he latches onto your tits, he's not leaving till you both have finished. so, you make a last-ditch attempt.

‘you know that article i sent you?’ he cups a breast in each hand, rolling, teasing, and tugging your nipples in between his fingers.

‘it-’ god, that feels good ‘it says the best way for us to do this is to go no-contact. really’

‘yeah?' you nod, surprised he's even listening.

‘fuck that article’ and with that he takes you in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola before latching his soft lips onto your hard nipples. fine, just one last time then, you pacify yourself and let go. you sink into the feeling of your breasts being sucked on, while your fingers sink into his thick hair, tugging on tufts of red.

‘the red looks fucking hot, by the way’ your compliment sandwiched in between soft moans. seungcheol pulls off your breast, looking up at you, a sudden hunger in his eyes.

ex-seungcheol loves compliments. loves them. — compliment his face, his hair, his built, and definitely compliment his cock. he needs to be desired by his exes.

he leans back, ripping his overshirt and t-shirt off, his hair falling wildly over his face. seungcheol runs both his hands through his locks, slicking his hair back. ‘take your clothes off’ he’s got a little gruff in his voice ‘now’

you undress hastily, and it’s not until you see a cocky grin spread across his face, you realise what he’s noticed.

‘just talking, huh?’

you’re wearing those panties — the ‘pull aside pair’ as he called it. seungcheol loved these on you, it was his favourite because firstly, they just about covered your cunt and secondly, they would ride right up your ass giving him the best view. you and him both knew that if you’re going to wear these panties, he’s going to fuck you with them on.

of course you’d prepped incase he did come over, which had happened one too many times before, but the optics of this really don’t help your no-contact agenda.

‘let’s talk then’ he pulls his jeans and boxers off, his cock springing out. yummy.

‘why don’t we talk about how you’re wearing these, hhmn?’ he cocks an eyebrow, snapping the band of your underwear hard ‘you know what happens when you wear these’ you can’t count the number of times he’s cum on your ass while you were in them.

he pulls your panties to the side, and there, another surprise. ‘oh, fuck me’ he groans needily. not only have you shaved down there, but you’ve trimmed your hair just the way he likes it.

‘fucking hell’ seungcheol curses again, licking and sticking a finger inside you, feeling your wet warmth pull his finger right in. ‘or no, let’s talk about how i can already fit one. no, two. oh? three?’ yes, three.

‘three of my fingers inside your pussy so easily’ he slides them in, all three coming out with a glossy sheen. and then, in a sickeningly sensual move, his runs his flat tongue over all three, licking them clean.

‘you taste like you need a dick inside you’ seungcheol grabs his, slapping it hard against his cupped palm. it’s like every thought in your mind turns into mush at the sound, and suddenly you’re just a hole. an empty hole.

‘cheollie’ you shouldn’t be calling him that ‘please put your big fat dick inside me. i need you so bad, cheollie’ you know exactly what to say to seungcheol to make him tick. ex or not.

he groans, pulling down a pillow and placing it under your lap to lift your hips. then he positions himself, lining himself up to your entrance.

‘wait’ you pause, much to his dicks disappointment, to grab a condom from the bedside table, your body twisting on its side. fuck, that ass looks good, seungcheol thinks, giving it a tight slap. ‘mmm’ you bite your lip, looking back at him.

‘again, daddy’ he slaps it even harder, the force of his palm making ripples on your skin. he looks at you now, so full of lust, and he can’t remember why he ever let you go. stupid fucking decision.

‘be a good girl and put it on for me’ it was one those odd things that really turned him on. he watches now as you rip the condom wrapper with your teeth, slowly rolling down its slippery edges onto his fat dick.

‘now come to daddy’ you lay back down as he grabs your legs and slides you towards him, a little squeal spilling out of you.

‘tell me what you want’

‘i want your fat dick inside my tight wet pussy’

‘that’s my girl’ he hooks two fingers under the ribbed fabric of your panties and pulls them aside, sliding his tip up and down your slick folds a few times before pushing just his fat mushroom head in. ‘fuck’ you both curse at the same time, and in the same breath as he penetrates you little by little until he’s all the way in.

‘shit, missed this pussy so much’ and you don’t say it out loud, but as he starts thrusting you’re reminded of just how much you missed his cock. no amount of vibrators and dildos could do for you what seungcheol is doing right now. it’s like he’s been able to scratch an itch deep, deep inside you. literally.

seungcheol repositions himself, leaning a little lower, angling his strokes a little higher, his cock teasing the roof of your pussy. once he’s satisfied with how he’s buried inside you, he slides his big hands up your arms before gripping your wrists tightly, shackling them in his palms, and slams down, pinning you onto the bed and fucking you.

‘oh fuck, yes’ you moan, in that nasal little way you do, which he finds stupidly hot.

‘that’s what daddy likes to hear’ he grins, his tongue touching his canines.

speaking of stupidly hot, you can’t help but notice how good he looks on top of you. has he gotten bigger? looks like it. his chest seems to have doubled, looking bigger, firmer, and frankly, more suckable. has he gotten hotter? definitely. maybe it's an ex thing or maybe it’s the red hair. god bless his hairdresser.

you’re a little dazed honestly, by his buff(er) built, especially the silver cross necklace that’s hanging off his thick neck, swinging above your face with every thrust.

‘like what you see?' he raises his eyebrow, catching you staring, and in response you bite on the dangling silver and pull him down towards you. you take his tongue into your mouth, swapping spit like a couple of teenagers.

now closer to you, you get a whiff of the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes coming off him. you wonder where he was before this, and who got to see him looking this fine. there’s a hot sting of jealousy that cools when his chain skims across your breast, the cold metal making your nipples hard in an instant. seungcheol gets distracted by your tits once again, pushing them together and holding on as he fucks you.

‘love your tits’

‘love yours’ oh, they’ve definitely gotten bigger, you think, cupping one in your hand and circling your thumb over his nipple.

‘fuck yes, suck on it’ he bends, and you take him in your mouth, sucking on his tits, flicking his hard nub with your wet tongue.

‘yes, that’s it, good girl’ he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your face into his chest. seungcheol loved getting his nipples stimulated, and you feel the pleasure you're giving him pound straight back into you.

‘fucking love your pussy’

‘mmm, love your fat cock in my pussy’

‘love-’ the words are at the tip of his tongue, but before he says the stupid thing he’s not supposed to say, you kiss him, clenching your cunt so tightly and abruptly that it knocks the strength out his arms for a split second.

‘fuck, that feels amazing’ he groans ‘love your pussy so much. it’s made just for me’

‘just mine to fuck, only mine’ his possessiveness — one of the reasons it didn’t work, but so sexy in this moment.

‘yeah?’ you know what he’s really asking. he wants to know if you’ve fucked anyone else in your weeks apart, if there’s a legitimate reason for that condom separating the both of you or if its a formality. he needs to know.

ex-seungcheol is greedy — he reminded you of a bratty child at times. it was not his toy anymore but he refused to let anyone else play with it. mine!

‘only yours’ you say, and take it a step further, whispering into his ear ‘i’m only yours so take the condom off and fuck me raw’

the no-contact rule dies a violent death as he pulls out, yanking off the condom and sliding his fat, veiny, throbbing cock back inside you in what seems like less than a second.

‘fuck’ the sensation of your raw slippery cunt in contrast with how tight you’re clenching around his dick makes him curse. you wrap your legs around his waist, digging the heels of your foot into his back to push him deeper inside you.

‘y-yes, i can feel you so deep’ you breathe, two of your fingers sliding down to rub your swollen clit in sloppy circles.

‘god i love it when you play with your pussy with my dick deep inside you’ he’s fucking you so forcefully now that the slap of his skin against yours is all that can be heard.

your arch your back, closing your eyes and focusing hard on all the ways you’re being stimulated — your fingertips on your clit, the tip of his penis pressing against your walls, and his heavy balls slapping against your asshole — all the sensations twisting into a knot in your stomach.

‘you’re there, right there. do it’ he guides you ‘be a good girl and cum for me now’ his words are all you need as the knot tightens and then unravels, the orgasm taking over you from your head to your toes. it’s an addictive high, one that you’ve desperately missed, and it leaves you shaking and stuttering under him.

‘yes, there you go, there it is. fuck’ he pulls out his cock halfway, reeling at the sight of your creamy white cum coating it ‘look at that. oh you’re such a good girl for creaming all over daddy’s dick’

you breathe a satisfied breath, feeling your cunt continue to clench involuntarily at his praise, his pace suddenly picking up.

‘squeeze around my dick just like that’ he grabs both your legs, holding them together by the ankle and turns your body so you’re laying on your side, your legs folded at your knees. your pussy is so tight in this position, and your ass looks extra fat. ‘fucking hot’ he praises, moaning as you squeeze so tight around him, over and over. he knows he’s about to blow.

‘cum on my ass, daddy’ it’s tradition at this point. seungcheol pulls out, perfectly positioning himself over your ass and frantically jerks off, the squelch of his strokes filling the room. he grabs a handful in his other hand, squeezing hard. ouch. that’s going to leave a mark.

‘cum for me’ you sing seductively, his breath catching in his throat. ‘cover me in your cum, daddy. i’m all yours to cum on. i’m only yours’ you remind, and that pushes him right over the edge as he cums with a loud long grunt, shooting his thick, warm, milky load all over your cheeks. and god, there’s so so much of it.

‘holy shit. how long have you been storing that?’ you scoop some up with your fingers, giving it a taste ‘mmm, yum’

honestly, seungcheol’s a little surprised by his load too, shaking his head and laughing softly as you review his cum. ‘wait, let me just get the, where is that thing?’

he picks up his crumpled overshirt, a balenciaga shirt mind you, off the floor and cleans the cum off you, then wipes his own dick down.

‘i can’t believe you still do that’

‘do what?’

‘use your expensive ass clothes to wipe cum like they’re disposable tissues or something’

he shrugs ‘they may as well be for me’

you roll your eyes at that, starting to remember reasons as to why he’s your ex again.

‘oh, by the way’ seungcheol rolls up the cum rag shirt before chucking it back onto the floor.

‘were you seriously trying to bring up an article on how to break up while i was sucking on your tits?’

you chuckle cutely ‘yeah, i was actually. but fuck that article, right?’

‘yeah’ he nods, pouting in agreement ‘fuck that article’ he breaks into a huge smile, looking at you fondly as you both crack up, and finds himself asking the question he always does after one these nights — why did you both break up again?

#scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic

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alltheirdamn · 3 months

Text

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

PART 2

Summary: After a summer away, you decide to pay a visit to your favorite mechanic. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: Pre-outbreak (AU), mechanic!joel, car sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, light nipple play, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (darlin', babydoll, cowboy), cock riding, rough sex, creampie, joel once again being irresistible and disgustingly sweet, light sprinkle of fluff, porn with no plot (kinda) A/N: I have zero self-restraint and couldn't stop thinking about mechanic!joel soo... you could say, it was so nice she had to come twice ;)

PART 1 | Masterlist | Ko-fi

It wasn’t like you were actually planning on pulling off the highway to head toward that mechanic shop… except you totally were. Summer came and went, and after a few months spent in Tallahassee, it was time to go home. You weren’t in a rush this time, though, so you could afford a quick pit stop at a small mechanic shop. Nothing needed to be fixed in your car, but maybe you’d pop a screw loose just for the hell of it.

Pulling into the familiar garage, your heart thumped in your ears as you threw the car in park and nearly ran inside. The waiting room was disappointingly empty minus a handsome man standing behind the counter…one that wasn’t Joel.

His black curls were slicked back, and with just a white tank top and flannel on, you could tell he was built just like Joel. At your sudden entrance, he glanced your way, giving the cigarette in his hand a quick flick over the ashtray on the counter he leaned on.

“Can I help you with somethin’, miss?” He asked. He had that same drawl in his voice as Joel did.

Taming down your flyaways from the humidity, you walked over to the counter with a friendly smile. You didn’t miss how his eyes did a once-over on your body.

“I was just coming through town, thought I’d stop in to say hi to Joel,” you explained.

He took another drag of his cigarette, the cherry burning at the bottom. After a long inhale, he puffed out an air of smoke, filling the space with that stinging smell of nicotine. You weren’t completely opposed to the smell, and you most definitely appreciated him blowing it to the side so that it didn’t creep up into your nose.

“Joel’s just up at the mini-mart grabbin’ some beers. M’sure he’ll be back soon,” he shrugged. “I’m Tommy by the way, his brother.”

He extended his free hand, and you met him halfway to give him a friendly handshake, introducing yourself as well. Tommy donned that same lopsided grin as Joel; it must be that Southern charm and hospitality.

“So,” he drawled. “How y’know my brother?”

You shifted your weight between legs, trying to come up with some stupid lie to explain how you did know him. Short answer: he fixed your car. Long answer: he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

“I, uh, came through town a few months ago to get my car fixed, and—.”

“Hey, Tommy! Come help me with the beers, man!” A voice shouted from the side door.

Tommy gave you an apologetic grin, rounding the corner to meet his brother outside. You leaned against the counter, drumming your fingers against it as you waited for them to reemerge. Tommy was walking back through the door moments later, a six-pack of beers in hand and Joel in tow.

“C’mon man, I told you no smokin’ in the damn shop,” Joel grumbled, smacking the back of Tommy’s head.

Tommy only laughed at his brother's annoyance, walking around the counter to give Joel a clear view of you standing there. As his eyes set on you, Joel stopped in his tracks, a wild grin splitting across his face.

“Well, would y’look at that,” he beamed. “If it ain’t my favorite customer.”

A warmth crept up your skin, your cheeks blushing at his words. He approached you, leaning against the counter to mimic your stance. He still wore that worn-down black t-shirt, the fabric thinned out and stretching over his muscles. You wondered how long those scratches stayed on the skin of his back after you both…

“Ohhhh,” Tommy interrupted, forcing your eyes to tear away from Joel’s. “You’re the girl that’s got my brother out $500!”

Snapping your head back to Joel, you smacked his bicep in embarrassment.

“You told him?!” You shrieked.

Joel doubled over in laughter, clutching the arm you had just whacked.

“Calm down, darlin’. I ain’t ever think I’d see you again! S’all in good fun.”

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a small groan. Of course, he’d tell his fucking brother about you; the girl that didn’t have any fucking money for a car and slept her way out of the debt. You could bet Tommy probably didn’t believe Joel when he told him the story, either.

“Aw, c’mon now babydoll,” Joel crooned, peeling your hands away from your face. “I ain’t meant no harm in tellin’ the story.”

“He hasn’t told another soul,” Tommy said. You glanced over to see him raise a hand in defense. “Scouts honor.”

You smack Joel again for good measure, eliciting a howling laugh from Tommy on the other side of the counter.

“Tommy, I’ll close up the shop tonight,” Joel said, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Why don’t you head out and grab Sarah for me? M’sure I’ll be back in time for the game.”

“Fuckin’ better be,” Tommy tossed back. “Ain’t tryna lose my money to you again.”

“Seems like he needs that money,” you chimed in, rolling your eyes.

This time Joel shoved at you playfully, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

“Now she’s got jokes!” He teased.

“Ha ha very funny,” Tommy said, scooping up the six-pack into his arms. “Nice meetin’ ya miss. Don’t run up your tab too high while you’re here.”

Tommy was just as good with the jabs as you were, so you threw him a quick smile and wave before he slid out the back door and disappeared. With only Joel and you left, that nervous feeling crept back in.

“Got another tire blown out or did y’miss me?” Joel teased.

“Don’t let your ego get too big, cowboy,” you said. “I’m just rollin’ back through town.”

“Pretty sure I’m big everywhere, babydoll, but y’already know that.”

Joel took a step towards you, twisting a strand of your hair through his fingers. You could see the midday sun reflecting in his brown eyes, making them sparkle the longer he stared. Your gaze flicked down to his lips, that pouty bottom one quipped up into a slight grin.

“You’re just so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You laughed.

“Sure enough to know that pretty pussy is just soakin’ your underwear right now,” he drawled.

He grabbed your hips, pinning you to his chest with an arm braced around your back. Dipping his hand between your bodies, he slid a finger over the seam of your zipper, teasing your already throbbing clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feather-like touch of his finger, your body aching for him.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he whispered in your ear.

Your breath hitched as he popped open the button on your jeans and tugged down the zipper. Slipping two fingers between your skin and underwear, he drew lazy circles over your clit, watching you with rapt attention as you tried to stifle a moan.

“Mhmm,” he crooned. “Been dreamin’ ‘bout this pussy ever since you left town, darlin’.”

“Yeah?” you exhaled, rolling your hips against his fingers as they worked faster.

“Ain’t ever had my cock so wet.” Joel pressed a kiss against your neck as his fingers slid between your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“Christ, Joel,” you exhaled. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else.”

Joel glanced around the empty waiting room and shrugged.

“No one’s here, darlin’.”

“Your shop windows are glass,” you argued. “Anyone can see us if they drive by.”

Teasing your wet folds, Joel slid a finger inside you, slowly curling it in an attempt to shut you up—which did work, unfortunately. You leaned into his broad chest, your head resting on his sternum as he continued the movement in slow strokes.

“Joel,” you whimpered, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“What, babydoll?” He asked innocently as if he didn’t fucking know what he was doing to you.

“Take me to the garage,” you breathed. “Please.”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely, darlin’.”

Pulling his hand out of your jeans, Joel bent to scoop you up, drawing your legs around his waist to carry you out of the waiting room. You wound your arms around his neck, dipping your head down to kiss along the stubble of his jawline. His hands squeezed your ass as he walked you both through the door to the garage, situating himself at the workbench. Still positioned in his lap, you wasted no time and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you back, his hands roaming up and down your body as you devoured one another.

“Jesus, babydoll. Y’really did miss me, huh?” he muttered against your open mouth.

“Maybe I did, cowboy.”

Grinding your hips on his lap, you felt the strain of his cock beneath the worn-out fabric of his work jeans. Joel nipped at your bottom lip, groaning as you circled your hips harder.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he warned. “Don’t wanna ruin my jeans like some middle school boy.”

You laughed and doubled down on your movements against his cock, each drag of your body forcing him to tense up. Joel’s hand came up to cup your breast through your bra, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper.

“Y’gonna be a good girl for me, babydoll?” he questioned.

You snuck a glance at his face, seeing his pupils blown wide with lust. Nodding quietly, you stilled your movements and focused on the feel of his fingers pinching your hardened nipple through the fabric. Your jaw went slack as he toyed with you, coaxing humiliating sounds from your lips with each twist.

“Hmm,” he mused, leveling you with a dangerous stare. “That's how I get you to behave, huh?”

“Joel,” you whined breathlessly.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you begged, leaning into his touch.

“Where’s those manners, darlin’?” he taunted.

Giving him the biggest pouty face you could muster, you pushed your bottom lip out and sealed the deal by batting your eyelashes at him.

“Please, cowboy?”

Joel rolled his eyes and chuckled, bringing his hand down on your ass to deliver a sharp slap. Hoisting you back up, Joel spun your body back against the wall of the garage, shoving your shirt up as he pressed you against it. He wasted no time in dragging down your bra, ravishing your skin with kisses and bites, leaving a trail of marks down your breast and sternum. You ran your hands through his curls, feeling the humidity of the air dampen them the longer you both stayed in the garage. Neither of you seemed to mind, though; you were so wrapped up in each other there was no telling of what was happening in the outside world.

He took your nipple between his teeth, biting it softly and rewarding your behavior with another trail of kisses back up your chest and neck. He mumbled a slew of curses under his breath as you mewled against his touch, his mouth hot against the underside of your jaw.

“Quite the mouth on you, cowboy,” you teased.

“Y’already know what this mouth can do, darlin’. Don’t tempt me.”

“Why don’t you remind me?” you asked, a smug grin teasing your lips.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he groaned.

Setting you back down on your feet, Joel nodded towards his black truck, silently instructing you to move. With the truck bed already down, you did a little hop and shimmy onto it, settling back against the warm metal. Joel grabbed a clean towel off his workbench and stalked towards you with a devilish grin.

“Afraid to get your truck messy?” You smirked.

“I already know you’re gonna have the entire bed of it soaked in damn near a minute,” he responded.

Letting impatience get the best of you, you worked yourself out of your jeans and underwear, slingshotting it directly at Joel’s chest as he neared the edge of the truck. Catching it with one hand, he pocketed the black lace effortlessly, offering you the towel to situate yourself onto. Sliding your body into the towel, you dropped your legs open, giving Joel a perfect view to ogle at.

“Like what you see, cowboy?” You giggled, trailing your fingers down your abdomen and towards the wetness between your thighs.

“Damn right I do, darlin’.”

Joel pressed up against the truck bed, bending over to kiss down your stomach where your hand laid against your aching clit. He brushed his lips over your fingers before drawing them into his mouth, sucking on them gently. Your breath hitched as your eyes connected, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. Joel pulled your fingers from his mouth and guided your hand through his hair.

“Give them curls a tug if y’need it, darlin’.”

Then his mouth was on you. Devouring you. Lapping at you. Every flick of his tongue sent shockwaves through your body, your veins coursing with an indescribable need to explode. Joel didn’t let up for a single second, his tongue and jaw working at you until your thighs quaked around his neck. He was pushing you closer and closer until that coil inside your stomach was ready to snap. You cried out as he flattened his tongue against your clit, putting pressure at just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Right there… oh my God, Joel,” you whispered, panting as you felt that build-up in your body begin.

With another long draw of his tongue and the brush of his nose against the sensitive bud of your clit, that coil snapped. Hot, warm liquid gushed out of you, covering the entirety of his open mouth and chin. Joel groaned as he continued lapping at you, the disgusting sound of your wet cunt drowning out the heartbeat thudding in your ears. Aftershocks of your orgasm coursed through you, your body pulsing with pleasure with each press of his mouth against you.

You tugged at his curls as he instructed, and Joel lifted his face to reveal what a dripping mess he had become. Your cheeks reddened at the sight of his hooded eyes and wild smile; the look of sheer bliss painting his features. Exhaling, you sagged against the metal of the truck, your chest rising and falling as you tried to regain some semblance of control.

“God, I sure did miss this pussy,” Joel hummed, nudging his nose against your dripping cunt.

You squirmed against his face, too afraid another orgasm would surge through you and drench him again—which he obviously wouldn’t be opposed to. But you needed his cock buried inside you, now.

“Joel, climb up here,” you said, patting the metal beside you.

“What if I ain’t ready yet?” he argued, kissing the inside of your thighs.

“Joel,” you demanded.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “Don’t get all impatient on me now, darlin’.”

Hauling himself onto the truck bed, he crawled over your limp body, kissing up the side of your neck. Using what little strength you had left, you maneuvered yourself over him, flipping you both until you straddled his lap. Joel’s hands came up to your bare hips, his thick fingers squeezing and kneading the supple flesh as you rolled against his hardened cock.

“Gonna let me ride you, cowboy?” You asked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back. “Boutta be the best ride of my goddamn life.”

Giving him a wink, you hurried to undo his belt and jeans, letting his cock spring free. Christ, you forgot how big it was. Joel chuckled at the way you stalled a moment, bucking his hips upwards in an attempt to get you moving.

“Calm down, cowboy,” you warned. “I’m gettin’ there.”

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you positioned it at your entrance, slowly sinking down until your clit brushed against the curls at the base. Even dripping wet, you were forced to stretch around him, the fullness leaving you breathless for a moment.

“Y’look so pretty like that, babydoll. S’fuckin full of me,” Joel hummed.

You whimpered at his words, moving your hips up and down finding the right tempo that sent you both into oblivion. The press of your knees against the metal wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but you could ignore it so long as he enjoyed himself. You picked up the pace, your body bouncing up and down as you forced his cock deeper inside you. Joel’s jaw went slack as he watched you, enraptured with the way you moved above him. Your bodies slapped together with each drop of your hips, and his fingers flexed against your waist as he pushed and pulled your body until you were grinding against him.

“There ya’ go, babydoll,” Joel murmured. “Feel how deep I am?”

You only gave him a pathetic moan, letting his hands guide your body as you pulsed around his cock. You were so fucking full, the tip of his cock spearing up into you with each drag of your hips. Snaking a hand down your body, your fingers found your clit, drawing desperate circles as you tried to chase the orgasm threading through your muscles.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned. “You’re just desperate to cum again, huh?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whined, putting more pressure on your clit as he drove himself deeper.

“S’fuckin’ pretty like that,” Joel exhaled. “Gonna drench me again, huh? Let’s see it, babydoll, cover me with it.”

Your mouth opened with a soundless cry, your cunt flexing around his cock as another orgasm ruptured through you, soaking your thighs and seeping into his jeans. Hauling you down against his chest, Joel positioned his knees upward, pistoning his hips against yours at a violent pace.

“Fuck!!” You sobbed as more liquid gushed out of you, the strength of your orgasm amplified at this angle.

“Good fuckin’ girl. That’s it, c’mon,” Joel praised, his lips pressed against your ear. “Keep goin’, babydoll. I know y’can give me more.”

“I—I can’t!” You stammered.

Your orgasm wouldn’t let up, though. Joel’s cock drove into you with such force, that you continued soaking him over and over again despite your wailing protests. Joel continued praising you and talking you through each ripple of your orgasm, hushing you as you cried harder.

“Just like that, babydoll. Shh… Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Joel kept a brutal pace, wrecking into you as he chased his own release. His hips snapped up one final time before he was spilling into you with a choked groan falling from his lips.

Falling limp against his body, you stared at the sides of the truck bed with glazed eyes. Tremors still wracked through your body as you settled into his embrace, his hand rubbing soft circles over your shoulders. Craning his head to the side, Joel captured your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue dancing over yours slow and sweet.

“Doin’ alright, babydoll?” he asked, breaking away from your lips.

You nodded mindlessly, too blissed out to form words. Nestled into his body, you let your fingers wander up his bicep and over his shoulder. Joel placed a soft kiss at the crown of your head, his muffled words lost in your hair.

“Hmm?” You asked.

“S’nothing,” he whispered. “Just enjoyed the ride, that’s all.”

You rested your head on his sternum, giving him a questioning look.

“Sounded like you said something else,” you said, cocking a brow.

Joel huffed a laugh, his head falling back against the metal with a soft thud.

“I don’t know, darlin’. Guess I kinda like you.”

“Guess I kinda like you too, cowboy.”

Rolling off of him, you situated yourself against the side of the truck bed, resting your legs over his stomach. Joel’s hand kneaded into the tight muscles of your calves, working at the knots in your legs. His head leaned to the side to catch a glimpse at you, a smile breaking across his face.

“How long are y’staying in town?�� he asked.

“I was only passing through,” you sighed.

His smile faltered a moment, that glimmer of hope flickering out in his eyes. Suddenly, the thought of leaving didn’t sound so nice.

“Why don’t y’stay the night?” he offered. “Got myself a big enough bed to sleep in, babydoll.”

“How much is it gonna cost me?” You teased, rubbing your foot over the softest part of his lower stomach.

“I’m thinkin’ a good blowjob,” he mused.

“Whatever you want, cowboy. Count me in.”

You spent a few moments in harmonious silence, basking in the circumstances’ simplicity. After a while, you found yourself climbing off the truck in search of your jeans and underwear. Joel worked his way down, too, stuffing his cock back into his pants and gathering the damp towel off the truck bed.

“You still have my underwear,” you grumbled, shaking out your jeans to slide into.

“And I’m gonna keep ‘em, darlin’,” Joel said, grabbing you by the waist to reel you in for a kiss. “Need me a lil’ souvenir.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you chuckled.

Foregoing underwear, you stuffed yourself back into your jeans and followed Joel to the passenger side of the truck, where he had the door already propped open for you. Helping you in, he reached over to secure your seatbelt, kissing your cheek softly before shutting the door and walking to the driver's side.

Turning the key in the ignition, Joel glanced over at you, his eyes roaming over your messy hair and rosy cheeks.

“Y’sure are beautiful, babydoll. Wish I could keep ya here,” he sighed.

You rested your chin in your hand, leaning over the center console.

“I don’t know, cowboy. Your negotiating skills are pretty damn good. Might talk me into staying with all those sweet words.”

“Oh yeah?” he perked up. “Y’know you still got a hefty bill to pay off.”

“Shit, you’re right,” you agreed. “I might have to stay a while to settle that debt.”

Joel cracked a smile, lifting up the console to haul you closer to him. Backing out of the garage, he navigated the truck onto the main road and towards wherever home was for him. Settling into his side, your fingers danced over the zipper of his pants as you waged your brows at him.

“Think I should start paying off that debt now?” You asked.

“I ain’t arguing with that, babydoll,” Joel grinned.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #mechanic!joel #joel x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #one shot #joel miller pre-outbreak

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saotoru · 10 months

Text

puppy love

ʚ puppyboy!leon kennedy x reader

ʚ word count: 2.1k

ʚ content warnings: fem reader. hybrids. no plot. scent kink. heavy dumbification. breeding kink. ruts. panty stealing + sniffing. implied 'virgin' leon. slight degradation (leon is called bad dog). reader wears a skirt. overstim. marking. praise kink. oral (f). crotch sniffing. masturbation (m). cum fucking. mentions of pregnancy. leon speaks in broken sentences.

minors do not interact

the last thing you expected to own was a puppyboy.

it was by pure coincidence that you had stumbled on him. he was a sad sight: huddled and shivering behind the dumpster in the alley next to your apartment. yeah, you didn’t want to own a pet, but could you really leave a stray out in the cold like that? so you took him in—‘leon,’ the name on his collar read—bathed, fed him, and gave him a place to sleep.

you showed him a kindness he's never experienced before; cold rain and hard surfaces are all he’s known his whole life, but you’re different. you’re warm and soft and sweet—everything he imagined the perfect owner to be.

so it’s no surprise how quickly he grew to love you. a lot.

but sometimes, he wishes he wasn’t so obsessed with you.

because it'll be hours before you're home again, away at something called 'work,' before he can hug and lick and kiss you. the thought of waiting that long makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

leon lets out a sad whine for only the empty apartment to hear. he misses you.

some comfort is all he needs right now. he pads over to your room, where your scent is the strongest, and climbs on the bed to bury himself into your pillow. the smell of your shampoo fills his nose as he sniffs all over the fabric before digging his face in it, trying to drown in your scent and pretend it's you. for a moment, it works. he imagines burying his face in your tits like this, imagines you scratching behind his ears and calling him a good boy in that sweet voice of yours. his tail wags at the thought.

but... it's not enough. he grows restless—the pillow isn't warm. it doesn't pet his hair or kiss his forehead or tell him he's a good boy. it's not you.

another frustrated whine. he sits up, tail thumping on the bed, unsure of what to do. he needs more. something that will satiate him for the next few long hours without you. nose hiked in the air, he sniffs around the room before catching a whiff of your scent coming from your closet. and then he sees it: your laundry hamper.

he feels no shame rifling through the dirty clothes nose-first. there's nothing wrong with missing you, with wanting to be comforted, right? it’s innocent enough—him sniffing out whatever article of clothing it is that smells the most like you and pulling it out with his teeth:

a pair of panties.

he carefully tucks them in his mouth and goes back over to your bed, settling down on your side again. he sniffs at it and something stirs in his tummy, but he’s not quite sure what it is. the fabric is thick with that sweet, heady scent, unmistakably yours. this is just what he needed. it smells so good, exactly like you and that spot between your legs.

leon takes another inhale and lets out a low whine, that feeling in his tummy stirring again, but stronger this time. it’s an unfamiliar ache. a dull heat that pools between his legs and leaves him dizzy the further he digs his face into your underwear. he’s not entirely sure why he lolls out his tongue and licks at the fabric, but the taste of you only makes the ache burn hotter. it triggers something; a throb so strong that it nearly makes him yelp.

he looks down at his body, to where it's hot and aching the most—his cock. fully erect, stiff and drooling against his abdomen, tip flushed a bright red. he whimpers sadly at the sight. it’s starting to border on painful but he's not sure what to do about it. he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about you.

with an experimental roll of his hips, leon lets his cock brush onto the mattress. he’s completely unprepared for the rush of pleasure it brings, making his body grow taut, back arched and tail stiffening. a shiver runs through him. it feels… good. he does it again, harder, this time letting out an unabashedly loud moan.

soon he's rutting himself on the bed while he slobbers and drools all over your panties. all he can think about is licking you like this, laving his tongue in that spot between your legs. the thought sends another hot pulse straight to his cock and him into a frenzy, hips are a blur as he licks at the crotch of the fabric, moaning over and over and over. he can’t stop. he's so far gone, lost in this new addictive pleasure that he doesn't even hear the click of the front door opening.

you frown. normally leon's greeting you with licks and hugs the moment you step foot through the front door, but your pup is nowhere to be seen today.

the apartment is small, and all it takes is a quick glance for you to see he's not in the living or dining room. the bedroom is the last place to check—and that's where you find your puppyboy sprawled on the bed face-first in a pair of your panties, letting out high-pitched cries as he humps the mattress fervently, too busy chasing his high to notice you're even here.

the sudden touch of your hand to his hair breaks him out of his trance. his dumb pup brain is so muddled with lust it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s you—you’re here, real, stroking his ears and smiling at him, and it's not just his imagination. immediately he pounces on you, wrapping you in a tight hug that knocks you back onto the bed.

his tail wags furiously as he smushes his face into you. "missed you. p-please, need you," he mumbles.

he's never felt this way before. feverish, sensitive to the point that he's uncomfortable in his own skin. consumed by some sort of need, an insatiable heat that gnaws at his chest and threatens to swallow him whole if he doesn't do something about it.

your touch comforts him briefly—the kiss to his sweaty forehead and your hands on his back allow him to relax a little. "my poor baby. puppy just wanted to taste me, hm?" you ask, looking over to your now chewed-up panties crumpled on the far side of the bed.

a low whimper is all he can respond with. part of him feels ashamed for what he did, for accidentally ruining some of your clothing. and maybe if his brain wasn't so dizzy with need right now he'd think about the consequences of his actions and apologize. but instead what comes out is, "please... c-can i?"

your voice is sweet but your words are not. "i dunno, leon. you're a bad dog, ruining my underwear like that."

you practically watch his heart break in those wide, innocent eyes of his. "n-no, please, 'm a good boy, 'm your good boy..." he cries, clutching you tighter. a bad dog? the reprimand hurts worse than any other punishment possibly could.

"then why don't you prove it, baby?" you spread your thighs apart and that's all the direction leon needs.

he wastes no time shoving his face beneath your skirt and bringing himself face-to-face with your still-clothed cunt and inhaling. your pillow, your panties—neither of them even compare to the source, or give him the same rush of pleasure that dragging his tongue up your labia does. he curls your panties to the side with a finger, giving him enough access so that he can slurp at your slick just like he imagined earlier.

he's so eager, so starved of your taste and approval and love that he grows pussydrunk too quickly, practically making more sounds than you, whining and moaning as he all but devours you whole, laving his tongue anywhere he can reach and pressing his face as far in as poassible. that heated ache from between his legs is even worse than before, when he licked at your panties like this, and if he let himself grind his puppycock on the bed right now he'd cum immediately, but he ignores it.

because all he can think about are your words earlier—bad dog. nonono, that's not him; he wants to hear you praise him, hear you moan his name all pretty and tell him he's doing a good job. so he pays attention to your every reaction instead, how you twitch and hum when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive spot on the top. he focuses there, puppylicking your swollen clit over and over and over, even when your thighs clamp tightly his head and threaten to squeeze him away he still doesn't stop, slobbering and sucking at your pussy til you're creaming all over his lips with a sob of his name, because he's desperate to be your good boy again.

that gives him the reaction he wants—the sounds you make are so pretty, his ears perked up to your every breathy moan as you buck your hips into his face and ride out your high, leon licking up every bit of cum that drips down your perineum.

when you squirm from the sensitivity and shove his face away, leon moves back up your body. he rests his chin on your chest and looks up at you with puppydog eyes, his tail wagging in slow, broad strokes. "did i do good?"

it takes you several seconds to reply. you lay there, ruffling his hair and ears mindlessly, still reeling from your orgasm. "y-yeah, puppy did such a good job. good boy, leon."

finally.

he's so happy he can't help but crash his mouth onto yours and kiss you. it's sloppy, a mess of teeth and tongue, but you find yourself meeting him with equal desperation. you let him lick into your mouth, tongue heavy with the taste of yourself as it slips against your own in a heated kiss. that's all he wanted to hear and he's so excited right now he could die.

and his heart nearly stops when you wrap your legs around his hips and murmur, "please, leon." the need in your tone makes his head buzz with adoration. his tip bumps against your labia clumsily and leon lets out a noise from the back of his throat. he's so pent up, basically edging himself all day and leaving his cock swollen and aching so hard that he could probably cum untouched right now.

and the moment he pushes inside you, he does.

he didn't mean to. but you're so wet, soaked from your orgasm and spit and now his spurts of thick cum, that it's impossible for his eyes not to roll to the back of his head. his entire body trembles from the overstimulation but he pushes further and further in, cock still stiff even after cumming, splitting you open until he's buried balls deep and his pelvis rests against yours. the drag of him in and out of you is loud, he's so loud, whining with every slow thrust that fucks his cum deep inside you, the squelch of your creamy pussy milking his cock and making him lose his fucking mind.

it’s not long before he’s fucking you with that same horny puppy pace that he fucked the mattress with earlier, only you feel so much better. better than he could ever imagine—hot and wet and addicting. he can't slow down, thrusts so so sloppy while he fucks himself dumb in your perfect cunt, tongue lolling out and eyes going crossed, poor puppy brain so overstimulated it's all he can do to not cum a second time right now.

"i wan' it," he slurs. it feels like words are impossible to form, his tongue too heavy and thick for his mouth right now. "wanna cum again, inside you."

"yeah? puppy wants to breed me?" you hum.

breed. that word sets him off.

pure instinct. that's what he's driven by as he humps you even faster, rutting his puppycock inside you so desperately, needing nothing more than to knock you up and make you his. "yesyesyes please," he begs. "wanna breed you, wanna litter of pups. please-"

his babbling is cut short by his own choked gasp as your legs wrap around his hips and lock him there, forcing him deep inside and unable to pull out.

"cum for me, leon."

and he's gone, cumming hot, thick ropes, filling you with nothing but him, claiming, marking you in the most primal way possible.

you're his, and no one else's.

---

ʚ author's note: if you read this far thank you! this is my first full fic on here. feedback is welcome + vv appreciated :3c

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #puppyboy tag

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ceilidho · 4 months

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 5) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

As it happens, the sun does rise the next day.

You wake up gummy-mouthed, brow furrowing before your eyes even open. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, diaphanous and left open from the night before. Warmer than usual. It draws you back into its arms for a brief moment, ensconced in its warmth, bathed in the fuzzy in-between of wake and sleep.

Memories trickle in slowly at first. It comes piecemeal; your first thoughts, a shallow pool that ripples when you dip your hands in, memories of the day previous scattering until you wait for them to come back together. You open your eyes to the window opposite you again. When you blink, it doesn’t fade like a dream. Your lips purse unconsciously because the truth is that you can’t recall ever sleeping in a room with a window. Or in a bed as comfortable as the one you’re in.

An arm around your waist pulls you in tight.

Your stomach swoops when you register the body behind you, a bracket of warmth at your back. Your immediate instinct is to kick away, go flailing off the edge of the bed and frantically search for the nearest object to brandish at the man in your bed. Then a hand runs up from your belly to cup your breast and your thoughts fizzle out again. His hand closes around the flesh and holds there, slotting your nipple between two thick fingers. Even with the fabric of your shift separating his hand from your skin, the feeling is electrifying.

He grumbles against the back of your head and the sound reverberates through you. A full body shudder. Mildly peeved that your neck breaks out in a sweat. The sound is familiar though, as is the way he chuffs in his sleep, a brief expelling of air that glides over the naked skin of your neck.

Something about his touch makes it click. You remember the glimmer of his badge and the rattle of the belt around his waist. The memory of his touch is bone deep; you’ve known John Price for less than two days, but you’ve felt almost every part of him by now.

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets, a big thigh slotted through yours, giving you a perch to sit on. The two of you completely intertwined. You don’t remember falling asleep wrapped around him; maybe the slightest cuddle before rolling away to the edge of the bed.

When the hand on your breast squeezes, you inhale sharply. Loud. It echoes in the small room, the only sound apart from Price’s slow, even breaths. Part of you aches to move his hand. Again, he touches you where no one’s touched you before. You count your blessings that the sound of your gasp hardly makes him stir, sure that if Price were to wake up now, he’d never let you live down the way your nipples bead at his touch.

As if your traitorous body answers to you these days. Your skin heats and sweats without your approval, heart always at a gallop when the man now known as your husband lingers close to you or sets a hand on your waist. Maybe in time it’ll become easier to withstand his touch, but the thought of lingering in his house even a week longer puts you on edge.

It feels more like a curse than a blessing when his hand slowly draws back down the length of your chest. Panic sets in the moment his hand twitches, worried that Price might have woken up, but he breathes the same. Even, deep. He’s touchy in his sleep, always looking for some part of you to hold. You relax for a moment when his hand lingers on your belly. The weight is almost comforting, in a sense. Tender.

Then, it dips farther down.

“John—John—” you whisper frantically, voice far too thin to pierce through the veil of sleep still shrouding him, trying to push his hand back up to no avail. He grunts in his sleep, curling around you.

The hand on your belly sinks between your legs. It bunches up your shift, dragging the fabric of your nightdress between your legs. Your heart thunders in your chest.

He cups your sex roughly, a firm hold that doesn’t budge when you try to squirm away. You’ve felt those fingers on your backside and curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, but between your thighs his palm feels wide. A man’s hand. The texture of his calloused fingers is dulled through the fabric of your shift, but you swear you can feel its heat.

He rocks the palm of his hand into your sex, the heel rubbing up into the apex of your thighs, making your whimpers go feathery and frail. You nearly bite clean through your bottom lip trying to stave off the moan crawling up your throat. His fingers rub at your hole through the gusset of your underwear and shift, the tip pushing just barely inside.

A fevered, aching hotness spreads in your belly when his fingers sink in just the slightest bit. You can feel how sopping wet the fabric is, where he uses your own slickness to push inside.

John practically growls when you finally cave and press your hand over his, tilting his hand just enough to grind the heel of his palm against your pearl. The shame is almost unbearable, so desperate for pleasure that you’d use a man in his sleep to reach your end. Hardly your heaviest sin, but it sinks into you anyway, another feather on the scale. Still, you choke back a suffering gasp and press down harder into his hand.

Pleasure suffuses through you when he grinds his palm just right. First, utter relief, the tension draining from between your shoulder blades and dripping onto the bed under you. Then, burning hotter than before, chewing your lip to keep quiet, terrified that you might wake John. Terrified that he might not, might keep you hovering over the edge with your feet kicking out.

You’ve played at touching yourself before, but never with a firm, steady hand. Never without the aftertaste of guilt. It whispers in the back of your mind even now, a thorny prick, but then it whispers something else. It’s not sinful if he’s your husband, mumbled deliciously into the whorl of your ear, in John’s voice somehow. A husband doesn’t ask forgiveness for spreading his wife’s thighs open. He takes what’s his.

John ruts against your bottom, huffing into your neck when you bite off a wail and breathe out heavier instead. The heavy shaft between his legs that you’d gotten a glimpse of the night before presses into the curve of your backside to nearly the small of your back. Thicker, hard as it is; you can only imagine how it’d feel to have that inside of you, to have him lay you flat on your back and bury his length into you.

His hand tightens over your mound, gripping harder than before. Two fingers nudging at your entrance break you. It sends you down the side of a waterfall, frantically trying to swim your way back before plummeting down into the frothy depths, directionless in the water until you surface.

John spills inside his trousers against your back. You feel it when he grunts and jerks against your backside one last time.

You lie there, basking in the aftermath while the sun warms up the room. It’ll be at least an hour before the heat truly sets in. For now, it’s a gentle warmth. John’s hand is a loose hold between your legs now, petting your sex softly in his sleep. You feel your guilt just on the periphery, waiting with bated breath for you to come back down to earth.

You feel John shift behind you and then a kiss is pressed into the crown of your head. Every inch of your body stills.

“Morning, darlin’,” your husband croons, the smile thick in his voice. “That was a nice way to start the day.”

You’ve felt embarrassment before. You’ve felt shame, humiliation, horror, terror, guilt, and a medley of other sentiments that are part and parcel of living at the behest of others. So it’s not embarrassment that leaves you lying frozen in bed while John climbs out of the other side of the bed, but perhaps its cousin.

It weighs on you so heavily that you can hardly even bring yourself to twist your head towards him.

“You were—” your voice is brittle-thin when you speak “—awake?”

He divests his nightwear with ease, pulling out a new day’s pants and shirt from the chest of drawers and then rounding the bed to take a knee by your side and cup your cheek. Not the same hand, you think wildly, staring at him wide eyed, still lying on your side. Frozen there. Tempted to say something else until he leans forward to press a firm kiss to your forehead.

“I’m an early riser,” he says, a warm smile spreading across his face. He’s got a lovely smile, you think in a daze.

He leaves you alone in the room, whistling on his way down the stairs. They creak one-by-one under his weight. When you finally sit up in the bed, you can vaguely hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. A pot clanging against a counter before the sound of the screen door shutting behind him. He must’ve gone to the well to fetch water.

It takes an age for you to find the strength to get up out of bed. There’s still a wet spot on the front of your shift that makes you blink when it brushes against your legs. Then heat up like a roast duck. You’re tempted to change into your daywear and maybe bury the shift somewhere out back where you never have to acknowledge it ever again, but when you look over at the chest of drawers, all you can think of is John dropping trou just a moment ago.

Your stomach aches all over again.

You limp hot-cheeked down the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafts from down the hall. You take a peek out the front window before joining him. Still hesitant, embarrassed like you’ve been caught. And you have been, you know. Caught and reeled in. Dragged to a courthouse and married to a man who hasn’t yet called you anything other than darling and honey. You wonder if he even remembers your name—or, your supposed name.

Beyond the dirt trampled horse pen, a thick blanket of wild grass sways gently in the morning breeze, dotted with white wildflowers. Hardly a cloud in the sky today. Bluer than the bluest sea. This early, the sun only glints in the eye, a spectral everywhereness about it. In the noontime, it’ll hover overhead and glare down balefully, a sweltering curse.

In the kitchen, John pours coffee into two cups. Rich stuff, not the bitter sludge served on the train or the watery cocoa that your aunt used to make to carry you through the brutal east coast winter months. You get a whiff of chicory.

It must amuse him to hear you hovering in the doorway before creeping tentatively into the kitchen because he looks up with a little smile. You keep shame as a periapt around your neck these days, it seems; it must jingle when you walk.

“Good morning,” John says.

“You know—I didn’t know you were awake,” you blurt out, fists clenched at your sides.

His eyes twinkle. “I caught on to that when you froze like a mouse.”

The comparison makes your lips twitch. “You should’ve told me that you were awake.” You don’t have any right to scold him. Even as the words come out of your mouth, you know how foolish they sound and what they say about you. Little harlot that chases her pleasure with her sleeping husband’s hand.

“Told you?”

“It’s only polite.”

“Polite.” There’s a teasing note in his voice that ruffles your feathers.

“It’s only right.”

“Well then. Want me to wake you up the right way next time?” he asks instead, leaning back against the countertop.

You frown. “The right way?”

He holds out a hand, beckoning you to him. You go, but with a stumbling step, nearly tripping into him when you take his hand. Without the barrier of your shift, you can feel the calluses on his hand when your fingers run over his palm. A shiver races down your spine. He reels you into his chest and holds you in place with a hand on your low back, pulling you so close to him that you’re practically leaning against him, as tangled as you were upstairs in the bed.

John lets go of your hand to tip your chin up. “Barely got my hand wet, darling. Next time, I’m gonna pull that little shift up around your waist…wake you up nice and easy with my mouth. Drown out that voice in your head giving you a million and one reasons to leave. Yes, I can—” he huffs a laugh when you squirm in his arms, held steadfast to his chest “—I can tell you’re not yet settled. Maybe itching to run even, take the next train out. Go back to your old ways. But I said I’d make it good, darling, and I will. You just wait for tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I’ll make it good enough to give you a reason to stay.”

Your mouth is dry when you rasp, “Your mouth?”

“Every morning,” he promises, sun-sweet. “I’ll make it so you don’t have a care in the world apart from when you’ll come next.”

Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it. His words make your stomach pull in taut, leave you a threadbare, panting mess. Like a new language, spoken in stuttered breaks when you repeat it back in your head; the words somehow sutured together into a phrase that you know you’ve dreamt and forgotten.

In the wispy daylight hours, it’s hard to see where the edges of you diverge from his. You’re still back in the bed upstairs with your legs tangled in his and his arms pulling you in close, the burr of his beard scratching the back of your neck. Touching the dark hair of his forearms, the groves of the muscles there, the softness of skin giving way to the hard musculature underneath.

And then he dips his head for a morning kiss, his rough whiskers against your lips breaking the spell.

“You haven’t brushed your teeth,” you complain, face puckered up at the stale taste of his mouth. When he smiles against your mouth, you can feel his beard drag up your skin the slightest bit. He draws back.

“Well, guess I oughta wash up. Think you can start breakfast ‘till I get back?”

Cooking you can handle. You coat the pan with a lump of butter that melts over the iron. Two eggs cracked and sizzling in the butter. When he comes back, John cuts thick slices of bread that you heat in the pan with the eggs, the butter making the bread golden crisp. And it’s quiet. It’s quiet and there are birds twittering outside in the trees, chickadees and red-winged blackbirds.

“Do you have any fruit?” you ask. More of a mumble.

He hums. “Canned peaches in the pantry. Jam too.”

The pantry’s well stocked. Jams and jellies, cured and salted meats stored away in jars. Cornmeal and other grains. Pickled and canned vegetables. It’s the fruit you’re after though—the preserved peaches with the gingham fabric nestled under the sealed lid. Thick, juicy slices that come out of the jar coated in their own syrup that spreads out on the plate and touches the edge of your toast, softening the hard crust.

You sit across from him to eat. Breakfast is a quiet affair interrupted only by your eyes flickering up to his face with each bite. Interrupted only by your skittering heartbeat. It’s hard not to be drawn to him, tempted to sneak a glance. Though dressed in his daywear, the edges of sleep still cling to him faintly, in the lines around his eyes and the folds of his forehead. You catch your eyes caressing those spots with a tenderness that makes your heart flare red for a moment, troubled. Like a red hot iron glowing at its hottest point.

There’s no denying that you’d like to stay the course. Perhaps just out of curiosity.

You’re ruled by your history though. Again, you look over at him, watching him silently and wondering what it must be like to live without that pressed upon you. To not be fixed like a violet between parchment paper. You’ll leave eventually, you know; when the moment presents itself. Even now, though he stares down at his plate, contemplating something that he doesn’t vocalize, you know that he’s aware of your every move. If you should so much as twitch, he’d know.

A day or two won’t matter, you hope at least; there’s always a chance that your name might come across his desk, but there’s little chance at this moment that he’ll link it back to you, not thinking of you as his wife of another name that he refuses to say. It sits in his mouth like chaw. What you can’t wait out are the men surely following your scent, dogs with their noses to the dirt, sniffing you out.

There will be a moment when his attention shifts. You just have to wait him out.

The next train out, you think, scrapping butter onto your toast, picking at the crust with nervous fingers. You set a peach slice on top to make the perfect bite, bashfulness sinking back when you have to brush the crumbs from the corners of your mouth. Good etiquette finds you wanting here, sitting at the breakfast table in your thin shift with nipples pebbling in the cool air, crumbs all over your face.

John reaches across to drag his thumb just under your bottom lip, wiping up a drop of syrup. “Messy girl.”

The hammer comes down on the iron again, liquid metal poured back into the crucible. Swallow with a dry mouth. You just have to wait him out.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price/reader #captain john price

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criminalamnesia · 4 months

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ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me�� and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

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