#My shoes are getting bitten | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roseykat · 6 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 14

TITLE: Some things are better left unknown

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Felix x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: a threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

TAGS: explicit language, threesome, oral sex (f!reader receiving), porn with plot, use of the name 'baby girl' and 'angel', swearing, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex but protected anal sex, double penetration, big dick!Chan agenda, praise, slight body worship if you squint, kissing/making out.

A/N: Aussie line fucks hard, bye. (If there are mistakes, I will fix them. Currently running on v low sleep)

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @luneskies @queenmea604 @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung

Milk, nori, rice, raw tuna, coffee, yoghurt, bread, and eggs.

This was all Chan sent you to the supermarket for. All of which could have been easily picked up from the convenience store down the road. Maybe minus the raw tuna which has to be high grade since Chan wanted to make an attempt at onigiri for the first time. However, you would’ve saved an entire trip to the busy supermarket.

Not to mention, grocery shopping sucks in general. At least that is when you’re on your own. In your apartment that you share with your good friends Chan and Felix, two people are responsible for the shopping per week which rotates each time.

If you’re with Felix, sometimes you both tend to muck around. Not to mention forgetting almost a quarter of things on the shopping list which ends in a stern lecture from Chan. On that matter, if you’re with Chan, it’s an in-and-out task at the store in less than ten minutes.

Efficient and practically timeless.

Even though it’s no trivial matter, you manage to get through the pointless shopping before heading home to the apartment. These could’ve been picked up at the convenience store, you think to yourself again. A sigh leaves your lips as you unlock the door, bumping it open further with your hip as you slide your shoes off.

“I’m back. Remind me to buy an umbrella next time-”

Your body freezes on the spot. The bag of items falls from your possession, collapsing onto the floor. Something inside it broke but it’s nowhere near enough a distraction for what is in front of your eyes.

Maybe you need your vision checked because if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then you wouldn’t have just seen Chan and a topless Felix who are both making out. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, still lip-locked until they caught onto your presence.

For the few seconds you stood there, rooted to the ground, felt the absolute longest.

Neither of them was as internally panicked as you when they noticed you standing there. Nor did they have hundreds of questions zapping around their brains in the span of a few seconds. It was like your entire vocabulary had turned to dust and were blown away because there were no words to describe what the hell was happening.

Maybe it was a dream.

“T-That was quick,” Chan stammers with an awkward chuckle, breaking away from Felix, almost pretending like nothing just happened.

Felix looked like a complete mess. Dark brown hair mangled - clearly from Chan either running his fingers through it or tugging it - the air gets stuck in your throat with those two theories in mind, painting very interesting visuals and an odd sensation in your stomach.

Chan looked equally dishevelled. There’s a dark red splotch peeking above his collarbone that you had no trouble guessing how it got there. On top of that, his pants were already half undone, and his lips were bitten red and wet, and they both looked so…so…

“What…the fuck…” you manage to speak once your mind has cleared the only one per cent of its capacity to grasp the circumstances.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Felix quickly says as he stands up from Chan’s lap and walks over to you.

It was useless for him to try to take advantage of your shell-shocked state because once your surprise had completely thawed out, your words started coming back to you.

“Oh my god, what am I even doing?” You ask, clamping your hands over your eyes, ready to head right back out of the apartment. “I’m heading out.”

“Wait!” Chan calls out, arm outstretched towards your direction. “You don’t…you don’t have to go. If you want, you can maybe join us. If…if you like.”

Join them? Blindsided by those words, there was no trouble for the difficulty you had in trying to figure out if you heard right or just imagined what Chan said. Why would he ask you that question? But more importantly, why were they hooking up in the first place? It was evident that there had been something going on between Felix and Chan - unless this was just a new one-time thing.

However, even if it wasn’t, you had been left out of the secret. Nonetheless, you quickly came to your senses. Whether they hook up or not is none of your business.

“J-Join you?” You stammer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan emphasises. “It’d be rude to not let you in on the fun.”

You definitely weren’t hearing things, and this wasn’t a dream.

At first, you can’t understand why you’re even considering their request, but there is one piece of information that sprung to mind and that’s your sex life. It hasn’t been entirely sex-filled as you’d like it to be, not to mention your slight lack of experience with threesomes wasn’t vast - but it also wasn’t limited either, especially after that encounter you once had with two of their friends Changbin and Hyunjin on a separate occasion. Although, they didn’t need to know that at all.

That being said, this takes the cake. You can’t even comprehend what Chan or Felix are like in bed but, the opportunity seemed too ridiculously hot to pass up.

“You...you want me to-“

“Like Channie said, if you want,” Lix assures you, interrupting your babbling.

You aren’t somewhat surprised that Felix would ever want a threesome. He’s had sexual partners here and there in the past, multiple ones at a time. However, Chan never struck you as the type to have sex with more than one person. Even after a year of living with him and getting to know him, he’s still pretty private and exclusive.

With the matter at hand and the more you think about the prospect in front of you, you aren’t opposed to the idea. So with your brain taking full control of your body, you hesitantly step over the discarded groceries lying on the ground. This is happening. Felix picks up on the right cue and extends his hand out to you as you take it gently.

He guides you over to the edge of the bed where Chan is still sitting, but as you’re led over, he rises to his feet. There were a few seconds where you’re a little bit bewildered by what’s going on, but when you look into Chan’s dark eyes and as he takes your free hand, you become more centred.

Before you know it, he leans down to kiss you and kisses you good. You’ve never felt anything like it and as Felix releases your hand and sneaks behind your body, your mind starts turning into jelly. He gently swipes your hair to the other side of your shoulder while his other hand freely roams around your waist, underneath your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. His mouth places chaste kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

It feels so heavenly to be sandwiched between them; Felix kissing, biting softly over your skin while Chan continues to explore your mouth. It was impossible to think that just a few minutes ago, you were at the grocery store and now a complete world shift just seems to be occurring within that time frame.

Chan breaks away from you for a second, kissing you tenderly one last time before sitting back down on the bed and moving up to the headboard. God this is really happening. You’re too deep in it now to not follow him like a lost, yet obedient puppy. You can see that he’s hard and want to touch him so badly but-

“Sit between me and face towards Felix,” he instructs before you can even reach for him.

Your cheeks burn. While you have no idea what’s entirely in store, your body is getting excited and very obviously, so is Felix. He crawls over to you once you’re snug in between Chan’s legs before he tugs your shirt up from the hem and tosses it aside. Then, he finds your lips and kisses you until you have to silently beg and chase him for it.

Squirming in place, you feel hot and subjugated by Chan sitting behind you - snaking and trailing his hands around your now half-bare body, and Felix in front of him, who’s now gone on to give his supposed man some attention too.

He’s up on his knees with his body so close to you that you can feel the heat from him. Chan tilts his head up from resting on your shoulder and lets Felix take what he wants. The slick wet sounds of them both kissing along with the tiny moans you can feel in your ear, makes you shiver all over. You’re only still comprehending this all, that this is still actually happening.

“So needy,” Chan says as he breaks away from him, inches away from his face when Felix hears and feels you unbuckling his belt. He straightens back up and consumes how flustered you are, observing the way you blink up at him pleadingly, displaying how badly you want it now.

Felix smirks, gently grabbing your face with one hand and lowering down just enough to kiss you senseless again. But he cannot stray away from his other plans so frees himself from your lips to help slide your pants off down and discards them to the side.

Immediately, you can see where this is going.

“Aw, look how bad you want it,” Felix comments, swiping his thumb over the damp spot of your underwear with enough pressure for you to muffle a whine by biting down on your lip. You do want it bad and already seem to be losing a fight to the pleasure Felix is barely giving you.

“Don’t tease her too much,” Chan cautions.

Felix doesn’t seem to hear the warning for him as he helps you shimmy your underwear down. From there, Chan takes over. He hooks both of his legs over yours and separates them to not just expose you for Felix but to hold you down for what’s about to unfold.

Heat accelerates through your cheeks as you feel embarrassed. At this point, your brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that you never show this much skin, let alone any skin in front of either of them. But that was going to be an afterthought for you when Felix distracts your mind by gently prying your legs open from your bent knees.

Pathetic whimpers slip past your lips as Felix lies down on his stomach, his face inches away from your pussy while he pets and glides his two fingers in between your folds.

Your head shoots back onto Chan’s shoulder, very narrowly missing his face, “f-fuck…oh my god.”

Without warning, you feel the tip of Felix’s tongue lap a few times over your clit. If it weren’t for Chan acting as a human restraint to hold you down, there would’ve been a solid chance of you lurching forward. His arms are still wrapped around your abdomen, preventing you from moving forward so that you can take what Felix is giving you.

It’s cruel, but Chan thinks it’s necessary for you to feel everything. Which you do when your hands grip each of Chan’s thighs, nearly squashing him backwards between you and the wall.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

“F-Felix, mmm-” you breathe out his name, unable to answer properly and feel some vibrations from Chan’s chest to suggest that he was chuckling. Mainly at the fact that you weren’t able to directly answer his question.

But it’s not long until the room quickly fills with your whimpers and moans mingled with the beautiful wet sounds as Felix keeps eating out your pussy. Tingly sensations spread like wildfire throughout every cell in your body from his mouth. It’s gradually becoming impracticable to keep up with his tongue. Not that you’ve ever imagined it before, but he does give good oral, good enough to put your breathing pace out of whack when he sucks on your clit.

He’s not afraid of enjoying himself either. You can hear and feel his moans reverberate throughout your lower half. It even adds to the sensation of bliss that’s forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. So even though you don’t know, this is as good for Felix as it is for you. To him, it’s like going to heaven.

What you also didn’t seem to know was when Chan unclasped your bra from behind your back and placed it to the side. His hands went from just holding you to now groping and playing with your tits as your body continued to melt into Felix’s mouth.

“You’re loud aren’t you?” Chan whispers in your ear, rolling both of your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers to make you mewl and squirm. The different methods of pleasure send interesting messages to your brain that only make that crest of ecstasy build higher.

You can only mewl until coherent words appear in his brain and out through his mouth, “s-sorry.”

Felix’s head game is so ridiculously mind-blowing that it makes you forget what language you speak.

Chan chuckles, purring into your ear, “don’t be sorry. You just can’t help it can you?”

His hand circles up to your jaw, tilting it towards his face. He confirms in his mind how much of a mess you are. Cheeks stained pink with a fucked up expression that reads ‘I need more’, to which Chan reaches down and kisses you, sloppy and lazy.

The velvety feel of your mouth when you open up more is slick with warmth. It’s starting to become more obvious how close you are when you start moaning repeatedly into Chan’s mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you after this,” he breaks away, just inches from his lips again.

You never would’ve guessed that Chan was even capable of forming such a dirty sentence. Then again, you never would’ve guessed that you would ever be in the position that you’re in now - having a threesome with your two housemates.

“I’m…you’re gonna make me cum,” you sob, turning your head towards Chan on his shoulder, almost as if you were trying to escape the expansion of euphoria. He couldn’t help but kiss your forehead, waiting for you to brace for that wave.

“Yeah?” Chan rouses. “Want to cum for us baby girl?”

You nod, too helpless to form an answer when you’re on the cusp of a forceful orgasm. He underestimated the strength he needed to hold you down, especially when you’re about to cum. So just when he needed to add more force, your body stiffens. Your legs so desperately crave to clamp around Felix’s head to help triage the pleasure, but it’s no use when Chan has you completely locked in.

Your eyelids flutter, head pressing back further into Chan’s shoulder, “yes! I’m cumming!”

With ragged, heavy breathing, the all-consuming pleasure takes you by the throat as the pleasure surges without control. Even though you’re being held down, it doesn’t stop your body from quivering. It lasts for what feels like an entire minute – one of the best orgasms you think you’ve ever experienced.

Felix’s tongue slows down to a snail's pace, licking a few final stripes before kissing his way up your body, from your clit, abdomen, and then up to the base of your throat. His chin glistens as he adorns a smug smile.

“Fuck…” you sigh out defeatedly, the aftermath of experiencing a volume of pleasure was starting to take its toll. “Oh my god.”

Chan kisses the side of your head, “sound so beautiful when you cum. Lix, switch with me so I can fuck her, yeah?”

“Wait-“ you pause, trying to reorient yourself as you hold onto Chan’s forearm for support. “I wanna ride you.”

Felix looks down at you, “you sure angel? Channie isn’t exactly small.”

From that statement alone, it was obvious to you that Felix was speaking from experience, a strong indication that they had in fact mucked around at least once in the past if not multiple times. But it didn’t matter if Chan or Felix for that matter was packing twelve inches, you needed to have something inside you to tame that need of feeling full.

“I want to ride you-“ you nod to Chan – “but I want you to fuck me at the same time-“ you indicate towards Felix.

Neither of them expected you to be into that. Then again, they didn’t necessarily expect you to join them in bed either so anything was a surprise to them at this point. Chan and Felix can’t deny how insanely hot it is to hear you not only ask for them to do something but specifically ask you to do that.

“Are you sure baby?” Chan has to ask you for assurance.

“I can…I can take both of you.”

Still stunned at your answer, Felix ushers to Chan, “you heard her.”

He cannot lie and say that he’s not excited, because he is – they both are. So while Felix goes into the bedside table for a condom and lube, you move yourself off of Chan, turn around and start unbuckling his belt and helping him take his jeans off, almost like you’re in a rush. The imprint of his hard dick is enough to make your mouth water, and as Felix said, Chan definitely isn’t small.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, reorienting himself on the bed so that his head is on the pillow.

Felix returns with the items he needs to help prep you, taking it as a sign to straddle over Chan’s legs and slowly tug his black boxers down. His cock springs onto his abdomen, the dark pink tip reaching just under his belly button. He had to be at least eight inches. Maybe just under, just.

“Ready angel?” Felix asks, kneeling behind you as you straddle Chan. The position would allow you to not only ride Chan but to take Felix from behind too, a dream so delicious that you can’t help but wonder how it was still all possible.

“Yes,” you mutter.

“Okay then,” he replies.

Chan then holds the base of his cock steady for you, watching you slowly take those eight inches. The tip of his dick gently slots into your pussy, taking your time with sinking down. The warm heat engulfs his length, already sending shockwaves throughout his lower half.

“That’s it, baby,” Chan says encouragingly, his fingertips delicately massaging over the skin of your things. “Good girl.”

You bite down on your bottom lip at the extraordinary stretch. In the meantime, Felix squirts a dollop of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up a bit before applying it to your hole.

He thumbs over it, sending shivers up your spine. It’s vital to him to make sure that you’re prepped well for him to fuck your ass. So he starts small by slowly inserting the tip of his finger, before gradually using slow yet long strokes, enough to make your head loll back.

Felix has to express in awe when he sees the result of your efforts to fully envelope Chan’s length, “look at that. You took all of him, angel.”

You know very well that you have because you can feel him in places that other men in your past haven’t reached. The stretch still sings a bit but it could easily be confused with the gorgeous satisfaction of Chan filling you right out.

“So…big,” you strain out, scratching your nails down Chan’s abdomen, almost like a cat, just not as painful.

Meanwhile, as Felix has slowly been stretching your hole out with his fingers, he uses his teeth and his free hand to peel the foil back of the condom packet. He had already freed himself from his jeans when he went to reach for the lube beside the bed so was hard and ready to roll the condom down his cock.

“M’ready Lix,” you say to him, unable to see the smile you brought to his face from how eager you are.

“I know baby, just one second,” he replies before aligning his cock with your hole.

Very carefully and slowly, he starts pushing his tip in. Your eyes flutter shut, steadying your breathing in the process in preparation to take all of him as well. Chan rubs up and down your arm, distracting you from the temporary sting. With the lube doing its job, Felix can continue to push in at a leisurely pace right until he has the majority of his cock wrapped up by you.

“Doing so well Y/N,” Chan says reassuringly. “Just stay like this for a bit until you’re ready to move yeah?”

You nod, allowing your body and muscles to relax and ease into the pleasure that’s starting to fade out the burn. It’s difficult to comprehend a fuller feeling than this; to have two cocks stuffed in you to the hilt, and after a few moments of getting used to it, you slowly start to move.

“Mmm, yes fuck,” you sigh with satisfaction, using your hands on Chan’s abdomen to steady your body as you being to move your hips. “You both…feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words were difficult for Felix to not listen to who was trying to ward off from thrusting for a little bit until you were comfortable with him starting to fuck you. It wasn’t until your movements became a bit quicker that he began to catch up to your pace. Very quickly did the room turn into a space brimming with moans, wet sounds, and the sound of skin slapping. It was plenty to add to the intense sensation you were hurtling towards.

Chan’s eyes are fixated on watching your pussy swallow his cock with every long stroke you take on him, “oh my god.”

With his tank top still on, Chan lifts it by the hem and holds onto it with his teeth. It wasn’t just to make sure that your hands weren’t going to be slipping on him as you use his abdomen to support yourself when you rock down, but it was also to restrict a whole bunch of moans that were about to rip through his chest. But even that couldn’t put a lid on the groans and growls rumbling from him.

“Taking us both so well angel,” Felix says exasperatedly in your ear.

His deep yet velvety voice has you leaning back slightly so that half of your back is pressed against his chest. With the help of you turning your head towards his face, Felix’s mouth crashes onto yours, almost tasting the remnants of yourself from before. He kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth like he’s going to die if he doesn’t.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, diverging from your mouth to dive into your neck to suck a few hickies in and groping your tits from behind. “Can’t get enough of you dammit.”

You sob out as he pinches your nipples, but also when Chan reaches down to your pussy, finds your clit and begins to rub in perfect motions, “god – fuck, I can’t…s’too much!”

Their cocks hit spots so phenomenally that each time they stroke over them, your holes involuntarily clench around them. Not to mention the total stimulation they were feeding you.

Felix’s hips haven’t faltered since they started pumping forward into your ass. The upward curvature of his cock seemed to be scratching the part of your brain that is responsible for making your eyes roll back. Chan’s dick on the other hand had you shaking. The length and girth were sickeningly satisfying.

“Not gonna last,” you whine, still keeping up the same pace when you rock down on Chan and feel Felix continue to thrust in and out. “So close…”

The hem of Chan’s shirt is long gone from his mouth, already given up on trying to suppress whatever was going to come out, “gonna cum for us again, huh? Such a good girl, taking us both at the same time.”

Chan couldn’t lie either, but he was close a long time ago, probably the second you decided that you wanted to ride him. Felix happened to be on the same page. He couldn’t get over this entire situation, finding it so fucking hot that even just a dream of it would be a blessing.

Words start to slip away from your brain once more. Aside from your orgasm swimming towards an astronomical high, you try to cling to that amazing feeling before it eventually disappears. But all good things come to an end. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs while Felix has one arm barred just under your chest as the other hand doesn’t let up on your nipple. It throws your pace off balance and staggers your breathing when you start reaching that very pinnacle of euphoria.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” You scream out.

Your thighs clamp around the frame of Chan’s lower half, shaking and shivering in place as the pleasure reaches its apex. Felix didn’t let up on his pace, fucking you all through your orgasm as Chan replaces your motions by fucking upwards and into you. Both of your holes spasm and contract around their dicks, enough to actually make them cum by the time you’ve reached the height of your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, holy fuck, s’too good,” Felix’s head rests on your back, watching his cock disappear in and out of you before he starts to bust inside of the condom. His fingernails brutally dig into your hips when he cums.

Your moans easily fill up the room once more now that you have no choice but to succumb to the euphoria when your orgasm hits its hardest. Chan’s head tips back further into the pillow, eyes screwed tight shut as he’s hit with a tsunami of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he spills inside of you. He’s lucky that he did because as the pleasure reached a point where it was too much for you to bear, you slowly lean forward towards Chan, their cocks sliding out of you in the process.

On each exhale your body shudders, like the surges of aftershocks while the pleasure slowly plateaus. From this angle, Felix can still see you contracting, watching Chan’s cum leak from your pussy. If he wasn’t so fucked out, he would’ve had the energy to eat you out again.

In saying that, he is the first to recover and come to his senses a bit faster than either you or Chan. He takes the condom off, ties it, and discards it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room before putting his boxers back on. Meanwhile, you’re still panting trying to catch your breath, resting on top of Chan’s body, you feel his hand run soothingly up and down your spine.

“Such a good girl for us,” he says caringly. “Felt so good.”

Felix sits beside you both at the top of the bed. He cards a gentle hand through your hair, observing your distant expression, “you there baby?”

You blink up at him and nod, your brain still trying to process that sort of orgasm.

“When you’re ready, we’ll get you cleaned up yeah?” He smiles softly down at you.

As the minutes ticked by, Felix lent you a helping hand to stand up when you were ready. Even though you were wobbly on your feet, he still guided you to the bathroom and ran a nice hot shower. Both Felix and Chan joined you in a bid to make sure you knew that they were there, dousing you with as much praise as an individual could get – and they meant every word.

When you were ready to hop out, Chan fetched you one of his warm jerseys and placed it straight over your body before telling you to hop in his bed while he went to gather up the towels and clothes from the bathroom. Just as he was picking up the last items, Felix caught him right as he was about to walk out.

“She okay?” Chan asks him.

Felix nods reassuringly, “out like a light.”

“Alright then,” he sighs contently. “She’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, staring at a space just to the side of Chan who picks up on the subtle behaviour.

“Is there something wrong?” Chan asks as a slight concern balloons in his chest.

“When are you going to tell her?” Felix asks.

Chan stares at him, trying to figure out what he means, “tell her what?”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “that you like her, idiot. That we like her.”

That had been a distant thought for Chan for some time. The possibility of that ever working out between the three of you seemed like a long shot. You only all slept together. There was no depth to it other than that even though deep down, Chan would’ve liked it to be for the sole purpose that he likes you. But it’s not just him.

It’s also the one standing at the doorframe, staring right back at Chan; Felix.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #chanlix #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #chanlix x reader

2K notes · View notes

jqyszn · 9 months

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Like what you see?💤

paring: dom!bestfriend!sunghoon x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, friends to lovers (mdni !!)

summary: in which you come home to find your best friend getting off, weird but it's natural right? not until you heard him calling out for you.

warnings: smut ofc, masturbating, unprotected sex (don’t be a prick, wrap your dick!!) , panty stealing… riding, body worship, fingering, biting, degradation, spitting, marking, squirting, profanity, dirty talk, pet names (slut, cum dump, princess), breeding kink, sunghoon is a perv,, this is honestly just pure filth too😭 (Imk if i missed anything!!)

wc: 1.5k (1,597)

a/n: this is my first fic (😭) i apologize in advance for the cringe wattpad like writing,, also english isn’t my first language so please ignore any grammar mistakes <3 i hope u guys enjoy and im so sorry for the wait like i don’t know why it took me like three weeks to make a 1.5k fic😭😭😭 i promise for my other works they will be more hastily written🩷🩷

taglist: @lelelelelelenim @iamkali @jjonghoonist @ramenoil @deobitifull @velathaheigeros @enhaz1 @thinaswreck @heeseungsslutt @cherriruto @yohanabanana @hvnyujiq @fightqueen @parkhonnie (some of the tags aren’t working so i’m so deeply sorry for everyone who asked and isn’t here </3)

“can i come over?” you read the writing on your phone as you best friend sunghoon messaged you. “yea, sure :) i’m still at work though but you have the extra key anyway.” you replied to him putting down your phone and typing away at your computer. your phone buzzes once again but desperate to rest, you ignore it and continue working.

on the other hand, sunghoon is at your door in a heartbeat. he unlocks the door with ease, walking in, the smell of you instantly hitting him. he inhaled your lingering scent as he closes his eyes imagining him nuzzling into your neck, pounding into you, taking in the smell of your natural perfume. “fuck.” sunghoon groans as his cock starts to feel heavy.

he makes his way towards your room, your scent growing more intense as he groans internally. “what are you doing to me y/n?” he thinks about his morals for a minute before diving into your laundry basket, picking up a used lace thong. he curses at himself but he doesn’t stop. instead he goes on your bed and propped himself up nice and pretty.

he holds your panty in his left hand bringing it closer to his face as he takes a fat whiff of you as he threw his head back. his other hand starts palming his refined boner as he continues sniffing at your undergarment. he pulls down his sweats down to his knees along with his boxers, freeing his hardened member. “oh god..” he grunts as he drapes your thong over his leaking, pink tip. staining it with his glossy precum.

unbeknownst to him, you’re already back home taking off you heels. “hoon?” you call out neatly tucking away your shoes as you make your way to your room. “fuck yes y/n, you’re taking my cock in so good~” did you hear that right? you stopped in your tracks thinking there must be someone else in your room. scared, you peep your head in your doorway, looking ahead into your room.

and to your surprise, it’s sunghoon. pumping his cock furiously, his eyebrows furrowed, lip bitten, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and your thong over his length. fuck he looked so hot. you always had a thing for sunghoon but not wanting to ruin your friendship, you kept it to yourself and your trusted diary. you can’t help but clamp your legs together, almost moaning at the sight.

you decided to test your faith, so you walked over infront of your bed. “shit y/n! your pussy is so fucking tight princess!” sunghoon whimpers out, he opens his eyes only to see you. standing infront of him, arms crossed and face flushed with a crimson tone. “like what you see doll?” sunghoon smirks not showing one bit of embarrassment. instead, a sense of pride.

“i.. uhm..” you stutter shocked by the lack of embarrassment he showed on his face. “you love it huh? watching your best friend fuck himself with your skimpy thong? huh? look at you. i bet you’re all soaking wet from watching me pump my cock for you isn’t that right, slut?” he whispered, walked over to you, leaning down into your ear moaning playfully as he nibble on your earlobe.

“ahh.. hoon..” you whimper at his words, his hands trailing up and down your body stopping where you wanted him the most. “shit. no panties? do you really are just a slutty whore aren’t you? practically begging any man to cream your pussy right? you better fucking stop. because this tight, wet, creamy cunt is all mine. understood?” he degrades as he slaps your warmth, making you jerk forward as you nod your head in response.

“use your words doll. you know i hate stupid little whores.” he orders rubbing circles into your clit making you moan and clinging onto sunghoon’s broad shoulders. “you’re gonna let me breed your sopping pussy yeah? fill you up with my babies to show everyone who you belong to right?” he mutters over your neck, sucking and biting marks all over your neck. “yes hoon.. i’m all yours.” you finally managed to moan out.

“good girl.. now come here.” sunghoon ordered as he picked you up effortlessly, slamming you down on his lap earning a yelp from you. “may i?” he asks for your consent before stripping you to which you consented. “oh fuck doll, you’re gorgeous.” sunghoon admires your soft skin, rolling his fingers over your nipples licking his lips. “feels good hoon~” you whine out bucking your hips into his. “i know pretty girl..” he coos a finger teasing at your wet hole, him waiting for a reaction.

“hoon please.. i want you.” you whimper grinding on his fingers as he smiles in satisfaction. “beg for it then. tell me how much you want me to fuck you dumb.” he grins looking down at you and watching your face contort from the feeling of his long and slender fingers sliding into your core. “i want you to fuck me until i can’t walk anymore.. i need your cum in me hoon. i need it so so bad!” you squeal at the sensation of his fingers going in and out of my sopping cunt. wet, gushing sounds reverberating around the room. “good girl..” he grunts, speeding up his pace.

you feel a familiar knot in your abdomen, panting uncontrollably as you arch your back, “fuck hoon i’m close..!” you whimper, him smirking back at your call as he continues to finger you in the ‘come here’ motion. “cum for me then slut.” he commands as you release on his fingers. the sight was so dirty, your squirt soaking his fingers and your sheets, his mouth sucking your juices off you and you arching your back, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape.

“fuck,, you’re such a slut huh?” he teases, pulling his digits out of you and shoves them in your mouth. “now suck.” he commands, to which you obey. swirling your tongue around his fingers coating them in your saliva. his cock twitches at the sight, sunghoon wanted to absolute ruin you.

sunghoon sat comfortably on the bed patting his bare thighs, “come here.” he commanded, smirking at you. “what are you waiting for? is it because i’m not heeseung?” he gritted his teeth, the flashback of you giving heeseung a lap dance engraved in his mind wishing it was him you were grinding all up on. “no.. it’s not that” you mutter out quietly, crawling to sunghoon straddling him.

“what is it then? hm?” he caressed your thighs softly, looking at you expectantly. “it’s just.. i’ve been waiting for this since we became friends hoon..” you ground your hips down on his throbbing length, smiling at him softly. His eyes darkened at your words as he tightened his grip on your hips, pushing you down onto his lap roughly, feeling your wet pussy sliding along his engorged cock. "oh is that so? enjoying yourself aren’t you?" he smirked at you once again.

He grabs you by the hair and pulls your face close to his, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with a deep passion as his cock twitches against your slick hot cunt. you kiss him back passionately moaning into the kiss. “trust me doll, you’re gonna forget who heeseung even is after i fuck you dumb.” he growls as he grabbed onto your hips pulling you towards himself forcefully slamming his cock deep inside your tiny hole stretching it wide "fuck... yes.... fuck..!" he grunts.

“you’re so fucking big hoon~!” you whine out watching him slowly thrust in and out of you. “i know doll, i know.” he replies cockily while grunts he slams himself against you harder, grabbing your breasts roughly and squeezing them, feeling your nipples get rock hard under his fingers as he continued to slam into you, using you like a toy as he pounded you relentlessly. you moan his name like a mantra, completely fucked out.

“yeah that’s it. moan my name like a whore. you’re all mine understand?” he glared at you waiting for your answer. “yes hoon! i’m all yours!” you pant out, bouncing up and down on his girthy cock, your cunt convulsing around his length. he smirked proudly, thrusting himself deeper inside you until he was buried completely within you. "that's right, doll. cum all over my fucking dick." He whispered huskily, grabbing onto your hips tightly as he began pounding away at you mercilessly, driving you crazy with desire.

“shit hoon i’m cumming!” you scream, feeling yourself come undone. a thick, creamy gloss ring coats the base of his dick, dripping down onto his thighs. “can i cum in you doll?” he asks for permission as you nod your head, “yes yes yes! cum in me sunghoon! i want your load in me so bad!” you beg, your body shaking from the stimulation your yet receiving.

“so fucking good, all wet and creamy all just for me.” he grunts as he finally shoots his milky, thick load inside of you. guiding your hips as he rides out his high. he pulls out of you, you whining at the emptiness. “look. watch my seed drip out of you.” he orders as you watch his gooey cum trickle from your well fucked hole down onto the sheets.

“are you gonna give me aftercare or are you gonna be a dickhead?” you cocked an eyebrow

“only if you be mine forever.” he smirked jokingly, getting towels to clean you off.

“i’ve always been yours.”

#enhypen #enhypen smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon fic #kpop smut

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lovifie · 1 month

Text

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 10: Ghost’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Ghost x Reader (+ Ghost x Price x Reader), threesome, douple p, a bit of choking, feelings.

It's a couple of days after your little adventure with Soap, while you are making yourself a cup of coffee that Ghost enters the house. He walks behind you, smiling when you smile at him, he hugs you from behind kissing the back of your head.

“How you doing, birdie?” He asks, resting his head on yours.

“Really good, Ghostie.” You answer, smiling enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Any plans for today?” He asks

“Yeah, I was planning on going running later, then I was going to go on a flight to Madagascar and probably have dinner at some terrorist organisation headquarters.” You answer, unnecessarily sarcastic knowing perfectly fine you can't leave the house. “Why? You wanna join?”

“Ha, ha. Well, since you are so busy I'll ask Gaz if he wants to help me with the dogs then.” He says casually, stepping back and chuckling when you whip your head around.

“Dogs?” You ask with a wide smile on your face.

“Yeah, there is a bunch of new K-9 units and I have been assigned to arrange their trainers and partners.” He explains. “I thought you'd like to spend the afternoon with the puppies but it seems you're busy, so.”

“No, no, I'm not.” You quickly say, clinging to his t-shirt. “I'm sorry, I was just joking, sorry, sorry.”

You lay your head on his chest, looking up to him with puppy eyes.

“Can I see the doggies?” You ask smiling softly.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your antics and patting your butt.

“Put on your shoes then, let's go.” You quickly scurry past him, coffee long forgotten on the kitchen counter. You end up being the one pulling him out of the house, excited to see dogs.

The fresh air of the outside fills your lungs when you take a deep breath making Ghost chuckle. “You're acting like the house doesn't have windows.”

You laugh back, not being able to argue and walking towards the car. It is a quick drive back to base, and different from Soap, Ghost lets you open your own door waiting for you before the car to hold your hand on your way inside the dog kennels.

The barks and whines of the puppies can be heard immediately and Ghost moves his hand to the small part of your back to push you forward telling you to go for them.

You walk faster almost running until reaching the gate at the end of the hall where the puppies are, little tails wagging to the sound of your voice excited to meet new people. You crouch down getting your finger inside that immediately get bitten and licked by the little devils.

“Want to help me give them their tags?” Ghost asks when he reaches you. “You need to go inside, I'm sure you'll hate it.”

You end up having the time of your life, once inside you sit on the floor close to the gate with Ghost sitting on the other side of the gate. He passes the collars with the tag for each dog, laughing when you try and identify each of the puppies when they won't stay still for a second.

By the end, most of the dogs are already falling asleep around you; even some on top of you. And when you are done with the tags, Ghost moves to the desk to sign the last documents required.

“Oh, no!” You exclaim getting his attention. “He peed on me!” You whine, moving the puppy that was on your lap and getting out. Holding the t-shirt away from your body, a big, circular spot in the middle of it.

Ghost chuckles when he sees you, noticing a familiar tag on it. “Wait, is that…”

“Soap's t-shirt?” You ask, looking at what he's pointing. “Yeah, it is.”

That turns Ghost's chuckle into a whole belly laugh as he stands, finished all the work, picking it up. “Let's go to the room, I'll lend you one of mine.”

“You got a room in here?” You ask walking after him.

“Yeah, nothing major. Price managed to get us a room for each of us, Gaz and Soap share theirs cause they are clingy but Price and I got our own. Rank privileges.” He says winking at you, slightly blushing for some reason at such a silly gesture.

The room is close by, and when you enter Ghost sits on his bed dropping the papers on his desk. You take off the shirt, careful not to touch it with your face in the process. In his bathroom, you wash the part of your abdomen that you feel moist, grimacing at the knowledge it is pee and walk back into the room. Not bothering to put on a shirt and sitting on Ghost's lap, your legs going around his hips.

He looks at you, hugging you back and a look of mischievousness in his eyes.

“So you told Johnny that you loved him.” Ghost suddenly says, blood blushing to your face making you hide it on his neck as you groan.

“He couldn't stay quiet, could he?” You ask, making the man chuckle as his hand moves up and down your back.

“Nah, you would have threatened him with stopping to love him or something for him to be quiet.” He jokes, his other hand resting on your thigh. “But why do you want him not to say anything, love? Embarrassed of him?”

“No. Of me.” You admit, mumbling against his skin while you hug his torso.

“Explain.” He simply says, pulling words out of you; feeling a certain wave of proudness that you found a safe space to talk in him, even if hiding your face.

“I feel silly… too exposed… I don't like it…” you say, burying your face even more if possible trying to hide.

“It is overwhelming, right? He asks, resting his head on top of yours. “And confusing… it is already confusing coming to terms with the feeling of one person, let alone four of them, right?”

You simply nod against his neck, like a stubborn kid getting called out.

“And you feel the pressure to automatically love the four of them. There is that one person that you feel like the relationship is a bit more forward or is just different from the rest, maybe you met them before or clicked easier with them. But now, it is not fair to the rest so you start to force yourself to love them too, and it is not that you don't, is that you are not letting the relationship evolve naturally and you are pressuring it, and it doesn't feel right. And then, that turns into feeling that they are gonna notice it, and they are going to hate you and you are going to lose them all, but now you want them and instead of feeling love you feel scared and you don't want to admit it.” He says calmly, each word as if he was reading your mind. You look up to him, brows furrowed and glossy eyes. “Right?”

“How do you…” you half ask, looking into his eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

“Well, birdie.” He says with a soft chuckle. “We didn't wake up one day and decided we were all married together and everything was perfect. It took us years to finally set everything in.”

“Years?” You ask surprised by the time.

Simon hums as an answer. “We met you a month ago. So you already doing a better job than all of us.” He chuckles. “I'm pretty sure I was the one who did the shittiest job with it, to be honest… I kept thinking Soap didn't like me back, that he was afraid to tell me off and that was why he wanted more with Gaz and Price. Funniest thing is that we were not really dating because I was already unsure about him liking me more than physically.”

“And how did you do it?” You ask.

“Well, the thing that I struggled the most was with how jealous was of the way Soap would look at them. Once I got my head out of my own ass I realised he look at me just like that as well…” He says cupping your face. “And I'm pretty sure he is starting to look at you just like that too. And he is not the only one.”

You look up into his eyes, you have never seen them like they look at the moment. Clear with emotions, no walls in between, just pouring into you the reassurance you so badly need. It brings tears to your eyes, not sad, simply feeling like the door holding all the anxiousness and self-doubt has just been opened and those feelings are being flushed out.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a sob, your hand reaching to the bottom of his mask not daring to actually touch it until he tells you it's okay. He nods, helping you take it off; and before you can kiss him he cups your face stopping you.

“You are alright, birdie?” He asks, concern obvious in his voice. You quickly nod, not wanting to use words and Ghost takes pity on you, probably for seeing himself on you, because he doesn't push you and leans forward crashing his lips against yours.

His hands move down to your hips, pulling you tightly against him; his tongue finds its way inside dancing along with yours. You grab his shoulders, his wide hands engulfing your ribs pulling you close.

Your hips grind against his crotch making him groan into your mouth, his cock coming to life against your ass. One of his hands moves lower, to where your spine ends and pushes you helping you move against him.

“Aww, poor birdie needs me to fuck all my love into her tight sweet cunt?” He coos into your neck, making you whine out of embarrassment. “Show her how much we want her, our treasured birdie. So luckily that we found you, you know that?”

Ghost moves to kiss your cheeks, drinking your tears as he does. His hand find its way inside of your pants, sliding down until he reaches your entrance groaning when he feels the wetness.

“So wet already, birdie?” He snickers looking at your face as you close your eyes, biting your lips as you keep moving your hips trying to get his finger inside of you. He indulges you, inserting two fingers inside your weeping cunt making you arch your back as a soft moan escapes your lips.

It is fast, the way he easily takes off your clothes; barely making you stand to take off your clothes before he has you straddling his lap. He's still clothed when you pull him down, making him lay on his back with you still on his lap.

“I want to ride you, Simon Riley.”

And who in the hell is he to deny your wishes? He doesn't even stop to think how you learnt his name, Johnny most likely. But you standing over him, hair framing your face, light from outside illuminating you from behind looking like a fucking angel. And it takes him a minute, to remember that he has free will to roam your body with his hands.

He helps you undo his pants, only taking them down to his mid-thigh before pulling his dick out of his briefs. Simon knows you are not as stretched as you should be, but when he sees you spit down on his tip rubbing your small hand up and down, he too can't wait any longer.

He helps you, lowering you on his dick as it stretches you to the brim. He sees the look of pure ecstasy on your face; eyes dropping close, brown furrow and lip between your teeth keeping you from moaning out loud.

He is no better than you, his fingertips dig into the fat of your hips with a bruising strength, his eyes locked into the way your lips spread to allow his dick deep into you. He groans when he feels your hip flush against his, smiling when he sees you grind forward to find friction against your clit; your legs slightly buckling when his trimmed pubes give you that needed touch.

He moves his hand forward, brushing the soft fuzz of your abdomen as he presses his hand on it placing his hand right where he knows his tip is at. Pressing down at it and moving his thumb slowly down your body, making you feel him inside of you; almost able to tell every vein of his shaft.

It must also do something for him with the way he groans, using his other hand to move your hips back and forward savouring every millimetre of friction that it gives him. You press your hands on his chest, bending your knees under you getting in position to move up and down.

He sighs, a feeling of victory in his heart as he moves both his arms to cross them under his head; as if he was simply sunbathing on the beach and not having sex.

You chuckle when you see him, a refreshing of sight of seeing him smile satisfied with himself and with no mask on the way.

“Enjoying the view, Riley?” You tease, still not moving and letting yourself rest for a second.

“Very.” He simply answers, you the white of his teeth peeks as he gives you a tiny smile. “Was it Johnny that told you?”

“Obviously.” You chuckle back, Simon's eyebrow twitching when you do and your cunt clenches around him. “He actually said your name right before eating my ass… I’m still figuring out how to feel about it.”

Your comment makes him chuckle, moving inside of you forcing an intake of air in you. “Nah, that’s just cause you have a bloody nice arse, birdie. Must have reminded him of mine.”

You shake your head. “I’ll have to check it myself then.” You say, raising your chin.

“Aw, for fucks sake. I already have to hide my arse from Johnny, not from you too.” He laughs, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Aww, Simon, you getting shy.” You tease him, softly pulling his arm.

“Ha, I’ll show you shy.” He says with a chuckle, he grabs your calves one on each hand pulling you up. It forces you to plant your hands on each side of his head when he pulls your lower body up. It leaves you holding yourself up, with only your hands on the bed, legs spread open and his dick resting on your entrance having forced out with the change in position.

You look down, seeing the clear string of arousal linking the two of you together, and you watch as he slowly lowers your hips; his tip catching at your entrance and he suddenly thrusts his hips up filling you up easily.

It forces the air out of your lungs, leaving you with your mouth open right over his face and if you had your eyes open you would be able to see that he looks just as fucked out as you. Eyes closed in bliss, mouth open and head slightly tilted back.

He moves you up and down, using you like a human fleshlight, the humble show of his sheer strength only fueling your arousal. This man has the strength to break you in two, and instead is using all his power to make you feel good.

It is an angle at which he reaches so deep, every time he lowers your or his hips rises it is skin on skin; there is not an inch of his dick that is not inside of you. Your arousal drips down, making plat plat plat sounds every time your clit kisses his body.

It has your mind empty, focusing on keeping yourself up but every thrust threatens to make you fall face-first on his. Your arms start to shake after a bit, it is hard to stay up when you are getting fuck within an inch of your life.

You lower yourself, choosing to rest on your forearms; getting closer to his face but still keeping yourself off of him. “Getting tired, birdie?” He asks between grunts. “Better cum soon them, love.”

He changes the angle again, and somehow the new angle makes it easier for him to reach that point inside of you that has your eyes rolling back into your skull; moaning his name loudly as you feel your climax approach suddenly.

“Yeah, just like that, birdie.” He says, satisfied with himself that he was able to have you coming undone so quickly. “C’mon, birdie, give to me, love.”

You whine, wanting to hold on a little bit longer; just a bit more.

But it is just a couple thrusts more than have you finally collapsing over him, barely dodging his face on your way down when you come; arms shaking when you feel him let go of you just to rub your clit in tight circles to make you climax last making you moan on his hear.

He lets you breathe when you slap his hand, chuckling to himself when you do and he lets you rest. With you resting on him, both your arms over his head and his face on your chest.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath back, and when you do you look down to see his dick still red and angry. “You didn't finish…”

“I know, I had another plan.” He says. “Are you alright, love?” He asks, and when you nod he smiles. Standing up keeping you on his arms, your legs around his hips. “Let’s go visit Price.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded when you see him start to walk towards the door. “Wait, no, we are naked, people will see.”

“No, they won’t. And I’m dressed.” He argues, and he is right. His only skin showing being his dick and his face. Funny enough.

You hug him, hiding your face on his neck and accepting your fate. He walks outside, he knows perfectly fine that only he and Price are on this side of the base but you don't need to know that. He reaches Price's office in less than a minute which for you feels like an eternity and he knocks on the door, going in when Price says “C’mon in” from the inside.

“Night, Captain.” He says as if it is the most normal interaction.

“Well, hello Simon.” The captain answers, chuckling when he sees you still hiding. “Hi, birdie.”

You still feel yourself burn with embarrassment, mumbling a tiny Hi as an answer; only pulling your face out when Simons sits you on Price's desk. “Lay down.” Simon tells you.

You look behind you, seeing as Price moves everything so you can lay back; choosing to prop yourself on your elbows to remain able to look at them.

“Give me a kiss?” Price asks, still sitting on his chair and you give him a soft peck on the lips making the man smile, his moustache moving as he does. “Are you having fun?”

“I am.” You answer and you turn to Ghost. “But he isn’t”

Ghost scoffs at you, slapping your thigh at the same time. “And who says I’m not having fun.”

“He didn't finish.” You tell Price, looking up at him, feeling like a kid snitching on somebody.

“And whose fault is that?” Ghost answers, teasing you.

It makes you gasp, feeling offended by his words and you sidekick him his ribs not strong enough to actually hurt him. “Don't say those things to me, I feel bad later!” You admit

“Now, now, settle down the both of you.” He says chuckling as he stands up, slowly walking to stand beside Ghost. “If you have so much energy why don't you fuck it out instead of fighting.”

Ghost groans between your legs, and it's then that you notice that Price is fisting his cock, moving his rough hand slowly up and down Ghost's length aligning it with your entrance. He pushes Ghost forward, filling you up once more and making you moan softly.

“Lay down.” Price tells you this time, and you oblige letting your back rest against the table. Ghost’s hands move to the underside of your thighs, keeping them up closer to your chest. His hips move slowly in and out of you, and you notice one of his hands slip from your leg.

Wet sounds catch your attention and when you look up you see Price kissing Ghost, his hand on the back of Ghost's head and Ghost’s hand wrapped around Price’s shaft. He moves his hand at the same pace as the one set by his hips fucking you, you barely hear them moan into each other mouth. The slightest twitch of their eyebrow when they touch a weak spot.

You notice Price’s hand on Ghost’s waist under his shirt, rubbing circles with his thumb and slightly pushing him forward to meet your hips. The one that is behind his head closes around his hair, pulling his head slightly back and Price moves to kiss the man’s throat, a moan leaving Ghost’s mouth as he looks up.

You see Price drag his tongue flat against Ghost’s neck, moving up to behind his ear biting at his lobe and it is then that he catches you staring; a smirk appearing on his face. “I think birdie is a little perver that likes to watch…” He snitches, a tone of voice that lets you know you are in trouble.

“I think she just wants more attention… Can’t have enough, do you, birdie?” Ghost asks, grunting as he keeps thrusting in and out.

“Not true...” You mumble, half whining. You follow Price as he moves away from Ghost, his hand finding its way back to your leg. Price stands behind you, pressing his hand on your chest to make you lie down coming face to face with his dick right in front of your face.

“Maybe if you have a cock down your throat you will stop lying.” He says, fisting his dick and probing your lips. You open your mouth slowly, expecting him to ease his way inside little by little. Instead, the moment your mouth is opened enough he thrusts forward, making you gag.

“Fuck!” You heard Ghost groan. “Do it again, captain. She clenched down so hard when you did.”

Price chuckles, pulling back and bending down to look at your face. He grabs your hand, moving it so his fingers are on your palm. “If it gets too much, grab it twice, alright, love?” He instructs and you nod, opening your mouth back again eagerly.

He doesn't waste time, filling your mouth back at the same time Ghost does, making you arch your back at the double stimulation. Something about the unusual harder way that the both of them are fucking you tonight truly ignites something inside of you. Ever since your weekend with Soap, something in the dynamics of the five seems to have changed.

Before, they would always touch you with such care as if scared you would break or that they would scare you off if they pressed a bit too hard. Always putting you in front of them, making sure you were enjoying it most time not even caring about themselves.

Not that they are not caring about it today, but there is a certain edge about it that shows that they are enjoying it doing it harder not for the extra friction but for the feeling that they are allowed to do it to you and you are basking on the attention received.

Price and Ghost thrust in and out so hard that for a second you fear they may meet in the middle, their hands roam your body, pressing, scratching, slightly slapping just to make you jump at the sting.

Price leans forward to kiss Ghost again, the change in angle making his shaft hit deeper in your throat making you grab his finger in reflex; once, not twice. And once he is sure of it, he keeps fucking your skull without much of a care.

It is not much longer after that you feel your second climax on the night approach, not that you could do much about it. The change in Price's attitude, from worshipping you on your first night to the lack of care of tonight truly opens your eyes to the wide range of possibilities with the man.

And the way Ghost has been filling you up, cunt stretched to accommodate the wide size of his shaft on every thrust has you wailing around Price when his thumb rubs your clit in tight circles. You combust on a loud moan around Price, Ghost holding your hips hard as he picks up the pace trying to reach his as well, grunting loudly and pulling out last second to paint your abdomen white with his spend, groaning at the sigh.

It is Price the last to come, letting go of your hand to wrap both of his around your throat to fuck it harder. It makes you panic for a second, the lack of his hand translating to a lack of communication to let him know if it is too much. It only lasts until Ghost’s hand takes Price’s place, keeping you grounded as he moves to your side kissing your hand.

Price's hands wrap harder than expected, making it almost impossible to breathe and having to lean on holding your breath for as long as Price needs hoping to have the lungs capacity. He finally does, right as you start to think about tapping out, he comes deep down your throat, coughing when he finally lets go of your neck.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, marvelling at the sight of his pretty bird looking so filthy with his and his Lieutenant come on her body. He sits back down on his chair, picking you up to sit you down on his lap; using the tissues on his desk to wash as good as he can the come and spit drying up on your face as you are still coughing up a bit.

Post-nut clarity hits Price hard when he sees the imprints on his hands on your neck, they are just red for the lack of oxygen; he knows perfectly fine there will be no marks in the morning. But right now you are coughing up a lung and his hands are around your neck.

He cuddles you, kissing your head as he bathes you in apologies. “I’m sorry, birdie. I was too rough, sorry, love.”

You shake your head, making him look down at your face, heart warming up when he sees a little mischievous smile on your mouth. “I liked it.” You say, voice hoarse and scratched.

Ghost chuckles behind you, crouching down to let a glass of water on your hands. “You were right, Captain. She is a little perver.” He jokes, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

Hi my lovelies!! 💗💗

Only two more chapters to go to finish this series, and I dont know how to feel about it.

I only need to write the finale, and revise the next one, AAAAA so nervous.

Once I'm done with that I'll do a lot of blogkeeping so it is a lot more tidy because it is A MESS right now, and I want it to be easier to find everything I have written before adding more to the chaos.

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nouearth · 8 months

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rated i for impatient.

steve harrington x male reader.

summary: in the middle of a slow afternoon at family video, steve has an idea on how to past time, and it involves you and your mouth.

wc: 3.4k. warnings: explicit smut, handjob (r!giving), blowjob (r!giving), mouth-fucking, deep-throating, lots of spit, gagging, bantering, workplace quickie, co-workers, established relationship, rough!steve, but also gentle!steve, bigdick!steve.

a/n: and it's been a hot minute since i've written smut, as well as a full one-shot!! i swear, i feel like my small hiatus made me forget everything, lol. but i hope it's as good as my other stories and i also hope you guys enjoy steve's first appearance on my blog!

“Dude, you seriously couldn’t wait?”

Heavy footsteps followed Steve as he dragged your trudge into the storage closet. Even though his back faced you, he responded with a shimmy of his shoulders, the flight of muscles equally excited to cease the sluggish afternoon.

“Oh, come on!” He shut the door once you entered with a distressed groan. Though, he knew you didn’t mean it despite your pointed tone.

“I know you want to.” Steve sang with a tease, cornering you against the door with a playful dance, and a smile that had charmed you since the first time you had met him.

You’d been keeping track at how many times Steve had simply captivated you with his presence. It was embarrassing because you’d lost count since day one. The only statistic that you did know was that you were losing.

Losing bad.

Always a goody two-shoes and extra responsible, yet somehow, you were never a prude and knew how to have fun. If only you weren’t so hesitant in this moment. It was your first week, your fourth day at Family Video, and you wanted to make a great impression, even if it was only something to fill up your time during the summer.

He continued to dance, singing a tune that had been stuck in his head since three mornings ago, and your lips curled into smile while he performed within the narrow space. A few stumbles threw him off balance, but upon seeing your lips bitten to hold back a laugh, the following trip had been intentional.

Steve collided into you, though barely as he caught his weight against the door. A whisper of gasp dried your throat when the sudden thump by your shoulders jolted you and his face rushed close to yours like a bullet. Your gaze widened in surprise, only for them to roll once it catalogued the mischief on his face. “You know Keith kind of hates you, right? You’re going to be fucked if he catches you slacking again.”

“Me?! I’m sorry, are you a ghost or something? A figment of my imagination? Worse… I’ve huffed paint too many times when I was little, and now it’s all catching up to me.” There was amusement on his face and it reflected off of your smile.

You straightened your posture to match his eye level, and rebutted his theory with the light touch of your nose to his. He laughed, wrapping his arms around your torso. “You’d get in trouble too, you know. Last time I checked, most sexual acts involve at least two participants.”

“Yeah, well, he likes me unlike you! If anything, he’d probably blame you for being a bad influence or something.” The possible truth expelled a groan out of Steve, but it doesn’t stop him from pouring the remainder of his frustration into your mouth.

You took him in stride, earlier hesitance burying into the back of your mind when the fresh mint of his breath began haunting your mouth. Then, completely into obscurity when his tongue slid over yours, sloppily in hopes of awakening a fruitful lust, akin to his, within you.

“Steve… come on,” You pulled away, but Steve immediately captured your lips again in a tongue-swelling kiss. “What if customers come in?” You panted in between breaths, squeezing at his firm back to distract yourself from the growing tent within your khakis.

“I’ve been here longer than you, studied the activity down to the seconds.” He pressed into you, hip to hip, until you could feel his own muscle growing against yours. “We have at least ten minutes.”

“Ten?! Dude, that’s not enough—“

“Please?” Steve suddenly pulled your hand from his back and into the firmness of his bulge, looking into you with a desperation that rivaled the yearning freedom of his erection. “Please…” The curl of your hand was imposed by his grip, folding them until you had a handful of his bulge, throbbing at the mere friction of your warm palm.

“Fuck,” The determination in Steve’s gaze, as well as the devilish guidance of your own cock stirring against you, had your hand leave the aching muscle for a brief moment to hastily unbuckle his belt. You pressed your lips back to his, and muttered with a grimace. “You’re owing me one after work.”

“God, I love you.” He sighed with relief upon knowing that the heavy pressure in his pants would soon be released, thanking you by taking your cheeks into the dip of his palms and kissing you warm and wet. Even if it was going to be a quick one, his main priority was to be liberated of the painful throbs that had led him to this desperate juncture.

As much as Steve hated confined spaces, the feeling of the storage space closing in on him had only been fleeting because his desire for you was gravity-defying strong. It expanded the proximity at his very will until you were the only subject framed in his field of vision.

Lips plumped from the bites he took from your flesh earlier, balmy skin speckled with a flush that he’d been the sole creator of, he couldn’t get enough of your presence. He took in your woody scent with deep inhales as he moved his lips to your neck, and your hands began digging into the waistband of his pants, pulling Steve close with a hard yank to harbor every warm breath into one another again.

With one swift pull, the belt collided with the floor and your hands worked at the zipper like a tailor until the khakis dropped and pooled around his ankles. You accompanied the leather and fabric seconds after, kneeling onto the cold surface with the eager guidance of Steve’s caresses to the back of your head.

Kneeling face-to-face with his bulge, you couldn’t stop yourself from drooling even if Steve was covered. You could outline the girth of his cock, plumping and thickening under your piquant gaze, and then throbbing when you followed the curve with your palm in eager cycles until the waistband screamed for your attention.

Your fingers hooked into the elastic band and in one slow pull, you revealed Steve’s erection in all its glory. Thick and unkempt hairs billowed first, and you played with the anticipation as you dragged the waistband over his length, weighting it downwards until all that was left covered was the plump tip that you can still taste from a few nights ago. In a final yank, Steve’s cock sprang up proudly and his groans were heavenly in its accompaniment. The weight of his large cock made him bounce in several reps before it was kept still by the warmth of your hand, then another over the remaining curve to amuse yourself with his blessed size.

“Jesus, did you not jerk off this morning? Haven’t seen or felt you this hard before...” Your mouth fell open in awe, and also in preparation to loosen the muscles in your jaw while your hands slid over him in slow strokes. Every vein throbbed at the delicate touch, pulsated strong when you squeezed a few sticky drips of his pre-cum from his spout. They would’ve landed on the undeserving floor had you not stuck your tongue out in time, lapping him up from the underside of his cock to the smooth pink rim.

His cock jumped when your other hand dropped to fondle his balls, hanging low as if they awaited to be grasped and swung. You did exactly that as you licked the slit of his tip, amusing yourself with Steve’s package that you had sucked and fucked before, yet still managed to be surprised despite your many affairs.

“Not since we last fucked, to be honest.” At first, he balled the end of his shirt and raised it high to prevent it from obstructing your view, exposing the happy trail that you always traced over with your tongue on lazy Sundays. “Guess it wasn’t the same.” But the defy work of your hands spread the boil in his stomach to the muscular arch of his back, hot and heavy on his body until the weight of his shirt was thrown off. Moans exhaled in breathy tremors as you squeezed his shaft and pulled him forward and back in wall-closing jerks.

“Well, I’m sorry for the long wait.” Your strokes continued while you sealed a wet promise to the pink glans. “I’ll make it worth it.” You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to welcome the following sticky slaps of his heavy length in disgusting delight, holding him like a marker as you patterned his thick pre-cum over your pair of lips before the salty flesh was vaulted into your mouth with an inhale.

His length pushed your mouth open in an accommodating stretch, almost pleasurable if he hadn’t been so difficult to take in. The first few inches gagged you, ached a muscle in your stomach when you flexed. It was traditional at this point, and your routine often consisted of stroking the shaft that had yet felt the heat of your mouth. The sliminess of your tongue as you bathed Steve’s cock in stomach-churning sin, lapping the musk of him from the loose scrotum to the plump head.

And it was a routine to attempt to take him again. You spat in your hand before lubing his stiff in a glaze that caught the light of his eyes, then the hiccup of his moan. “Fuck, you know I love it when you do that…”

“Yeah?” You smiled, his compliments sent straight to your erection while the sticky sounds of bubbles and drool soiled his cock in pure lust in lazy strokes, then sealed when you wrapped your lips around him again, and pushed down when the pulse of his veins beckoned you.

The size of his cock drew a moan out of you, tremors rimming the shaft while you prepared the opening of your throat little by little. Drool leaked from either corners of your mouth, staining your flushed skin and then the floor, but you hadn’t been bothered to save them despite your reputation of being a clean-freak.

When it came to Steve, you were in a state of delirium that had forgotten who you were because there was only one purpose on your mind: to pleasure.

“Shit, (M/N)—“ His hands had left you to fold his arms behind his head, allowing his silhouette to become yours to own and to rapture over as you worked him like one your favorite treats at the candy store. He slipped in and out of you, closer to the barrier of your throat with the help of his thrusts, and the only time you’d take a break was when you suckled on his balls. As his cock hung over your face, head dripping in saliva and thick pre-cum, you found enjoyment in rolling his balls like dice: another one of Steve’s favorite moves.

Steve was heavy on your tongue and the only way you could thank him for blessing you with his fruitful cock, was to love-bomb him with all of his favorite desires. You lined the underside with your tongue until your lips met the pink glans again, speckling it with a playful pecks before weighing his shaft down with your spit once again. “Have you always liked it sloppy?”

“Mm—no…” He murmured, and you looked up into the heaviness of his lids, surprised by his confession. “Not until I met you. For others, it’s kind of gross, but… you do it differently. Tastefully, and I’m not trying to be funny.”

You laughed at the unintentional joke and Steve joined your amusement with a smile, petting the back of your head before it was guided back to swallow him whole this time. Your mouth stretched wide the more he pushed you, burying the remnants of your humored-self into the pit of your throat with the ample of his throbbing erection. Your hands held around his thighs to brace for the oncoming gags and Steve does the same around your head, threading his fingers into your hair with a strong grip as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until tears brimmed the highlights of your eyes.

“Holy shit—“ Steve was enamored by the feeling of stuffing you whole. The confines of your mouth and throat restricted the blood flow around him, yet he couldn’t have felt himself pulsate more, stiffen harder in between your godly gags and whimpers. The scratches at his thighs was a telling sign for him to pull you back, and so he does in what felt like slow motion. His cock unsheathed out of your throat like a sleeve, unraveling a spell of gasps and bubbling moans in midst.

“You did so good, baby… fuck.” Cupping your cheek, he briefly bent down to meet you in the middle of his gratification, kissing you proud and golden on your breathless smile before he tore himself away to spit inside of your mouth and submerging his saliva down your mouth with his cock again. Despite the sting in your eyes and throat, you were compliant to his every move and welcomed the sheathing of his wet flesh in prideful determination.

Steve’s hands had moved to either sides of your head, where he had complete control of every bone and muscle of your neck, and the desire to fuck your tight mouth had become a victorious reality. Your lips pressed into his unkempt hairs when he forced you down again, tasting the sweat that had been harbored within the strands.

From then on, your gags had only become motivation as he rode the rhythm of your delectable sounds with sharp and eager thrusts. Gasps and coughs stuck to the slick of your throat while Steve’s cock fucked them down in repetitive and selfish strides. Your head moved from the guidance of Steve’s hold, meeting the bow of your head with a forward thrust and ramming into the back of your throat while you spilled sheltered saliva—thick and bubbly in its journey to form a puddle on the floor. He repeated after barely giving you enough time to catch your breath, choking and fucking your mouth with his cock while you writhed on your knees in intimidation.

Steve sheltered you close, curling his body over you as a satisfied moan added to the thick air when he shoved your head deep in between his legs, keeping you still in midst of your squirms. Whenever you tried to pull back, Steve only thrusted and pushed you further into your struggle for freedom. He drowned you in your own saliva, locked you of your only source of oxygen as your nose pressed deep into his pelvis, and gagged you to the point of leaving scars on his thighs as your fingers curled into his flesh, desperate for a whisper of air to breathe back into you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You finally get your wish when he yanked you back, and you inhaled with a slobbering gasp, coughing out the oxygen that he had buried from within you.

Throughout all of this, you gazed beautifully up to him, Steve thought. From the highlights of the whites to the color of your orbs, you glistened like nature past dew point, and his chest swelled in agreement. His heart pulsed faster than the rhythmic sucks and strokes of your mouth and hand as you’ve gone back to sucking him, fisting him into your mouth as your mouth began aching from deep-throating, breath recovering from being face-fucked. It was a curse that you put on him, where he closed his eyes to the merit of your tongue and couldn’t bear to look at you again because if he did, he knew he could come all over your face right then and there.

“Close—fuck.” His shoulders rolled back and one hand pushed the sweat off his forehead back into the fluff of his hair, while the other maintained on your head, keeping you in close proximity.

“Fuck, Steve…” You sniffled, desperately tasting the salt off the tip of his cock while you snapped your wrist back and forth in jerking him off. Your free hand ran over his stomach, then down his flexed thighs, and you squeezed to remind him that he was spellbound under your touch. His gaze casted downwards to meet yours once again, and he nodded as if he understood.

The pressure on the back of your head hardened, but it was your own will that had you slobbering all over him again. You took him his cock back in with desperation, the memory of how salty he had tasted days prior fortifying your delirious state of mind. You sucked Steve off, swallowed him whole, fucked him into your fist, then into your mouth, and it would repeat until he nested his hand into your hair, tightly curling them into a fist as he came undone into your mouth.

“Fuck—“

Steve’s cock pulsed in heavy bounces and his balls bounced in its drain as he emptied himself inside of you. Warm and thick seed accompanied the fill of your mouth, and your hand reached down to massage his sack, aiding the scrotum to dump the remaining few shots into the pool of cum. Slowly, you pulled back with your lips pressed tight in caution of wasting the fresh fluid, and you swallowed slow and proud, savoring every gulp that ran down your violated throat as if it the cure to the sore. He watched you, panting heavily, and his cleansed cock twitched as you quenched upon his energy for the day.

“You don't have to swallow it al—“ Before he could finish his question, you stuck your tongue out to reveal the abyss of your mouth, and the limp of his cock roused with one more throb before finally hanging low in between his legs. Steve was left astonished, and there was a flicker in his eyes before he helped you back on your feet. “Come here, I need to kiss you right now.”

A laugh was caught in between your lips when Steve kissed you with a familiar sweetness that always rattled the butterflies in your stomach. He pulled you close to pacify the flutter of their wings, and sighed into you before a hand gently caressed the middle of your throat. “Did I go too hard?”

“I would’ve said something if you did, Steve.” You’d come to realize that it always took more than a smile and comforting words to appease his guilt, and so you pressed fleeting pecks to the center of his lips, then began massaging the sensitive fill of his cock in slow turns. “I mean, if you want, we can go for round two right now and—“

“Okay, okay.” He pressed a laugh into your lips and leaned his forehead onto yours for the moment you two shared a gaze. Looking into you, it dismantled all of his worries, as it did for you, and it was only when the cold bit at his naked body that roused him from the daze.

“I should probably put my clothes back on.”

“Dude, are you saying that isn’t your uniform?” You gasped.

“Dude,” He took you by the back of your head again and kissed you once, grinning. “Shut up.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

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fkinavocado · 5 months

Text

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings

Part One/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Two (word count: 3.4k)

“Hello?” Harry brought his phone to his line of vision, making sure he’d actually picked up the call, “Uhm,... hello?”

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

Harry racked his brain to place the person’s voice, the fact that he didn’t have the number saved in his contacts made it even more difficult. It sounded awfully familiar, though… “Oh! It’s you!”

She never did give him her name. And neither did he, come to think of it. He only gave her his number before she got out of his car after he drove her home. Just in case.

“You remember?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I wish I could forget everything about that night,” he chuckled nervously. “No offence.”

“... I can't forget, either. You were right.”

“Oh?”

“Listen… would it be too… upsetting, if we met up? You’re the only person that’s been in my shoes that I feel I could open up to about this. It’s been… very lonely, eating at me… Maybe talking would help make better sense of it…”

Harry didn’t have to ponder. He’d wanted the same thing all along. He was glad she reached out to him, since he couldn’t contact her. “Name the place.”

Harry wondered if he looked as broken as she did but had just gotten used to seeing his miserable face stare back at him in the mirror every day. It’d been close to a month since the… circumstance that had brought the two of them together. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid close attention to her appearance back then, but, seeing her now, he definitely recognized some changes, albeit subtle. She appeared more frail, her under eyes darker, the polish on her nails chipped off, her lips chapped and bitten, her clothes wrinkled. He observed her over the cup of coffee he was sipping on on that rainy afternoon as she talked about how it’d been like trying to move on from that night.

“You were right. I did know, even then, that this was going to ruin us. But I kept lying to myself, thinking I could just pretend it never happened. Hoping that he’d gotten it out of his system and that things would go back to normal. You know I even dared to believe things would get better? I thought maybe this would put things into perspective for him and make him realize what a good thing he’s got going at home… Was I naive or what?”

Harry furrowed his brows compassionately, “You and I both. Believe it or not, I also hoped for the same. But, assuming things went for you guys the same way they did for us… it wasn’t quite the case, was it?”

She shook her head solemnly, staring into her cup of coffee. “He never asked me how things went on my side. He doesn’t even know I never went through with it. The following morning, he called me at around 11am. That’s… extremely late for him. He’s an early bird, chronically so. He’d been clearly… distracted. So when I told him I’d already taken an uber home he didn’t question it. He then came home and acted like everything was normal. He didn’t talk about it, I never asked him any questions. He didn’t care to ask me any, either… I wouldn’t say we’re pretending like nothing ever happened, because that’s not it at all. This… unspoken, huge thing that happened is always looming over us. Now whenever he’s late from work, he doesn’t even tell me why he’s late. It’s like… I know why. I don’t have to ask. He doesn’t have to tell me.”

“Jesus…”

The woman nodded, fidgeting with the corner of her paper napkin. “Things are better at your end, then?”

Harry almost laughed at her assumption, “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know which of us has it worse. When I got home after I dropped you off, I called her again and it went straight to voicemail for the hundredth time, so I texted her letting her know I went home and to call me to go get her if she didn’t feel like ubering. She never called for me to get her, thank god, but when she walked through the door and I asked her how her ride was she told me the guy had driven her. I was speechless, she’d actually disclosed where she lived, what else did she share with him? Aside from the obvious… Like, was this gonna be a thing now, between the two of them? I had so many questions, but then I couldn’t really say anything, could I? Since I offered to drive you, too. I’m fairly certain their report in that regard was much different to ours though… but even still, I couldn’t get myself to tell her off for it. I mean… he fucked her. Did the fact that he knew where she lived really make it worse?...”

Harry sat back in his chair, forcing himself to take a breather and calm down a bit. He was getting worked up. But when she encouraged him to keep going, and his restless leg wouldn’t stop bouncing beneath the table he gave in. “She was fucking beaming! She wouldn’t stop talking about what a good thing this is for us, how finally she feels like she can breathe, how she can’t believe we waited so long to try this… confirmed that she’d already made plans with this guy for the following weekend. I just froze. I couldn’t believe she was really saying all that. She never really asked me how things went for me, either. She just kept putting words in my mouth. See? Wasn’t it fun? You’re such a lucky bastard, men can only dream they could be in your shoes with their wives giving them this much freedom! Hell, even pushing them to do it! Can you imagine? You’re living the dream, baby.”

“Oh, God…”

“Then… one night soon after that she wanted to play and, brokenhearted fool that I am, I went along with it even though what I really wanted was for us to sit down and really talk about it. But I just couldn’t get myself to open up the subject, mainly because I already knew what her stance on it was and what it would lead to, and I wasn’t ready for that… kept thinking I could try doing this to save our marriage. I’d agreed to it, even though she’d coerced me into it if i’m being honest… but I did agree. I couldn’t blame her for the repercussions, I knew what I was getting into. So I felt like I had to see it through, had to try and make it work…

“So when she came to me all loving, and I missed her so much, I gave in, I needed to feel like us again… Make her forget about anyone else. Make her only want me. And then… in the midst of what I thought was one of my best sexual performances… she tells me she wants to try something this guy had asked her to do to him and I–... fucking lost it. I jumped out of that bed as if it were on fire. I’m sure I could’ve handled it more maturely but I locked myself in the bathroom before I said something I would regret. She kept pleading from the other side to open up and talk to her, tell her what was the matter. I realized all I had to say to her were hurtful things. I chickened out when I opened the door and saw how genuinely worried she was. She literally has no clue what I’ve been going through since that night… in her head, we’re heading in the right direction and this is only going to bring us closer.

“So, I asked her not to tell me about any of it, going further, and promised I’d do the same. That I couldn’t handle talking about it. At least not for a while… She agreed, said she totally gets it. And then we went back to bed and I never got to see what that son of a bitch asked her to do to him because ever since, I’ve avoided all her advances. She keeps making little quips such as uh-oh, running out of stamina huh? Save some for me next time. Then she giggles and asks me to just spoon her instead and I just sit there for hours on end mulling everything over while she’s sleeping soundly in my arms.”

The woman sat silent for a long while, visibly saddened. “Jack never initiates sex anymore. Like… at all. I don’t know If I’m glad for it or if I should feel even more hurt. I’m not sure I feel anything at all anymore. I feel… numb.”

“... Me too.”

After a long pause Harry added, muttering, “Fitting name, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Since he’s such a jackass.”

The woman laughed, which made Harry smile in return. He wondered whether this was the first time the two of them had done so since that night.

“You must have a really nice name, then.”

Harry’s smile lingered. “In that case, I’m sure the same goes for you.”

“You first.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. See? Nice names for nice folk. Wouldn’t hear of people with such names going around causing so much heartache, would you?”

“Absolutely not. Felicity is also… fitting in a way. Only cares about her own happiness.”

Harry gave her a look. “You actually remember my wife’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s a rare name, stuck with me.”

“True. And you’re right about her. I’ve always known it… But nobody’s perfect. Thought I could compromise on some stuff. Didn’t realize it would compromise our marriage in the end.”

“That’s… pretty huge, Harry. I know it sounds awful, but hearing you say so valides my own feelings. Like, I worried I was overreacting, thinking my marriage is over because of this. But that’s just how I feel. I can’t see us ever recovering from this mess.”

“Neither can I. It’s killing me on the inside the longer I go along with it. And even if I do speak up about it… I know it’ll never go back to how things were, which admittedly, weren’t great to begin with. This whole thing kinda helped put everything into perspective. She was right, we did need something else, be both did… I was willing to do whatever to please her, but that’s not exactly feasible in the long run. It was just a matter of time before we faced some hurdles. We’re just not on the same page sexually. I was just fooling myself thinking I could deny my own needs and that she could suppress hers.”

“So… what now?”

They both sat in silence for a long while, the coffee had gone cold and the rain outside was pouring even stronger than before.

“It’s inevitable. We have to talk to them.”

“...End it?”

Harry nodded solemnly and when her eyes immediately glazed over and she stifled a sob, he reached his hand out to cover hers reassuringly. He moved to sit on the chair next to hers and eventually wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to rest her head on his own. She tried to keep quiet, not to disturb the cafe’s patrons, and he gently shushed her reassuringly, telling her everything was going to be alright. Willing himself to believe it, too.

Almost two weeks had passed when Harry finally decided to text Y/N. He’d been apprehensive about it, knowing she must’ve been hurting, but also, he felt guilty for not going through with what he himself had suggested was inevitable. He hadn’t broken things off with his wife. Worse, he’d actually had sex with her, in an effort to still try and save their marriage. He couldn’t finish though, and he’d never reached full mast. Which prompted her to not get off either. It’d been a mess and it ended in Harry crying in the bathroom afterwards while she probably thought he was finishing himself off in the shower. He’d never felt more miserable in his entire life.

Felicity was away for the weekend with her new boy-toy and Harry was feeling seriously on edge. He contemplated just packing his bags and leaving. It was cowardly of him, to be sure, but he felt like he’d never go through with it and actually leave her otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her and end things properly, like a man.

He felt emasculated in every way possible.

H: Hey. It’s Harry. Been meaning to reach out, hope it’s not a bad time… How did things go?

He was in their walk-in closet staring at his clothes and trying to work up his courage to just grab them off the hangers and toss them into the biggest suitcase he could find when she replied.

Y/N: Hey, Harry. I’m the worst… I couldn’t bring myself to do it : ( I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this anymore…

H: Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t go through with it either. But I can’t go on like this…

Y/N: What do we do : (

H: She’s with him right now.

Y/N: He’s not been home most nights. It’s over without having to even talk about it. I bet if he came back home and I was gone he’d be relieved at this point.

Harry read Y/N’s last text message before deciding to call her since they were both alone anyway. “That’s exactly what I wanna do. Just pack my stuff and be gone before she comes back. Is that… too cowardly, do you think?”

“It’s not. They don’t deserve an explanation. It’s impossible they don’t see we’re hurting. They just choose to ignore it.”

“Let’s just leave.”

“Harry… if you say that again, I just might do it. Like, right now.”

“Let’s rip the band-aid. Let’s do it. I mean it, Y/N. We can do it. We could do it together. Just… I dunno. Go somewhere and turn our phones off and be there for one another, make sure neither of us caves in and goes back… What do you say?” Harry was pumped. He could feel adrenaline surging through him. The thought of actually doing it made him giddy beyond belief.

Y/N was silent for a long while, all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. But eventually she replied, sounding resolute. “Give me half an hour. We’re doing this, Harry.”

Harry had never felt more alive. It was odd, but it was true. He finally felt like he was doing something for himself, in a long, long time. He’d packed his shit in record time, leaving him just enough to drive to Y/N’s. When she didn’t pick up her phone immediately, he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Had she changed her mind? He felt he couldn’t do this without her. But when she eventually picked up with laboured breath, she informed him she was dragging her suitcases to the elevator and couldn’t find her phone in all that rushed chaos.

Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, and insisted he’d help her. When she buzzed him in and he reached her floor, he was mildly shocked at the amount of suitcases she’d lined up near the elevator door. He’d only packed his essentials, but Y/N meant business. It looked like she’d packed up her whole life in those bags.

“Oh wow. Ok, alright. Gotta give it to you, you’re a fast packer, considering.”

Y/N smiled at his amused tone, despite her nerves. “I dunno when he’s coming back. Had to be quick. And I knew your SUV could handle all of these.”

“How do you know it’s not already filled up to the brim with my own shit?”

She rolled her eyes when he started loading them up in the elevator, urging her inside to keep the doors open. “Please. You’re a man. I’ll be surprised if you filled two suitcases.”

Harry feigned offence. “It’s three suitcases, alright? Well, two suitcases and a backpack. And I didn’t pack everything. It’s my house, after all.”

Y/N was silent, her smile fading somewhat. “Well, this apartment is his. So…”

Harry kicked himself for opening up that can of worms but the haste in which they loaded her stuff into his truck kept them busy and hopefully took her mind off things for a bit.

When they drove off, for a long time they didn’t even talk about where they’d be going. Harry just drove aimlessly, only making sure they left town on the nearest exit. They couldn’t even use Google Maps as they’d shut their phones off and threw them into the glove compartment in complicity.

They eventually discussed some options. It couldn’t be any of the places they’d been with with their spouses. Not that either of them thought they’d be coming looking for them, but regardless.

Eventually, after driving for a few hours while keeping themselves busy singing along with whatever came on the radio to keep themselves distracted, they decided to just crash at the first decent motel they’d find on their way. It was getting too late to drive safely any further.

They were both giddy at the prospect of crashing at some random motel like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde, still high on the adrenaline rush.

Soon they found themselves in a shabby motel room under a false mr and mrs name. They’d already slept in the same bed before and so the options of getting separate rooms or twin beds weren’t even brought up. They trusted eachother beyond formalities, and besides, the pact was that they would go through this together.

They took turns showering and Y/N called for him from the bathroom when she was finished with hers. “Harry? Ugh, I brought the wrong bag with us…”

“Want me to go get it for you?”

“I mean… I just need something to change into. Do you have some extra pyjamas?”

“Uhm…” Harry didn’t have to check, he knew he’d not packed any extra in his backpack he took with him to the room. “I can give you mine but I’ll have to sleep in a t-shirt. And boxers, of course.”

“Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all. Just… you know. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, that’s why I clarified…”

“Oh, shush. Can I have them?” She cracked the door open and stuck her hand out. “Oh, also, no knickers. I’ll be sure to wash them for you afterwards.”

Harry faltered mid-undressing, but then rushed to hand her his discarded pyjamas. “Don’t be silly.”

He threw a t-shirt on and got under the covers. Surely she’d seen men in boxers before, he was acting a bit childish. But he really meant it when he told her he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way.

She emerged from the bathroom, all swaddled up in the too-large pyjamas and smiled sheepishly at him, then turned the lights off and joined him on the other side of the bed.

Harry flinched when he thought he’d heard her say something. Had he already drifted off to sleep? That was… definitely surprising. He’d had trouble sleeping ever since– “Did you say something?” He whispered, just in case he’d been mistaken.

“Sorry,” she whispered back, “did I wake you? I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. Do you always sleep on your back?”

“... Was I snoring?”

Y/N giggled. He smiled into the darkness at the sound. Everything felt so lighthearted and easy with her around, no wonder he’d fallen asleep. “No. But are you a snorer? Because if so, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement…”

“Oh, shush.” He playfully kicked her leg under the covers, noticing she was closer than he’d gauged. “I think all that driving got to me, plus the adrenaline crush. What did you wanna say?”

“I just wanted to thank you… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with this without you, Harry.”

Harry smiled into the darkness again. He couldn’t see her, but her words really warmed him up. “Same here. Just don’t wake me up at 4am telling me you wanna uber back home, ok?”

She giggled again. “Hell no. You’re stuck with me.”

“...Good.”

Part Three

A/N: soooo. it's gonna be 3 parts, after all 😅😅 thanks to the lovely @freedomfireflies for beta-ing ❤️

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #swingrry #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

Note

I know your request are closed. But I just wanted to send this one in while is still remember it.

Can you do one with reader having bad anxiety and lando her boyfriend is there to comfort her. Like she is picking at her nails and shaking her legs and he put his hands k her legs and hands to stop her.

Also I love your aftermath serie for lando :)

Meet the Parents || LN4

Lando could feel the slight vibrations shaking the table and he could see the carafe of water rippling with each bounce of your knee. Slipping one hand beneath the tabletop, he ran long soothing strokes up and down the skin, feeling the jittery movements calm until your shoes settled flat on the tile floor.

“We can go, love,” he offered quietly as he took your hand. Your palms were clammy against his skin and he looked down to see the nails bitten back to the quick. The cuticles were even worse, inflamed and red from picking at them in your anxious state. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You dragged your eyes away from the fixated space beside the door and found Lando already getting to his feet. “B-but they are your parents,” you stammered as a fresh wave of panic crested. You were meant to be introducing yourself to them, the next step in your relationship with Lando and you feared how cancelling at the last minute would be taken by the people Lando loved most.

“And you are my girlfriend,” he said as he pulled you to your feet and kissed the corner of your mouth. “I don’t want you being uncomfortable, love. They’ll understand.”

You bit your bottom lip as you tried to lie and say you were fine but he saw right through the weak words. Leading you to the door of the quaint cafe, not far from where they lived in Glastonbury, he opened it and was greeted by a friendly smile. You barely had time to process that his mother and father were in front of you before the older woman wrapped her arms around you with the same energy her son had.

“You’re even more beautiful than Lando described!” Cisca pulled back with a warm smile that eased some of the anxiety in your chest and you found yet another similarity between the mother and son.

“We were just heading off, mum, I was about to call-”

“It’s okay, Lan,” you said softly as you squeezed his hand and gave a reassuring nod before smiling back at his mother. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

#tw: anxiety #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

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cheolism · 1 year

Text

First

✧ seungkwan x reader

✧ summary: you and seungkwan were new to relationships, and netiher of you felt rushed to do anything. six months in, and you both still haven't had sex. but then you start looking at his hands and thighs, and find you just can't help yourself.

✧ wc is approx 5.8k

✧ warnings/tags: virgin! reader, virgin! seungkwan; seungkwan is mentioned to be reader's first kiss. pet names, tons of consent; reader has a wild mind. reader is female-coded. awkward and sweet first times, laughter during sex. riding thighs; fingering; cumming in underwear. reader is demi coded. confessions during sex. seungkwan gets called (jokingly) princess except now i'm thinking abt it more. seungkwan is a romantic; mingyu is nosey; seungcheol has bad movie taste (sorry bb)

✧ note: send me a message if you think any more tags/warnings should be added! not edited. google told me i switch between british grammar and american, so if there's extra vowels thrown into places just ignore it :)

Seungkwan never made you feel rushed.

The two of you walked the path of your relationship at your own pace. Mingyu said the two of you were moving slowly, too slowly, but you never felt like you were. Your relationship moved at its own pace, one comfortable to the both of you, and neither of you minded it.

Your first kiss had been in your front hallway as he dropped you off after your first official date. He had bitten his lip, glancing between your mouth and eyes as you talked about how you had enjoyed the night.

Then, you let your smile blossom. You stepped to him, the tip of your shoe brushing against his. “You can kiss me if you want to,” you had muttered, looking at his pretty mouth. “But know you’ll be my first, so I won’t know what to do.”

Seungkwan’s answering smile was brilliant, and he slowly reached up to cup your face. His hands were large, encompassing your cheeks. He lowered his face, nose brushing yours. “Is it bad that makes me happy? Knowing I’ll be your first kiss?”

Your hands made their way into his shirt, curling into the fabric and tugging. You pushed up, letting your lips brush against his in answer.

During a truth and dare session that followed after your first kiss, Mingyu, who made it his business to know your business, asked you when your first kiss was. When you had answered honestly, that it was only a few weeks before and with Seungkwan, Mingyu had gasped, as if it was rare for someone your age to have gone all this time without kissing.

But, remembering how Seungkwan’s lips gently moved against yours, pressing and giving and guiding, you couldn’t be bothered to be offended. Not when you knew how precious your first kiss had been; not when you had shared it with Boo Seungkwan.

Despite Seungkwan’s experience in kissing, which he assured you was hardly any, the relationship between the two of you brought a lot of new experiences for the both of you. Neither of you had really dated before one another, finding a different sort of loneliness in your young adulthood that your friends never seemed to share.

“I’ve never brought someone to meet my grandma,” Seungkwan admitted as you parked outside his grandma’s home.

“I’ve never kissed anyone in a theater before,” Seungkwan confessed as you pulled away from where you had leaned across the seat.

“No one’s ever called me that before,” Seungkwan admitted as you mouthed against his neck one evening, a breathy darling leaving your lips.

“I’ve never spent Valentines with a partner,” He had laughed as the two of you were rejected from the restaurant, which was filled to the brim with couples who had the same idea as you for the Valentines evening.

“I’ve never had sex before,” He had blurted during the evening of your fourth-month anniversary. You blinked from across the kitchen island at him, holding the saucepan in one hand and the wooden spoon in the other as you were preparing his pasta plate. “Just -- just in case you’re wanting . . .”

“Well, I’m not in a rush if you’re not.”

And so it was just another thing the two of you had decided to breach when the moment came. You didn’t want to plan for it; didn’t want to force the moment. It would happen when it did, and the best either of you could do was prepare for when it did happen.

Not that you didn’t want to.

Sometimes you looked at Seungkwan and couldn’t help but feel a need, a desperation, that was entirely foreign. One that had you battling the urge to grab him from where he stood talking to Seokmin, laughing and brushing back his stray bangs that had managed to escape his pushed-back hair, pulling him away from his friend and into the car for some privacy.

One horrifying time it had happened when he was cooing at a baby. He was reaching out, fingers brushing against the infant’s soft cheek, complimenting her on how sweet she was. Seungkwan’s lips were curling, obviously endeared by the baby, eyes soft and gentle and filled with a sort of adoration that reminded you of how he looked at you.

You were absolutely appalled at your urge to whisk him away from the baby and jump him, to press your hands underneath his shirt and feel his stomach flex as you pressed desperate kisses to his neck and collar.

Seungkwan was turning you into some sort of degenerate. Some wanton, promiscuous, shameless, licentious creature that woke up with soaked underwear and the image of Seungkwan’s bare thighs still at the forefront of your mind.

Even now, sitting next to Seungkwan and watching a movie, those salacious thoughts sent wetness gushing from your pussy and had you shifting in your seat, fighting to keep your cool.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were watching anything pornographic. It was some movie Seungcheol had suggested, one with too many fights and villains and not enough plot or good writing. You had attempted to watch it, of course you had. Date night, whether it was sitting on your couch and watching a movie or walking alongside the river, hand in hand, was something that never failed to brighten your day and put a smile on your face.

But after another cliche, misogynistic comment by the red-headed love interest who served as nothing more than a plot device, you rolled your eyes and chanced a look at Seungkwan. Seungkwan didn’t like action movies, had gotten bored watching the Dark Night and would much rather see a good romance (your first “argument” had been over whether Love, Actually, was actually any good and how only two aspects of the movie didn’t salvage the entire thing from being bad).

The romance between the lead and the love interest was enough to keep Seungkwan keyed in on the movie. He watched with wide eyes as the red head pressed a kiss to the lead’s lips before rushing away, ashamed at her bravery.

Your Boo Seungkwan was so fucking cute, you couldn’t help but think. There was a blush on his cheeks and on his ears as he watched the lead run after the red head and sweep her up into a classic Hollywood-style kiss. He watched eagerly, practically drinking the scene up.

Then he licked his lips and it was game over for you.

Seungkwan’s mouth, which you had stared at far too often, was small and pouty and constantly tempting. A day without kissing Seungkwan was a day wasted, in your opinion.

His hair was slightly wavy from the shower he took before coming over, brown bangs brushing against the edges of his eyes, where his lower and upper lids kissed. It had grown longer in the months the two of you had been dating, and you never ever dared complain.

From his hair your gaze went to his ears. There was your favorite place to kiss besides his lips (and neck and collar and shoulder and the spot where his neck and collar met, and his --). Three beauty marks, perfectly spaced, practically begging for the brush of your lips.

Movement brought your eyes from his ears. Seungkwan’s eyes were still trained on the movie, but he had begun pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. His forearms flexed, veins appearing, and you were transfixed as you watched his hands, his impossibly beautiful and elegant hands, slid up his forearms to push up his sleeves. His fingers were long and smooth, the veins of his hands prominent.

What did it say about you, you wondered, that you had dreams of those hands. That you had dreamt before about his hands running up your thighs, fingers skimming the hem of your shorts; his fingers pressing against the wet spot in your underwear, the tips of his fingers dipping underneath the waistband of your underwear; the pads of his fingers brushing against your clit.

Fuck.

Your heart in your throat, you shifted against the couch. The insides of your thighs brushed against your underwear, the cold wetness that soaked it shocking you.

“This is a good movie,” Seungkwan said, bringing your attention from where his hands had settled on his thighs. “I really like the romance in it.”

You glanced at the screen. The lead was verbally fighting his mentor in a moment that would, surely, lead to a horrific death scene from the mentor where the lead was choking out apologies. “Yeah. I can see why Seungcheol liked it.”

Seungkwan hummed. Your eyes went back to his thighs.

His thighs. Seungkwan opted for wearing shorts more often than not, and everytime you were gifted with the sight of his smooth, tanned skin you wanted to fall to your knees. His thighs were meaty from hours filled with cardio, and you constantly wanted to dig your fingers into the flesh and feel.

You wanted to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his thighs in worship; suck them, nibble at them, listen to Seungkwan’s breathy whines as you teased him. You wanted to feel them squeeze around your shoulders as you took his cock into your mouth, wanted to feel them beneath your own thighs as you bounced on his cock.

You could feel the wetness that trickled from your pussy, could the slide of it. Your pussy clenched around nothing in desperation. Shame flooded through you, and you took a heavy breath, feeling as though you hadn’t been breathing all this time.

Thighs clenching, you threw one over the other and squeezed in an attempt to quench your thirst.

All it did, however, was get Seungkwan’s attention. Your boyfriend glanced at you, head tilted. “You okay?”

You smiled at him, reaching out and setting your hand on his and squeezing. “Yeah. Just getting hungry is all.”

“We can order something now, if you want,” Seungkwan offered. “I can pause the movie.”

You laughed breathlessly, leaning against him and burrowing your face into his shoulder. Seungkwan smelled good, as he always did. Like laundry softener and lavender, cotton sheets and freshness.

“We can order after.” You said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s not so bad.”

Seungkwan angled his head to press an awkward kiss to your hair. Then he went back to watching the movie.

The hunger in your stomach was nothing compared to the hunger, lust, you felt for him.

You licked your lips, eyeing the full curve of his cheeks and the hardness of his jaw. Like a parched man offered a cup of water, you desperately drank him in. The stretch of his neck, unmarked; the beauty marks near his ear; the angle of his fingers as he reached up and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, how they softly settled back on his thighs.

Seungkwan’s navy blue shorts had ridden up, revealing the meatiness of his thighs that had you swallowing nothing, pussy clenching around nothing.

You wanted your mouth on those thighs, wanting your hands on them. You wanted to be sat on them, pussy grinding down, clit dragging against his bare skin and riding them.

Slowly, without drawing his attention from the movie, your hand went to his thigh. Seungkwan’s hand went to yours, fingers lacing together instinctively, and you wanted to curse at your boyfriend’s innocence while you were suffering.

You took your time unwinding your hand from his. First you started with your thumb brushing gently against his warm skin. Then you shifted your hands so only your middle three fingers were tangled with his, your pinky laying against his thigh and thumb constantly kissing his skin.

Seungkwan huffed when you fully separated your hands, turning to you with a pout. “Why aren’t you holding my hand, Y/n?”

You chuckled at his whine, peering up at him. Your heart was full of adoration for the boy next to you, and you wondered if your eyes were dripping honey from how sweet he made you feel.

How ironic it was that Seungkwan had your heart feeling as if it would burst out sunshine while also making your pussy constantly gushed wetness.

“What a baby,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Why don’t you put your arm around me so we can cuddle, baby?”

Seungkwan huffed, still looking offended. But he did as you suggested, his arm going around your shoulders and hugging you to his side. His warmth melted into you, and the position leaning into him, one of your thighs over the other, allowing you to frantically squeeze in a foolish attempt to ease the throbbing of your pussy.

However, this position allowed you to do something important.

With his hand brushing against your shoulder, it gave you free reign over his thigh. You settled your hand on his thigh, face towards the television in an attempt to make it seem mindless. His thigh flexed against your hand before relaxing, and you squeezed in response.

The two of you sat for a handful of moments, Seungkwan content while your fingers brushed against his thighs. He was deeply immersed in the movie still, watching as the mentor was killed by the villian.

Your hand shifted, sliding up his thigh and stopping where his shorts had ridden up. You tapped your forefinger against his flesh, trying to keep up the relaxed appearance.

You wanted to suffocate between his thighs. Wanting to take them into your mouth and suck and bite, wanting to pinch and listen to his cries as you swallowed around his cock and knead them. Wanted to hold onto them as you dragged your throat down his cock, his length bringing tears to your eyes as you swallowed his cock back down and took it deep.

Your pussy gushed again. You couldn’t salvage your underwear, no way.

Maybe you could take them off and leave them somewhere he could see, you wondered. You imagined him taking notice of your underwear, imagined the red blush that would take over his face. Imagined him bending down, hesitant as he reached to grab them. Imagined him feeling the wet spot left by your pussy; him slowly bringing your underwear up and to his nose, smelling the fragrance of your cunt.

Fuck, fuck.

Your hand moved again, sliding underneath his shorts and towards his inner thigh. You still fought to look at the television.

Seungkwan sucked in a breath from beside you. He snapped his head towards you as you squeezed the fat of his thigh, your name leaving his lips in something crossed between a warning and a sigh.

You glanced at him, brows furrowed in false confusion. “Something wrong, darling?”

He stared at you for a moment more. You waited for him to admonish you, for him to ask you to remove your hand; for him to draw the line. You’d stop, of course, would retract your hand and press a kiss to his cheek in apology.

But he did none of those things. Instead Seungkwan pressed his lips together, narrowed his eyes at you, and then went back to watching the movie.

Grinning and feeling like the cat that got the canary, your hand sunk further into his shorts. Seungkwan took a long, shuddering breath as your fingers brushed against the edge of his underwear. You played with the edge, smoothing your fingers over and under it, nails brushing against his skin.

“How’s the movie, baby?”

Seungkwan tightened his jaw. “Good.”

“It’s good?” You responded, biting at your lip to suppress your grin and doing a bad job of it. Seungkwan nodded.

You shifted, turning on your side and rising. His eyes immediately snapped to you. “Keep watching the movie, baby. You said it was good.”

“What are you --”

“Don’t pay me any attention,” you said. When Seungkwan didn’t look away from you, your free hand went to his jaw. You softly nudged his face with your fingers, turning it from you and to the television. “That’s a good boy.”

The answering inhale from Seungkwan had your pussy clenching once more. You hummed, moving to your knees. You pressed your face into his neck, nose pressing against his warm skin, lips ghosting. Your hand pressed up the fabric of his shorts, bearing his thigh, before it settled over the bulge pressing against his underwear.

Seungkwan let out another shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing. The arm that was around you moved, clutching at your shirt.

You kissed his neck, keeping your hand still. “You good?”

He hummed, a slightly shrill noise.

“Shall I keep going?”

You could feel his answering nod against your head. “I need words, babe.”

“Please,” he begged, voice breathy and the hand in your shirt repositioning to grab more of it and clench. A blush high onto his cheeks.

You pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his skin. Slowly, gently, you began moving your hand against his clothed dick. Your hand moved in a constant soothing motion, rubbing. “You might have to tell me what to do, baby.”

“Touch --” Seungkwan cleared his throat. You kissed his neck again, though this was unlike any of the innocent kisses you had been laying. You kissed his neck as if you were kissing his mouth, lips rolling against his skin. “Touch me, please.”

“I am,” you reminded him. You pressed your heel down on his bulge in proof.

Seungkwan moved his face towards you. His face was still flushed, his brows still furrowed and lips still pouting. His dark eyes were wide, pupils large. “Please.”

You pulled away from him in response. He made a protesting noise, moving to reach for you and pull you back. You moved farther away from him, hands meeting his and stopping him. “Take off your hoodie, Seungkwan.”

He compiled, making quick work of his baby blue hoodie and throwing it to the floor. Seungkwan’s shoulders had broadened due to his hard work at the gym, and the muscle on his biceps were impressive.

You drank him in eagerly. His chest wasn’t as tanned as the rest of him, but it still had you practically drooling. Working out had given definition to his chest, had given weight to his pecs. You wondered what they would feel like in your hands, what they would look like decorated with red and purple bruises left by your mouth.

His breathless whine of your name brought you out of your imagination. You stood from the couch, hands going to the waist of your pants. “This okay, Kwannie?”

At his answering nod, you were shoving your pants down to your ankles. You kicked them off, ignoring Seungkwan’s shocked inhale, and then were climbing on top of him.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pushing him back and flush against the couch. You straddled one of his thighs, knees on either side with one brushing against his bulge. His hands went to your shirt, yours smoothing down his biceps and squeezing the muscle. “Tell me if you’re nervous. Okay?”

Seungkwan laughed breathlessly. “Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to lose my virginity to the love of my life.”

Your eyes widened, and his immediately followed suit. Both of you froze against one another, hands still, breaths suspended.

Then your heart swelled, feeling as though someone had filled it with sun. You laughed breathlessly, hands sliding up his biceps and shoulders to cradle his neck. Pressing close, you brought your mouth to his and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“And the love of my life is a massive dork,” you said, nose pressing against his cheek.

His mouth sought yours in answer, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers sinking into the strands and tugging. His tongue went to the seam of your lips and you opened them easily, tongue sliding against his.

Seungkwan’s hands began wandering, moving from your shirt to the hem. His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, pressing against the base of your spine. Seungkwan broke away from the kiss, his mouth smeared with spit. “This okay?”

“It’s okay,” you returned, taking his lower lip between your lips and sucking. Seungkwan moaned, a deep sound that seemed so at odds with your lovely boy.

His hands went up your back, nails scraping against your skin. Your mouth wandered from his, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chin and underneath it. One of your hands moved from his hair, ghosting over his chest. You felt his stomach jump underneath your fingers as you pressed your palm there. “Okay?”

Seungkwan nodded. You took pity on him and didn’t ask again. Your mouth skimmed his neck before attaching to the part where it met his shoulder, taking the skin between your teeth and before sucking. His chest moved against yours as he sucked in a deep breath.

Then you settled your hand over his bulge, squeezing through his shorts. Seungkwan let out a loud groan in response, his neck straining as he tossed his head back.

You began marking in earnest in response to his moans and groans, hand smoothing over his dick, rubbing it through the fabric. His nails began to dig into the skin of your back, scraping and pinching.

Soon enough Seungkwan began panting, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. You shifted, sucking another hickey onto his collar, before pulling away. “Hold onto me. Okay, baby?”

Seungkwan’s hands moved from your back to your hips, holding as you asked. You sat back, separating your torso from his and taking a good look at your boyfriend. His blush not only was on his cheeks but spread down his neck, the flush joining the red blossoms left by your mouth in painting a picture of a debauched man.

His thigh flexed beneath you. Taking the opportunity, you grinded down. Your pussy dragged against his thigh, creating a faint spark of friction that sent another gush of fluid.

Seungkwan gasped, mouth dropping open and head tipping. “Fuck,” he hissed, brows meeting. “Fuck. You’re so fucking wet.”

You laughed, grinding down again. His hands gripped at your hips, nails digging in. You took care to ensure your clit dragged down, the movement making your mouth go ajar and hips cock forward once more in an attempt to feel the relief once more.

“Can you,” Seungkwan began, his voice deep and dark and sending another gush of wetness out of your pussy and further soaking your underwear. Seungkwan let out a little moan at feeling the wetness taint your underwear, soaking his bare thighs. “Can you cum? Just from that?”

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I feel like I could.”

Then your hands were back on him, going to his waistband. You used one hand to pry open his shorts and underwear, holding it open for your other hand to slide down his pelvis, feeling the little curls of the hair there brush against your palm.

When your fingers brushed against the base of his dick, you couldn’t help but pause. Your eyes went up to his, unsure. Seungkwan’s hands squeezed your hips. “You don’t have to. We can -- we can stop.”

You shook your head. You moved your hand, skin gliding against his dick. It felt impossibly big and heavy in your hand. Seungkwan shivered, eyes fluttering shut and head going back to rest against the couch.

More curious than anything, you moved your hand over his dick, exploring. You mapped the veins of it, following them down to the head. You pushed your thumb against the head, wetness from it spurting out onto your hand.

Seungkwan let out a weak exhale. “We -- usually I use lube or something. It. It makes it easier.”

You retracted your hand from his pants. You offered it to him, palm out. Seungkwan closed his eyes, inhaling. Then he leaned forward, tongue poking out from his mouth. He began running his tongue over your hand, spreading his spit.

Absent-mindedly you began rocking your hips, grinding your pussy against his thigh once more. His tongue ran over your palm and fingers, coating it in his spit. You thought about his tongue on your wrist, your shoulder; then your breast, dragging down your stomach and to your pussy.

You leaned forward against his thigh, bearing down on him and grinding down aggressively. You lowered your head, hair falling and framing your face. One of Seungkwan’s hands left your hips, moving to grab the wrist of the hand he had been licking -- licking!!!!

Seungkwan tugged. You looked up. “Here. Get off for a moment.”

You did as he asked, stumbling. Seungkwan raised his hips off the couch, pulling down his shorts and letting them drop beside the couch. Then he shimmied away, moving so he was laying down the length of the couch. He looked embarrassed, laying there, nearly entirely bare for your eyes.

“Get on me,” Seungkwan said, though it sounded more like a question than anything. “Straddle my -- my --”

His face was a brilliant shade of red, and he turned away from you to look at the ceiling. Once Seungkwan wasn’t looking at you he was able to speak. “Straddle my dick and grind down on it.”

Never one to object from a good idea, you slowly made your way on top of Seungkwan. Your knees dug into the couch on either side of his hips, and when you positioned yourself so your pussy was directly over his clothed dick, the both of you let out matching moans.

His hands went to your hips again. Seungkwan slowly began guiding you into a gentle rocking motion, letting your pussy guide up and down his bulge, letting you grind down on him and use his length.

You leaned forward, hands bracing on his chest. His loud pants and broken moans filled your ears, clouding your brain. You dragged your pussy down his length and back up it, using it like you would your own hand. Each drag was delicious, had you shoving yourself back down and searching for more friction, for more press.

“Wait,” Seungkwan panted. You looked up at him. He was breathing heavily, bangs beginning to stick to his forehead from his sweat. “I’ll -- I think I’ll come from this.”

“Just from this?” You asked, brow furrowed. You grinded down on him and Seungkwan let out a loud groan in response, eyes fluttering and tipping his head back.

Delighted, you kept on moving on top of Seungkwan, watching him. Your boyfriend was always so expressive. You knew when he was mad, irritated, when he was happy or amused. Watching him now, brows furrowed, face red and mouth parted with sweet moans escaping his lips, you had another face to add to your mental catalogue.

Then his jaw dropped; his grip on your hips tightened and his hips were bucking up, a loud, low moan ripping from his mouth. You watched, amazed, as Seungkwan thrusted up into you twice more before his voice broke off.

He stilled beneath you, going lax. Seungkwan’s chest heaved, and his hands left your hips to hide his face. He let out a high little whine. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You shifted up his body, reaching for his hands and prying them away from his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Seungkwan pouted, sticking out his lower lip. “I’m fine. Just have to live with the knowledge that I came in my pants the first time I ever had sex for the rest of my life.”

You laughed, leaning down and kissing his pout. “It’s okay,” you giggled, kissing his mouth twice more before moving to kiss his cheeks. “It’s cute.”

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes at you. His hands returned to your body, and then he was moving you off of him. You went easily, letting Seungkwan guide you to lay against the other end of the couch. “What’s up, babe?”

“Your turn,” Seungkwan announced, determination heavy on his tongue. He grabbed two pillows that had fallen off the couch. Seungkwan settled one beneath your head; his fingers ran down over your shirt before he found your hips, lifting them up to settle the other pillow. “This good?”

You hummed, shaking your hips. “Comfy as can be!”

Seungkwan huffed. Then his fingers -- his long, beautiful fingers that you dreamt of -- were pulling down at your underwear. You lifted your hips off the pillow so he could guide them down your legs. Seungkwan dropped them beside the couch, and you watched, tongue flicking out to run over your lips in anticipation, as his hands went to your ankles.

For a moment he just stared at you. Like you were a piece of art, a Mona Lisa amongst masterpieces, an angel amongst humans. His dark eyes took in your wild hair, the heaving of your chest; where your shirt had ridden up, revealing the soft curve of your stomach, the hair surrounding your pussy.

“Tell me when to stop.” Seungkwan said. His hands ran along your legs as he spread them out, making room to be between them. Goosebumps raised along the trail his fingers left behind.

Your pussy gushed in anticipation. Your heart seemed to stop, and you know for a fact your brain did. His fingers hovered over your thighs, ghosting your skin.

Then his hands were on your pussy. One of his hands held it open, fingers splayed around your lips. His other hand went to your clit, thumb attaching itself to it. Immediately you gasped, hips bearing down in an attempt to seek more.

Seungkwan laughed breathlessly, watching. His thumb pressed down on your clit, offering itself. “God. You really are soaked. I didn’t realize you could get so wet.”

You furrowed your brow. One of your hands gripped at the cushion beneath you, the other moving to grip at the cushion pressed against your side. You continued grinding down on his thumb, feeling the friction mount within your gut.

Seungkwan continued talking all the while, eyes still watching your pussy. As he talked he maneuvered his hand, fingers brushing against your entrance. “I knew pussies --” Another wave of wetness escaped from your pussy after that word, that crude, horrid, delightful word, left his lips. “-- got wet. But fuck. Your underwear was drenched, baby. And your pussy? It’s soaking. If I put my mouth down there I’d fucking drown, I think.”

The image of Seungkwan’s head between your thighs, mouth attaching itself to your pussy and clit, sent a moan from your lips. His fingers continued moving, one of them dipping into your entrance. “It’s like. It’s like your pussy is begging me to put something in.”

“Please,” You whispered, hips bucking into his hold. “Please, Kwannie.”

Then two of his fingers were dipping inside you. If he tried to move slowly, it was to no avail; your pussy greedily sucked him in, squeezing around his digits as if they were his dick instead.

You gasped, feeling as his fingers, which had a better angle than yours ever did, stretched your walls. He didn’t move them much, shifting every few seconds. His thumb continued to work against your clit, however, and you felt something tightening in your gut, as if someone was pulling a string taut.

“Fuck,” Seungkwan breathed, “fuck you’re beautiful.”

And then the string was cut, and your orgasm washed over you in wave after wave. Seungkwan kept pressing his thumb against your clit, his fingers inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your body tightened and released, and as it released you felt as if every single worry you ever had about anything left with the tension.

Slowly, as to not harm you, Seungkwan removed his fingers. You let out a soft little whine as he did, eyes opening just enough to watch him. He held his hand up, splaying out his fingers. Your fluids glistened in the light, strings of it connecting his fingers.

You forced your eyes shut. Seungkwan shifted off the couch. For a moment there was quiet.

“Uh. I didn’t bring another pair of underwear.”

You looked at him. He had your discarded pants in one hand, the other hand burrowed into the fabric -- no doubt getting your fluids off of his hand. You looked over his body, taking in the muscles of his thighs and calves and arms. The golden skin, the beauty marks and moles that decorated him.

You wanted to press him to the bed and kiss each and every single mark.

For another time, you decided. Instead you slowly moved into a sitting position, kicking out the pillow from beneath your hips. “I’ll have to throw them into the wash. I think I have something that’ll fit you.”

“It’ll take all night to get clean,” Seungkwan mumbled, pouting.

You grinned, opening your arms. Seungkwan dropped your pants and went to you, sliding his arms around your shoulders and yours going around his middle. You pressed a kiss to his stomach, enjoying the feel of it against your cheek.

“Then you’ll just have to stay the night.”

Seungkwan sighed. “I guess.”

You mocked him, screwing up your face and peering at him. “How horrible of me to offer for my boyfriend, who took my first kiss and my virginity, to spend the night. Should’ve kicked you out as soon as I finished.”

“Please,” Seungkwan said, rolling his eyes. “You were so wowed by my performance you couldn’t even move.”

You burrowed your face back into his stomach. “Whatever you say, princess. I’ll throw the clothes into the wash, you order our food? And we can just eat in bed and cuddle?”

Seungkwan hummed, fingers running along your shoulders. His hands settled on either side of your head, moving your face from his stomach. You pouted up at him. “I mean, I guess that’ll be all right. I suppose you want Mexican.”

You nodded, lips parting in a wide smile. Seungkwan laughed, and then he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll have to start the movie over again.”

“What movie?”

Seungkwan paused, pulling away to look down at you. “Uh. The movie Seungcheol recommended?”

“Oh,” you said. “Okay. So. Here’s the thing. That movie fucking sucks.”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “But -- the romance! The chemistry between the mains! You can’t tell me that you don’t see it!”

You stood. The wetness between your thighs had begun to stick, and you couldn’t help but wince. “Yeah, no. We’re not watching it.”

“But --” Seungkwan pouted, sticking out his lips and widening his eyes. It was his classic puppy-eyed look, the one that had you handing everything to him on a silver platter. “But baby! If you love me like you said you do, you’ll replay the movie and watch it with me!”

Sighing, you went to him. You cupped his cheeks in your hands, rising to your heels and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do love you, Boo Seungkwan. So much.

“But I don’t love you that much.”

#!!!#my writing #my fic #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fic #seungkwan oneshot #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan #boo seungkwan fic #boo seungkwan oneshot #svt #svt fic #svt smut #svt oneshot #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen oneshot

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radioisntdead · 9 days

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It's 4 am, I haven't slept and I'm supposed to be sleeping but Alastor shenanigans are plaguing me, headcanon time folks! Throwing the reader in at random times

Alastor is stunned when you shine a flashlight at him, like eyes wide, smile stuck, ears forced straight,

Deer in headlights fr fr

He's NOT happy once he's freed from the flashlight pause, if y'all are romantically involved you are getting bitten, if you are not romantically involved, then you are getting threatened, sucks for you good luck.

Dude makes deer bleats, it's canon

Imagine just giving the dude some form of affection like a slight smooch on the cheek and BLEAT

Also hooves, I imagine dude has to get his shoes custom-made to fit comfortably,

Do y'all think he could tapdance with the hooves? Like click clack, I have no idea how tapdancing works it's late, I'm sleep deprived and delusional.

If you know how tapdancing works feel free to infodump in the comments I love reading infodumps

I have no context but onlyhooves popped in my head and I found that hilarious,there are probably people who have a thing for hooves in that universe in a non cute way. Yucky shame on thee.

Anyways put this man shoeless, hooves out on a fleshly waxed/mopped floor or something and he's becoming Bambi, he is NOT dignified when he's slipping and sliding, do not laugh at him you will get bit and I said it once and I'll say it again this man probably has something, Now I adore Alastor that deer guy is why I'm in this fandom BUT THAT MAN DOES NOT HAVE GOOD HYGIENE,

Why do I like this guy? [It's probably because this is the only fictional character that I unwillingly got a thing for that's ace and I feel safe in that way, only in that way though he would kill me. Or I'd kill him first because I AM NOT GETTING TAKEN OUT BY THAT DRENCH HIM IN HOLY WATER]

Anyways back on topic y'all would 100% have to chase him down with a bucket of water, soap and a sponge.

Like use the flashlight to stun him and throw him into a bathtub, dab shampoo and conditioner in his hair and leave him there to soak, this is a weekly debacle

Like he'll take a bath on his own but that's like once a month maybe twice if lucky

You will have to remind him to brush his teeth and stand in the bathroom and watch him brush his teeth, y'all are going to have to change out toothbrushes often because he destroys them brushes his sharp ol' teeth

also I just realized his teeth GLOW? Brushing isn't going to make it any less yellow but maybe glow more.

Deers apparently do this lil' ol' foot stomp while agitated and I can't remember if Alastor does a lil stompy stomp in the show but I can just imagine dude leaning on his radio staff probably bickering with reader because y'all are trying to get him to brush his teeth and then stompy stomp.

You could probably dress him up festively for Christmas, he won't do it willingly but you could try, put Christmas lights on his lil' antlers make him grow em' out and you can put ornaments on it too

I should be sleeping but I'm doing this instead, I am making great decisions here!

I'm yawning rn and that has lead to me thinking he probably unhinges his mouth like pennywise to yawn, Sometimes I wish I could do that, big yawn.

According to his wiki Alastor is a canonically a foodie and cooks

He has a cookbook that he made himself, it's handwritten and looks like it belongs to a older woman [COUGH COUGH he took care into making it look like a cookbook his Ma had cOUGH COUGH]

I imagine he cooks in bulk [me projecting but that's because when I cook it's usually for my family] and before the hotel he would pack it in advance like "this is my delectable lunch, and this is my partners lunch for tomorrow and this is for-" but after the hotel it's just "Salutations! I made dinner now feast."

I imagine there's a few checks to make sure he didn't put any sinner meat in there, like Sir we did not consent to cannibalism.

He usually makes dishes with sinner meat separately.

Dude sleeps with his eyes wide open, dry ol' eyes, give him some eye drops like sir you had glasses in life, I'm assuming your eyesight got fixed to some degree, TAKE CARE OF IT this is coming from someone with glasses, I want good eyesight SOBBING.

anyways if y'all were married for example in life the first time you go to snoozeville and you wake up you freak out because he's staring at you and he did NOT DO THAT WHEN HE WAS ALIVE.

Dude definitely got freakier in death, like dude was a funky lil' charmer that killed people, I can't emphasize enough that this man killed people, Remember it's alright in fiction but we don't condone it irl.

And now he's a funky cannibalistic dude, still kills people

Imagine keeping a diary or something and one entry is just like

"Dearest diary, Alastor has developed a taste for sinner flesh."

I really don't use Alastor making puns in my fics enough, I need to put that in more I ADORE puns

I've been kicked out of like two gcs because I wouldn't stop making stupid puns at bad times.

Same with the 1920's-1930's slang and just everything like that was my hyperfixation for a good bit [I say good bit like I wasn't a walking talking wikipedia article and like it isn't actively ongoing] [I am SO GLAD I WAS NOT BORN THEN I WOULD NOT SURVIVE FOR MULTIPLE REASONS.]

Dude has chest fur. Also random tuffs of fur around like his elbows or knees.

I also headcanon that he sometimes sleepwalks, so you wake up at 2 am and he's just standing over you, watching.

Assuming you're used to it you just blink before turning around and going back to sleep, add in a "Alastor go back to your side of the bed"

When he's not freaking you out with his sleeping habits he's staying awake for multiple days in a row.

Okay I'm going to sleep now goodnight folks, Let's see if this makes any sense when I wake up.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor

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vonev · 7 months

Text

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware?

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained.

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it.

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch.

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die.

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely.

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again.

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life.

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle.

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all.

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk.

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration.

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car.

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love?

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag.

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now.

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.”

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

#angst #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x you #apocalypse #zombie apocalypse #im having a brainrot yet again #they should kiss kiss fall in love #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

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lundenloves · 8 months

Note

You’re proficient in angst and I love angst, so maybe:

Ghost and his wife working through a miscarriage after or before their first child is born?

ALWAYS READ THE WARNINGS!

you anon, you are a brave one. *finger wag* knowing fine fucking well i’d pick this one out above others, and no, it wasn’t the compliment that did it. i’m sorry for the therapy bills. what’s that? i said i’d pay? i said that? me? never.

disclaimer before i get my head bitten off: this is a reader insert, though without the use of ‘you’ and rather mentioned as his wife. i didn’t want to put people directly into it. a third narrative? is that wrong? idfk.

masterlist | taglist | request info | therapy

↳ warnings: loss of baby, angst | 1k

Simon knew. He knew before the five words had been spoken, before the doctor had taken a breath and before she had made eye contact with his wife who hadn’t quite caught on. He didn’t mean to distance himself, but that he did, pushing even further back from the bed and scratching at the back of his neck. Head hung low and his nose scrunching briefly when she had reached for his arm. An arm he pulled away. Right as the words were delivered like a punch to the gut.

“I can’t find a pulse.”

He looked to the floor, completely denying his wife of her reaction and his leg had begun bouncing erratically. Untouched by her warmth when she had gripped his knee, silently begging for his eyes that remained on the door. “What.” She shook her head, blinking once, hard, as if she had heard incorrectly.

But she hadn’t.

Simon teethed at the skin around his nails, dropping an elbow to his knee and rubbing his neck. The doctor quietly spoke her apologies and thousands of thoughts rushed his mind at once, guilty relief yet also swirling darkness. “There’s nothing you can do?” She cleared her throat, keen in maintaining composure that Simon knew was a front. Her hand began to fidget with the seams of his jeans, the threads picked out over years from his own anxieties.

The doctor repeated her apologies, handing over a few documents on next steps. Coloured cards at best, she spoke through the overwhelming information with a quietness to her voice, an accompanied hand placed on her patients’ shoulder. One with the intent of comfort though it felt bitter and Simon stood from the chair, picking up her bag and watching as she gathered her jacket after handing him the car keys.

He held every door open for her, walking a few strides behind as she sped walk to the car that was on the far end of the car park. She would’ve ran if she could, knees weak upon reaching the drive that felt like another obstacle. Ten minutes of silence.

“Is that it?” She had mumbled once the door was shut behind her, bottom lip sucked inward and hands dropping to her thighs. “You’re just—“ She paused, her gaze absent in forward staring. “You’re not going to say anything?” Her voice was toneless.

Simon adjusted the rearview mirror purely to occupy himself. His elbow rests on the window edge, fingers rubbing at his upper lip. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” It came off as a mumble.

She nodded vacantly, crossing her arms over her chest in a self pacifying hug. The news had struck her energy, killing off any ounce she had left to decipher Simon’s feelings, any words from here would surely manifest into an argument of sorts.

And her tears were slow, a singular one turned to two, to three and four — each one falling longer than the other and Simon’s eyes fixed onto the dash. His answer was avoidance, turning the car on and fidgeting with radio dials to simultaneously ignore her tears and distract himself.

Otherwise, the silence was loud.

Her nostrils flared, sleeves gently rubbing at her cheeks and pressing her head back against the seat. Shoes discarded and knees pulled up to her chest, body facing away from her husband and toward the window where rain had begun its predictable downpour. The whine that left her mouth wasn’t anything other than devastating, one that ironically cried for help upon holding heavier tears back, though it was ineffective.

Her chest dipped in and out of exasperated breaths, short and quick in their successions with fingers balled into a fist that hit at her knees for any alleviation. “She’s gone, she’s fuck—“

Simon then felt the weight on his chest. The weight of his lacking. He bit down on his bottom lip and put the car into gear, his hand sinking from his hair and across his cheek, down the back of his neck as he pulled out of the car park.

The rest of the car ride was silent. The only noises filling the space being her occasional deep breaths and whines, the indicator and Simon’s nervous habit of clearing his throat. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his spine was hiked downward and his shoulders collapsed in on themselves. “Are we just not going to talk about it?”

Her words landed right as he had shut the door behind him, back pressed against it to hear the click of the lock. She dropped her arms to her sides, taking a step backward and into the main space of their shared flat. “Because I can’t deal with your silence. Not now.”

He nodded slowly, his back remaining against the door as if he couldn’t move. His fight or flight triggered by her forcing of the topic, “I don’t know what to say.” It was honest. The crack in his voice said that much, his eyes fixed to hers as if to scope her as a threat or not.

And christ, she looked anything but a threat. Her blotchy face and tear stained cheeks made her look so much smaller than she was, reduced to a mourning mess that Simon wasn’t equipped to put back together. “Anything.” She shook her head, voice stripped to a whisper for him to tilt his head at, inner brows risen in defeat as words point blank refused to leave him.

“I can’t.” He stuttered on his emotion, holding his fist in the opposite hand before dropping it.

Being unable to cry was so much more upsetting than the act of crying itself, a point that Simon existed to prove. His silence around sensitive matters, the way he stared with dead eyes and his minimal expressions that seemed to be so much more devastating than those who could properly communicate their feelings.

“Anything Simon.”

Words were still stuck in his throat and only allowed for a mere shrug with an extended palm to take her to his chest. “C’mere.” Was all he could say, one hand on her back with the other pushing hair from her face as she slowly but surely collapsed to a blubbering mess in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

no, i’m sorry.

the anon did, it not me. it’s unedited but i’m too scunnered to look over this again so take it with a grain of salt. please let this flop. my followers are unwell enough.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine

i’m going to my mind palace.

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #cod ghost

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403tarot · 6 months

Text

SUNG HANBIN HARD HOURS

disclaimer: this is purely tarot based. take it lightly and have fun

hanbin is a giver; in sex, his focus turns entirely to the person he's with. for him, sex is about intimacy, so he likes to feel connected.

he's eager to be kissed and touched, which makes him impatient. hanbin likes to pull by the waist and kiss while holding the person's face or gently caressing the cheeks, shoulder blades, or running his hands over the hips

he's the kind of guy that smiles while kissing... cute

he prefers people who are willing to try new things and embrace his ideas, as he doesn't have many kinks but has several fantasies

hanbin likes mature women who appear experienced, to put him in his place and make him feel the desire to submit.

for some reason, he likes women to be naked but keep their high-heeled shoes on

likes to kneel and kiss the thighs, knees, and calves. he's attentive and gentle, wanting to ensure that the person feels his lips pressing against the skin

and when he thinks it's enough, he looks up at the person with those puppy eyes... ugh, he really wants to be controlled

one of his biggest fantasies would be to have someone grabbing him by the hair and making him go down on a pussy, right there on his knees.

he wants to be so good with his tongue and wants to be praised while looking into his woman's eyes... tell him he's a good boy when seeing his face covered in pussy wetness

he moans prettily and with no shame

his thrusts are fast; he likes to kiss while panting, to be pushed to the limit, have his back scratched, and lips bitten. this makes him feel like he's possessed by someone.

he's so intense and romantic, just wants someone being as savage as him to make the fire consume his desire

one thing i can't get out of my head is the image of him finishing and immediately lying on the person's chest, wanting to be embraced while listening to both their heartbeats racing.

#— duckie notes ⪩♡⪨#sung hanbin #zerobaseone #zb1 tarot #kpop readings #kpop tarot #hanbin hard hours #zb1 imagines #hanbin scenarios #hanbin smut #hanbin headcanons #hanbin imagines

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noxturnalpascal · 3 months

Text

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 1)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

I. Stronger Together

CH 1 (5.4k) You can hear it behind you, wheezing breath, strangled grunts. You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer but you don’t dare to look backwards. It’s been following you halfway down this mountain, dragging itself along, waiting for the inevitable. You plod on, one foot in front of the other, letting gravity help you fall forward, knees threatening to buckle with each slap of your foot down on the dirt.

It’s been hours of this now, you must be miles away. Away from the little snow-topped cabin where you were ambushed by a single infected behind a closed bathroom door. Away from where the rest of your party was bitten, first by the clicker and then by each other. Away from where you had to shoot each of them, one by one, until you ran out of bullets and escaped out a window.

You wish you could silence your cumbersome steps. You wish you could quiet your labored breaths. You wish you could stop the drip, drip, drip of your blood from smattering onto the dried leaves underneath your feet. Maybe then this one-legged, blind, croaking monster behind you would cease its pursuit. Then you could stop moving and just close your eyes for a moment. You just need a moment, just one moment.

You think you do close your eyes for just a second, and it’s then that you trip over a buried tree root. Your eyes open as your face meets the ground, wet and hard, knocking the wind out of you. Everything immediately hurts. You can barely think. One arm remains wrapped tight around you while you attempt to pull yourself forward on your other elbow, away from the scratchy breathing.

You feel a hand clawing at your shoe. Kicking the shoe off, you roll away, further down the hill as best you can. Reaching one hand out, you grab at sticks and stones, anything you can grasp, throwing them backwards in an attempt to slow down the inescapable. You hear nothing but your own muffled heartbeat pounding in your ears. It's so loud it sounds like hoofbeats.

You finally roll onto your back to face it, watching it slowly closing the small gap between you, bony fingers outstretched towards you. You close your eyes again. You’re so tired.

A gunshot rings out.

Tiny specks of blood spatter outward, covering both you and a circular pattern on the ground around you in a fine red mist. The infected falls backwards, unmoving. Your eyes are open now, ears ringing. You hear muffled shouting and then there’s a gun barrel in your face. You’re too tired for this. You close your eyes again.

Another gunshot rings out.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’?” Joel shouts, having grabbed the barrel of the gun just in time.

“He’s infected!” the man previously holding the gun says, pointing at your blood-soaked torso.

“You think that–,” Joel points to the deformed clicker lying next to you, “woulda followed him halfway down the mountain if he was already infected?”

Joel leans down at your side, gently opening your jacket to assess the damage. He sees several layers of cloth wrapped around your torso, all soaked in blood beneath your ribcage, where your bloodied hand still clutches right over a large shard of glass sunk into your middle.

“Bring my horse, now,” Joel yells at the rest of his party.

He’s sure about three things. One, unlike the fungus-covered body lying beside you, you are not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive. Two, you are most definitely bleeding to death. The tight bindings around your middle likely serve as the only thing keeping your slowly-draining body alive. Three, despite your short-cut hair and boyish appearance due to the many layers enveloping your chest, you are – in fact – a woman.

Days later someone comes bursting through his office door. Come quick, Joel. It’s all he needed to hear to follow the messenger to the clinic, worried that when he arrived he’d see your cold and lifeless body lying on the bed. When he bursts in the door to your room, ignoring the shouted protests of the medical staff, he is shocked to find you alive. Not just alive but standing up against the far wall, brandishing a pair of scissors, clutching at the pulled stitches on your side. He hears the doctor beside him muttering the words fuckin crazy.

“Who the fuck are you?” you point the scissors at him.

“I saved you,” Joel whispers, not surprised you don’t recognize him as you were basically unconscious when he rode with you into town. He points to the red drops accumulating on the floor, “that’s my blood you’re drippin’ all over the place.” He briefly recalls the argument from the doctor when he brought you in two days ago and insisted you be given his Type O blood.

He watches you look down at the blood spilling over your hand and uses the distraction to close the gap between you. Ignoring the scissors in your hand he quickly grabs some gauze and presses it against your side, hearing you gasp in surprise.

“I want to leave,” you say through clenched teeth, raising the scissors up to his eyeline, as if he forgot they were there. You make no further move to try and hurt him, somehow confident that your feeble threat is enough. He meets your eyes, wide and wild. You’re terrified. You don’t trust him. You’re threatening him in front of four other people while you bleed onto the floor. You’re fucking fantastic.

“Let’s get you better and then you can go wherever you want to,” he says, as he nods to the doctor to come fix you up. The doctor shakes her head, motioning towards the scissors. With no fanfare Joel grabs the scissors easily from your grip and pockets them. He ignores the hey he hears come out of your mouth and guides you back to the bed, nodding once again for the doctor to come over.

You allow the doctor to fix you up with no more threats, Joel standing close guard. About halfway through the re-stitching you wince, internally chiding yourself for showing weakness to these strangers. Joel takes your hand in his, not even making eye contact, holding it for the remainder of the procedure. Once the doctor steps away Joel squeezes your hand and looks you in the eye, telling you to get some rest before following the doctor out of your room.

“When you brought that ‘wounded little animal’ in here the other day, you didn’t warn me she bites,” the doctor mocks as she walks Joel out of the clinic.

“I told you she came down that mountain half-dead with a clicker on her heels. I guess we shoulda known she was a fighter.”

“You really gonna try and keep this one too?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joel answers immediately.

Joel thinks of the look in your eye; feral, distrustful, combative. When was the last time he saw that look on the face of anyone here? He has a community of people who love and adore him, who hang on to his every word. But none of them look at him like that. You have awoken something deep inside of him, something he thought long dead: burning desire.

“If you wanna keep your little pet, Joel, I think you should be the one to take care of her. I don’t want to see any of my staff get hurt and she seemed to take to you.” The doctor knows. She knows Joel brings her wounded birds all the time and she fixes them up. A broken wing here and there, sometimes scrapes and bruises, sometimes wounds that run deeper.

However, none of them have threatened her with a weapon – until today. But she knows they all “take to” Joel. That’s the kind of person he is. Everyone in this town is drawn to him that way, even her. She knows he’ll gladly take on this responsibility and bring stability to the situation. She knows she won’t have to worry about a repeat of today.

He nods in response and promises to stop by later as he retreats back to his house.

—

He follows through on his promise, showing up later that night and bringing a bowl of hot stew for you to eat. He sits in a chair in the corner of your room, watching you sip at it while you try to avoid awkward eye contact with him. His eyes on you make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t look at you like men usually do, with malintent. He looks at you with interest and curiosity. It makes you feel like a zoo animal. No one looks at you like that. No one ever has.

This goes on for days. He brings you three meals a day, he hands you medication, he fills your water cup, he sits in the corner of your room and watches you. The doctor comes in to check on your wound and adjust the fluid dripping into the IV in your arm twice a day, but they are the only two who enter your room. You hear the doctor call him Joel.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye but you don’t ever make full eye contact, you don’t ever make conversation. You aren’t looking to strike up a friendship. He said you could leave after you get better, so that’s your plan. Get better, and get the fuck out of here. Finally, on the third day he speaks to you. You drop your spoon back into your bowl because it startles you so much.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks, unphased by the clatter of your silverware.

You’re unsure if you heard him right, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. Instead you say the first thing that comes to mind. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say. A lie. You’ve never read that book in your life. You don’t owe this guy the truth. You don’t even know him, you don’t owe him a goddamn thing. He says nothing further, not acknowledging your response, so you spend the rest of your meal in silence, as usual.

You’re all but certain he didn’t hear you until he shows back up with your dinner, hours later, with a book in his hands. To Kill a Mockingbird. He brought the goddamn book? As you uncover the plate of food, he takes his usual seat in the corner, but this time he clears his throat and starts reading from the book he brought. You stop fiddling with your plate to look up at him.

You stare at him for a while, you’re not sure how long. This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to look at him, to really look at him. He has a strong jaw, a prominent nose, and dark eyes. His trimmed facial hair is flecked with grays along his cheeks, showing his age along with the lines creasing his face. He’s probably in his forties but you can appreciate he’s still got a damn good hairline.

He’s sitting down, of course, but when he was standing you remember thinking he was decently tall, towering over everyone else you’d seen in the building. His shoulders measured about a mile wide and his clothes seemed to strain against the bulk underneath them. You’d tried to ignore the way he wore his jeans but it hadn’t completely slipped your attention. He certainly wasn’t ugly.

As he continues to read aloud, your eyes drift to his lips. His top lip is obscured by his mustache but you’re pretty sure there is a near-perfect cupid’s bow hidden underneath. His bottom lip, by contrast, is plump and pouty, although you doubt anyone has ever described it that way, at least to his face. His gruff voice continues to scuffle along in the background as you watch his lips curve around the words.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you realize how silent it is. He’s stopped talking. Your eyes move to his, meeting his direct gaze. Why did he stop? Did he catch you staring at him?

“You gonna let your dinner get cold?”

You turn your attention back to your meal, slowly finishing it while he reads on. He continues reading long after your plate is empty, his voice lulling you into a relaxing state in your hospital bed. When he eventually closes the book and rises to leave, you let a goodnight slip from your lips. You’ve spoken maybe five words to this guy and now you’re wishing him a goodnight? Jesus, what’s next, sweet dreams?

The next morning is a repeat of the past three days; he comes in as the doctor heads out from checking on you, speaks with her at the door, then brings your breakfast in a wrapped up parcel, still warm. He takes his usual seat but picks the book up off the floor that he’d left there the previous night. He opens it up, clears his throat, and resumes reading you the story.

He’s about an hour into reading during his afternoon visit. Your lunch is long since finished and you’re trying to make sense of it in your head.

“I don’t understand why they call him ‘Boo’ Radley,” you interrupt. Slowly his eyes raise to meet yours over the pages. A line forms between them.

“I thought this was your favorite book.”

“It is,” you blurt out, poorly reinforcing your deception. “I just– I guess it seems like a strange nickname.”

He shrugs his shoulders then, leaning back in the chair and lowering the book.

“Well, I suppose they call him ‘Boo’ because he’s so reclusive, almost invisible.”

You nod your head, electing not to ask any more questions about the story since you’re pretty sure he’s caught on to your lie. After a minute he lifts the books and continues reading.

The next day shortly after you finish your lunch, he finishes the book. You try your hardest not to react. You’ve been trying your best to listen to him speaking as though you’ve heard his words before, as though everything he says is familiar, as though this tale is not new to you. You’re pretty sure you’re a shit actor.

He gets up and goes to leave the room, hours before he usually would.

“You’re leaving?” you spit out before you can stop yourself.

“That’s the end of the book,” he holds up the book and flips it over, as if to show you it’s empty.

“Y– you don’t have any other books?” you mutter, looking down at your hands.

He crosses the room and sits on the end of your bed, holding out his hand towards you. Your eyes dart between his face and his outstretched fingers.

“I’m Joel,” he says, by way of an extremely late introduction. You gently take his hand in yours, feeling his rough, warm palms grip yours and move your arm up and down. I know, you whisper, not even sure he can hear you. You don’t bother introducing yourself in return. You don’t think it matters what your name is.

“You ever even read this book?”

You look up and he’s wiggling the book in his hands again, as if it wasn’t obvious which book he meant. You don’t answer again, you just look back down. You’re not ashamed of lying. You’re not embarrassed you got caught lying. You don’t even know this guy, Joel. He’s just some guy who keeps you in this room all day because he apparently doesn’t want you to bleed all over everything.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks for the second time. You open your mouth to let another lie fall out, but before you can, he follows up with, “And let’s try the truth this time.” You meet his eyes.

He should be offended by the way you look at him. You are so distrustful of him. You lied about what your favorite book was, as if it was some state secret, and here you are about to do it again. And don’t think he didn’t notice you side-stepping telling him your name. This is the fifth day he’s spent by your side and you won’t give him an inch. He’s got to find a way to crack you open. He wants you to let him in so badly.

C’mon, he urges, reaching his hand forward to touch your leg comfortingly. You pull your leg back quickly, recoiling from his touch. His eyes go to your face again, finding it full of fear, your eyes blazing. He pulls his hands back into his own space and lifts them slightly, to show that he has no intention of putting them on you again. He mutters I’m sorry as he slowly rises and heads towards the door, certain he’s just set himself back by miles. This is turning into a real shit day.

—

When he comes back with dinner, passing by the doctor at the door, you look surprised to see him. Clearly the moment between you earlier scared you, but you don’t look scared to see him, just surprised. He’s determined to gain your trust, he’s not going to be driven away by a setback here or there. He hands you your dinner plate and then lays three books down next to you on the bed.

“Pick what you want next,” he says softly.

Ignoring your dinner you look down at the selection he’s brought. Pride and Prejudice. Little Women. Jane Eyre. You can’t help the disappointment that flies across your face. He brought you girl books. He thinks you’re just a girl who likes traditional girl books. You’ve never read any of these books and you don’t want to. You don’t care if they’re ‘classics’. You don’t care if they’re read to you in a scratchy, southern drawl.

You shake your head and eat your meal in silence while he sits in his chair with knitted brows, rubbing his hand over his beard. After you’re done he immediately rises, takes your dirty plate and all three books into his arms, and leaves the room. You don’t try to stop him this time.

To your surprise he returns twenty minutes later. Wordlessly he places a small bowl in front of you filled with some kind of baked apple treat. He’s never brought you dessert before. Then next to you he places three new books. You look at the three very different titles. The Chronicles of Narnia. The Count of Monte Cristo. The Hobbit. You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face and you bite your cheek to stop the stinging behind your eyes from turning into any embarrassing tears.

You reach out and grab The Hobbit, holding it out to him. You don’t tell him it’s the book your dad used to read to you as a kid. You don’t tell him anything and he doesn’t ask, either. He just takes the book and sits back in his chair as he opens the cover, reading it from the beginning. He notices the smile you try to hide and the wetness in your eyes but knows better than to react. He’s gained some distance back. It’s a good day after all.

—

The next few days go by much the same, with Joel spending several hours surrounding each meal reading to you. The only difference is that he’s started asking you questions. They start off about the book. You tell him you’ve read it, and this time, it’s not a lie. You’re pretty sure he believes you. He asks if you’ve traveled as far as Bilbo has, nodding to your healing side, making reference to your ill-fated trek down the mountain.

The questions slowly become more personal; did you have any siblings, how old are you, where did you grow up. Unsure of his motives you ask him back every question he asks you, making him answer first. He says he has a younger brother, he says he just turned forty five, he says he’s from Texas. If he’s making up lies then he’s quicker and better at it then you are. You’re finding him easy to talk to, which is why you almost let it slip out when he tries to get your name again. But you hold it back.

He sees you practically bite your tongue to stop it from rolling off. He thinks you’re starting to trust him but you still look at him warily whenever he stops to ask you a question. You don't even trust him enough to tell him your damn name yet. You seem confused why he’d want to know about you, why he’d be interested in stories that don’t involve him, why he’d want answers that don’t benefit him. It’s like no one has ever tried to get to know you before.

He’s been building this community for nearly two years now and he knew the QZ’s were getting bad. He wonders where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through; these are the questions he doesn’t dare to ask you. You are frightful and distrustful for a reason. Whatever you’ve experienced it hasn’t been kindness, not for a long while. No one has been nursing you back to health, feeding you home cooked meals while they read classic novels to you.

It’s been just over a week and the doctor finally gives you clearance to start moving around and regaining some strength, albeit slowly. Joel brings you some warm clothes and guides you out the back of the clinic, which leads to a large square park in the center of town. Despite the chill of fall, you’re eager to get better, and you revel in the opportunity to feel like your old self again. You get tired easily but Joel is always a few steps away to help you back to bed if you overexert yourself.

He leaves the book in the room but he continues on with your conversations, which have become more lengthy. Despite your reluctance to trust and his seemingly gruff nature, you find your time together has become easy, maybe even friendly. He still asks most of the questions and you still make him answer them all first. But you wonder things about him that he isn’t asking.

You know he’s in his mid-forties, but you don’t know if he’s married or if he has kids. It makes sense though, most people don’t talk about their family because people aren’t exactly living white-picket-fence lives anymore. You know he’s from Texas but you don’t know how he ended up here, in the mountains of Vermont. You don’t know why he comes to see you three times a day, why he reads to you, where he goes when he’s not with you. You don’t know what his favorite book is. You don’t know why you care.

You jokingly call yourself a Plain Jane and he perks up, chuckling while he tells you that’s your name now. Well you still haven’t told him your real name so it might as well be. When he calls you that name an hour later – Plain Jane – you feel your cheeks burn. It’s not exactly a complimentary name but the smile on his face when he calls you by it makes you look away from him. What is he doing to you?

Why does he look at you like that? You have been half-invisible most of your life and when anyone does actually give you attention it’s never been a good thing. You prefer it when they don’t look at you, when they don’t see you. But Joel has been sitting in that chair and watching you, looking at you, seeing you. He’s been asking you questions, reading to you, and bringing you meals. Yet you still don’t trust it. You don’t trust him and you don’t trust the feelings he stirs inside of you.

Joel is walking by your side during one of your afternoon walks and he tells a bad joke. He wasn’t expecting you to laugh, he’s never made you laugh. Until today. You’re not just laughing, you’re giggling, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds he’s ever heard. It makes him feel as light as air. You grab his arm as you double over, losing yourself in the laughter.

This is the first time you’ve ever touched him aside from your hands grazing when he hands you your meals. Not that those count, he doesn’t even count those. He shouldn’t even notice when it happens, yet he does. It’s like you have his insides twisted up and his head all fuzzy but somehow he feels like himself for the first time in nearly a decade.

He has been ignoring responsibilities for over a week now, sneaking away three times a day to spend hours with you. He rushes out of the house with breakfast in his hands, opting to eat it with you instead. His afternoon and evening meetings all get pushed back, until he’s left your side and can make time. No one questions him but he knows Tess is starting to get annoyed with him. She doesn’t approve of his behavior, his attention so focused on one person. She hasn’t said anything yet but she has that look.

It’s easy to be with you. It was easy in your room, even when you weren’t talking to him yet. He could sit there in the corner in silence and just be, without anyone asking him anything. Then when you finally spoke to him he couldn’t wait to hear more. He asks stupid, pointless questions all day just to hear you answer them. He has to be more guarded when you’re outside together, everyone is watching.

They’re all watching him, watching you, wondering why he’s spending all of his time with you when he used to spread himself around to the whole community. But the answer is easy. You don’t look at him the way they do. You don’t have their expectations of him. You don’t think he’s got all the answers. You don’t stand around waiting for him to save you.

–

When it’s been almost two weeks since you came under the doctor’s care she tells you that she thinks you’re well enough to leave the clinic. “Where do I go?” you ask her before you can stop yourself. She lets a huff escape her lips, but before she can reply, you both notice Joel standing in the doorway. You see a look of panic cross her face and you don’t miss the way she dodges his hand grabbing for her arm as she slips out the door past him.

He turns back to you and you notice he has three new books tucked under his arm. He’d finished The Hobbit, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Chronicles of Narnia this past week. Part of you wonders what selection he’s brought for you this time. You still haven’t told him your favorite. Now you’re not sure you ever will. The doctor said you’re well enough to leave, and that’s what you wanted to do. Leave. Right?

You look up at Joel and just as he opens his mouth to speak you hear the main door open behind him and a commotion of conversation coming through the door. You hear someone say, “fell off a ladder” and Joel’s attention is diverted down the hallway behind him. Suddenly a woman is at his side. She’s tall, with long chestnut hair and freckles that dot her cheeks and nose. She’s gorgeous.

You instantly feel like you’re one foot tall. You feel inferior. You feel like you’re staring at a marble sculpture. This woman is beautiful and she’s standing so close to Joel. He’s listening to her talk and nodding and he’s not even looking at you anymore. He probably forgot you were even there; look at this goddess in front of him. She stops talking and looks at you, pinning you with her stare. You freeze.

“Hi, I’m Tess,” she reaches out her hand to you, closing the distance between you since you’re stuck to your spot. “You must be the reason I never see this guy anymore,” she teases. You think she’s teasing.

“I was just about to invite PJ to come stay with us,” Joel clears his throat behind her, using his newest version of your nickname – Plain Jane. You look at him, eyes bulging out of your head. He was going to what? Stay with him? Who is us?

“Oh, you were?” she says, as if reading your mind. She’s still gently shaking your hand, regarding you with a curious eye.

“Yeah, we’ve got the room,” he says casually, flashing you a smile. Tess says nothing. You look back and forth between them. They’re both looking at you, waiting for you to speak.

“S– stay?” you manage to squeak at him. Does that even begin to cover the questions you have?

“Just until you’re feeling a hundred percent,” he says, gesturing to your nearly-healed side.

Now Tess drops your hand and turns back to look at Joel. You can’t quite read her expression. He doesn’t meet her eyes, he keeps them locked on you. He walks over to you and hands you the three books, placing your small breakfast plate on the top of the stack.

“Pick which one we should read next and Tess’ll come by after lunchtime to bring you home.” Without waiting for a response he grabs Tess by the shoulders and leads her out of the room.

“Since when do we ‘have the room’, Joel?” she questions as soon as they spill out onto the front sidewalk of the clinic.

“You can put her in the room next to mine,” he replies, taking strides so long that she has to hustle to keep up.

“My room is the room next to yours,” she mutters. He stops dead in his tracks, causing her boots to scuffle on the sidewalk to stop from crashing into him.

“Well obviously I didn’t fuckin’ mean your room. She can have Bianca’s room,” Joel huffs as he walks on.

“So, across the hall from your room?” He stops again and this time she does crash into him. He grabs her shoulders, pulling her even tighter to him and brings his head down to her ear.

“You’re supposed to be the one who worries about all this shit for me, so just figure it out, okay Tess?”

She stays standing in place while he resumes his walk back home. She doesn’t bother answering him since she knows his question was rhetorical. Tess did agree to manage his house. However, that was before she realized that he was going to be bringing little lost pets in and out of it all the time. She always knew their relationship was transactional. It served a purpose, it fulfilled their needs, but it was never loving.

When they agreed to start this community, she thought they’d do it together. He convinced her that he needed her help, and he did – he still does – there’s no way he could do this without her. He never wanted to manage the details. But she thought she’d be his partner, in the community even if not in life. Instead she finds herself at his mercy. She also finds herself not disliking it as much as she should. She lets herself get lost in him, lost in what they’ve created here in this valley.

She plays the role of his partner, but only behind the scenes. She plays his girlfriend, but only when he’s not otherwise occupied. She’s his friend, but only if he’s feeling in need of comfort. She’s mother to his children, but only the broken little birds he brings home to their doorstep. She does all of the work, but reaps none of the rewards. And yet, she lives a safe, comfortable life. She can’t help but feel grateful to him. In a lot of ways she still feels like he saved her. She was once a broken little bird herself.

After lunch she comes back to the clinic and finds you sitting on the edge of your bed, as if you’ve been waiting there all morning. You probably were. She fights the urge to ask if you have everything, reminding herself that you had no possessions save for the bloody clothes they found you in. Let’s go, is all she says, and you follow her out of the clinic in silence, nodding a goodbye to the doctor as you exit.

“Are you Joel’s wife?” you ask as you walk side-by-side, mustering up courage from god-knows-where.

“Joel doesn’t have a wife.”

🖤

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much. Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @strang3lov3 for your support and help creating this world. 🫶

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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st-el-la-luna · 3 months

Text

Syrupy Sweet: Nasty Baker! Soap x Reader

tumblr deleted the orgininal for whatever reason. Luckily I tracked down a reblog. Edited and added some new stuff (love tumblr for deleting my most popular post, rip my 600+ notes 😔)

NSFW 18+

Soap is forced into an early retirement. He gets a job at a small bakery. And that's where he meets you

➔ gn!afab!reader (described as having boobs & wearing a bra), creepy soap, pervy soap, obsessive soap, lust at first sight, non/dub-con cum eating, dirty thoughts, fantasizing, humping inanimate objects, coming in panta

After so many years working in the military, serving his country. Protecting the people of the world from danger. The last thing Soap expected waas tyo be discharged so suddenly and with so little warning.

Too much time working with explosives has affected his hearing. A bad knife wound, or a torn Achilles tendon. A bad break that never healed right. A couple of head injuries too many.

"An early retirement," they'd called it. Forced retirement more like it. They won't even tell him why, just that he's, "no longer fit for active duty," and that he should be grateful that they, "got him such a nice deal. That he gets to keep his pension."

He’s bitter about it, understandably, He likes his job. He’s good at it. They can’t be serious about this! His performance hasn’t been hindered.

Regardless of the reason, in spite of his arguments, Soap is benched, permanently. Price is apologetic, Ghost is... Distant, though that's to be expected. Gaz promises to keep in touch. And he does keep in touch, they all do.

But it’s ot the same. Soap still feels lonely. Bored. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or all the time he suddenly has on his hands. Doesn’t know how to operate without the adrenaline rush, without something to occupy his hands and minds. He figures that, maybe, he should get a job. A civilian job. Not one of those cushy desk jocky jobs Price had offered him out of pity, Soap wants a job far removed from the military. Really reintegrate himself into normal, civvie life.

After a bit of searching along the drizzly cobbled Glasgowian streets, Soap finds a little coffee shop and bakery nearby. A tiny, quaint little thing, run by a sweet old woman who just doesn't have the energy to keep the doors open on her own.

The place is situated on a street corner, tucked away from the busy traffic-filled streets. A soft bell jingles when the door opens. The sign is hsand painted. The place, though clearly aged, is well looked after, loved. The wood floors and counters shine; the tables and chairs, though antique, are comfortable, well made; plants hang from the ceiling; and a couple bookshelves line a wall, a leave a book take a book community library.

Soap applies for the position and despite his lack of experience, he gets the job. Something about him reminding the old woman of her own son.

At first, Soap worked there with her. Learning the ins and outs of the trade. How to make meringue and bread and macrons and creme brûlé. It's not easy, not at first, but with practice and time, he gets the hang of it.

He figures it's because of his experience with explosives and chemistry. Baking is... Kind of the same thing.

Eventually, he's left to tend to the day-to-day affairs of the bakery. The woman still writes all the recipes and makes some of the breads. But he's the one managing the front of the house.

It's where he meets you.

Sweet. Kind. Polite. Breathtaking. Irresistible. Sexy. You.

You come tumbling into the warm bakery on a day when the weather is particularly bad, even for Scotland. Strong winds, cold rains threatening to turn to hail, thunder rumbling in the distance.

You're soaked to the bone. Hair dripping. Shoes leaving puddles in your wake as each of your steps is announced by a wet squish. Your full cheeks bitten by the cold, fingertips numb, you offer him a blinding smile.

He's more focused on your tits though. And your bra. Visible through your thin, now see-through, shirt. Black lace. He can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. He can even see a small mole, or maybe a birthmark, on the swell just above the cup of your bra. He wants to sink his teeth into you. Wants to suck that mark into his mouth, chew and lick at it, make it bigger. Make it his. Make you his.

He's drooling a little, he realizes absently.

"Hey," you say softly, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. Hands curled into adorable little sweater paws as you try to wipe your wet hands off on your equally wet pants.

Soap just stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Shell shocked. He... He’s never... You’re so... He... Holy fuck.

Eventually, he clears his throat and manages a smile, stepping a bit closer to the counter so he can hide the growing tent in his pants. He forces himself to meet your eyes, rather than stare at your chest.

But they’re staring at me, his innermost thoughts whine, wanton and airy in his mind. So desperate for attention... for love... ready to be suckled and bit and groped and pinched...

Johnny leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and chuckles, flashing you an easy, charming smile. "Hey... Looking for something to warm you up?"

Please say you've already found what you're looking for. Please say you want him to warm you up. With his hands. His mouth. His cock. Please say–

"Yeah... Do you guys do hot chocolates?"

"It's not on the menu, but I've got my own stash in the back," he says as he looks you up and down. But how could you blame him? What with your... everything! This is your fault, honestly. Dirty, dirty, little thing, wearing a white shirt in the rain. You know what you’re doing. Something sinister and heated bubbles in his gut. A thick, molten, syrupy desire, a primal need. A sort of instinctive pull, a fish lured in by the soft glow of an angler fish. A moth to a flame. Helpless but to stare, slack jawed, and fighting back drool, as you stare up at him expectantly, He smiles, his lips spreading further as he notices your flustered state, how you shift under his stare, biting your lip as he looks you up and down. Logically, it’s a nervous reaction. But, in Soap’s quickly spiraling mind, it’s a clean indicator that you want him too. "I'll make one, special for you, darling."

Your eyes sparkle, your smile tears the breath from his lungs. "Really? Oh my god, thank you."

Soap grabs a mug from the shelf and twirls it around his finger. He pulls up his sleeves, bunching them around his mid biceps. He flexes, purposefully, showing off the hard-earned muscles in his arms, the scars, the prominent veins, his big, strong hands. Hands that would look so perfect around your neck. Or holding your wrists. Or deep between your shaking legs reaching deep and good, far past anything you could reach on his own. He wonders if you’re a crier. He hopes that you are.

Soap notices the way your eyes fall to the newly exposed skin. The way your jaw drops a little. The way you close your mouth. The way you glance away before quickly looking back. The way your throat bobs when you swallow...

Holy shit.

He can give you something else to swallow if you'll let him. Please let him.

He rolls his hips against the counter and lets out a stuttering breath through his nose. His lips part. His tongue feels thick and leaden in his mouth.

A moan bubbles in his throat, he disguises it as a cough. "Can..." He swallows another noise as he shifts his stance, achingly cock pressed against the teeth of his zipper. He makes a show of dusting the counter off, acting like he's tossed something into the bin so he can adjust his pants. "Can I get you anything else?"

Your eyes, gorgeous eyes, scan the menu and the display. "A cinnamon bun?" You ask, pointing to the delicacy through the glass case. "Please and thank you."

"You're in luck," he says, rutting against the counter again, as quick and harsh as he can without drawing attention. A part of him thoough, a sick, twisted, part of him that quickly spreads his mind like a weed, corrupting and poisoning, wants you to notice. Wants you to catch him. To punish him. "Just made a fresh batch... I've just got to head back and ice them."

"Oh, I'm fine with one of them from the display, you don't need to trouble yourself."

Oh, and how sweet you are...

You keep chewing on your bottom lip. Part of him wants to stop you, tell you that that’s his job. Wants to bite your lips until they’re raw and swollen.

He's fucked. Well and truly fucked.

He smiles. You’re blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking in his eyes. "No trouble at all... It's my pleasure."

And it is his pleasure. Very much so.

He comes out a bit later, a little out of breath. A little red in the face. A couple buttons undone on his shirt.

"Hot in there," he says with a smile, setting the mug and a cinnamon bun on the counter in front of you. He sets another little plate down, a doughnut. Chocolate frosting with a cream filling, the sticky white substance still pouring from the hole.

"I uh, I didn't order that," you say with a little, awkward laugh. "The doughnut."

"I know you didn't, sweet thing... It's a new recipe I've been trying out. Trying to get right... Mind telling me what you think? It's free of charge, promise."

"Oh," you blink, staring up at him with those wide eyes. God, how he wants to see those eyes watering. How he wants to see those eyes tearing up as you choke on his cock. How he wants to see you cry as he fucks you. You smile. "Thank you!"

You pay for your drink and dessert and blink up at him from under your lashes. Your smile turns shy as you chew your lip. Stop it. Stop it. You’re going to make him lose his mind. You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to. "Keep the change."

He smiles. "Thanks."

You find a seat in the corner and settle in the corner with a book. Soap keeps an eye on you the whole time. Watches you as much as he can without attracting unwanted attention.

His cock throbs in his pants when he sees you take your first bite of the cinnamon roll. When you wipe at the icing with your thumb and lick it clean. He watches with delight as you eat and drink, rolling his hips against the counter in time with the bobbing of your throat as you swallow.

Soap watches you with rapt attention as you enjoy the desserts. His lips parted, jaw slack, drooling. He wonders if he could convince you to lick it away. He is so glad that he stopped by the office to record the security footage. He’s going to be watching this over and over and... Fuck!

With a final grind of his aching cock against the counter, his boxers are flooded with a wet, sticky warmth. He mourns it going to waste like that. His cum belongs in you. Your tight pussy, round ass, past your full lips.

"How was it?" He asks, breathless, when you return your dishes to the counter. He shifts his stance, hiding the wet spot in his pants. He's not embarrassed that he came in his pants just from watching how your throat moves as you swallow. At watching the way that you lave your tongue over your fingers, licking the thick glaze away with a spit-slicked tongue.

He just doesn't want to weird you out.

"It was amazing," you say. "I really liked the balance of the sweet with the salty... Sometimes the sugar is just... Too much."

"I agree," Soap says, breathless. He swallows a lump in his throat. "I agree."

You become a regular from then on. He always gets you freshly baked items, from the back. No matter how busy.

He's not supposed to alter the recipes. But he doubts the lady will mind that he made a change. All he did was put a little love into the recipes. A little bit of himself in the sour cream glaze.

Keep your eyes peeled for a part 1.5 involving what soap did in the back room!

Comments and reblogs help motivate!

Masterlist!

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #x reader #dark fic #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #nastybaker!soap

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softlyspector · 10 months

Note

please please pleaseeeee give me forehead kisses with joel miller because this man is an expert in forehead kissing i just know it 🫠🫠🫠

thank you very much ily you’re super cool

summary: joel comes home looking a little worse for wear.

pairing: joel miller x gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: anon, you are just so right, he is an expert in forehead kisses. i combined this with "picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face" because i couldn't help myself.

Spring sunshine is still fading on the horizon in a blaze of shell pink and midnight blue, when Joel climbs the front steps.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the last rays filtering through the new growth on the tree that overhangs the porch. “You’re looking a little worse for wear.”

Joel grunts when he thumps down on the porch swing next to you, making the chain rattle. “Rough day,” he answers too mildly for someone with blood drying on the side of his neck. He bends to unlace his boots without another word.

You fold down the page of the battered paperback in your hands. It’s a much loved copy, one of your favorites that Joel had found years ago in a ransacked bookstore. It’s water stained and creased, the pages yellowed and crinkled beneath your fingers. The spine is duct taped together and the cover is peeling.

Joel tried to give you a new copy a few years back, with a glossy cover and smooth pages, but you’ve been unable to part with the one in your hands.

It’s been through so much with you, and in a lot of ways, it reminds you of Joel. It reminds you of the two of you together, and how far you’ve come.

“Hm,” you acknowledge his words. You consider him with a tilt of your head, setting your book to the side. His gray hair is mussed, sticking up in tufts. A thin line of blood in his beard tinges it red. The collar of his jacket is askew. “Certainly looks that way.”

“Damn clicker got the jump on me,” he grumbles.

“A clicker?” You repeat, your shoulders drawing up, tension knotting along your spine.

There must be alarm in your tone though you try to hide it, because he turns his head to the side to meet your eyes, finally working off one of his boots. “I’m fine. Not bitten.”

Something loosens in your chest, strangling the soft spots of your heart. “Well, I’d hope they wouldn’t let you come back,” you say brusquely.

“Mm.” His other shoe comes off in his hand and he finally sits back with a groan.

You take his hand into yours, tracing the veins in the back of his hand as you scoot closer to him, until your thigh is pressed against his. “Where’s Ellie?”

“With those friends of hers, probably. Not curfew yet.”

“Suppose not.” Joel shifts his hand to thread his fingers through yours, squeezing tightly, a quiet reassurance. “You get somethin’ to eat yet?”

“I was waiting for you,” you say, reaching up to pluck a twig from his hair and then a tiny leaf. “My, it does look like you took a tumble,” you tease, flicking both away.

He rolls his eyes, “Hush, sweetheart.” His eyes flick over your face, a delicately fond expression pulling over his features.

It’s a look you’ll never really get used to, not when directed at you at least.

A look that is reserved only for you.

“You still reading this old thing?” Joel asks, picking up your book with his free hand. “Christ, sweetheart, you know we got other books, right?”

“This one is my favorite though.”

He nods semi-thoughtfully, flipping it over to read the back. “Can’t even tell what it's about,” he says with a shake of his head. The book is so worn that most of the words have rubbed off the flimsy cover.

“Well, maybe you can borrow it sometime. Now that you have those glasses maybe you can actually see to do it.”

He chuckles and puts it back down. It’s a nice sound, Joel’s laugh. Usually he just snorts and rolls his eyes. “Maybe you can just read it to me. Like one of them books on tape.”

“Sure, Joel,” you roll your eyes and lean into his shoulder. “Are you alright? You need checked out or anything?”

“Sounds like you’re worried about me,” he teases. “I’m fine, just a little bruised,” he says more soberly when you level a glare at him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s so special about that damn book? I got you that newer one, didn’t I?”

You reach up and swipe a streak of dirt from Joel’s forehead, cupping his cheek for a moment before you let your touch slip away. “You did. But, you gave me this one first,” you pick it up and toy with the frayed edge of a piece of peeling duct tape. “You remembered it was my favorite and picked it up. You pretended like you didn’t know though, and made a show of making me come look at it after we cleared that bookstore out.”

Joel doesn’t answer and you tip your chin up to meet his gaze.

He clears his throat and glances away. “Hard to keep track and all,” he says gruffly, like it all wasn’t precisely archived in his mind. “Between your books and Ellie’s damn comics.”

You roll your eyes, watch him squint into the dusk that’s rapidly falling over the porch, your quiet little street. He’s aged the last few years. His hair is grayer, the crinkles by his eyes deeper.

He’s as pretty as he’s always been, in a rough, bruised kind of way.

“Joel,” you say clearly. “I won’t get rid of it because you gave it to me and it went through a lot with both of us. It’s like it's us, in a way.”

He nods slowly at you, before leaning down to gather up his boots.

You smile at his back, turning away to pick up where you’d left off in your book, when his boots thump back down onto the wooden floorboards.

Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he’s gathered you up against him. One arm rests around your back, his opposite hand cups your jaw to draw you closer to him when his lips press against your forehead.

You close your eyes to the sensation of his lips against your skin, the scrape of his beard against your eyebrow. Joel’s hand shifts from your cheek to cradle the back of your skull in a touch that’s so gentle it nearly feels unreal.

He holds you there for a long moment. His chest rises and falls with the slow intake of breath, like he’s deliberately trying to keep it even.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s breathing you in, inhaling you one long breath at a time.

You do the same, swearing that you can feel his heartbeat echoing beside yours. He smells like the woods, like fresh leaf and grass, and soil. Beneath that, leather and gunpowder.

His arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against his chest. It’s quiet, the sounds of crickets starting up, the sounds of night pouring in as you dig your fingers into his shirt, holding him there.

Eventually, he pulls back, tilting your head back to look into your eyes for a brief moment when you blink them open.

Darkness cocoons the street, the porch, the two of you. “Hi,” he says, like you haven’t been sitting there talking for a while, his thumb stroking a slow path down the side of your cheek. “I take it you didn’t fight any clickers today?”

“Clicker free day for me,” you smile.

“Good,” he gets to his feet with a groan, picking his boots up in one hand. “Let’s get somethin’ to eat, find that damn kid.”

You smile and start to stand when Joel leans over you again and presses one last kiss to the crown of your head. He tips your head up and pecks your lips too, before he turns and disappears into the house.

You aren’t sure what you did to warrant the affection, but you’ll always take what you can get.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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