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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months

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Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up.

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors. He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again.

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board.

There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently.

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one.

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You have to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in.

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage.

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting.

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really.

It started with Old Lady Sal.

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen.

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf.

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland.

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over.

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can.

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion.

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly.

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck.

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero.

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame.

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid.

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake.

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door.

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother.

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise.

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words.

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain.

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer.

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul.

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together.

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you.

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers.

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth.

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later.

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead.

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface. The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands.

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions.

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight.

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table.

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys.

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently.

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones.

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression.

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants.

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers.

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again.

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones.

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders.

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff.

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too.

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package.

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck.

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days.

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen.

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin.

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner.

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave.

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs.

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you.

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly.

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance.

- You serious?

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up.

- Wait.

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue.

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe.

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily.

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin.

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes. If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender.

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins.

#my writing #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #i walt on his goggins till we fallout

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zwhoreo · 5 months

Note

Luffy accidentally eating/taking aphrodisiac and reader has to deal with the results.

HAPPY 2024!!! :D here’s my longest fic ever as a celebration

can’t come down - aphrodisiac luffy x f!reader

smut with some angst

summary: thinking it was regular chocolate, you accidentally give luffy several doses of a potent aphrodisiac. now he needs you to take care of him

contains: accidental intoxication, luffy in discomfort/distress, tears, some uncomfortable sex, overstimulation, luffy and zoro in a brief sexual situation

words: 4.8k

_______________________________

It’s all your fault. You’ve hurt him, the little angel. A pleasant but burning pain, he’s attached to you, drooling on your neck and he’s been going for hours and he’s rubbing inside you ceaselessly, you’re dripping with him. He’s whimpering, this sweet boy. His eyes are blown out and hazy and he won’t stop just gazing at you, open-mouthed whimpers while he rubs inside you so deep and rough that god, you can feel it blooming and aching in your stomach, squeezed as you breathe so with every breath he moans in frustration and desire. Luffy just wanted chocolate, it’s all your fault.

______________________________

This town is seedy and dark. You like it because you can’t find these sorts of shops in regular port towns, places selling hallucinogens and fake medicine and alcohol for 100 berries a bottle. The sex shops don’t even board up their windows, that’s why you and Nami thought why not, let’s explore.

It’s not a serious shopping trip, more of a chance to laugh, tease each other, indulge in curiosity. This store’s set into the ground, beneath a metal stairway, it’s starting to rain so you two run for cover in the most interesting place.

The sex shop, which is very dim, all lantern light, is filled with things neither of you had ever seen before or thought to consider. The salesman is pushy, coming from behind the counter to try to sell you things you certainly hadn’t come there for. You laugh and walk around and whisper to each other. And even though you’re in a loving relationship these aren’t things you’ve thought to consider. Luffy wouldn’t like any of this. You would never do something to hurt or confuse him, not when you’re both vulnerable like that. But these low prices intrigue Nami who tells you that hey, why not get some cute lingerie?

“They’ve got a whole wall of it!” She points to the colorful selection of lace and silk and you do admit, it’s beautiful. It’s not something Luffy would care about really but you’d feel pretty in it, maybe. They’ve even got these cute little translucent night dresses that look so comfortable.

So you approach the salesman with your arms full of lingerie and he looks eager to be selling to two beautiful women. He keeps talking about deals and discounts, and with a little wink he throws in a special offer, with those two night dresses you’re buying you get free aphrodisiacs. Chocolate aphrodisiacs in a little white box and he keeps telling you these things are powerful. It’s a special deal, just for you. And with laughter and encouragement from Nami you say why not. You take them, even though you don’t think you’ll ever use them.

___________________________

Weeks go by. That little box, it rests forgotten in some dresser drawer. You tend to forget things at sea.

And there’s this island, more of an ocean mountain really, with jagged cliffs for beaches but there’s a small jungle on top, there might be food or resources up there. So Sanji and Zoro are going to go, and Luffy absolutely insists on coming with them. He’s all excited about it, hyper, rolling on his feet because he’s been kept away too long on the ship and he wants to explore.

But he’s not feeling quite himself. You’ve been short on food and Luffy’s had it bad, never satisfied after meals for the last couple days. That’s why this ocean mountain is the center of your universe with only the promise of a grove of mango trees, a flock of quail. So he’s begging you, pawing at your knees as you sit in bed and begging to get something to eat before he goes exploring. You try to help, maybe there’s something in a drawer, you get to your knees and dig through your dresser while Luffy crouches behind you, leaning on your back, you feel his warmth through your shirt. He’s impatient so he bites the back of your neck, tender but sharp.

You find the little box. You have no memory, in that moment, of where you got it. There’s no label, and you later think to yourself why the hell was there no label? but of course it doesn’t cross your mind right here. It’s a little box of chocolates and before you even have a chance to remember, Luffy snatches them out of your hand and says thank you and kisses you quickly on the cheek, cupping your face, his lips wet from hunger. And he sprints away, leaving you blushing, sitting there on your floor with a little smile.

_________________________

He’s beginning to feel very warm but it’s just the sun, probably. He takes off his cardigan, carrying it on his arm. His skin glistens golden in the light, a perfectly burnt brown, but now he’s going red with flush creeping from his face to his shoulders. Luffy’s breathing is irregular now, shuddering. He looks around, the trees wavering just a bit in a cloudy haze through his eyes.

“Sanji?” And he reaches for Sanji’s hand because for some reason he craves contact right now. But Sanji pulls away, feeling the layer of sweat coating Luffy’s palm. “I feel weird.”

Sanji’s eyes wander him. He can sense there’s something not right in Luffy’s stare, something dulled and far away. Something’s wrong, what’s wrong?

“Luffy?” Sanji doesn’t know what to do in these kinds of situations. “You should go see Chopper,” he says finally with his hand on Luffy’s shoulder, gingerly.

“Don’t wanna go back yet.” Luffy’s complaining despite the discomfort. And when he sees that Sanji won’t tell him anything he wants to hear, he turns and disappears into the underbrush, maybe water will help, something cold.

So he comes to this little pond, crystal clear and dappled by sunlight, there’s frogs on the lilly pads. If he wades to his thighs he won’t pass out, probably. There isn’t much care for himself in this moment, just a need to get rid of this burning. So he strips off his jeans which helps, strangely. A breeze hits his now bare body. He feels raw in a way he never has before.

That’s a yearning need to touch himself, but no, Luffy doesn’t think about that. He’s hot so he needs to get in the water. He stumbles on the rocks because his vision isn’t quite right. He shouldn’t go to his waist but that’s where the burning is. Ankles then knees then thighs, ripples lap between his legs, he’s left panting and tingling, that water is hitting nerve endings and with every wave comes friction that makes his body twitch. He wants more.

His hand flies to his cock as if by impulse, all of a sudden. There’s no thoughts now, just need, his hand rubs himself messily even though Luffy has no control, no concept of what he’s doing or why.

God, please.

He bends over a little, head down. Beads of sweat from his brow speckling the water as his whole body shakes back and forth and his muscles spasm. Frustration fogs his mind, with every pump it only stretches his skin, not enough friction, his hand is clamped down so tight that it’s doing nothing for him. He feels like crying. He hates that he wants to go home.

But this isn’t home. And as Luffy moans unabashedly this sounds like cries from pain, which they are, a bit. So it’s Zoro who hears him and without a second thought he’s tearing through the underbrush, tripping over his own feet, led blindly by his worst sound in the world — Luffy crying.

He shouts his name and crashes through the trees, he’s in the clearing and looking around desperately but what he sees makes him yell again. There’s Luffy, the love of Zoro’s life, completely naked and wading in the water of that crystal clear pond and moving sporadically as he rubs his cock, so painfully rock hard, over and over in this animalistic desperation as he cries and whimpers. He doesn’t know where he is or who’s around him and he doesn’t see Zoro.

Until he’s shoved from the side, a powerful push that sends him tumbling into the water, cruel cold water that sucks him in and starts a familiar panic within his heart that makes him forget for a moment about that burning inside him.

“WHAT THE FUCK, LUFFY?!” Zoro pulls him by his hair, shaking him, throwing him on the rocks and looking at Luffy with these stricken eyes, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing. His composure in that moment is shattered, his fists are clenched.

They’ve seen each other naked so many times. They’ve bathed and held and carried each other with nothing between their skin, it’s just how it happens sometimes when you’re that close. But this intimacy, this state Luffy’s in, it’s like nothing Zoro was prepared to see or could even really imagine out of Luffy. Something is horribly wrong.

“Zoro…” and Luffy’s taken up in his arms because no disgust or awkwardness comes before helping a friend who’s hurting. “I feel… I dunno… what’s- …”

Luffy’s voice is so slurred, his body is tense and so solid but yet somehow he’s still melting. Zoro’s finding it hard to look at him, do anything other than just sit there and hold him, uncomfortable at how he can feel that heat from between Luffy’s legs radiating and blooming condensation on Zoro’s skin. He has absolutely no idea how to even begin to approach this situation. So he’s rough and sloppy as he dresses his friend, his cardigan’s on and his sandals are on and his hat has been slammed over his eyes. But Zoro, teeth gritted, has to shove Luffy’s cock in his jeans himself because this boy is useless like this. He’s silently vowing to never talk or think about this moment again, how sticky his hands now feel, how Luffy moans as he’s touched and leans into Zoro and how his cock twitches with an overpowering need to fuck anything that’s close.

Zoro won’t think about this again. He just picks Luffy up and carries him away without saying a word.

______________________________

You’re just looking out the window. Unmoving sun, unmoving sea. You want to eat or go somewhere and maybe you should’ve begged and made them take you on the island.

Is it the island, or do you just miss Luffy?

But it’s not long before your door is kicked open, you jump, eyes wide, whipping around to find Zoro cradling your boyfriend, who looks sick. Fear shoots through you and closes your throat especially when you see Zoro’s eyes, vacant and upset and he looks dissociated, blank.

“Oh god, Luffy.” You run to him and your hands go to his face and just stroke his cheeks, he’s sweaty and burning up like he’s caught in a deep fever. “What happened?” Your eyes are wild and scared as you turn to Zoro.

“I don’t know what you gave him. Just… deal with it.” Zoro dumps Luffy into your arms and you stumble as he curls up into you, drooling all over your neck. And Zoro gives his shoulder one last squeeze and turns away, closing the door behind him, running off down the hall, somewhere where he can’t hear that crying anymore.

And yes, Luffy’s crying. You set him down on your bed, rubbing the back of his head and holding his hand. “Hey, hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Dunno what’s happening…” Luffy’s eyes are pleading and endlessly deep right now. His legs are kicking against the air and he keeps shifting around, he can’t sit still.

With his free hand he’s rubbing between his legs like he’s scratching an itch, but he doesn’t stop, your gaze follows him and oh, oh fuck. He’s got this tight, obvious hardness in his jeans. Straining so hard the zipper is shaking with tension. You’ve never seen anything like this.

Your mind is racing, this isn’t just horniness, Luffy has never been sexsick like this before.

You trace it all back and nothing was wrong when he left. Just bright eyed innocence, affection, nothing strange. And suddenly it hits you, that box, those chocolates.

Oh god. Oh my god.

You fed him an aphrodisiac. An aphrodisiac from a sketchy shop in an old-town basement, a powerful drug, just one would keep you up a whole night.

And you let Luffy eat them all.

“Lu… god, I’m sorry,” is all you can say as he crawls into your lap and breathes on your face. You take off his hat and ruffle his hair. How can you even explain this to him? He’s not going to understand. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I gave you an aphrodisiac by mistake.” You’re choked up. You hurt him.

“…” Luffy’s mouth is hanging open, drool coating his chin, dazed, so confused. “Hm?” His voice is even gravelier than normal.

“Those weren’t normal chocolates. They make your body… ready for sex? It’s supposed to be a fun thing. B- but I forgot they weren’t just normal chocolates! God, I’m so sorry.” You’re breaking down, you’re cuddling with him now, head on his shoulder.

“Oh.” You can’t really tell how much he understands. And his voice is quiet when he asks, “when’s it gonna go ‘way?”

“…I don’t know. I’m gonna try to help, ok? Let’s fuck for a few hours and get it out. It’s gonna be ok, Lu.”

His pupils expand when you say this, his eyes going from brown to deep black. He wants that so, so bad. He’s just sort of figuring that out now. “Heh, yeah.” He squirms in your lap, cock so hard you can feel his zipper sliding down on its own, as his breath gets heavier, this desperate ball of energy spasming in your arms.

Then he smiles. And he attacks.

He flips you onto your back and groans, hips thrusting into yours as his lips find your mouth, saliva leaking past your lips, you swallow as they part. You’re wearing these soft cotton shorts and you feel his aching cock smacking the fabric as it pushes and strains to break free from his pants with every motion. He moans so loud you know everyone can hear. Now he’s drooling again, spitting on your face because he’s lost control of his jaw, you’re winded but you grab his face and kiss him, he didn’t even know he needed this.

He falls on you now. He’s all splayed out and whining and just kissing you as if he’s been challenged, teeth and tongue working through every part of your mouth. He’s loud when he kisses, and now every breath is a groan of want.

“Undress me…” you whisper to him, grabbing the back of his neck, he seems like he’ll explode if he keeps on like this without being deep inside you.

With a strangled “Mh,” Luffy’s fingernails scrape your skin in a desperate attempt to pull off your dress. He’s ripping cloth, damn, you can hear him ripping cloth. Nothing you can do now.

But you can tell as your skin shines bare and he tears his own clothes from his body, as his sweat drenches you and that heat like a tropical hurricane all over but especially where it pools between his legs and oh you’d be scared if you looked there now, you can tell he’s about to just go in you with no thought or reason and harder than he’s ever gone before. So — and you hate to do this — you grab his shoulders. You stare him in the eyes.

“Luffy. Listen to me.”

your eyes reach his soul, he tries to look at you with anything close to coherence, he wants to follow your lead, he doesn’t understand anything right now. But there’s a hailstorm inside his mind. But he tries to listen.

“Don’t be too rough, please, can you promise?” Your voice is shaky because you’re not sure what he’s about to do. Luffy would never intentionally hurt you but he’s powerful, his body is strange, he works in ways neither of you understand. He has the power to really, really damage you and the carelessness to not see it happening. So you beg him with your eyes.

“I promise,” he gasps softly, one hand curling behind your neck, and he presses his face against your cheek, trying to harden his eyes in the gentle seriousness of the moment. Luffy is incapable of feeling sadism towards you of any kind and he’s at war with his body and the energy bursting within him right now. But he promises.

You smile and your feet rest on his hips and thighs, you feel him sizzling beneath your touch. The surface of his skin wavers before your eyes from the heat, you understand now the idea of mirages, he looks covered in amber rain even as his skin burns beneath your hands.

“Slow,” you ask softly in his ear, making Luffy whine in hunger.

There it is. What you don’t dare look at you can feel. Swollen and throbbing it feels like a whole other animal is just clawing there beneath that rice paper skin. You can feel his heartbeat in the tip of his cock as he touches you and it speeds up thousands of times in an instant. His thighs clamp around yours and his nails are sharp and Luffy groans in your ear. He’s made of nerve endings that send him twitching writhing with every tiny movement. He needs you now.

He pushes himself in and every bit of friction sends him convulsing against you, squeezing you tighter. You can feel the struggle in his muscles to hold back but that deep, tangible yearning for relief. He’s in and you’re both gasping for air. You’re not used to the size or the heat or that artificially induced power that’s overcome his body. But you’re proud of him and you tug his hair to tell him a quiet thank you, you’re ok, he’s keeping you safe.

All your touches are too much. His hips move messily against you like he doesn’t have the capacity to understand what to do right now. But he’s just going to follow that deep primal craving so he rocks into you with all his weight, crushing you again and again, eyes closed, mouth trying to find yours.

It’s the movement but also the way you’re being held. It’s a scary heaven. He’s going deep and he’s not pulling out just throwing himself against you over and over as if there’s any more he has to go. He’s whimpering and his body is shaking in need.

But he goes faster and now this is what you’re scared of, weighted rubber moves and stretches with momentum, he’s squeezing you tighter and tighter and with each slam against your body his cock buries into you so impossibly deep as his skin stretches and snaps within you. You whine and try to steady him but Luffy’s in this cloud right now. His teeth are digging deep into your neck and he’s drooling all over you, saliva dripping down your shoulder and chest.

When he cums it’s so hot it feels like lava. There’s so much of it. That relief at the slowness, liquid soothing beaten flesh, that’s heaven as you lay beneath him, wrapped in his arms. Is it over? No, no it isn’t.

But first, while he’s stunned and unable to move, you squish his face in your hands. “Luffy,” you breathe heavily into his mouth, “be more gentle. Please. You’re gonna hurt me.”

His eyes are wide and concerned. “I hurt you?” he whimpers from his swollen, shiny lips.

“I’m ok, don’t worry, just please be more gentle.” And you smile at him. That sets something off in his heart and you feel him harden again inside you.

He grins, lifting you back so you’re pressed against his chest, on his lap. And he shoves you down against him as you squirm in his arms, he rolls your hips on his as his strong hands take total control of your body, hungry eyes gazing at you with deep, immeasurable lust. From this new position he has so much control, he’s using your body for his release in as loving a way as possible, biting at your skin. You’re left to twitch in his grasp and hug him, letting yourself bask in this incredible tsunami.

The bouncing and stretching of his cock isn’t as bad in this position although you’re still impossibly full, limp in the overwhelming motion. But that heat is becoming uncomfortable, your cheek from its rest on his shoulder is covered in layers of sweat and you feel it pooling around every point of contact. He smells like burning rubber and thick, palpable sweat. His skin begins to sear your hands and you only realize what’s happening when he starts to steam. Billowing steam clouding your room and soaking you in hot, wet air like you’re in an erupting volcano. You’re not sure which gear he’s changing to and you don’t want to find out.

“LUFFY!” You yell through your haze and hit his back and it’s so hard to talk to him like this, his moans are drowning out your cries, he’s moving faster and faster and his hair and mouth and the area between your legs is already lost in clouds of white steam. “STOP!”

He yelps and rolls off of you. Your words cut his heart. You’re both drenched and your bed is soaking, your hair in your eyes dripping down your face mixed with tears you didn’t even know were there. Luffy looks confused, disoriented, he’s still steaming but it’s slowing now, his skin is dulling to its usual hue, his hair falls back over his face. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You were changing gears,” you murmur under your breath. “Luffy, that could’ve been bad.”

“I’m- I’m sorry…” he whimpers and looks down at himself. There’s still a cloud of blinding steam circling up the shaft of his cock, blooming from his tip and shimmering in droplets rolling down the red, tight skin. He looks at you with puppy eyes, needing your arms again.

You let him crawl to you. You let him place his head under your hand to be pet and comforted. He feels terrible but he feels sick, too, a sickness only cured by the deepest and most indescribable pleasure. He’s melting in your arms, as needy as when he was given to you, eyes blurry. You let him rest his head in your lap and drink in your scent, blankets tucked between his legs for the slightest friction.

“It’ll feel better if you don’t go so fast,” you say softly, stroking his wet hair. And he nods.

“Can I have more now? I’ll be better to ya. I really promise.”

His hands feel gentler now. You let him climb your body and capture you in another deep kiss. And with your legs crossed behind his back you let him fuck you again and chase his second orgasm and he’s right, he’s better now. He’s fighting with his body but he’s better.

When he cums again it feels boiling hot. It’s shot after shot deep inside you and he tugs your hair, bites your shoulder, strokes your lower stomach before moving down to rub at your clit which is incredible because he never thinks of that. This drug is making him different, his mind is overwhelmed by sex in a way it never is. Part of you likes it a lot. It’s new. It’s fun.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s hard again and dragging his cock through your walls in deep, deliberate strokes with his tongue in your mouth. Luffy is a million miles above the earth. With every orgasm his world shakes and crumbles for an instant before it’s rebuilt again in waves of desire that send him higher, higher. He’s a million miles above the earth and even as hours slip by and his body is drained again and again, he can’t come down.

__________________________

At some point the ship has set sail again. Clouds crawl by the porthole and the ocean rocks you both but you and Luffy stay in that soaked bed and get lost in each other for so long that you don’t even know what’s real anymore. You can’t tell sensation from sensation. Neither can he but he can’t come down.

There was that perfect sweet spot where you had just swam in each other in bliss and peace. You didn’t have to stop his gear changes anymore because his body had adjusted to this new universe. And you were in tune with each other. But now, now it’s bad again.

But in a different way.

Luffy is exhausted but so desperate still. His tears have started again and he doesn’t know what to do and he can’t even move and every part of his body aches. You’ve never seen him like this during sex, he’s never weak or tired. But his body is drained.

But that drug won’t let go.

“You ok?” you’re whispering, hand on his face. You lift Luffy in your arms and place him on his back. His eyes won’t leave yours, he’s starry eyed and love struck through his tears.

“Mh…” is all you can make out. He looks down at himself, his body is dripping wet and his cock is hard again, throbbing hard in overstimulation.

Every touch seems like it’s painful to him now. But he wants more so, so bad. So you place a pillow under his head, you curl up against his body, and you rub him with your hand. Your arm gets tired but you keep going for as long as you possibly can. And sometimes Luffy will open his mouth in a silent, breathless moan, sometimes his body will convulse and his cock will twitch. But his orgasms are dry now. There’s nothing left in him.

The last one, that’s when he grabs your face. With his last bit of strength he rolls onto you and clutches your cheeks in his hands and just stares at you, not letting you move, his thighs squeezing your leg. He rubs himself off on you one last time and with a final shudder he’s done. It’s all gone. It’s over.

He collapses into your arms, too tired to breathe anymore. You expect him to just sleep right there but instead he twists onto his back, batting at your face with his palm lazily, playfully. He giggles. He looks dreamy and dazed. But happy, actually. Really happy.

“Feeling alright?” You’re worried. You’re guilty, still. You’re praying nothing hurt him or made him sick.

“Mhm. Feel good!” Luffy’s beaming as if he already forgot everything that happened. He’s glowing, chest rising and falling heavily. But he tilts his head questioningly, “you?”

“Yeah. Just sore.” To which he rolls onto his elbows, kicking his legs in the air, he holds your body, he gives your hips a soft kiss. He’s appreciative, he’s so soft now, honey skin glowing in the sleepy sunshine.

But everything is wet. Your clothes on the bed next to you, the sheets, your bodies and hair. So with your arms around his shoulders, because it will be hard to walk for a while, the two of you throw on robes and step outside. You forgot the smell of fresh sea air after that mist of sex and sweat. Luffy’s heart beats against yours, calm and healthy, steady.

He sets you down and you take him in your arms, now, laying him against the mast. You take a towel to his hair, drying him, the sun on the wind sending the dewdrops you’re made of falling away from your shoulders in rainbows. You’re glittering, you and Luffy.

You should get you both some food soon, you should give yourselves a real bath, you should go and comfort Zoro and assure him that you’re both ok. But not yet. You don’t want that yet.

You avoid the eyes of the others as they pass below. You don’t want to talk about this with anyone but Luffy right now, the boy who looks like an angel resting below you, chiseled glistening body, sunlight divinity. He opens his mouth, he kisses your fingertips as you brush hair from his cheeks.

He wants to talk to you at first but he finds that his eyes are too heavy. He just yawns instead, and bares his teeth in a smile. And he holds your hand tightly with this deep, profound gratitude. You hear him whisper, beneath his breath, that he loves you.

#luffy x reader smut #one piece smut #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy smut #aphrodisiac luffy #luffy x f!reader

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fredwkong · 5 months

Text

Taking a Trip

Arne was more than excited to visit Vancouver for the first time. Everyone said that he could have easily seen beautiful mountains on a trip to Switzerland, but Arne wanted something a little bit extra inspiring on a continent he had never seen before. His life at home had become a little monotonous at his corporate job, and the dating pool was as unpromising as ever for a shy, reclusive man in his mid-20s.

With his frugal nature, Arne balked at the hotel prices in the city, and quickly found himself looking at short-term rental sites. The prices were, if possible, even worse. Finally, he followed a link to a retro-looking gay room-sharing website and saw an ad that read: “Shared room, accessible, perfect for tourists.” The price was well within Arne’s range, and it was within walking distance of transit. He booked it without a second thought.

It was only as the taxi drove away after dropping Arne and his suitcase on the curb that he had second thoughts. He followed the instructions the owner, Julian, had sent him and went around the small house to the back, where there was an external door to the basement. All around the door were skateboards, leaning on the concrete foundation, each with a unique design painted on its underside. As he knocked, Arne felt a tremor up his spine, like an anticipation of danger.

Before he could react in any way, he heard heavy feet and voices behind the door. With a clunk of the latch, the door swung open to reveal a young man with dark, curly hair and a thin moustache with no shirt on his tanned, muscular body. “What’s up, bro? You must be Arne,” he said in a deep, slow voice, holding out a big hand that engulfed Arne’s, even though they were the same size. “I’m Julian, your host.”

Arne opened his mouth to reply, but he lost his train of thought as an eye-watering stench poured off Julian’s bare, hairy muscles. He almost seemed to steam in the cold air. The smell was a mix of stale sweat, cooking spices, musky body odour, and, over all of it, the stench of weed.

After a moment, as Arne struggled to control the cough that threatened to burst out of him, Julian seemed to realise he was bare from the hips up. “Oh, sorry, bro,” he said, lazily backing away into the basement apartment. “I was, uh, busy.” He chuckled and moved away, grabbing a stained green shirt from an equally stained couch.

Reluctantly, Arne followed Julian through the doorway, and immediately realised that it was not only Julian who stank. The smell permeated the whole space, making Arne lightheaded. He wished that he had thought to bring air freshener in his luggage.

The basement suite was small, with low ceilings. Behind the couch was a counter to delineate the tiled kitchen, while in front of the couch was a low, beat-up table with a bong and other smoking paraphernalia scattered across it. To the side, a couple of doors led to what Arne hoped were the bedrooms and bathroom.

One door banged open, and another guy stumbled out into the living room. With a beanie over his dishevelled hair and his shirt on inside out, it was clear that he had dressed hurriedly. He looked over Arne with bloodshot eyes, his movements clumsy as he pulled on a thin jacket. “Hey man,” he grunted. As the man waved, another scent washed over Arne. This time, the skunk-smell was tempered with dried cum and a tangy, earthy flavour that hit the back of his throat.

“We lost track of time. Omar was just leaving.” At Julian’s gesture, Omar brushed past Arne and out the door. Arne turned to see him grab one of the skateboards leaning against the concrete stairs before the door shut behind him.

Arne was still shaking his head in an attempt to clear out Omar’s stench when Julian grabbed his bag. “In here, dude.”

Julian led Arne back through the door Omar had burst through into a room with two twin beds, exactly as small as Arne had feared. “Obvi, I won’t have guys over while you’re here, bro,” Julian said, handing Arne a spare key. “But if you like, we can always push the beds together for extra sleeping space.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow at Arne.

Blushing furiously, Arne made several aborted gestures. “Uh, no, no, no thank you,” he muttered, his accent thickening.

“Your loss, bro.” Julian raised both his arms to show his hairy armpits, posing as his musk assaulted Arne’s nostrils. “Just tell me if you change your mind, right? If you need me, I’ll prob-ly either be here smoking and painting, or over at the skate park, smoking and skating.”

Chuckling dumbly, Julian left the room. Moments later, while he sat on his bed and trying to work up the courage to leave, Arne’s nose was tickled by a waft of thick, numbing pot smoke.

It was just a few days, Arne reasoned. He’d be out all day anyway. He probably wouldn’t even see Julian that much, even if they did sleep in the same room. Plus, with a quick check of his bank balance, Arne knew that any alternative sleeping arrangements would be utterly impossible.

Arne forced himself to stay out late that night, exploring Davie Street, but his jet-lagged brain forced him back to the basement suite by midnight. Disheartened at the sight of a light on in the tiny ground-level window, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Julian was painting a skateboard in the living room, a half-smoked blunt in one hand. Not even the acrid smell of the paints and lacquer could overpower the stench of weed and musk in the tiny space. “Evenin’, bro,” Julian slurred as Arne blinked his eyes and tried to adjust to the thick, musky atmosphere. “Hey, come sit with me.”

“I have to go to sleep,” Arne protested, even as he walked to the spare seat on the couch and lowered himself into it. He remembered that he had resolved earlier not to touch the couch, since it was covered in who knew what kind of stains, but it was already done.

“No worries, this’ll help you sleep, bro,” Julian said, waving away Arne’s excuse with his blunt and then taking a deep pull off of it. He blew a stream of smoke into Arne’s face.

Arne spluttered. “Wh-what the hell!” He’d smoked a few times, but he was hardly a stoner. He could already feel a contact high working its way through his system, loosening his muscles and overwhelming him with sleepiness. For some reason, it also left his body feeling strangely tight.

“What design should I put on this board?” As he spoke, Julian leaned back on the couch and laid his arm across the back. Through the haze in his mind, Arne realised Julian was shirtless again, with musky sweat dripping down his sides from the bushes in his armpits.

Julian was still talking, something about dragons and complementary colours, and Arne just nodded along, too fixated on Julian’s body to care. He had never liked smelly guys, but something about Julian had Arne’s cock flooding his boxers with precum.

As Julian took another hit off his blunt, Arne realised that he could smell the salty tang of his precum in the air. Looking down, he could see a slick, spreading stain on his jeans. How long had he been sitting here? He thought that he should be embarrassed, but working up shame seemed like so much effort. He was so relaxed, sitting here on the couch, breathing in Julian’s sexy musk and clouds of pot smoke.

The rest of the night was a blur. Arne was so tired. He vaguely remembered Julian’s face looming over his, dripping sweat into Arne’s mouth. At some point, Arne thought he must have taken his shirt off because he got so warm and sweaty sitting on the couch. Finally, they had moved to the bedroom, where Julian had kept talking while Arne tried to calm his dripping cock enough to fall asleep.

Arne woke up slowly the next morning, cocooned in the scent of musk and weed. He started to roll over, but realised suddenly that there was a pair of sweaty arms around his chest. One of Julian’s fingers brushed across Arne’s bare nipple, and he moaned uncontrollably as a spark of pleasure shot to his slick, precum-smelling crotch.

His face burning with embarrassment, Arne carefully extricated himself from Julian’s bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He wondered why his body felt strange and top-heavy until he switched on the light. In the mirror, he saw a pair of massive pecs on top of his slender torso, the big nipples erect and pink.

Despite his horror, Arne still found himself feeling oddly horny. Looking further down, he saw an unfamiliar, half-hard cock between his bare legs—he had slept naked!—still leaking thick, clear precum that gathered in big drops before falling to the floor.

There was something seriously wrong with this apartment, and with Julian. Arne struggled to think, but the scent of his precum was quickly filling the little bathroom, making his head foggy. He had to…He had to…He had to touch his fat man tits.

Arne watched in the mirror as he popped his sweaty pecs, and then grabbed them with one hand. Not only were they real, they bounced hypnotically as he kneaded at the muscle. A finger brushed over his pert nipple, and Arne moaned again. His voice sounded strange. A little bit too deep, and slower than he was used to.

Would he feel even better if he pinched his nipple? As Arne went to grab his opposite nip, he struggled to remember what he had been thinking about. It had been something way more important than his bouncing pecs…

The thoughts dissolved as Arne started to tug on his sensitive nipple. He moaned loudly, his legs buckling as jolts of pleasure engulfed his body. The trickle of precum from his cock grew into a continuous stream as he knelt on the bathroom floor, mindlessly tugging on his pecs.

Arne barely noticed the bathroom door open until a pair of strong arms grabbed him under his shoulders and started to haul him to his feet. “No cumming yet, bro,” said Julian’s relaxed drawl next to his ear. “You’re not nearly done yet.”

By the time Julian handed Arne a plate of poptarts, Arne’s horniness had mostly faded back to a low hum, which spiked at the scent of Julian’s unwashed armpits. Arne wondered if he should feel embarrassed to be sat, naked, on Julian’s couch, his insistent cock still slowly leaking tangy precum onto the seat.

“Yesterday was a lot for you, huh bro?” Julian said through a mouthful of poptart. “I bet you just wanna stay here and hang out with me all day.”

Arne frowned. He was supposed to go to the suspension bridge today…No, that sounded like a lot of work. He’d much rather hang out with Julian. He had no idea why he’d thought Julian was gross or uncool. His smell was utterly intoxicating.

“What were you planning to do today?” Arne asked, after he’d eaten a few bites.

Julian shrugged, shedding runnels of sweat from his pits. “I was gonna go to the skate park and hang with some bros, but you need me more, bro.”

“What do you mean?” Arne was independent! He didn’t need Julian around! But it did feel nice to have someone hot and manly like Julian looking out for him, he realised.

“You can’t be left alone right now, bro.” Julian had finished his breakfast, and started to set up the bong on the coffee table. “So we’re gonna hang out, I’m gonna smoke, and then you’re gonna help me with some boards.”

Before long, Arne was floating comfortably, a little stoned from how much smoke billowed out of Julian’s sexy mouth. Julian got to work painting a skateboard, but after a few minutes he turned to look at Arne, a strange smile on his face.

“Come over and help me, bro.”

When Arne slid down to the floor next to Julian, his host raised one tanned, muscular arm. “I’m so sweaty, bro,” Julian said. Arne agreed, watching a rivulet of sweat emerge from the dark hair in Julian’s armpit, adding to the heady musk in the room. “If you could just, like, lick it up for me, I’ll be able to focus so much better.”

Arne frowned. That didn’t seem like it would help at all. But before he could protest, he felt a strong hand on the back of his head, and Julian was pushing him into his musky armpit.

The smell overpowered any of his protests. Julian’s musk was baked into his skin, and taking it straight from the source was far more intense than smelling him at range. The smell of sweat filled Arne’s mind, and he started to lick and suck at Julian’s armpit hair without realising it. The rank taste filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, and Arne felt his leaky cock start to flow again. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than this. As Julian kept painting, he moaned whenever Arne’s tongue pushed against an especially sensitive spot.

As he laved his tongue over Julian’s tight belly button a while later—time didn’t really matter—Arne started to feel itchy all over his body. As he ran a hand over his arms, he felt the resistance of thick hair. All over his body, Arne felt long hair growing. Before long, his precum didn’t even fall onto the skin of his hairy thighs, it just got lost in the hair.

With his new fur, Arne found himself sweating at least as much as Julian in the heat of the little room. When Julian took a break from painting to grab some lunch, Arne noticed a new smell filling the air. He was emitting his own flavour of musk now, like Julian’s, but with a bit more of a richness to it from the precum dripping between his legs. He couldn’t help but give his armpits a sniff, licking up what he could reach of his own taste.

Julian returned and grinned at Arne. “Damn, bro, you’re almost ready.”

“What?” Arne looked up at Julian. It felt like he was seeing through a thick haze. It was so hard to think. He had to get outside and get some fresh air. But where were his clothes?

Julian held out a brownie for Arne. “Here, bro, this’ll help that brain of yours along. It’s my special blend.” He winked a dark eye, and Arne obediently took a bite of the brownie from Julian’s hand.

While Julian got back to his painting, Arne felt himself feeling slowly, but insistently, hornier. From licking up the sweat at the top of Julian’s back, he moved lower and lower, until he was licking at the very top of Julian’s musky asscrack. His cock felt iron-hard and huge against his thigh, a continuous stream of precum trickling into his sweaty leg hair.

Julian groaned. “Oh, bro, if you’re gonna get in there, let’s do it for real.” Putting the freshly finished board aside, Julian rose to his feet and pulled Arne up as well.

Arne felt so tall. The floor was so far away. All he could see was his hairy belly and thick, drippy cock as he followed Julian through the door to the bedroom. Then, all he could see was Julian, lying on his back with his legs hooked over Arne’s hairy shoulders. At last, Arne was back in a place that made sense, looking into Julian’s asscrack, licking up the musky sweat on his firm cheeks.

As his tongue dove into Julian’s hole, Arne remembered the first time they had skateboarded together. With his natural musk, it was hard for Arne to make friends with other skaters, but Julian had skated right up to him and invited him back to his place.

As he lined his cock up with Julian and rubbed his copious precum over the shaft, Arne remembered growing up in Vancouver. Dealing weed had been fun before legalisation, but now his job at the dispensary was pretty easy. Arne spent most of his time perfecting his skating tricks or smoking up with Julian or their other musky skater friends.

As he thrust against Julian’s prostate and felt the smaller man begin to tighten around him and cum, Arne remembered how much he loved his buddies. He was the big guy of the group, with his big, hairy muscles and fat, leaky cock. He wasn’t much of a thinker, but he’d do anything for Julian and his bros.

With that thought, Arne felt his balls tighten against him as he unloaded a huge, creamy load in Julian’s ass. As he shuddered, collapsing on top of his bro, there was a knock at the door.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s my next guest,” Julian groaned, whining a little as Arne pulled out. In addition to selling custom skateboards, Julian made extra cash by renting part of his room to gay tourists. Arne loved Julian’s musky, pot-smelling basement, so he thought that sharing the space a bit more was a great idea.

Julian pulled a pair of relatively clean sweatpants up his legs and wiped the worst of his cum off his chest with one of the shirts on the floor. “Just grab some clothes, bro,” he said over his shoulder as he shut the door behind himself.

As he pulled on his XL sweatpants and grabbed his hoodie, Arne listened to Julian introducing himself to this new guy. “What’s up, bro? You must be Yadu. I’m Julian, your host.” The spiel sounded strangely familiar. Careful to leave the hoodie unzipped so he wouldn’t stimulate his oversensitive nipples, and careless of Julian's cum slowly drying in his chest hair, Arne crammed a beanie over his hair and stepped into the living room.

A shrimpy African guy was looking in horror at the room, a small suitcase hanging from his weedy arm. Arne waved at him, and the guy looked like he was about to gag as a wave of Arne’s thick, precummy musk washed over him.

“Sorry, bro, we lost track of time.” Julian was pulling on a shirt in the kitchen. “Arne was just leaving.”

Nodding to Julian, Arne brushed past Yadu and headed out the door, grabbing his skateboard from where it was leaning against the wall. He had to go meet up with Omar at the skate park anyway.

This story is a belated holiday gift for @rakurairagnarok! Here's to a very sexy, transformative new year, my friend ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #reality change #dumber tf #musk tf #stoner tf #all fwkong

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fashion-runways · 3 months

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hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

#text posts

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Part 10! of SpecGru reader. This is a little short, but I was so excited to post because NOVA.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex - oral, female receiving

Nova is your partner for the day – running drills as guest instructors for recruits, working them so hard they don’t have enough air to make any stupid, sexist remarks. The two of you spend all day flirting like a new lovesick couple, your hand drifting low on her back while she teases you with double entendres. Press her up against the wall outside the dining hall after lunch, licking the taste of apple off her lips while she tangles clever fingers in your hair.

Don’t care about who might be watching, or who cares. Not like your captain does. The opposite really, as he sidles up behind you while you’re spotting Nova in the gym. He slaps your ass so hard it damn near echoes, smirking at your scandalized face while she quickly reracks so that she can laugh.

“How are my girls doin’ today?” he chuckles.

“Right as rain, cap,” Nova answers, beaming when he cups her cheek.

“Can’t be anything but good with our star girl around,” you reply, winking at her. Bark a laugh when she smacks you in the thigh.

“Yeah?” he asks, a note of sincerity in his voice now. “Those shitheads leavin’ you alone?”

You blink, realize that there has been a distinct lack of 141 overtures today. No wonder you’re in such a good mood. An orgasm in the morning, your pretty, hyper-competent girlfriend all day, and no shitty former teammates? That’s practically a vacation lately.

“Do I have you to thank for that, sir?” you ask. Remember him saying something about talking to Price yesterday.

“You can thank me later,” he answers with a little smirk.

“Gladly, sir.” He’s getting more than that at this rate.

“Just wanted to check in on you two,” he continues, tweaking your nose, “and there’s an intel brief at 1600.”

“Yessir,” you and Nova reply together.

He chuckles again, gives you both one last fond look, then takes his leave.

“Finish up in here, shower, and get there a bit early?” Nova suggests.

You turn back to her, wipe a bit of sweat off her forehead with your forearm. She huffs in (only half fake) disgust and lays back on the bench again. She’s still got half a set to finish.

“Yeah, I want to steal Price’s usual seat,” you answer.

“You petty little tart,” she chuckles.

You lean your elbows on the bar and lean over her, arching your eyebrows playfully. “I’m your petty little tart.”

“Have always had a sweet tooth,” she muses.

You laugh and get off the bar so that she can continue. Of course, you’re keeping a close eye on her – but lord, she’s distracting. Thick thighs and solid abdomen, her tank-top is even sticking to the flexing muscles. And her arms. You’re not even being subtle, drinking in each deliberate rise and fall of the metal bar. Following droplets of sweat down her biceps…

“You mind?” she huffs, though not without amusement.

You jolt a bit, flushing as you help her rerack again. She sits up, a mischievous curl to her full lips.

“What’s got into you, huh?” she asks, tilting her head.

You shrug as you switch places, trip up a bit when you realize just how nice the view is. Even thoroughly sweaty, she smells a bit like coconut. Damn.

“Not you, unfortunately,” you reply absently.

She chuckles, tapping a finger against your forehead. “Tell ya what, love – you do five extra reps and we can make that happen.”

You’ve never flown through a workout so fast.

You damn near stumble into the shower stall, lips and tongue tangled with Nova’s. The flimsy curtain flutters haphazardly behind her as you reach blindly for the knob. Ice cold water drenches your back, but it does nothing to cool the desire blazing in your gut. Not when she’s peeling herself out of her compression pants, shimmying out of her damp shirt, and wriggling out of her sports bra.

Don’t even care about your own clothes, dropping to your knees in awe. She’s absolutely gorgeous, your girl. Pretty brown skin interrupted by pale patches like scattered clouds, meeting of earth and sky right there in front of you. Something divine about that, you think vaguely. She certainly looks the part, all strength and confidence, dark eyes smoldering like coals. Interrupted only by slashes of scar tissue and the SpecGru tattoo on her forearm.

You’ll never get tired of looking at her.

“C’mere, love,” you murmur, hooking your fingers behind her thigh and gently urging her closer.

She laughs a bit, though there’s a breathless edge to it that makes you perk up like a dog.

“You’re still dressed, daft thing.”

You shake your head. “That can wait.”

Despite your deal in the gym, there’s nothing you want more right now than to take care of her. Just leave her a shaky, whimpering mess, until your shirt is wet with her rather than water or sweat.

“Let me take care of you, baby?” you breathe, hands skimming up her soft thighs. You caress your thumb over her labia, licking your lips at the stickiness already gathered there. “Please, Nila.”

She shudders hard. You groan softly, trailing kisses over the bundle of tissue protecting her lower tummy. Can feel her twitching a bit from the ticklish sensation of your hair brushing her ribs.

“Y-your sure?” she asks. “I haven’t washed off yet…”

“Don’ care,” you mumble, scraping your teeth over the sharp cut of her hip. Tease eager fingertips over her leaking slit, playing in the trim curls. “I gotta taste you. Stay hydrated ‘n all that.”

She tries to scoff, but it’s overtaken by a wobbly moan when you suck a modest mark into her inner thigh. Keegan’s going to pout when he sees it; that’s his favorite spot to claim on all of you.

“Yeah, babes,” she gasps, “g-go ahead.”

It’s probably pathetic, how quickly you faceplant into her pussy. Can’t bring yourself to care when the taste of her bursts across your desperate tongue. A bit of salt, but all her, earthy. You lap at her with the flat of your tongue, starting at her dripping entrance and working slowly up until you curl the tip over her slippery, swollen clit. Again and again. Until all your thoughts whittle down to this, to her. To the helpless clench of her empty cunt and the involuntary buck of her hips. Nothing to calm your thoughts like taking care of your angel.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, blunt nails scraping over your scalp.

Your eyes roll back as shivers chase down your spine, moaning into her cunt just to return the effect. Love how her head tips back, knees quaking. You scoot in a bit closer, hook her knee over your shoulder to offer some stability. Then focus your attention on that button of nerves, sucking it gently into your hot mouth.

“F-fingers,” she whimpers, “fingers too, love. Please.”

As if you could deny her anything ever. Circle worshipful fingers around her entrance, groaning lustfully when slick begins dripping down your wrist. God, she always gets to fucking wet. When she tilts her hips with a needy whine, you test one finger inside her, rubbing gently against her walls. But she keens, clearly wants more, so you stuff a second finger inside her, curling them as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck!” she cries. “Yeah, just like that. J-Just there, babe.”

And you’re useless to do anything but acquiesce, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her squirming on your mouth and hands. Feel like you could get off on the noises she’s making alone, your own pussy drenched and aching. But you can’t be bothered to spare a single thought or movement for yourself, hands and mind too full of Nila.

Your dedication is quickly rewarded by the telltale squeezing of her pussy, the increasing pitch and volume to her voice. Don’t dare change a single thing, as desperate for her to cum as she is. Could live forever between her thighs, just like this, listening to that voice break for you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… c-cum – fuck!”

You moan as she drenches your chin and neck, quick to support her weak legs so that she can ride out each and every wave of her ecstasy. Suckle at her sensitive clit and circle your fingers around her spongy g-spot until she’s shuddering, gently tugging at your hair. You pull away reluctantly; don’t want to overstimulate her (when she doesn’t want it) but pussy-drunk all the same.

Give her a second to catch her breath, dotting kisses like stars around your pretty Nova.

“That was perfect,” she coos, “come up here for a kiss? I miss you.”

You make sure she’s steady before standing, smiling, stupidly charmed. “I’m right here, sweetheart, nothing to miss.”

“Miss you anytime I’m not kissin’ you,” she replies dreamily, looping her arms around your neck.

You pepper kisses along her jaw until you reach her puffy, bitten lips. Tuts softly at their swollen state before she thoroughly distracts you by licking the taste of herself from your mouth.

“Spoil me,” she sighs against your lips.

“Not spoiling if you deserve it,” you reply, hugging her close.

She giggles brightly, tucking her face against your flushed neck. Stay like that for a moment, gently swaying. Then she nips gently at your collarbone.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

First | Previous | Introducing...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #specgru reader #nova cod #Nila “Nova” Brown #Nova x reader #captain daddy cameo

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imshymorph · 3 months

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Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #captain price cod #captain john price #cod mw2 #captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soft!price

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qwimchii · 8 months

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Begging for Capt. Price filth 😭

𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘳!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5.1𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘳!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵&𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘫𝘰𝘣 & 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, (𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭) 𝘴𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬?? (𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?? 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳… 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳), 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬-𝘪𝘯𝘴 <3

note: pure filth… someone possessed me when i wrote this idk it wasnt me u guys, istg. also, the title inspired by aphrodite by rini!

with a swirl of hot, slick shame in your stomach and a hard swallow, you glanced up from the map directions on your phone to the establishment in front of you.

you didn’t know what you were expecting. when your friend Kylie had recommended you to this place several months ago, you had rolled your eyes, nose wrinkling at the idea that some people would spend so much money on a place like this.

a couple weeks ago, several hours into your birthday party, Kylie had privately pulled you aside from the get-together to hand you a little gift bag with hot pink tissue paper scrunched up at the top. your eyes flitted from the bag to the beaming smile on her face, a nervous laugh building in the back of your throat.

“open it!” she prodded, directing your hand to the tissue paper. pushing it aside, you reached down into the bag and flexed your fingers around till you found a birthday envelope and… something else.

you pulled it out, eyes flicking over the sleek black card with a fancy, modern print etched into the front. the garden of eden.

a bitter feeling pooled into your mouth. “a business card…?”

she bounced lightly on her feet, bumbling as she shook her head, speaking with a low thrill. “remember that amazing spa and amazing masseur i was telling you about?”

she paused for dramatic effect, the grin stretching her cheeks almost comically. your brows just raised slightly in a silent offering for her to continue.

“i know how much you’ve been stressed out lately, so i got you a gift card for an intimate massage!”

at that, you stifled a groan, dismayed that your friend would give you such an expensive birthday gift. but knowing the fact that Kylie sported a louis vuitton purse and matching suitcase on that last girl’s travel trip you had, could you really be surprised?

not to mention the fact that Kylie’s husband had gifted her the keys to a new audi at her last birthday party. which was hosted on a yacht.

a tight grimace pinched your face as you recited a strained thank you, letting her pull you into a suffocating hug as she rambled on about something you weren’t really listening to.

you couldn’t help but grimace all over again as you rejoined the party. why was she going to these intimate massage places when she had a husband?

you’d find out soon you supposed, narrowing your eyes at the sleek exterior of the spa. the unmistakable logo illuminated above the trim entrance. the garden of eden.

you were ready to pull into a cracked parking lot riddled with potholes and a crumbling brick building with a neon sign that flashed obnoxiously. not this epitome of wealth.

before you could tuck your tail between your legs and flee, you braved the street, striding over the crosswalk with a confident step that slowly waned the closer you approached the intimidating entrance. by the time you swung the glass door open and stood in front of the receptionist, you were a muddle of anxiety and regret.

the receptionist glanced over the top of her computer, a look of suppressed impatience on her face when you said nothing, blubbering like a fish as she flicked two strands of hair out the way, her hair gelled back into a tight updo.

“name?” she said with a raised, perfectly manicured brow. you gave it meekly and she nodded, fingers moving over the keyboard with mechanic clacks.

“and what service are you here for today, ma’am?”

you withered where you stood. “intimate massage.”

but she just nodded, not even sparing you a glance as she slid a clipboard over the counter.

“fill this out and sign here please,” she directed, tapping an acrylic nail at the bottom of the page, eyes still trained on the screen of her computer.

you just nodded dumbly, picking up a pen as your eyes ran over the checkboxes of the page, the hair on the back of your neck bristling as you let out a squeak of surprise.

you bringed the paper closer to your eyes just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. in a list of checkboxes beneath the precursory personal information, you swallowed as you absorbed the contents.

please check the box(es) of your preference:

silent massage (no verbal cues)

verbal praise

verbal degradation

groping

choking (light/rough)

edging

orgasm denial

slapping (breasts/vagina/glutes)

clitoris play

vaginal penetration with fingers...

you felt like throwing up as the list went on, endlessly went on, and ended with a space for your signature. for your consent, you presumed, feeling nauseous as you swayed on your feet.

“ma’am?”

you head snapped up to the receptionist who was tapping a payment terminal on the counter, brows furrowed as she looked you over.

“sorry,” you said weakly, fumbling to reach into your purse and snap open your wallet, fishing out the gift card and shoving it into the machine before scrawling down the necessary information into the blanks of the document and almost closing your eyes when you checked certain boxes down the list, flushed with shame. ready to just get this over with.

“are you aware that this gift card requests for a specific masseur?”

you just nodded, the words sliding from your ears as she listed off more precautionary procedurals before finally gesturing to another glass door to the side of the front reception.

“that way please, miss. your masseur will be waiting for you at the end of the hall.”

blindly, you strode over to push the doors open, letting out a strained exhale as you walked down the hallway with careful steps, taking in the contemporary art stacked along the walls and the sweet tinge of a calming incense in the air that didn’t calm the nerves that twisted your stomach at all.

at the end of the hall, and past another set of glass double doors, you saw the broad back of a man in a black linen set talking to a shorter woman in the same uniform. when her eyes flicked to you, she ushered him away and disappeared down a different hallway. then, he turned to you, hands casually against his hips. a low curse left your lips before you could prevent it.

again, you found yourself dismayed, because you didn’t know what you were expecting. maybe, an old wrinkly masseur like in those shitty pornos your ex boyfriend used to watch. this bearded man was, undoubtedly, older than you, but ruggedly handsome in a way that made your stomach flip.

not with nerves, but with anticipation. or maybe a mix of the two.

he closed the distance between you, looking down at you from his tall height, a polite smile on his lips but a dark, knowing look in his blue eyes that flushed your cheeks.

“john price,” he said, voice rough and gravely as he offered a hand. you returned with your name shyly, letting him pull you closer as you shook his large hand that dwarfed your own.

fuck. he was hot, and that knowledge made you dizzy.

in a haze, you let him lead you further down the hallway, startling when he glanced at you from over his shoulder.

“i saw that you specially requested me, ma’am.”

“i…” you groped around for words, prickling all over with embarrassment.

“my friend,” you settled on finally, “she requested you.”

his brows rose before he trained his attention forward once more. “your friend…?”

he let out a low huff of laughter, turning on his heel as he motioned down a branching hallway lined with opaque, glass doors.

“and where are they?”

you swallowed hard, staring at him. “well… this was a birthday gift.”

he just looked amused, like he was mulling over something very thoughtfully.

“hm.”

you followed the silent directions he gave you, halting at a door in the middle of the hallway. when his hands closed around the handle, a flurrying panic seized you, and the warring emotions in your heart stumbled to the forefront.

“wait—!”

he paused, brows raised in expectation.

fuck, what were you doing? the voices in you were clambering around and loud, mind grappling with itself. you couldn’t chicken out of this now, you chided yourself, biting down on your lower lip.

or could you?

but John just huffed, twisting the door open to… a bathroom?

“all customers must take showers before service,” he explained, a shrewd smirk twisting his lips. “did the receptionist not disclose as such?”

“i—” you stumbled through your words, “no. no she did.” you just had been too nervous to listen.

you brushed past him, stepping into the pristine bathroom and slowly turning in your spot to give him a weak, strained smile.

when he didn’t close the door, just tilted his head at you, the smirk sliding from his face, a shiver slithered down your spine.

“if i can assist you in any way,” he said slowly, a considerate gaze pinning you to your spot, “please notify me.”

his words were tinged with something darker beneath the kindness of them that turned the shiver into a wrack of shudders. like there was an offer hidden within them that you could pluck out, that he wanted you to seize.

his eyes flicked to the shower behind you and you melted into a puddle of hot liquid. help you in the shower?

“m’fine,” you squeaked, unable to meet his eyes.

for an unbreathing moment, he blinked at you. then, he nodded, that polite smile flashing through his face.

“your private room will be number sixteen. down the hall on the left.”

he shut the door softly.

the breath deflated from your lungs and your shoulders slumped, a crawling heat over your skin that propelled you to strip yourself of your clothes and toss them into an untidy pile before stepping into the shower.

you let the water run over you for longer than necessary, careful to keep your hair swept out of the way as you scrubbed yourself again. then again. and again.

you didn’t know what to do with yourself and the heat that wouldn’t leave your cheeks. your stomach. the place between your thighs.

it was infuriating, and you turned the water colder and colder till you were shivering under the icy blast of water. still, that heat burned you inside and out, and the thought of that masseur wasn’t helping in the least.

he looked strong—tall and muscled. handsome. god.

you looked down to the pulsing place between your thighs and lamented. lately, you had been so pent up. life was debilitating and wrung you so dry that you couldn’t find time to have a bit of fun with a stray partner at the local bar anymore.

you deserved this. swallowing hard, you tried to convince yourself of the words when you twisted the knob of the shower, determined to shake yourself of that swirling shame that seized your insides as you dried yourself with fury.

opposite the sparkling sink was a row of robes with a plaque etched above each one instructing customers to don one instead of clothing. you jerked a lavish robe on, conscious of the way your tits were so visible beneath its silky softness, and shoved your clothes into the plastic bag from the dispenser on the sink.

you deserved this. it rang clear as you stepped out the bathroom clad in slippers and the revealing robe. you could do this.

as you stomped down the hallway, sharply turning left as he instructed, you made a beeline for room sixteen and pushed the door open.

when you stepped in, letting your weight fall against the door behind you, you stayed there, frozen in place as you watched John crouched down at some cabinets on the far side of the room. in the middle of it, there was a plush massage table that looked equally comfortable and equally ominous.

you opted for your spot pressed to the door.

“was it good?”

his abrupt question startled you as he turned with some bottles in his hands. with a flush of embarrassment, you knew they must’ve been for…

you gnawed on the inner softness of your cheek.

“good?”

his brows raised a little as he put the bottles down by the massage table. “the shower.”

your eyes widened. the shower?

he stared at you for a long moment before a gruff laugh escaped him, turning away to straighten the covering on the massage table.

“was the shower to your liking, ma’am?”

you gaped, mouth opening and then closing, fishing around to see if there was some sort of innuendo in his words. a little voice in you mewled that there must’ve been, otherwise your face wouldn’t be so hot like this.

you mumbled some semblance of an affirmative and he nodded. “good.”

when you still stayed pressed to the door, cowering like a little animal, he gave you a soft look. “would you like me to put your items into a locker, ma’am?”

you dropped the plastic bag and your purse by the door, nudging them into the corner of the room with your foot.

“no thank you.”

you still stayed pressed to the door and he leaned his hip against the table.

“are you alright ma’am?”

“mhmm.”

an ocean of goosebumps perked up on your skin when he began edging closer to you.

“what brought you in here today, love?”

it was such an intimate question, you didn’t really know what to say. you took in the sharpness of his jaw, broad shoulders, and the gentle outline of his muscled torso beneath the thin cloth of his shirt.

“stress,” you squeaked, and he cocked his head.

“yeah? been feelin’ pent up?”

your skin was set alight. he was only an arm’s length away now, stopping at a distance that was still professional but felt smothering. you couldn’t breath, hyper aware when his eyes dropped to the swell of your breasts beneath the thin robe.

suddenly, you felt naked. and embarrassingly wet.

“mhmm.”

his eyes flicked back up to meet yours, so thick and dark that your thighs clenched together. “don’t worry, darlin’. i can help you relax.”

he offered a hand to you, and with a shy feeling, you curled your hand into his, letting him gently tug you toward the massage table.

“we’ll take it slow, yeah?”

you nodded meekly, untying the sash of your robe with clumsy hands. when the ropes fell to your sides, you stood stock still, looking up at him meekly as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“sorry,” you said weakly, guilt thick and cold in your gut for making his job so difficult.

“s’alright,” he coaxed, not a crack of impatience in his face.

when you still made no move to remove it yourself, he ghosted a hand over the waist of the robe. “may i?”

you nodded, screwing your eyes shut when he tugged it from your shoulders, just the rustling of the robe falling to the floor and his calm breaths filling the room. a breeze enveloped your exposed skin, and you jolted when his warm knuckles brushed over your arm.

cracking your eyes open, he gestured towards the massage table, and you eased yourself onto it, nerves twisting hot and livid in your stomach, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else.

stiff as a board against the table, you were almost relieved when he stepped away from you, switching on some music in the background. it wasn’t lusty and sensual like you thought it would be, but lilted with a calming resonance. like something that you would meditate to every now and then.

you heard him step closer to you once more, saw him in your peripheral, but nonetheless you jolted when his fingers ghosted over your bare stomach.

“just relax,” he said softly, eyes trained on your face as he rubbed over your stomach, sliding up beneath your breasts.

you held your breath, confused when his warm touch never made contact with the plush of your tits, but instead dipped back down and skipped over your cunt, sliding over your thighs and squeezing lightly.

gnawing on your lower lip, you stole a glance at the easy look on his face, meeting his gaze with a confused one. he lifted his other hand to rest on your forehead, rubbing at the spot between your eyebrows.

oh. that felt good.

“close your eyes,” he commanded, and you complied immediately, so distracted by his fingertips massaging over the tense spots on your head that you almost missed when his knuckles stroked your inner thighs.

“m’nervous,” you admitted finally, feeling loosened by the ministrations over your scalp.

he just hummed, moving his other hand from your inner thighs. there was a warm touch on your pubic bone, just above your cunt, and your hips jumped with a gasp. “just listen to the music.”

“i can make you feel good,” he whispered, and you shivered, face flushing when the wetness between your thighs was beginning to grow uncomfortable.

it felt wrong to be under this touch of this older man. a stranger, who you were letting run his hands all over you.

the thought just made you shudder, stomach in knots when he slid his hand up your stomach and gently kneaded your breasts.

you whimpered, arching into the touch blindly, and he hummed in approval.

“tha’s it love.”

you released a shaky exhale under the little burst of praise from his lips, and a needy voice in you demanded for more.

then, the warm sensations left your body, leaving you cold and wanting on the table, and your eyes snapped open, finding him already looking down at you with amusement as he unstoppered a bottle of… something.

he poured it into his hands, rubbing them together, warming it, you thought dizzily, as he slid his hot and oiled hands over your body, pushing down with a pressure that had your mind spinning as your head thudded back against the table.

his movements became bolder as more whimpers fell from your lips, squeezing your tits, the flesh of your stomach, then your thighs, before he picked up the bottle and poured a little oil straight onto your naval.

“spread your thighs,” he commanded in a low tone that had your knees snapping open immediately, much to your embarrassment.

he cooed a praise that was lost to your ears as he spread the oil over your naval, then your inner thighs, completely neglecting your cunt as it pulsed angrily.

“mister—” you struggled for words as your hips bucked up, feeling so so embarrassed at how needy you were growing, all his touches over your body heating you up and drowning you in a never-ending, spirling pool of want.

“you can call me John,” he said, pressing your hips back down to the table with unnerving patience. “or sir, if that’s what you like, darlin’.”

you didn’t miss the suggestiveness in his gravelly tone, smothering a yelp when he tugged your thighs wider, hooking an arm beneath one to stretch your hips further apart.

when he craned his neck down to observe your cunt, just staring unblinkingly, you were flushed with embarrassment.

“please—” you begged weakly, squirming a little on the table.

he looked down at you from over his shoulder, and the lust blown look in his face made you shudder.

is this what all appointments were like? for all customers? you thought dizzily, understanding how someone could get addicted to a place like this. a place where John was.

“thought you wanted this love,” he said slowly, and you nodded eagerly.

“touch me, please—”

in a quick movement, he slapped your inner thigh, palm connecting with the side of your pussy lips on the way, and you jolted against the table, a loud moan torn from your lips as the sting sizzled out into pleasurable fizzles all over your skin.

“thought you wanted to be teased,” he said softly, like he was being kind when he rubbed over the stinging spot. “edged. slapped. degraded.”

his fingers ghosted over the shell of your clit and you gasped, hips twitching up into the relief of the featherlight touch.

“s’what you filled out on the contract,” he grunted, voice considerably more aggressive when he pinched your clit lightly. a little cry left your lips and he hummed, a smile on his lips as he watched you squirm.

“such a depraved little thing.” his head ducked down to stare down at your cunt again, like he was talking to it, as his fingers brushed over your throbbing cunt.

“so fuckin’ wet already, slut.”

then, he slapped your cunt, gentler than before, but then he did it again, and you twisted on the table, tears springing up into your eyes at the pleasurable sting that traveled straight to the heat in your stomach.

“please,” you practically sobbed, clit pulsing and throbbing and god—

he thumbed away the tears on your cheeks, gently shushing you as he stepped back to pour some more oil into his hands before rubbing his whole palm over your cunt, oiling the slick wetness of your sex and completely ignoring the whimpers and whines on your lips as he did as he pleased.

or maybe, as you pleased, since you were the customer, but as you arched into his touch and the sensual, torturous circles he massaged into your clit, you couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t matter what you wanted anymore.

you were under his mercy as he held you down, snaking two hands around your wrists and binding them against your tits to keep you from squirming so much as he played with your clit.

“good?”

the gentle check-in spun your head and you nodded dumbly, looking up at him in a blurry haze. with your reassurance, he smiled softly, pinning you down with something dangerously close to an affectionate look before more filth was spilling from his mouth.

“this just needed a little attention, didn’t it, pretty girl?”

even if his eyes were on you, you knew he was talking about your cunt, and the lewd way he said it had you choking on an affirming moan.

“yeah, tha’ was all,” he said, so rough and delicious that the sound of his voice made your cunt clench around nothing. painfully empty.

“just needed a lil’ attention, a quick orgasm, and you’ll be good as new, hmm?”

mind dizzy, you could barely respond to him, brows pinched as you stuttered and fumbled around for a response.

but he continued without you. “needed an older and experienced man to take care of you, hm?”

“fuck,” you cried, grinding your hips against his touch, eyes rolling back into your head because all the sensations felt blinding.

“suck a dirty slut,” he cooed, slapping your clit in a couple wet smacks that had your hips bucking up before he was rubbing his fingers against you again, faster this time.

he released your wrists and slid hand to your jaw, pressing down on your jugular as some of his fingers teased your lower lip. easily, you conceded, sliding your mouth open so he could press two fingers deep down your hot throat, screwing your eyes shut as you tried not to choke and just suck.

“good girl,” he grunted roughly, sending you spiraling when his hand crept further down your cunt and stretching your sopping walls with a big finger. then, as soon as his first finger was buried to the hilt, he was slipping in another one, cunt squelching and sucking around his fingers as he fucked you with his hand.

“oh John—” you couldn’t help the breathy, warbled gasp around a mouthful of his fingers, heart jumping at the way his gaze just darkened down at you.

“so greedy,” he admonished at a whisper, and you whimpered, swirling your tongue around his fingers as you reached out to anchor on something, anything, only satiated when your hand came into contact with the fabric of his pants, clutching at the linen in a tight fist.

you felt something hard pressing against your knuckles, eyes sliding over to take in the swollen bulge in his pants.

with a little whimper, you brushed over it mindlessly, and John hissed at the touch, sliding his hand out your mouth and back around your throat, pushing your head firmly back down to the table.

“s’off limits, darlin’,” he reminded you, breathlessly, though you didn’t miss the way his grinded his hips into your palm.

you distantly remember the contract outlining something about not touching the masseurs in return—that it was a strictly single avenue for pleasure.

but knowing it was forbidden somehow made it so much better.

“wanna suck you off,” you whispered softly, blindly pawing at the waistband of his pants, and he practically growled, hand tightening around your neck.

“hungry, are you?” he pressed a thumb into your mouth and you sucked it in eagerly, humming, shuddering when his fingers curled into that sweet spot inside you.

breath stolen somewhere far away, you ground your hips into every curl of his fingers, eyelids drooping even though you fought them to stay awake. in the meantime, his hand retreated from your throat, disappearing somewhere off the table. then, your head was being turned, and you were dizzily faced with the leaking head of his thick cock almost brushing against the tip of your nose.

you hummed, immediately craning your neck forward to brush your lips, slick with spit, over the head of his cock, then beneath it, lips ghosting in little kisses at his frenulum, and you wholly enjoyed the way that he shivered.

“c’mon, pretty,” he coaxed, firmly grabbing a fistful of your hair. “suck me off with that cute little throat.”

dropping your jaw open, tongue out in an offering, he immediately slid down your throat, and you moaned around him, letting him press all the way down to the hilt in one go.

“good girl, you can take it, you will take it, ” he rasped, sounding almost pained as he ground the thick tip against the soft skin at the very back of your throat. when you choked, throat seizing hard around him, he let out a low groan and pulled his hips back so that the very tip of him rested against your lips. for a moment, you struggled for breath, torn between the way he was massaging your g-spot perfectly and the drooling cock waiting for the heat of your mouth right in front of your face.

“more,” you whined, throat already strained from abuse, craning forward to wrap your lips around the tip and suckling so that his hips jerked forward into your mouth.

he pressed the side of your head firmly down into the table so that you were immobilized—so that he could rut his hips smoothly into your hot and tight mouth like it was his own personal cocksleeve, and just the thought of it had your clit twitching, cunt spasming because you were getting dangerously close.

“close?” he grunted, and you hummed weakly around him, sucking as best as you could when mind-numbing waves of pleasure threatened to overtake you with every curl of his fingers.

before you could protest, he pulled out of your mouth and released your head against the table. by the time you were picking up your head to peer at him, he was already kneeling at the edge of the table, curling two arms around your thighs to pull you closer to his waiting mouth.

then, his tongue was on your clit, making out with your pussy in ways that made your back arch up off the table.

“John!” you gasped, curling your legs around his head so that you could keep him flush to your cunt.

in a hazy, distant part of your mind, you were faintly aware that the contract said nothing about eating out but—

“s’not allowed,” you reminded him between breathy moans, words sluggish and blurred together.

he just hummed, dark blue eyes flickering up to you with almost a sinister smile on his lips as his tongue swirled around your clit. “only for special customers.”

you choked on a moan, letting your head fall back as one hand twisted in your own hair, the other in John’s, tugging just to keep a grip on reality as he worked you through a mind-numbing orgasm that had you seeing pure white before you were crashing back down, hyper sensitive when his lips were still glued to your cunt.

jolting against the table, you shook with sobs as he pleasured to your last trembling high, suckling in your clit one last time before he leaned back, beard and chin glistening with your slick.

between wracking pants, your eyes betrayed you, sliding shut as you sank into the massage table, falling completely boneless.

“ma’am?” his voice was husky with use as he wrapped a hand gently around your ankle before releasing.

forcing your eyes open, you were blessed with the sight of him unbuttoning the front of his shirt, exposing the tone of his torso and the dark thatch of hair near his naval. then, your eyes dropped to his flushed, neglected cock between his thighs, looking so very painful and thick and suckable.

humming, you swung up on the table and slid to your knees on the floor, crawling towards him till you were nestled between his shoes.

you looked up at him, heels pressed against your ass and neck craning back to meet his debauched gaze, cracked wide open with want and need. then, you licked your lips, giving him a good show as you wrapped a hand innocently around his cock, giving it a little tug, satisfied from the way it twitched in your touch.

“how many customers have done this for you?” you asked, shy as you eyed the pearly beads of precum that slid off his tip and onto your waiting tits. he cursed in a throaty, low tone.

“few,” he admitted, nudging his hips forward so the head of his cock brushed against your lips.

your eyes fluttered up to him again. “please fuck my throat, sir.”

“fuck,” he curse, thick and dark as he crept a hand into your hair and pulled taught so that your head was pulled back, the underside of his cock against your plush cheek.

“m’gonna ruin you darlin’,” he whispered, a threat and a promise that you eagerly took as he guided his cock into your waiting mouth, poised and wide open for him.

im ngl i didnt really know how to end this one bc im not sure how much i like how i wrote this ff and it was going on for too long and alfjslirjfsij (i do already have ideas for a part 2 if anyone is interested in more masseur!John because the concept certainly intrigues me... 🌚)

taglist: @ivybeeloved @keiva1000

#captain john price #john price #john price fluff #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain price #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic

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moncherellie · 9 months

Text

the red line (+ ai audios)

a/n: this one is inspired by the song cherry by rina sawayama. that drives me wack every time i hear it. rina u are a genius. requests still open :) i hope this is reminiscent of a first love/first girl crush. i sure projected here LMAO

-content/warnings: 4k words, kinda loser! ellie x loser! reader (pining pining pining), fem reader, lots of awkward flirting, reader has slight anxiety/overthinks, reader's first gay relationship, fleeting mentions of drug use/creepy dudes/homophobia

Moving from your small Midwestern town to the East Coast was a whirlwind of culture shock and nerves. The people in your town were tooth-achingly sweet, while East Coast people were straightforward enough to induce whiplash. The air seemed smog-clogged compared to the untouched crispness of a rural day, occasionally choking when you open your window in the morning and making the mistake of inhaling too deeply. But while the honeyed grass fields and clear cerulean skies of Wisconsin would always hold a fond place in your heart, its fresh air couldn’t compare to the refreshing feeling of a big city. Sure, people in your hometown were nice, but there was always an underlying threat of conformity- the asphyxiation of green grass lawns, American flags, and fishing trips was finally released when you entered Boston, your new home.

You’d only been here a few days, moving into your apartment and getting to know the neighborhood, so there’d been no time to explore the broader city. At least, that was the excuse you’d use. A couple friends had called and urged you to take photos for them, saying that they were trapped at home and you were the only one who’d escaped the town. You’d type a short lol come with, but you needed to settle at your own pace. This was why, on the fifth day, you’d decided to traverse across the entire city to find a music store called “The Boston Beat” that caught your eye on Yelp. 4.3 stars, a fair selection of mainstream records and indie music, and a pride flag in the window, which was a welcome change of pace. You had a day plan.

You’d marched up to the light rail station, bought a card, and charged it with a day pass, unready to commit to the investment of a monthly pass. While not experienced with subway prices, 90 bucks seemed insane. You’d see if it was a worthy investment depending on the experience you’d have today.

It was a hot August day- waves of heat warped your vision when radiating off the dark cement, metal fixtures stinging your hands when touched. The inside of the station was no better, muggy and dank. You found a strange comfort in it, the city becoming more human by the minute. You were surprised at how intuitive the subway had been so far, and you were gaining confidence with every step. Maybe you are cut out for this city shit. You step up to the entrance. Moment of truth. You swipe and arrogantly attempt to walk through, only to run into the locked turnstile. You had never been so immediately humbled. Well, fuck.

Swipe again. The card reader’s red light doesn’t falter. Swipe again. Still nothing. Swipe, swipe, swipe. The hell? You wiggle the turnstile, face heating as people start to group behind you. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

“Fucking… go… swipe through, shitass card.” You mutter, already emotionally drained from the eyes on you. Someone side-eyes you as they enter the stall next to you with ease, and you give them an apologetic, wide-eyed smile. I’m never leaving the house again, you think. You move to shove at the turnstile again, assuming that if you did nothing differently, the result would change. And you were… right?

“Fuck yeah! I’m so good.” You congratulate yourself for figuring it out, and you hear a low chuckle behind you. A tattooed arm holds a scraped and folded, worn-to-hell Charlie card. The slim fingers holding it are calloused but well-manicured, nimbly swiping the card again to let themselves through. You look up to see who pitied you enough to grant you entrance, and you’re surprised to see a pretty girl with auburn hair pulled up in a half-up-half-down do. Little pieces stick out of the sides, ends curling up and down wildly, short choppy hair framing her slender neck. Her face is wholly amused, lips curving into a small smirk and freckles shifting across her nose she smiles at you. She’s already incredibly attractive, but her eyes- God. Green and intense, reminding you of the duckweed coating the ponds at home. Like a Pollock of greens, browns, and flecks of yellow, her eyes meet yours as she holds up her card in two fingers, waving it in front of her face. She has a well-loved hair tie on her wrist.

“Go through before it locks.” She chides. Your cheeks heat and you nervously laugh before pushing through. Beads of sweat stick to your face and neck, but you’re not sure if it’s from the summer heat or the embarrassment. The girl meets you on the other side and you fidget with the front edge of your tank top.

“Uhm, thanks for that. Was beginning to think I’d entered purgatory with all those people behind me.” You awkwardly joke, rifling through your bag. “I have cash, I can pay you for that-”

“Y’ don’t need to, it’s like two bucks. I’m a starving college student but I’m not that strapped for cash.” She glances at your jittering body, looking you directly into your eyes for the second time. Does she want to give you a heart attack? “You new or something? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You groan in response. “It’s that obvious?” The pretty stranger laughs.

“Not really. Maybe I’m more observant than most. Don’t sweat it, newbie, these stations are fucked up. It probably wasn’t your fault.”

“You sure?”

“Ah, you’re right- on second thought, maybe the MTA just hates you specifically.” She jokes, and you laugh. You’re straggling near the entrance, swaying around as you make small talk with her.

“I wouldn’t put it past them, I’m shit with directions. They probably want to keep me off the trains at all costs.” You joke right back at her, and she chuckles again. Her laugh is pretty. Her smile is pretty. It’s a little cocky, but somehow in a chill way. Anyway, you figure it suits her.

“Well, if you’re that bad, tell me where you’re going. Maybe I can help.” She offers. You tell her about The Boston Beat on the other side of the city, and her eyes twinkle. “Yo, no kidding. I work there. I’m off today, but I totally know where that is. It’s along the red line, here.” She leads you over to a scratched mess of a sign and points to where you can faintly make out a red path. “We’re here, you wanna get-” she stretches her arm out, “here.” She tells you which stop to get off at.

You thank her profusely and say goodbye. You head left towards the rail she told you to take, and to your mortification, she goes the same direction. Saying bye when she’s going the same way, stupid. You walk a little faster when you notice this, attempting to awkwardly force more space between the two of you. It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just being silly- she doesn’t care! She’s not thinking about it! I’m just overthinking it.

Ellie, strolling behind you, actually is thinking about it. She watches as you speed-walk away, juxtaposing the way she casually strolls to lean against a support beam. Something about how you fidget and stutter was weirdly charming. Huh. She keeps staring.

You can tell someone’s watching you, but you assume that, as usual, it’s a gross old man. Your eyes come up, scanning the platform suspiciously for whichever creep you’ll have to tell off, but you make eye contact, again, with the pretty girl from earlier. Why was there so much eye contact? It was so nerve-wracking, but also… so exhilarating. The moment your eyes meet hers, she smiles, eyes crinkling. You immediately avert your gaze, breath catching.

A beat passes. You take your phone out and scroll the home screen for a minute. Open the compass app. Open the stocks app. Wow, how interesting. She’s probably not looking now, right? You sneak a glance, and she’s still looking. You don’t know if she stares out of disdain or curiosity. Thankfully, the speakers tell you to step away from the edge of the platform, alerting you of the oncoming vehicle. My saving grace, you think. You bounce on your heels as the subway train pulls up, and you take one last look at the girl. She’s looking away. Strands of brown hair move in the train’s wind, falling out of her bun, her side profile looking perfect in a somehow rugged way. Her oversized army green jacket folds and bends as she tucks her hair back and pulls her headphones on to block out the world. You find yourself wondering what she’s listening to. Maybe dad rock or riotgrrl.

You step into the car in front of you, feeling a strange ache deep within you that you can’t quite explain. Oh well.

By the end of the day, the pretty girl from the subway station is out of your mind. You’ll never see her again, so there’s no point in mulling over it. You enjoyed your day of exploration, and Boston has left a very favorable impression so far. Today felt like self-care. Maybe you’ll do this next week, too.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You’re working 2 part-time jobs to make ends meet. The first is a morning shift at a millennial coffee shop with eggshell walls, exposed brick, wood accents, and Hobby Lobby cursive signs saying “Don’t talk to me til’ I’ve had my espresso”. It pays decently, mostly because it’s busy as hell, but you’re getting tired of making a “grande”. You don’t have grandes, you’re not Starbucks. The second job is at a tour service. You’re always bored and you hate being surrounded by American history merch, but at least you’re in A/C. The coffee shop is just a block from your apartment, so it’s not much of a walk. The tour is 4 stops away on the subway.

Months go by. It’s October. Every Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you take the red line to your second job. And every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you see her. The handsome girl with the generous subway card.

Sometimes, you’re in the same car. You’ll glance up from your phone every so often, eyes raking over her. Everything about her tells a story. She always has a Jansport backpack and dirty black Converse. She dresses pretty masculine. Every Thursday, she carries a guitar with deep red paint and lacquer peeling off in chips, crumbling onto the floor. You wonder if she plays well. She argues on the phone with someone named Joel, but their conversations end in stubbornly grumbled “love you”s every time. Often, she wears that dark green jacket you met her in. You’ve been able to examine it a little more: it has some grease stains and says “Joel” on the front. Whoever he is to her, he’s probably some kind of mechanic. She’s always a little more tired than the day before. Sometimes you lay in bed and wonder if you’re some kind of creepy stalker. If you’re obsessed. No, you reason, she just looks cool.

Across the train tracks, Ellie lies in bed, looking at the flags and banners on her ceiling, and she wonders the same thing. Is it weird that I’m disappointed when I don’t see her? Is it strange that I recognize her wardrobe? Your clothes tell a lot about you. You weren’t very confident when you talked to her, but by the manner in which you dressed, you had a good understanding of who you were, and even if you were slightly unconventional in some ways, you had no problem with showing your authentic self. That was something Ellie admired. You always had this… look in your eyes. Somehow hopeful and content, even though you were just riding on a dirty, shaky train to a dead-end job. It reminded Ellie of when she was a kid and had that same expression in Joel’s old pictures. You always had the same bracelet on. She wonders what it means to you, if it was a gift from someone you love.

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you. If you happen to make eye contact, it’s not unwelcome. You give her a smile and a small wave, and she offers a tight-lipped grin. One time, she awkwardly pretended to tip an invisible hat and immediately cringed at herself. She scrunched up her face and muttered “Why would I do that?”, swearing at herself. It was cute. You laughed a little, and she smiled, flustered. Apart from the few interactions you’d daydream about as you went through your monotone days, you hadn’t talked to the girl again.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

In an effort to stop being such a hopeless, pining loser, you downloaded Tinder to go on some casual dates. You’d gone on two, both girls being alright, but having no particular connection. But this last girl seemed relatively cool. Her name was Cat, and you’d opened with some line asking how many people made pussy jokes about her name. She’d responded well, and the two of you scheduled a date for 10 on a Sunday night.

So why was it 11, and she still wasn’t showing? You’d ordered your red wine, then ordered water, then another wine, and there was no Cat to be found. The waiter would come around every so often and ask if you needed anything. There was an underlying tone of pity. The longer you sat alone, the more judging eyes you felt on you- after all, who sits alone at a table with two place settings? The waiter probably should’ve kicked you out a while ago, you think, wallowing in your emotions.

You paid the bill and left after the staff offered a free slice of pie. That had sent you over the edge, tears pricking at your eyes as you thankfully wove your hands around. “That’s really so sweet, thank you guys so much, I’m okay, I really am, but I really appreciate this. You don’t know how much that means.” The rambling certainly didn’t help your appearance, but you really were grateful.

With a to-go box and an overreactive text to Cat, you left the restaurant, dragging the roses you’d brought for the date. You drudge to the red line, and you overthink as you wait for the train. The thoughts are entirely unreasonable, and you know this, but you let yourself have it—a little self-deprecation, as a treat.

The train is mostly empty, save for someone huddled in the corner. You’ve got quite a way to go to get home, and the first few stops feel torturously slow. About a quarter way through your ride-of-shame, someone boards the train. You avert your eyes as they do, not wanting to draw attention to how goddamn pathetic you feel. From the corner of your eye, you see them approach. The fuck? Am I gonna get stabbed?

But you recognize those shabby Converse and the worn bottom of a guitar case. You look up to see the girl you’d been trying to get over, looking absolutely radiant in the disgustingly unflattering yellow light of the train. You follow her movements as she sits down right next to you, feeling absolutely entranced. Your gaze glances over her cute nose, the silver jewelry on her ear, and how two of her nails are cut too close to the flesh while the others are grown out. She clears her throat.

“So… you okay?” Her voice is a little hoarse, and it sounds like she’s been talking all day. She’s probably tired. You don’t usually see her on Sundays, so you wonder why she’s out. Her eyes are dark and tinted a little purple on the under-eye, but she stares at you like she genuinely wants to listen.

You realize you’ve been staring long enough to make it weird. “Um- yeah, I just- yeah. I’m good.” You throw up a pathetic thumbs-up. Jesus. That was… awful.

She smiles. “Say it again, but mean it this time.” You laugh a little.

“I look like I was mugged, huh?”

“No. You look nice. A little sad though. So what happened?”

“I got stood up. It’s alright though, I wasn’t that into her.”

“Was she a dry texter or some kind of weirdo?” She says, and you chuckle.

As you lament to her about the no-show-Tinder-date, she listens intently, leaning forward as she nods along. Every so often she scoffs as you describe Cat, as if this stranger is your best friend spilling drama with you. It’s easy to talk to her when she acts so familiar with you.

“You fucking kidding? You bought her flowers and shit and offered to pay and she still didn’t show up?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s bullshit. You sound like the ideal date, honestly. Her loss.” Ellie cringes again. Could she have come on any stronger? Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like you mind, chuckling a little.

“I don’t know about all that, but thanks.” It’s quiet for a little, not awkward, but both of you can tell the other wants to keep talking. You decide to take the first leap. Maybe the fact that your subway girl is here is a sign from the universe. “So, I don’t usually see you on Sundays. Got your guitar with you. You do something fun?” You berate yourself internally- you know when you see her? Stalker, much?

She bashfully tells you that she went to an open mic in a Cambridge bar. “It was a little weird since I’m new to having an audience n’ all. I usually bring my guitar to work to practice, but that’s it.”

Your face lights up excitedly. “Hey, that’s so cool! I bet you did great.” Ellie holds in a smile, lips twitching upward as she tries to deflect the compliment.

“I guess I was okay. A little stiff, maybe.” You playfully hit her arm. She freezes for a second and looks down at where you touched her. Wow.

“Come on, don’t be so humble. You write your own stuff?”

“Yeah. Uh, I do.”

“You mind showing me?” Ellie startles. Of all the things she’d expected from tonight, she didn’t expect a late-night serenade. She places the guitar on her thigh, slipping it under her right arm. As she begins to play a song, you feel a weird shift in the air. Your face falls from its playful expression and you take the chance to admire her, from the dips and divets in her face to the artful spattering of freckles across her cheeks, to the scars along her arms and hands. You see her pretty tattoo again. It’s not perfect up close, but it’s more personal and charming. The ink is slightly faded and bleeds in the thinner areas. It looks like it covers a scar. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she focuses on hitting all the right notes, desperately wanting to impress you.

As she finishes the song, she looks up at you, wide-eyed and vulnerable. You smile that bright smile at her again, and Ellie feels validated. Her chest is warm and her fingers are tingling- her body feels absolutely electrified. “You’re really skilled. That was amazing.”

Ellie shifts, subconsciously scooting closer to you as she does. Your thighs touch together and it feels right. It feels comfortable. “Thanks. Was that kinda cheesy or…?”

“How do you mean?”

“Was this a late-night guitar serenade?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh.

“Mhm. Definitely. This some kind of meet-cute?” Ellie’s eyes crinkle again in the corners when you say this. You notice she doesn’t laugh a lot. She notices that you do. That’s charming, the two of you think.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” Her expression gets a little more serious.

Your face experiences a flush of hot, then cold, as you feel yourself becoming embarrassed at how forward she is.” Yeah. It is.” You admit. She just nods, smiling.

“Cool.” It’s silent for a few beats again. “Cool cool cool.”

“...So, uh, I never got your name, actually.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. I’ve just been calling you cute train girl. I’m Ellie.” Her hand slips into yours as you tell her your name. She’s a little clammy, but you are too. It’s awkward and a very weak handshake, but it’s incredibly important to the two of you.

“So uh-”

“Do you-” You both start to speak at the same time, and you chuckle and motion for her to speak first.

“Would you- and feel free to say no, like, I don’t wanna pressure you- but would you maybe want to go out with me? As a- as a make-up date of sorts?”

You grin like it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Ellie feels like a 17-year-old experiencing her first love because of how goddamn giddy she is. “I’d love that. I just- I don’t know about going out this late.” Ellie’s face falls a bit, and you feel like you kicked a puppy. You move quickly to defend what you said. “If you wanted to have the date now…” You pick the roses up from your side. A few have brown bruises from wilting, but you hand them to Ellie, who enjoys the gesture nevertheless.

“You’re corny.” She grins.

“You played the guitar for me. So, I guess you are too.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Ellie plays a few song covers for you. You give a few requests that she knows, and she peppers in a Weezer song and smiles like it’s the funniest thing ever. You play along, weirdly charmed. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The moment is far from perfect- the train jolts violently, the crisp fall air bites at your nose, and you and Ellie are both quite tired. But it’s a really, really nice moment. You know you’ll dream about it tonight.

Your stop comes first, and you reluctantly warn her that you’ll have to leave. Ellie asks for your number, and you happily give it to her. Her wallpaper is a picture of her and her friends, in which she is mid-eye roll. You smile a bit at it and put your contact name as “Cute Train Girl”. When you get your phone back, you see she’s put a dinosaur emoji next to her name. The speaker announces your station as the train rolls to a stop. Ellie stands up before you, taking your hand and helping you up.

“Would you maybe wanna do this again sometime? Not the ‘getting stood up and being on the gross train’ part, but like, a date. An actual date. Not one with someone doing k in the corner of a subway car?” You glance over at said man. Yeah, a real date sounds good.

“I’d love to. Just text me about it, yeah?”

Ellie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You say goodbye and step out of the train car, and right as the train announces to be clear of the closing doors, a foot jams into it, and the door bounces back open. “Fuck, ow,” Ellie mutters. She runs out of the train and turns you to face her. “Don’t go yet. I just- I need to kiss you. I have for a while now.” She admits, and you fluster. She smiles at your reaction. “Don’t get too flattered.” She teases.

You grin and bite your lip as she tilts your chin up. As your lips make contact, you realize that this is what you’ve been waiting for for months. There’s a sense of deja vu, like you’ve been experiencing this exact moment every night, and now that it’s finally happening, it barely feels real, but the feeling of Ellie’s lips against yours grounds you to the moment. You want to memorize the feeling of her adoration.

You allow yourself to get lost in her touch, appreciating how lucky you were to get stood up. If Cat wasn’t a no-show, you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to get to know Ellie. You wouldn’t have been able to explore this feeling with her.

But most importantly, thank God for the red line and your incompetence with the card swiper.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #fem reader #modern!ellie williams #moncherellie writing #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou2 #loser!ellie x reader #loser!ellie

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byuntrash101 · 1 year

Text

Partition

reader x dom!mingi ft. jongho

smut | nsfw | mdni

husband!mingi,he's obessessed with you, nipple play, hint of body worship if u squint, praising, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cameo!jongho, marking, pet names, orgasm control, size kink, fingering with rings on, hand kink, im obessesed with his hands just leave me alone

requested | part of my 2023 prompt event [closed]

finally back from a long business trip your husband takes you to a very nice date to celebrate. but after so long apart you are not sure you can keep your hands to yourself on your way to the restaurant

[❛i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.❜]

TUMBLR IS BASED ON REBLOGS. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK 🖤

Inspired by Partition by Beyoncé

Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up

We ain't even gonna make it to this club

Being married to Song Mingi, the extremely successful music producer, came with a price. And that price was time. Mingi’s time was a rare resource and extremely valuable. One day working with the Weeknd on his next album, the next day negotiating to sign with Beyonce. He was always traveling and working.

But despite all of that your husband always made sure you were his top priority and that you knew about it. Whether he would take you around the world with him and catch a nice vacation for the both of you after an intense business trip or he would make sure to take you out to a very nice date on his return.

This time it was the latter. Mingi had been gone for a while. He had to postpone the flight back to Korea a couple of times to get the job done in LA. But finally that was out of the way and he was back to you.

The timing was so tight that it was to the point where he didn’t have time to come home before the date and was just going to pick you up with his chauffeur. He didn't tell you where you were going but he said “to be prepared to be blown away”.

And coming from him that meant a lot. Mingi liked nice things and he always opted for the very best regardless of the price. So knowing that about him you knew the occasion will be anything but modest.

You opted for a lilac designer night gown, with a delicately beaded corsage that complimented your neckline, dipping just low enough. The bottom of the dress was flowy, a gradient color from lilac color to a nude. The material was flowy with light feathers and mesh. It was gorgeous and grandiose. Like the promise of this night finally reunited with your husband.

Your make up was along the line of the dress. Nude with some pop of color on the lids and on the lips. Noticeable but elegant.

When the doorbell rang you felt your stomach tighten. You were nervous. After all these years he still made your guts stir with anticipation. There’s no denying you’re head over hills for this man.

You run to the entryway, grabbing your clutch on the way and open the big mansion door.

When you look up at him you see him as dashing as ever. Cladded in a haute couture black tuxedo. Long ash blonde hair slicked back, just a single strand curved on his forehead. He looked dapper. He held out his hand for you to climb down the front steps to his arm, making sure not to injure yourself with your stiletto heels.

“You’re absolutely stunning," he said, kissing you softly on the lips, his mouth being pulled in the signature half smile that you loved so much.

He opened the door of the limo for you and helped you get in with the dress, setting you in comfortably.

The chauffeur did the same to him and took place behind the wheel.

Mingi gave him instructions on the destination. Your husband was used to bossing people around and it put you in a different mood to hear his stern voice.

You couldn’t help but to want him to boss you too. It was your turn and you couldn't stand one more second of him giving his attention to anybody other than you.

So you let your hand rest on his knee. At first he makes nothing of it and continues to guide the chauffeur around the traffic jam. So you let your hands glide up his thick muscular thigh all the way to his crotch. When your pinky brushes against his sensitive area you stop.

“What are you doing?” Mingi interrupts himself to look at you. Even though it’s a question it’s rhetorical because he knows damn well what you are doing.

“Kiss me” you answered in a feverish tone.

Mingi obliged when you pulled him by his tie. His huge frame towering over you as you felt miniscule, vulnerable and turned on. Your hands started to roam his body through his attire first the thighs then the abs then when you were about to reach his growing bulge he caught your hand.

“Shouldn’t we eat before we get to the dessert?” he lightly chuckles at your enthusiasm. You sighed deeply, visibly annoyed.

What a joykill.

“Fine!” you pouted, sitting yourself back. “But I'm not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.” you added in a slightly teasing tone.

Mingi’s expression instantly changed. From the light hearted chuckles to the cold and serious eyes that held so much power over you. The turn in his behavior and in his aura was obvious. From loving husband to sex deprived pervert.

He started to wrestle with your dress, lifting it up to testify of the truth of your statement and you squealed in surprise when you found yourself exposed like that without a heads up. Your husband let go of the flowy fabric, hiding your intimacy again behind the numerous linings and looked at you in disbelief.

“You are actually serious”

“Of course I am” you bite back hurriedly flattening the material back in place.

“Fuck baby” Mingi burried his face in the crook of your neck, his deep voice merely a low rumble soaked with lust hitting you right in the chest, tightening your stomach in knots of anticipation. You knew this tone and what it meant.

“I was trying…” he started to kiss your neck going up to your ear. “was trying so fucking hard to behave.” He licked around your ear, wet sounds bouncing back on the low ceiling of the limo, making your arousal leak through the unguarded designer dress.

“Trying to be a good husband, not devouring you the second I laid eyes on you” his hand dug into your waist pulling you closer to him. “But I can’t fucking win with you, can I?” he growled, unexpectedly biting your earlobe.

You were absolutely feral for him. After being separated for such a longtime the only thing you wanted was to be his. His cedarwood and orange blossom cologne was making you dizzy. Hypnotized by his deep voice. Controlled by his big hands.

He started to push your thin straps to the side. But as your chest was about to finally reveal itself to Mingi’s hungry gaze you stopped him.

“Shouldn’t we roll up the partition?” you asked, throwing one worried glance at the chauffeur that seemed a little too focussed on the road to be genuine.

“Don’t worry I pay Jongho well enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Isn’t that right Jongho?”

“It is, Sir” the chauffeur politely responded, expressionless eyes, diligently glued to the road.

“See?” Mingi returned with a sly smirk “Plus you know how much I love showing you off” he tipped your strap over your shoulder, revealing one of your breasts. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and knowing you were potentially being watched didn’t help one bit but somehow it felt thrilling.

Your husband pushed the other strap and soon your chest was on full display for him.

“So fucking perfect for me” he whispered immediately diving in and tasting your fiery skin on his wet tongue.

His mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teasing it, biting it and sucking it while his hand was fondling and pinching the other. Until they reached full hardness.

You whined at his every touch, barely containing yourself to beg for more, to beg for him.

“Fuck baby show it to me again” he breathed out he as prompt his chin to the dress.

You had a glance to Jongho, still as calm and focused as a meditating monk. And you lifted the dress once again.

Mingi’s jaw dropped in awe. He always considered you as one of the seven wonders of the world. But each time he looked at you it seemed like somehow you got even more perfect.

He brought his hand to gently pull your lips apart. Uncovering the unholy and glistening mess you managed to make in such a short time.

“You’re so fucking wet for me” he sighed, biting down his bottom lip, your shimering folds putting a spell on him.

“Please Mingi” you squirmed. “Please, I want you.”

“Good girl, asking so nicely… Just can’t say no to you”

His thumb circled over your clit, drawing a light gasp out of you. Slow and steady circles only making you gush even more. Mingi slipped one finger inside and you felt like you were melting at the end of his fingers, nails digging in the expensive leather of the limo. Your stilettos barely hanging to your toes.

“Yessss” you whined, finally getting what you’ve been craving for weeks.

“You’re sucking me in so well baby” Mingi praised before slipping a second finger in. You felt the warm metal of his wedding ring entering you and whined louder.

“Please…faster” you asked, short of breath, your mind getting hazy.

“Of course, my princess”

He curled his fingers right into your sweet spot, circling it a couple of times before pumping in and out of you.

His big hands were experts at making you come undone for him, ravaging you in the most pleasant of ways. He knew you like the back of his hand and you couldn't help but to shamelessly moan and every thrust of his wrist.

“That's it baby. We want to hear you squeal” his lustful voice whispered.

We?

You glanced over at the chauffeur again and this time you could have sworn you made eye contact in the rearview mirror while his face was briefly shone under the pacing street lights but… did you imagine that?

“Hmmm baby” Mingi smacked his lips. “You really like giving a good show, huh?” Mingi smirked as he felt you becoming tighter. “Such a good girl for me.” He pumped in and out at a faster pace. A pace that he knew would end you. But since he hadn’t uttered the magic words yet you held it in.

It took everything you had to not cum on the spot. You tried to not think about your husband's lustful eyebrow raises and lip bites, about the unholy squelching wet sounds your wet cunt was producing, about the wandering eyes of Jongho in the front seat. You tried so hard but you were on the verge of exploding.

“Pleaseee” you desperately begged as a last cry for help, a last hopeless request for your release.

“Go ahead my princess” Mingi whispered, administering the fatal blow as his thumb went back to drawing fast circles on your hyper sensitive clit while finger fucking you into oblivion.

“Cum. Now.” his stern low voice ordered.

You instantly came undone. Your pussy gripping around your husband’s beautiful long fingers, stretching you to perfection. Your nectar flowing out of your like a river as you cried out in bliss, throwing your head back on the head rest, eyes rolling back into your skull with fatal joy.

Mingi gradually slowed down, allowing you to come off your high before pulling his digits out of you. You crashed your lips on his not caring about the state of your lipstick and started to fidget with the buttons of his vest but he started to chuckles into the kiss.

“Babe, we’re here” he said, pushing his messy hair back.

“What already?” you pouted in disappointment.

“We’ve been in the car for almost 45 minutes” your husband chuckled again.

“But I…”

“Let’s go baby or they might give our table away… Let's eat and on the way back I'll let you return the favor. How about that?” your eyes darted to his constricted bulge, lips burning at the idea of tasting him.

“Find a parking spot and wait for us, Jongho… I have a feeling we won’t be long”

“Yes, Sir”

A/N: oof sorry for taking so long to update! my first mingi smut did you like it?? leave a comment or drop by my asks. feedback is always appreciated <3

#mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi #ateez #ateez mingi #mingi ff #ateez ff #mingi fanfic #ateez fanfic #mingi hard hours #mingi x you #ateez x you #kpop smut #dom!idol #dom!mingi #fanfic #kpop fanfic #smut

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oceantornadoo · 5 days

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mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 3: johnny's home

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

you screamed.

john woke with a start, forcing you behind him as he searched for any danger. ghost and gaz burst into the room, guns at the ready. you were shaking uncontrollably, fear coursing through your body and tightening around your throat. and suddenly, ghost, that hulk of a man who had given you grunts and gruff words, started laughing.

it was a gravelly sound, like a dirt bike over desert sand. gaz joined in, his laughter like the flow of gasoline, rich but tainted. the absolute gall of them. there had been a man, you’d seen him! he was sitting there in the corner, shaking with laughter himself while john’s grip on your waist loosened. john reached for the lightbulb near the wall, flooding the room with light.

“steamin’ jesus, lass, almos’ gave me a heart attack.” the man in the red mask huffed out in between laughs. his accent was unfamiliar to you, almost foreign. “soap, it’s good to see you.” gaz was patting him on the back while ghost shook his head, the shock of the scene still wearing off. john was still holding you, you realized, still pressing your front to his back. but now, his harsh grip was gone and replaced with a warm touch. he rubbed circles into the thin fabric of your shift, inherently calming you down. “darlin’.” john was moving you out from behind him, the tension in his shoulders releasing softly. “this is soap.” he tried to coax you towards soap, who was still catching up with ghost and gaz, but your feet stayed firmly planted. “i thought…i thought he was dead.”

“‘m alive and well. had some other business.” soap acknowledged your question. gaz made another comment under his breath and the group laughed again. you could see the day’s tension finally fading away. you’d thought the group was just harsh, beaten down by the desert sun like every other man in the wasteland, but it was clear they were just worried about soap’s business, whatever that was. john, sensing your refusal to move, left you standing as he made his way over to his men. they all straightened their back almost imperceptibly, giving him a true captain’s respect. he gave soap a couple pats to the back, almost ensuring he was truly here, and the group relaxed again.

“sorry fer scarin’ her, captain. jus’ wanted a look at the wee lass.” john looked back at you, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress as you recovered from your previous fright. “and?” soap grinned. “aye, she’s a bonnie one. you sharin’?” that was the wrong question to ask. john’s face became a mask, hard as desert stone. “no. there will be no sharing.” john looked each of his men in the eyes, making his point clear. a course of whispered “yes, sirs” reached his ear, their deference easily earned. “go’on now, back to bed. long trip in the morning. good to see you, soap.” the men nodded, taking their leave, still huddled together and shooting you glances as they left.

you were already back in the bedroll, front facing the wall as you gave john your back. he turned off the light, then climbed in, refusing to give you the space that you clearly desired. “you mad at me, sweetheart?” his large hand traveled over your hip to the bottom of your stomach, pulling you in closer to him. you shook your head, unsure why the scene had affected you so. you were practically their prisoner, yet you were mad they didn’t tell you about soap? it didn’t make sense. you were obviously suffering some delusions from being surrounded by such an oasis.

john nosed at your neck as he pulled your ass against his crotch, his body all hard against yours. “say it.” it sounded like an order, but it could have been a plea in the way he said it, his voice low in the dark. “you’re not my captain, you can’t order me around.” he chuckled behind you, the sound warming your core like the sun, making you squirm in his arms. “that’s it, hm? mad your captain didn’t clue you in?” he was almost taunting you now, that hand traveling from your stomach to the underside of your breasts. his knuckle brushed the underside of your tits so lightly, you almost thought it was a dream. “well, you lied to me too, so we’re even.” you turned around quickly, all fire now. “what are you talking about?” he gave you a small smirk, beard shifting with the movement. “you’ve been with men before.”

your jaw dropped. “i’m a virgin.” he clucked his tongue at that. “sure you are love, but you’ve been with men before. you’re too comfortable with me for that to be false.” you huffed, turning back to your original position. “so, what.” his arm snaked back around you again, that hand inching up until he was massaging your tits, like he had the right. “jus’ like to have all the facts, love.” he inched his thigh between both of yours, the meat of it pressing against your core. you bit back a moan as you tried not to hump him, willing your body to calm down. you blamed it on the adrenaline of the night’s earlier events. “i’m not going to let you fuck me.” he laughed at the sound of a curse word leaving your lips, your princess facade abandoned. “no, you’ll be begging me for it. now go-“, he pushed his thigh harder against you, leg hair providing delicious friction against your clothed clit, “to sleep.” and under your captain’s orders, you slept.

—

i’m grasping around for a plot but i just keep coming up with smutty interactions😔

#simon ghost riley #cod 141 #tornadothoughts #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod price #captain john price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #price imagine #price x you #john price x f!reader #john price smut #mad max au #captain price #john price x you

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vatikaresort · 10 months

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Vatika Resort | Best Resort to Stay in Wayanad | Wayanad Resort | Family Resort

Life can be hectic and hectic, so why not take a break and enjoy some quality time with your family in Wayanad? Our resort is surrounded by beautiful surroundings, so you'll be able to relax and enjoy each other's company. Our rooms are comfortable and well-appointed, so you can find something that fits your family's needs. Whether you're looking for a nature walk or something more adventurous, we've got you covered. Our resort has a special area for kids, and our swimming pool is perfect for everyone. And don't forget to dine at our restaurant, so you can make some amazing memories that you'll never forget! Wayanad has it all, so why not give it a try.

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whoreanghae · 1 year

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wedding ; jeon wonwoo

genre - fake relationship, friends to lovers, kinda slow burn

wordcount - 8.6k

disclaimers - lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut, female/feminine aligned reader, mentions of alcohol and being drunk

a/n - this one has been in the works for a loooong time, finally got the energy to finish it! hope you enjoy, i put a lot of work into this one. happy holidays! <3

you put down your phone with a sigh. your mother had just given you a call to let you know that one of your cousins was getting married in a month, and your mother wanted to let you know the plan for their wedding early on so you could get started on planning your trip back to your hometown. she gave you dates and dressing codes, and other wedding things that blended together into one blur in your head as you mindlessly responded to your mothers queries and requests.

one of the things she brushed over was the fact that you had to bring a date for the entire wedding. the ceremony, the dinner, the dance, you always had to have someone on your arm. it was a rule that your cousin was apparently very adamant about. in the blur of questions from your mother, you had accidently answered a question that you should have saved for a later time, when you hadn’t been just getting home from a 2 hour long exam.

“so, y/n, you do have a date right?”

“yes, i do.”

your mother gasped, bringing herself to a conclusion that you had not written. “my baby has a boyfriend? oh, how sweet!” her coos were quickly pushed aside when you heard a door creak open on her end of the line, followed by your fathers voice asking her if she was ready for dinner. your mother quickly said goodbye as you pressed the red ‘end call’ button, and the reality of the belief your mother was under finally pieced together in your head.

your family are expecting you to show up at a family gathering with a boyfriend you do not have.

you leaned forward, elbows digging into your knees as you tangled your hands in your hair. every thought of how you could fix this raced through your head at once, but every solution made less sense than the last. in the end, you came to the conclusion that you would have to find someone willing to be your boyfriend for a weekend, which is a statement that is easier said than done.

laughter echoed around the room as you sat on the sofa of hoshi’s apartment with your head in your hands. while you thought the entire situation was simply traumatic, everyone else thought it was hilarious. some of them had pity, but even the sympathetic ones were stifling their laughter as they comforted you.

you couldnt help but laugh along at the absurdity of the entire thing. it was really something that could only happen to you.

“guys, i seriously have no idea what to do! its not like i can just rent a boyfriend for a couple days!” dokyeom was holding onto mingyus arm as he laughed so hard he was out of breath. joshua faked a serious face as he looked towards you. “thats not true, im sure you could rent hoshi for the right price.”

you sighed a dramatic, exasperated sigh as you flopped back onto hoshis sofa, staring at the ceiling as you laughed. the laughter fizzled out and everyone realized it was getting late.

“i should probably get going and try to find a desperate guy who would free up a weekend to go to my cousins wedding with me.” you laughed as you stood up, brushing your hair back behind you. wonwoo stood up with you. “y/n, i could give you a ride home, since its the same building anyways.” you smiled and nodded towards him as you said goodbye to everyone and followed wonwoo to his car.

the ride back to your apartment building was quiet, with the low radio being the only sound filling the car. car rides with wonwoo always had a peaceful silence, never awkward. it was comfortable.

you thought over the sentence a thousand and one times in your head before you finally broke the silence. “uh, wonwoo.. can i ask you, um, a big favour?” you looked down at your hands before looking over at the man next to you, a grin now plastered across his face as he glanced in your direction. “i wonder what this could be?” he said, followed by a chuckle. your ears turned pink as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a smile wide on your face to match his.

you took a deep breath before finally asking, “wonwoo, could you be my date to my cousins wedding?” you smiled over at him from the passenger seat, trying your best to look convincing enough for him to say yes. all things considered, something must have worked. “of course i will, it’d be an honour to be your boyfriend for a couple days.” the pink flush on your ears travelled all across your face as you smiled ear to ear. he parked at your apartment complex as you leaned over and wrapped your arms around his neck. “thank you so so so much wonwoo!” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and lightly squeezing as you pulled away and opened the car door. “ill send you all the details when i know all the details,” you told wonwoo as you walked into your apartment building together. he nodded as he pressed the button for the elevator. “hopefully ill be able to impress your family.” you and wonwoo smiled at each other as the elevator door beeped open and you stepped inside.

you sat at your dinner table, a notepad and pen sitting in front of you. your mother had just called and informed you of all the details of the wedding, and you decided that it would make your life easier if you wrote down everything she said this time. she gave you details on where everyone would stay, the timeline of events, and every little thing in between. the phone call had lasted for at least 20 minutes. you had always said, your mother was nothing if not thorough. after overlooking the list in front of you, you picked up your phone and typed a text.

y/n : hey, are u busy rn?

wonu 🐱 : I’m at practice, is everything ok?

y/n : oh yeah its fine, its just stuff about the wedding. call me when you get home :)

wonu 🐱 : Will do. :)

while you waited for wonwoo to finish practice, you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone. as you did, you saw countless pictures of people from your hometown posting pictures with their significant others. you liked their pictures and kept scrolling, but the photos made you feel.. off. since you had moved away from your hometown, you hadnt had any relationships. you had met people, but nothing ever amounted to anything more than a coffee date or a study session at your campus library. you were just always so busy with school and spending time with the boys that you had simply never sought out a relationship in your years of living away from your family. while you were content with your independence, seeing photos of couples happy and in love made you feel left out. not envy, just a feeling of ‘i would be happy with what they have’.

since starting university, romance has been on your back burner to say the least. you had barely considered your own feelings between exams and essays. maybe this was why every time your friends caught someone checking you out, or blatantly flirting with you, your response was always “really? i didnt notice.” your group of friends from university had always been suspicious of your relationship with the 13 men you spend most of your freetime with. they were convinced that if you did end up having a secret relationship, it would be with one of them. you shut down the accusations every time, insistent that they were just friends. and thats all they were. just friends.

breaking you out of your mindless scrolling, your phone rang. you shook out of your daze as you accepted the call. “hey! how was practice?” wonwoo groaned dramatically. “you dont even understaaaand!” you laughed and shook your head at his complaining. “but im sure ill make it. alright, whats the deal with the wedding?” he said, leaving his dramatics behind. “yes! okay, so there is one major difference than what i was told.. it will be a whole week, not just the weekend. if you cant make it its fine i understa-” wonwoo cut you off. “oh thats okay! i dont mind.” you paused in shock. “you dont mind? like you dont mind being a fake couple for a week?” you had expected him to back out, not because he was unreliable, but because it was a big thing to agree to. but, wonwoo insisted. “im serious! id be happy to, itd be nice to get out of this place for a bit and spend time with your family.” lots of people saw wonwoo as being a cold person, but anyone who knows him knows hes a huge softie. you were overjoyed at wonwoos willingness to do this for you.

you went on to explain everything to wonwoo, as he listened attentively and was eager to help you and your family in any way he was able to. the wedding was on a thursday afternoon in the middle of june. your mother wanted you to come home a couple days before the wedding, so you decided that you would get there on the sunday before the wedding, and leave the day after the wedding. wonwoo agreed and said he could even drive (as long as you gave him directions). you had thought you had everything all in order, but wonwoo piped up with something you havent even considered up until this point.

“wait, so what about our fake relationship? we need details to make it believable.” wonwoo really was an actor at heart. until now, you had entirely forgotten that you would actually need to seem like a couple in order to be perceived as a couple. “yeah youre right, what kind of things would we have to detail though?” you both thought about the bare minimum for a second, before deciding the things you would decide on beforehand and the things you could just make up on the spot if necessary. “alright, i think we should figure out how we met and how long we’ve been together. those are the stereotypical new couple questions.” wonwoo sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so you just went along with it. “how about, we met when i was working at that convenience store on the corner, and we’ve been together… 6 months?” you were completely pulling this out of thin air, but wonwoo hummed in agreeance on the other end of the phone call. “convenience store, 6 months. sounds believable to me.”

with everything clarified about your cousins wedding, all there was left to do was wait. well, besides finding something to wear, and packing, and tying any lose ends in your schoolwork. but other than that it was a breeze. the month did seem to fly by. in no time, you were fitting your suitcase into the trunk of wonwoo’s car and leaving to make the drive to your hometown. along the way, wonwoo made sure to ask lots of questions about your family and childhood friends, and you told him lots of stories as well. as you pulled into the driveway of your family home, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. the house hadnt changed a bit in the years you were away.

as you and wonwoo got out of the car and began taking your luggage out, the front door of the house swung open and your mother rushed out, eager to see you after so long. she ran down the driveway in order to engulf you in a bear hug. you laughed as she squeezed you so hard you thought youd explode. your father stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a toothy grin across his face as he leaned against the doorframe. wonwoo shut the trunk of his car, and your mothers attention immediately switched to him. you laughed as he squeezed his cheeks and gave him an equally tight bear hug.

“oh its so nice to meet you dear! what did you say your name was?” your mother had her hands firmly planted on wonwoos shoulders as she smiled up at him. wonwoos eyes were bright and happy. “im wonwoo, its lovely to meet you mrs l/n.” your mother cooed at wonwoo as she pulled him in for another hug. she admired you and wonwoo together, until the fire alarm started blaring from the kitchen, prompting her to run past your father and back into the house. wonwoo picked up the bags as the two of you followed your mother into the house, albeit less rushed than she was.

your father automatically took a liking to wonwoo, talking to him at the table as you helped your mother finish dinner. the sight of them laughing together and your father lightly hitting wonwoos shoulder with a smile was such a warm moment. the domesticity of it all made your heart swell. with the ding of a timer, you and your mother brought the dishes over to the table and laid them in front of wonwoo and your father. wonwoo looked at the table in awe. you made sure to tell him that your mother wasnt the best at making the right portions, which was evident by the mountains of food sitting in front of you.

your mother took her seat next to your father, and you took the one across from her, on wonwoos right. he smiled at you as you sat down, and you smiled back, trying to ignore the pink flush you could feel hazing across your face. all the time you had known wonwoo, why was being around him making you feel this way now? you quickly pushed the thought aside as your mother began asking questions between bites.

“so, how long have you two lovebirds been together?” she had a smirk on her face as she glanced between you and wonwoo. wonwoo spoke before you got the chance. “we’ve known each other for longer, but i officially asked her to be my girlfriend 6 months ago.” the fond look on his face as he said this would make anyone melt. if you hadn’t been a part of the ruse, you wouldve never questioned the love in his eyes. damn, hes a good actor. he gazed over at you as he finished his sentence. you smiled back at him before turning to your mother. “our 6 month anniversary was actually last week.” your mother held her hands to her chest as she congratulated you both. wonwoo held your hand on the table as your mother began telling a story about how your father had originally asked her to be his girlfriend. you didnt hear much of the story over your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. wonwoos hand was warm, and much bigger than yours. you had decided that wonwoo was simply too good at acting the boyfriend role. did he have some secret girlfriend none of you knew about? was he taking classes? you tried to act casual as he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. you knew you couldnt overthink anything that would happen over the next week. it was all just for the act, right? right.

dinner went by in a blur, and soon you were being led to the spare room your mother had cleaned out for you and wonwoo to share. you shivered as you walked in. it was cooler in this room than the rest of the house. it wasnt major, though, so you didnt say anything to your mother about it. she smiled as she disappeared down the hallway, leaving you and wonwoo in the bedroom, alone. as soon as your mother left, wonwoo flopped down onto the bed in the middle of the room. you looked at him and laughed. he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even though the growing smile on his face as you stood over him with your hands on your hips gave him away. you shook your head as you walked to the other side of the room where wonwoo put your bags. you rumaged through your bag for a sweater. you dug through the bag, but you couldnt find the one hoodie you swear you packed. defeated, you sat on the floor next to your bag and pulled out every item of clothing and put it in your lap. no sweater. with a frustrated sigh, you scooped everything back into your bag and stood up. at this point, wonwoo had sat up, his arms supporting his weight as he watched you get up.

“whats wrong?” he quirked an eyebrow. you gestured to your bag. “i forgot to pack a hoodie, i swear i did, but i mustve left it on my sofa.” wonwoo thought for a second before sitting up entirely. “here, take this.” he began taking off the hoodie he was wearing, and for a second, you couldnt take your eyes off of him. as he pulled the sweater over his head, the shirt he wore underneath rose with it, revealing his bare abs. you stood watching, mouth agape. everyone had said that wonwoo worked out a lot, but you had never seen the proof for yourself. you snapped out of it as he fixed his shirt and ran one hand through his hair, passing the sweater to you in the other. “oh wonwoo, its fine, i was just gonna ask my mom for one.” but, he wouldnt take no for an answer. he tilted his head to the side as he tossed the sweater in your direction. you caught it, and he smiled that gorgeous smile youve been seeing all day.

you pulled wonwoos hoodie over your head, and you were engulfed by the smell of his cologne. the scent overtook your senses as you situated yourself into the sweater. the warmth of the material mixed with wonwoos leftover body heat warmed you up instantly. so much that when you caught wonwoo staring at you wearing his hoodie, you didnt even feel the way your face instantly heated up as you sat on the bed next to him. he moved over to give you room to move further onto the bed, and suddenly the thought of being closer to wonwoo made your heart race.

wonwoo sat on the bed, typing away on his phone as you slid onto the mattress next to him. you watched him, focused on the message he was sending. the black tshirt he had been wearing under his hoodie was tight enough that it hugged all the parts of his body in the right ways. the way the fabric draped across his chest, and was rolled up at the sleeves. as wonwoo put his phone down and looked in your direction, you were quick to look away and take your own phone out of your pocket. luckily, he didnt seem to notice your staring. wonwoo looked past you, towards the clock above your head. “is it really that late already?” you glanced up at the time on your phone screen. “11:30? yeah, i guess.” wonwoo raised his eyebrows in surprise and stood up, leaving you by yourself on the bed. he began rummaging through his bag before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and another tshirt. he left the room without a word, presumably to go to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. you did the same, shutting the door and quickly getting changed before he came back into the bedroom.

after getting changed, you lightly knocked on the bathroom door so you could brush your teeth. as you did, the door swung open and you were greeted by wonwoo with a toothbrush already hanging out of his mouth. you laughed to yourself as you walked past him in order to get to the sink. as you started brushing your teeth, you straightened your back and stood next to wonwoo in the mirror. not able to easily smile, you both did your best to smile at each other with your eyes through the vanity mirror. the two of you stood there in the mirror together, before wonwoo finished up and you followed behind him not long after.

when you walked into the bedroom, you were greeted with wonwoo creating a sort of barrier in the middle of the bed made of decorative throw pillows that your mother had laid out on the bed for when you got there. you stood in the doorway, letting him finish whatever he was doing before you began to question him. hearing the door shut, he turned around, and gestured to the bed. “i thought itd make you feel more comfortable.” you smiled at the sentiment, but you hadnt really thought to this point yet. you completely forgot about the fact that you and wonwoo would be sharing a bed for the next week. while you or wonwoo could have just slept on the sofa, the facade that you were busy putting on was more important. so, pillow barrier it was. you shivered as you snuggled under the duvet that was on the bed, still feeling that same chill that you did when you first walked into the room earlier that day. “goodnight, y/n.” wonwoos voice came from behind you. “goodnight, wonwoo.” you smiled as you said it, and wonwoo clicked the switch for the lamp, enveloping you both in the darkness of the night.

warmth. when you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the sudden warmth that you felt, compared to the chill from the night before. at first, you equated it to the shine of the sun that was streaming in through the cracks of the blinds. but it was a different warmth. you opened your eyes, curious to find the answers to your questions. somehow, as soon as your eyes fluttered open, all of your questions were answered in one glance. on the floor next to the bed laid one of your mothers decorative pillows, the ones that should have been in the middle of the bed, and not on the floor next to the (obviously broken) space heater. as you started to fully wake up, you felt slow, light breaths on the back of your neck. you also felt the arms snaked around your waist, and the hands that lightly rested on the mattress in front of you. your mind went blank. what were you supposed to do? move and wake him up? leave it and pretend it didnt happen? in the moment, you decided to go with the latter. carefully stretching towards the nightstand on your side of the bed, you grabbed your phone and pulled your arm back to your body. wonwoo stirred slightly, but stayed asleep. the clock on your phone read 6:00am, so you felt no reason to wake him up already.

you had no idea at what point in the night this had happened, but some part of you wasnt mad it happened. wonwoos body heat was enough to keep you warm, and youd be lying if you didnt like the feeling of his arms wrapping around you as you slept. the almost silent snores coming from behind you had somehow lulled you back to sleep, as you woke up 20 minutes later with your phone on the bed next to your pillow. you also noticed how your back was suddenly no longer covered, sending a shiver down your spine. when you heard the footsteps approaching the bedroom, you decided to just pretend you were still asleep instead of facing the events of the night. the door creaked and shut, as you felt the bed dip back down behind you. you didnt say anything, but soon after you felt the same arm creep back around your waist and settle back onto its previous place on the mattress. wonwoo settled into place, as did you.

the questions in your head did make some points. if wonwoo had accidentally started cuddling you at night, why would he return to the same position while awake? how would you address this? you just decided not to. the comfort of having him flush against your back overpowered the thoughts of wanting to stop it. you never wanted the morning to end, although you knew you obviously couldn’t stay in bed all day. it was still pretty early, so you just didn’t bother to worry about getting up just yet. your strategy of pretending to be asleep had been successful before. you closed your eyes as sun began to shine more brightly through the small opening in the curtains. maybe it was just your own, but as you felt yourself drift asleep again for the second time that morning, it was as if you could feel wonwoo’s own heartbeat against your back.

you weren’t sure how long you had slept, but you felt a light push on your shoulder as you began to feel yourself wake up again. “hey, wake up. it’s 8:00.” your eyes slowly opened as you looked over at wonwoo sitting on the edge of the bed. his hair was messy, and flat on one side. you smiled at the sight in front of you, as he scrunched his nose and ruffled his hair. god, he really was beautiful. you had always known that wonwoo was conventionally handsome. but seeing him in this context, just waking up as the sun shone on him, he was breathtaking. you quickly realized that you had been staring at him for longer than what seemed normal, so you began to sit up and try to wake up fully. you yawned and stretched as wonwoo walked in front of you to open the blinds all the way. you groaned and covered your eyes dramatically. wonwoo laughed, smiling down at you as you opened one eye and glared up at him. he picked up his clothes and made his way out of the bedroom. you watched as he left and shut the door behind him, and you sighed. this week just started, and the outcomes are already looking questionable for keeping your relationship the same as it was before.

as you left the bathroom after brushing your teeth, the smell of breakfast filled the hallways. your mother had always been the best chef, and her cooking was one of your favourite things about coming home. you walked back to the bedroom and peeked through the door, only to notice that wonwoo was nowhere to be seen. thats when you heard your parents laughter travel up the staircase. you briefly smiled to yourself as you grabbed your phone from the bed and shoved it in your pocket. you headed downstairs and saw your parents and wonwoo sitting in the same seats as they had been the evening before. they all smiled brightly as you walked through the kitchen. “good morning sweetheart!” your mother beamed as she gestured for you to come eat. you sat down with wonwoo on your left again, and smiled at him as you reached past him for a pitcher of water to pour some into your glass. your mother gushed at this small interaction, making a comment to your father about how much the two of you remind her of them as young adults. “how did you both sleep? well rested for the festivities?” you both smiled and nodded as wonwoo spoke. “we slept well! i cant wait to meet more of your family, if they’re all like you three im in for a great week.” he grinned as your parents erupted with laughter and joy. wonwoo was always one for buttering up people, and god was he good at it. a small smile crept onto your face as your parents started telling wonwoo all about your family. you ate quietly as he sat listening intently to everything your mother was telling him.

the wedding wasnt for another two days, but your family had planned a small get-together prior just for everyone to warm up and see each other before the wedding. yourself and wonwoo had decided to just tag along with your parents rather than drive two separate cars. this party was more casual than the wedding, so you didn’t have to dress up that much. the two of you sat in silence in the backseat as your parents spoke amongst themselves. without warning, wonwoos hand made its way to your thigh, just above your knee. you looked down as his hand made contact with your skin through the rip in your jeans. he didnt bat an eye. he continued looking out the window, or looking at his phone. meanwhile, you tried to act like his touch didnt send electricity coursing through your body. without any second thought, you rested your hand on his and looked straight ahead as you tried to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

as you arrived at your aunts house, you noticed the amount of cars parked outside. you know your family is large, but visualizing it like this makes it seem crazy. your eyes widened at the sight, and you could even hear some of your families laughter before you even got inside. wonwoo walked by your side into the house. the same hum of talking remained for moments before everyone realized that more family had joined them. the house erupted, with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents all rushing over to greet the four of you. you hugged all of them, muttering quick ‘hello’s and giving smiles to relatives you hadnt seen in years. after some time everyone began returning to their prior seats, and you all followed suit. in the commotion, you hadn’t even noticed wonwoos hand had come to rest on your lower back.

as you sat down, it felt as though all eyes in the room gravitated to yourself and wonwoo. you looked around before clearing your throat. “everyone, this is my boyfriend wonwoo!” wonwoo smiled and gave a small wave. your family all smiled and started introducing themselves at once. you both laughed at the acts, but he made sure to speak to every person who was there. they all immediately adored him. you spent the evening catching up with family and exchanging old childhood memories. wonwoo chatted with your family as well, telling them about his life and family, as well as your ‘relationship’. throughout the night, his arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders the entire time. every so often when conversation died down you would look up at him to notice he had already been looking at you. you both giggled and turned away, somewhat flustered by the other.

your parents checked the time, noticing that it had been way later than they thought it was. you all stood up and began saying your goodbyes. as you spoke to your cousin who was getting married, you stifled a yawn. wonwoo noticed and smiled to himself as his arm found its way around your waist. he congratulated your cousin, and talked to her for a bit as you found yourself slowly sinking into wonwoos side. “i think someones tired, we should get going.” he and your cousin laughed as you nodded your head. you gave her one last hug as you followed your parents out of the house and back into the car. on the way back to the house, you had rested your head on wonwoos shoulder. as you fell in and out of consciousness, wonwoos hand lightly patted your head as you yawned.

you felt the car come to a stop as you pulled back into your parents driveway. you lifted your head and looked around, catching wonwoos eye as he gave you a fond look. you both got out of the car and went straight to your room after saying goodnight to your parents. rooting through your suitcase, you grabbed some pajamas and headed for the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. you drowsily brush your teeth, as theres a quiet knock at the door. opening the door, youre met with wonwoo, toothbrush in hand. you try to give him a smile as you move over to give him some room. since coming to your parents house, brushing your teeth together had become a common occurrence. it was peaceful, and the silence was never awkward. although, it was rare for you and wonwoo to encounter awkward silence at any moment. silence with him was always calm, never awkward. you both just enjoyed each others company, and you both knew that. after a couple minutes of standing together at the sink, you both finished getting ready and went back to the bedroom. too tired to worry about wonwoos pillow ‘solution’ from the night before, you both just crawled into bed facing away from each other. you muttered goodnights as he flicked off the lamp.

you found yourself waking up at some point in the middle of the night shivering. the room had cooled off more than it was before, and the one blanket you had wasnt doing the best job. the air conditioning had to be on the lowest setting possible. you could still hear wonwoos soft snores as you moved gingerly and stood up, so you assumed he was still fast asleep. as you walked past the end of the bed, you heard him speak in a low whisper. “where are you going?” he was groggy, his eyes barely opening to look at you in the dark. “oh, im cold so im just going to grab another blanket. you can go back to sleep.” he nodded gently as his head layed back down on the pillow. you made your way to your mothers linen closet and grabbed a fluffy blanket from the top of the pile. as you got back in bed and snuggled back in with the other blanket, you heard wonwoos voice again. “wanna come over here?” you turned over in confusion to look at him, but them you saw what he meant. his arm was lifted, inviting you to snuggle into him. as you shivered again, you thought, ‘whats the worst that could happen?’ so, you shifted towards wonwoo until you met his chest and his arms wrapped the blankets around the two of you. with one of his arms under your head and the other around your waist, you pressed your head to his chest and drifted away to the sound of his heartbeat.

waking up in wonwoos arms again was a shocking experience for half asleep you. as you slowly felt yourself waking up, the warmth surrounding you yet again confused you for a moment. you blinked yourself awake before remembering the events of the middle of the night. the air in the room remained slightly cool as you began to slip out from underneath the blankets. wonwoo had always been a heavy sleeper, as he didnt budge when you snuck out from his hold. you made your way out of the room, the air in the rest of the house feeling the same as it did in your bedroom. you noticed the early morning sun that had been shining through the blinds. suddenly, you realized it may have been earlier than you thought. you shut the bedroom door as quietly as you could behind you when you returned, even though you knew wonwoo was sound asleep anyways. sitting on the side of the bed, you picked up your phone from the table where it sat. 5:47am. so it was way earlier than you thought. you settled back into the blankets, glancing over to see wonwoo in the same way he was when you left. lips slightly parted, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. he looks so content. as carefully as you can, you lift his arm up and nestle back into his body. although he seemed as though he was in deep sleep when you got back, you couldnt help but notice the arm around your waist lightly squeeze as you nuzzle your face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder.

the next couple of days went by generally the same as the past two did. visiting family, spending time with your parents, just taking time to relax and be at home. acting as a couple actually wasn’t as difficult as you expected it to be. the most you would have to do is recite the backstory you had both made up, or hold hands every now and then to look believable. it felt like no time before it the day of the wedding, and you were all getting ready to head to the wedding hall. you fought to curl your hair in the mirror, but couldnt quite reach one part in the back. this caught wonwoo’s attention, as he made it was over to you behind the mirror. you sighed, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “do you want some help? i can finish it for you.” he reached for the curling iron as you nodded. “i just cant get that one piece, does the rest look okay?” you watched as he tilted his head in concentration while he curled the last few pieces of hair on the back of your head. “turn around.” you turned to face him as he inspected your hair. he fluffed up some pieces, then moved his hands to rest on either side of your face. “it looks great.” for a second, you couldve sworn the love in his eyes was genuine. well, you knew he had love for you, but in a platonic way. but this look felt like a different type of love. before you could process anything that had happened, your mother appeared in the doorway. “oh, arent you two just beautiful?” she crossed her arms and leaned on the doorway. you both stood to face her so she could admire your dress and wonwoos suit. wonwoo had made an effort to get a tie that matched your dress. it didnt take long for your mother to notice the small sentiment as she raved about how cute it is and left to go tell your father. after close to an hour of getting ready in preparation for a wedding that wasnt even your own, you all made your way into your parents’ car and were officially enroute to the wedding.

the wedding venue was absolutely beautiful. decorated from floor to ceiling with white and gold decorations, you walked in and your jaw dropped. you admired everything as wonwoo stood by your side, also taking in all the glamour of the space. after taking the time to appreciate the decor, wonwoo lightly takes your hand and pulls you into the wedding hall, trailing behind your parents. your parents picked a seat close to the front in order to get a good view of the ceremony. with different members of your extended family surrounding you, you felt right at home. wonwoos hand never left yours from the moment you both stepped into the venue. everyone quietly spoke amongst each other as they all waited for the wedding to begin. you told wonwoo about all the family members you could see, telling him small anecdotes and childhood stories. wonwoo always seemed to be so attentive. you loved that part of him. it didnt feel like long before the music queued and the wedding party began entering the room. you watched as your aunts, uncles, cousins, and their partners all walked into the room in pairs. you began tearing up at the sight of your family all looking so proud of your cousin. wonwoo noticed, squeezing your hand and lightly running his thumb along your knuckles. you wrapped your arm around his as your cousin turned the corner. she was absolutely stunning. you looked towards the front of the room to see her soon-to-be husband in tears at the sight of her. the display of love made you cry as well. all you had wanted since you were a young child was a love like they have now. as your cousin made her way down the aisle, wonwoo silently wiped your tears and squeezed your hand yet again. you gave him a thankful smile as he put his free hand on top of your intertwined fingers.

the rest of the wedding was just as heartwarming as the beginning. more tears were shed, smiles were had, it was a beautiful experience. as the wedding party all exited the room, you sat in wonwoos presence as the guests around you broke out into a chatter about how beautiful the wedding was. in the hum of the crowd, wonwoo watched you in a silent effort to make sure you were feeling okay. you had told him in a drunken rant in the weeks preceding the wedding how much you didnt want to go home because everyone was in love and happy together, and all you had was school and friends. you reassured wonwoo that you appreciate what you have, but as he practically carried you through your apartment, he could hear the sadness and disappointment in your voice through the intoxication. he never brought this up after, but this did make him want to go to this wedding and take care of you even more. as everyone in the wedding hall began standing up and getting ready to leave, wonwoo patted your thigh gently as you both joined everyone else. your parents waited by the door for the two of you to exit through the flood of people. on the drive back, your parents had plenty to say about the newlyweds and the wedding as a whole. you chimed in occasionally, but you were perfectly content with listening to your mothers rambling uninterrupted.

when you get home, you decide to stay in the same dress you had worn for the wedding ceremony, as the wedding dance and reception were only hours later. you relax in the family room with wonwoo, watching whatever your parents had been watching on tv before you left. you sit in the same comfortable silence that you two always manage to seek out. you drape your legs across his lap as he mindlessly draws invisible patterns along your legs with his fingers. interrupting the tv show, your phone rings. hoshi? you answer the phone and put it on speaker.

“y/n!! hows it going, loverboy giving you any trouble?” wonwoo rolls his eyes at hoshis obnoxious tone, but cant help the laugh escaping his body. you flash him a teasing smile.

“no hosh, im keeping him in line, dont worry.”

“you better be, im not there to do it so i was getting worried.”

wonwoo began playfully arguing with hoshi through the phone as you hold the phone and giggle at their antics. they go on and on for a couple minutes, before wonwoo inevitably gives up. hoshis persistence is truly something to be reckoned with. hoshi has some last final parting words before abruptly ending the phone call.

“have fun lovebirds, see you soon! i dont want to be a godfather yet though!”

you both laugh at him again, letting the silence fall back into the room. before long, its time to go back to the wedding hall for the reception. you find your seats next to your parents as the food begins to be served. wonwoo spots the open bar across the room, and asks if youd like a drink. you give him a nod and hes off to grab refreshments. you dont bother with specifics, as you trust wonwoos knowledge about your taste. he comes back with two glasses, and places one on the table in front of you. smiling in acknowledgement, he gives you a nod. you listen to speeches and songs, before the meal is over and the crowd is brought to the dance floor. being a couple drinks deep so far, you try to convince wonwoo to get up and dance with you. youve always been sort of a lightweight, but you also know your limits. sometimes. wonwoo, however, doesnt have the same taste for alcohol that you do. so he has one or two, and switches to soda before he even feels the slightest bit tipsy. still trying to drag him to the dance floor, you ask wonwoo to come with you in the nicest most stable voice you could muster. he gives in, following you out and joining the many people already enjoying the dj’s music.

you both get a taxi home, as your parents arent the party animals they used to be. wonwoo tries to bring you in quietly, but youre as stable and discrete as a baby giraffe in a china shop. after managing to successfully sneak you into the bedroom without angering your parents, he closes the door as you stumble to the bed and flop back into the blankets. wonwoo hangs his suit jacket on the back of the door and begins gathering his clothes to go get changed in the bathroom. as his hand touches the doorknob, he hears distinct babbling coming from the bed behind him. he turns around to see you staring at the ceiling, and he’s unsure if youre talking to yourself or him.

“what was that?”

you turn your head towards him and smile. “youre sooo handsome woo. im just so happy that youre my fake boyfriend.”

he laughs at this sudden proclamation. he sits on the bed next to you and leans back onto his arms, gazing down at you. “you're pretty sweet too, y/n. i couldnt ask for a better fake girlfriend.”

“but you knowww…” you attempt to whisper to him, as if it was a secret to him and yourself. “i couldddd be your real girlfriend toooooooo..” you give him a gleeful smile, your eyes closed. he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “is that so?” you nod profusely as he says this. he chuckles and stands up, tapping your leg.

“youve got to get ready for bed, you cant sleep in your dress and makeup.” you sit up in a slouch, giving wonwoo a disapproving look. he puts his hand out to help you up, and you gladly take it. he brings you to the bathroom and hoists you onto the counter, shutting the door to create a barrier between your elevated drunken volume and your parents’ bedroom. he takes a makeup wipe out of its packaging as he places his hand along your neck with his thumb on your jaw, holding your face in its place. you close your eyes as the cold cloth comes into contact with your face. you shiver a little as wonwoo readjusts his grip on your face. when hes done, he pats your thigh as a signal to slide off the countertop. you jump down and try to follow him back into the bedroom, but before you leave he passes you your pajamas to get changed into. you reluctantly return back to the bathroom and try to change as carefully as you can. once you get back into the bedroom, wonwoo is in his pajamas, climbing into bed. you jaunt across the room onto your side, and as soon as wonwoo is settled in, you slowly snuggle into his side. he wraps both arms around you, wrapping you in a warm cocoon of blankets and his body. before you drift off, you mumble “love you woo” into his chest. he knows it was the drunk you speaking, but he makes sure to whisper “love you too y/n” into the quiet night.

the last morning waking up in wonwoos arms was no different from any of the other days. you try to savour this time a little bit longer, but he soon starts to stir and slowly gets out of bed. you can tell that he thought you were asleep by how carefully he was moving. when he comes back, youre sitting up in the bed on your phone. he’s taken aback, and begins to apologize for waking you up. you reassure him that you were already awake which calms his nerves. while wonwoo is in the bathroom, you begin packing your stuff back into the suitcase you brought with you. when hes ready, you switch places, now with you in the bathroom and wonwoo packing his stuff. you both decide to hit the road early, so youre not getting home tired late at night.

after saying many goodbyes to your family you're hitting the road again. after some time, wonwoo suddenly chimes in. “um, do you remember anything you said last night when we got back from the reception?” youre taken aback by the question, trying to replay every moment of the night. you shake your head. “but im definitely sorry for whatever it may have been.” you both chuckle, as wonwoo turns it over in his head, trying to decide whether or not to continue on this train of thought. “its just…” hes made his decision. “i was thinking about how people say drunk words are sober thoughts, and your drunk words said some things that i actually agree with.” at this point youve turned fully towards him in your seat, trying to figure out what he was about to say next. he takes a deep breath before continuing. “when we were getting ready for bed you said.. you said you wished that this-” he gestures between the two of you, “-wasnt fake. and ive been turning that over and over in my head because… i feel that way too.” the tips of his ears are bright red, and his grip on the steering wheel has tightened slightly. you watch as he tries to calm himself down enough to continue. you decide to let him finish before speaking. “the last few days has made me feel so happy. being around you makes my days better. you don't have to feel the same, you dont even have to say anything if you don't want to. i just.. i had to say something.” you smile at him as you place your hand lightly on his arm. now, its your turn to speak. “wonwoo, you don't understand how difficult it has been to try not to fall for you in the last week. everything you do makes my heart flutter. ive been dreading the day this whole scheme was over. i do wish this wasnt fake. i want this to be our everyday life wonwoo. i want this to be us.” his hand finds yours as a smile overtakes his face. you hold his hand in yours, not wanting to ever let go. wonwoo glances over at you. “i cant believe that the girl i met at the convenience store is finally my girlfriend after us dating for 6 months.” you laugh, letting your head rest against the car headrest as you let the quiet music from the radio fill the silence.

you should've known this fake relationship would last longer than the week you signed up for.

#seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #fake relationship #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #friends to lovers #slowish burn #awww so cute #very self indulgent #took me forever #whoreanghae

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