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jaebeomsbitch · 7 months

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The Touch of a Prince (E.M.)

Summary: You really really like your boyfriend's hands.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, pure smut, explicit, lots of petnames, p in v, banana cream pies. Not edited like always

GIF credit: @foggystreetlights

A/N: just discovered the person who cosplays eddie and makes a whole bunch of eddie gifsets....

It was Eddie’s day off from the tattoo shop. He’d spent the day cleaning the house and when he was finally done he decided to work out an idea for a song. You’d come home about three hours into him practicing, a pencil in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration but the one thing you could not get your eyes off of was his hands. The way the flexed with every movement, the way his veins popped when he’d move his hand up.

“You almost done?” You murmur, eyes scaling your boyfriend.

“Hmm?” He hums distracted but his eyes turn towards yours catching the tail end of your ogling. His lip immediately curving upward in a smirk.

“Why? Is my princess in need of her valiant knight’s services?” He says dramatically.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly nodding your head slowly as you scoot back on the couch.

“Well if duty calls” he says, placing his guitar back on its stand. His heavy footsteps frantic as he all but practically runs towards you. He jumps on the couch with a thud, the springs creaking in protest.

“You’re gonna fucking break it” you laugh. The two of you bought this shitty couch after moving in together. Before Eddie had become popular in the local tattoo scene. You could afford a better one but why waste something that is practically new?

“I was told an urgent matter needed my services” he says pressing kisses to your neck. You can’t help but laugh as you’re pinned under his body.

“Okay well not that!” You say pushing his face away.

“Mhm, okay then what does my precious princess in need of?” He says still using that stupid accent.

Your nose brushes his softly, eyes lashes fluttering against each other. “Do you trust me?” You whisper. A stupid smile adorns his face.

“Course I trust you. Trust that you won’t bite my dick off when it’s in your mouth. Did you know the force in a human jaw could do that? Like just cleanly” he rambles, getting distracted like he always does. He makes a chomping motion.

“Take it right off” he says, getting off of you dragging you with him until you’re sitting with your legs across his lap.

“God you’re so…” you say, making a face at him with face annoyance but there’s a little smile on your face.

“Hot?” He says with a smirk.

“No-“ you try to say but he interrupts.

“Charming? Handsome? God, keep going” he continues.

“Annoying” you say, interrupting him before he keeps going.

“Well luckily most hot people are annoying” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re insufferable too,” you scrunch your nose at him with a disgusted face. He decides to attack, his fingers pressing at your sides.

“No! No-“ you try to seat his hands away but you’re laughing uncontrollably as he tickles you.

“You don’t call me annoying or insufferable when I’ve got my cock in you” he laughs.

“Please- stop!” You heave for breath seeking reprieve. He lets go of you with a chuckle, going back to his position on the couch as you pant for breath, your stomach aching from forced laughter.

“God, I was trying to ask you a question!” You whine as you sit up. Your hair all fucked up from thrashing around, face flushed. You lean your shoulder on the couch cushion as you look at Eddie.

“My name is actually Eddie,” he says with a smug smile.

“That’s it! I’ve had it” you grumble a twinge of annoyance creeping into you as you cover his mouth and straddle his lap.

“Oohh kinky,” he muffles into your palm.

“Eddie seriously, I’m gonna lose my shit” you warn. He immediately holds his hands up in surrender. You let go of his mouth with a pointed glare, his hands finding their way to your ass.

“Yes, Princess?” He says with a smile on his lips.

“No, now I don’t want to. You’re being annoying” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay fine- fine I’m sorry” he says cupping your face and peppering your cheeks with kisses until you relax against him.

“What did you need?” He says softly, pushing your hair back out of your face.

“I wanted to do something but you’re gonna find it weird” you mumble.

“Weird? Like the time I let you hold my dick when I peed?” He says, one of his eyebrows quirked, clear amusement in his tone.

“Eddie!” You whine.

“Okay, okay” he laughs.

“Let me see your hand” you demand.

“You gonna read my palm or something?” he asks putting his right hand in front of you.

“Something like that” you say, you fold his fingers in and unfold them trying to build the courage to do it. To do what you’d been thinking about doing amongst the other dirty thoughts in your mind.

“You just wanted to play with my hands?” He laughs softly. You roll your eyes finally just sticking his pointer finger into your mouth. You lick at it, swirling your tongue around it.

“What are you doing?” He asks, amusement lost from his voice. Instead he sounds out of breath, his free hand squeezes your ass, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around his digit.

Groaning, Eddie leans back on the couch, closing his eyes as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can feel the press of his half hard cock as you sit on his lap as he massages your ass with one hand.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he mutters.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

“I’m not doing anything” you murmur laying your head on his shoulder. You spread out his fingers licking in between the spaces then take his pointer finger into your mouth sucking on it.

Panting, Eddie watches with difficulty as you lick and suck on his fingers, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

"Do you have any idea how sexy that is?" he asks hoarsely.

You look up at Eddie with your big doe eyes. Cocking your head to the side innocently as you take in his middle finger and start sucking on it. This was your payback for Eddie’s annoying behavior.

Eddie shakes his head, rolling his hips up to gain friction.

“Fuck, need to be inside you princess” he pants. You hum around his fingers, sucking on them harder at the proposition. His one hand fumbled with the button on his jeans and yet he perfectly undoes it and unzips the zipper. You look at him with a questioning gaze.

“What? I have a lot of practice” he murmurs, cheeks glowing red. He’s cute when he’s embarrassed. Nonetheless he pulls his jeans and underwear down, his cock bobbing out of the fabric. It lightly slaps against his stomach, smearing precum over his maiden tee.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth, you can’t help but whine at the loss but he doesn’t give you a second to think. He’s yanking down his boxers that you’re wearing, thumb finding your clit as you kick them off.

“S-shit” you moan pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

“You’re so fucking far” he grunts, pulling you closer by the waist. You can’t help but laugh breathlessly but then his thumb is rubbing tight circles on your bundle of nerves, your thighs trembling.

“F-fuck okay okay okay” you pant not even knowing why you’re saying okay but you’re hovering over his cock. Eddie holds it at the base aligned with you perfectly to sink into him like an animal in quicksand.

“Not until I have your fingers” you whisper, swallowing hard. You feel like you’re slowly losing any semblance of humanity, like poison drips into your blood stream. Converting you into a primal cock hungry whore.

“Always have to draw things out don’t you?” He pants while shaking his head. His thumb leaving your clit, middle finger slipping into your sopping pussy.

“Mmm f—f” you stutter, the press of his warm metal rings at your labias having you forgetting your name. You look down, the veins on his inner wrist flexing, the bracelet on his wrist slightly bouncing with the movement, his eyes staring at the way you take his finger then sliding in his ring finger. Stretching you out as you start rocking your hips against his palm. You grip his shoulders harder.

“G-guh fuck Eddie” you moan, your head dropping in defeat as he curls his fingers.

“That’s it, ride my fucking hand” he all but growls. If he’s gonna be tortured he might as well enjoy it.

“Look so fucking pretty like this, Sweetheart. Got you all dumb from just my hand. I see the way you look at ‘em. Think you’re smart, huh? Looking away from me when I look over” he chuckles, his free hand gripping your hip moving you to ride his hand harder with each hard press of his fingers.

“C-can’t help it” you moan. Heat pools at your core, the familiar burn feels like lava, your face pressed desperately into his shoulder. If it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand on your hips you don’t know if you could move.

“Aww the poor little princess can’t help it? Can’t help imagining me fucking your pussy just like this? Getting your juices all over my fucking rings?” He grunts with the effort as he feels your muscles start to twitch.

“That’s it, cum on my fucking fingers. Show me how much you fucking love ‘em” he pants in your ear.

“S-shit. Oh fuck” you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the burn deep in your core. Your clit rubbing over his palm, his fingers ramming into your g-spot over and over again, the hard press of his metal rings. It isn’t long maybe a few seconds that you cum all over his hands.

It drips down his thick fingers, smearing all over his rings, creating a small puddle in his palm. Fuck… you’d never cum this much and all because of his hands. He slides his fingers out of you carefully as you heave for air.

The heat ghosting over his neck as you relax in his hold.

He tuts, ”s’only your first own, Princess. Still gotta ride my cock like you’re riding a first prize stallion.”

“S-shit y-yeah just.. just give me a sec would ‘ya?” You gasp. He runs your back softly until you sit up on his thighs pulling back to look at his face.

“There she is” he grins, using his clean hand to brush stray pieces of hair out of your face. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for that” you murmur shyly under the intense gaze of your boyfriend. He looked like a man starved for days looking at his first meal.

“That? Oh sweetheart… you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you,” he says with a cocky grin.

“Now, I believe I was told that my Princess likes my hands. Hmm? S’that true sweetheart?” He asks almost condescendingly. You nod meekly not knowing where this is heading.

He grips your hips pulling you up. Your thighs tremble lightly as you’re back in the same position as before.

“Think you can take it baby? Have a surprise for you, if you’re a good girl” he says, rubbing his thumb softly over your hipbone.

“Yeah- Yes I can,” you nod. You shift closer, your knees pressing into the sides of his hips as you slowly sink down into him.

“Oh- fuck” you whine, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls pulse around him, already slick with your cum, coating his cock in it. He tilts your head up to look at him.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours Princess,” he murmur, his stomach straining not to fuck you hard like he wants. He knows you need him to be gentle right now. You oblige opening up your plump lips with uncertainty.

He slides his cum covered fingers into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself. His other hand finding your hip slowly pulling you towards him in a gentle roll of your hips. You moan around his fingers for a second time.

Your tongue laps up your cum gathering it on the tip as you start moving your hips on your own. Instead of bouncing you choose to swivel your hips, keeping a figure eight.

This causes Eddie’s cock to stay buried deep inside of you, the meeting point of the two rings forcing his cock to press into your g-spot. You curl your toes, gasping around his wrinkled fingers. Fuck, you’re so sensitive. Eddie could sneeze and you’d cum again. Nonetheless you flex your stomach ignoring the way your pussy flutters around him.

Like a deep primal urge in you knows, knows that you need your fill.

“Fuck, that’s it” he pants, his desperation growing. He slides his fingers out of your mouth, the skull ring staying behind, you swirl it around your tongue cleaning it and bring it forward to show him just as he grabs your hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna fucking kill me” he gasps out, his big hands forcing you to bounce on his cock.

It’s like you lose all inhibitions as you feel the slam of his cock curving into you.

“Oh- God. Fuck- fuck” you moan loudly. It gets harder and harder to stave off your orgasm as he presses his back into the couch pistoning upwards.

“S-shit you’re gonna fucking break me” you gasp. Your stomach flexes painfully, your clit rubbing into the thatch of curly hair above his cock ever time he slams you down into him. You pull at the couch cushions behind his head desperately.

“I- I can’t Eds” you cry, every fibre of your body is telling you to let go. Eddie feels the familiar tug at his balls, a shiver running up his spine.

“Look at me,” he grunts.

You try and strengthen your neck but all you can manage is to press your forehead into his.

“You’re mine, always fucking remember that” he says fiercely.

“I thought I was the princess” you laugh breathlessly.

“And I’m your fucking prince” he moan.

You whine “don’t wanna cum yet.” You press up on your knees slamming down harder onto his cock. The only thing preventing you from falling is Eddie’s hands on your hips and your grip on his shoulders

“Love your cock to much wanna stay like this forever” you moan.

Laughing, Eddie pulls you closer, his lips finding yours. His tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting your cum on your tongue.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "I'll never get tired of being inside you.”

“Fuck- come on princess, cum for me” he encourages.

“No no no no no” you whine but the heat keeps pooling and shocks travel up your spine as you get closer and closer.

Hearing your desperate pleas, Eddie knows you're on the edge. He wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you even closer as he thrusts into you with abandon.

"That's it," he praises. "Just let it happen."

“No Eddie,“ you whine but your pussy still clenching around him, your stomach tightening with effort as you try to stave off your pleasure.

“Fuuuck” you gasp your neck flexing as you grit your teeth.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it” he grunts rubbing right circles on your clit. Your velvet walls clench harder around him, his cock making you completely dumb.

You let go involuntarily, everything all too much. You cum hard trembling above him, collapsing into his chest.

“Fuck-beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he grunts.

“Cum inside me,” you pant out.

“What?” His eyebrows practically fly to his hairline.

“Cum inside me” you say more urgently, shocks running up your spine.

“Y- fuck you can’t say shit like that to me” his eyes roll back and his lips part. He cums inside you with a loud groan.

You sigh as you get comfortable on his lap. His cum and cock still buried deep inside you. You press a soft kiss to the side of his head

“My pretty boy” you whisper.

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet.

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price headcanons #price headcanons #captain price headcanons #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #john price x y/n

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year

Text

*In the housewarden meeting*

Kalim: Who wants to go to the cuddle room after this?

Leona: I'm not going to wait for this meeting to end. *exits the room*

Vil: Leona has become addicted with that cuddle service.

Azul: Haven't you tried it yourself, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Have you?

Azul: No. But I have sent Jade and he refused to tell what the cuddle service is like.

Kalim: Maybe he just wants you to experience it yourself!

Riddle: What was it like, Kalim?

Kalim: Oh! It was fun! We danced, we talked, we cuddled, and they even gave me a plushie to bring back to my dorm!

Vil: That sounds...

Idia: Childish.

Vil: Yes.

Kalim: So? As long as it's fun!

Azul: Maybe I should try this cuddle service myself like Kalim suggested.

Riddle: That means you have to wait because Leona went there first.

Vil: I've heard it was a five-hour session for him. Talk about being spoiled.

Riddle: I think there's nothing to discuss now. I'm taking my leave. *as he leaves the room, he could still hear Kalim elaborates his cuddle experience*

Riddle: *is standing in front of the cuddle room* *hesitates if he should really go inside or not*

Riddle: It's already late. And all the classes have ended. And the door's closed so maybe—

MC: *opens the door*

Riddle: ...

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* The cuddle room is open until midnight and opens before the classes start.

Riddle: U-Um...

MC: Come in. *opening the door wide*

Riddle: ...

Riddle: *before he walks in, noticed that the floor is covered with soft cushion*

Riddle: Excuse me. Do I need to take off my shoes?

MC: If that's what you're comfortable to.

Riddle: ...

Riddle: *takes off his shoes and leaves it at the doorstep*

MC: Riddle Rosehearts. Yes?

Riddle: Yes. That's my name.

MC: *smiles* Please take a seat.

Riddle: *has been told to make himself comfortable and he has been doing so for the past hour*

Riddle: Isn't it the time yet to cuddle?

MC: *sitting next to him* *chuckles*

MC: Yes. If you're ready.

Riddle: *moves in front of them*

MC: ...

Riddle: ...

*silence*

Riddle: *thinking* This is more difficult than I thought.

MC: *chuckles* You look sleepy, Riddle.

Riddle: Huh? Oh. Yes. I usually sleep around this time.

MC: Then may I suggest that I cuddle you while you're asleep?

Riddle: Is that possible?

MC: Yes. Don't worry. I'll be sure to carry you back to your dorm before the night falls.

Riddle: N-No, thank you. I'll be awake before that time.

Riddle: *is being teased by Trey and Cater the next morning*

Trey: The professional cuddler had to carry you back to the dorm because you didn't wake up before midnight.

Cater: And you refused to let go when they were putting you in bed.

Riddle: Why were you still even awake during that hour?!

Trey and Cater: We were waiting for you, of course.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst riddle #twst leona #twst kalim #twst azul #twst idia #twst vil #twst trey #twst cater #twst professional cuddler!mc

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Business Trip

husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Nanami hates going on business trips now that he has you in his life. Even with food and hotel expenses paid for by his company, it’s not enough to distract him from the fact that he misses you. The two of you have the perfect solution for this, which includes a vivid imagination and the help of a little, but mighty, toy. cw: sex-toy use (vibrator), phone sex, explicit sexual content, language, Nanami is a bit mean, dirty talk, use of pet-names (honey, sweetie, princess), reader is called whore and slut (endearing lol), just pure nasty smut. Author’s Notes: More husband!Nanami smut! I was inspired to write this because I just purchased my very first vibe two weeks ago and boy, is it something. Hope you like this filth! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/cafekitsune! Tagging the lovely @liliorsstuff-blog bc I love her and Nanami is her husband. 😉

Nanami has a hard time when he has to go out of town for a business trip. He never used to mind it before; in fact, he liked being sent away to a different city every once in a while, especially when the food and hotel expenses were paid for. However, ever since the two of you have been together, he dreads them because it means time away from you. And he hates being apart from you. Absolutely hates it. And to be honest, you hate it too.

This time, he’s sent to Osaka for a convention, staying at a swanky hotel covered by his company. He takes full advantage of this, ordering room service, indulging in a bottle or two of liquor from the mini bar. He even wraps himself in a fluffy robe after showering, sitting in bed with hair still wet at the tips. A single tap of his phone and he’s calling you, waiting a single ring for you to pick up. “Hi baby!” you answer, his mood instantly lifted at the sound of your cheery voice.

“How are you, princess?”

“Good. Just in our room now. How was your day?”

He spends the next several minutes recounting today’s festivities, including a funny story about him sneaking a second complimentary bento for lunch. You rant to him about your coworkers’ petty drama involving missing office supplies and stolen meals from the fridge. You both share what you ate for dinner, you complimenting the picture he sent earlier of the full spread ordered through room service. He sends you a quick snapshot of his current view of his hotel room, including his bare feet sticking out from under the robe.

“Your room is so nice. Look at your toes!” you laugh. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

“Not yet. Still waiting for my hair to dry.” He pauses, contemplating for a split second before asking, “Are you in bed now?”

“Yup, all snuggled under the covers.”

He smiles to himself, picturing you cocooned in the thick comforter the two of you share, curled to the right side of the bed where you usually sleep. “Do you miss me?”

“Of course I do. I miss you so much.”

Without thinking, he spreads his legs wider, getting more comfortable against the pillows. “I miss you too, princess. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence, tension hanging heavy in the static noise between you. Nanami decides to stop beating around the bush. It’s obvious what you both want. You’ve been married long enough, together even longer, there’s no shame or secrets anymore. “Wish I could fuck you right now,” he confesses.

You moan through the speaker, thighs splayed, reaching towards your pussy. Tonight, you’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, his scent lingering on the fabric, making you feel safe and secure in his absence. You sink into the cushions, whispering a breathy, “Baby.”

“Tell me what you’re wearing right now.”

“Just your t-shirt and my underwear.”

“Oh yeah? One of your silky ones?”

You hum, confirming his suspicions as he loosens the knot of his robe, folding back the cotton to expose his hardening cock. “God, I bet you look so good right now.”

You giggle softly, lifting the hem of the shirt past your stomach, fingers brushing your skin delicately, imagining his instead.

His voice is low, thick with lust. “I want to hear you come. Can you do that for me?”

“Mm-hm,” you respond, slipping underneath the waistband, teasing your clit with the pad of your middle finger.

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, already knowing what you’re doing. “Not with your fingers, honey. Use the vibrator, remember?”

A whine escapes your mouth while you reach for the drawer to retrieve the small toy, the one you bought recently to supplement nights alone like this. He was the first to test it out on you, though. Made sure it was good enough to satisfy your needs. The recent memory of him pressing the fluttering tip to your clit, pumping wet fingers in and out of your cunt, has you throbbing.

You push your panties past your knees, sliding them off completely at your ankles. With the blanket hastily stripped from your body, you spread your thighs wide, completely exposed from the waist down. A small bead of lube is just enough to get it slick. You rub the oiled tip up and down your pussy, finger on the button, anticipating the intense sensation.

“Don’t turn it on yet,” he demands. He wraps his hands around the base of his cock, slow strokes to start. “Tease it a little bit. Just like I do it.”

Your husband always likes to take his time with you, no matter how desperate and aching for him you are. And when you’re two hundred plus miles away from each other, you predict he’s going to draw this out as long as he possibly can, both for his pleasure and yours. Not that you’re complaining.

You play with your clit, tingling bud pulsing against the smooth exterior of the vibrator. He huffs, “Don’t hold back. I want you dripping onto to the sheets. Can you do that for me, honey?”

Another moan escapes your lips, envisioning the mess you’re about to make with his sultry voice guiding you through it. “I can’t do it alone,” you whine, finger right on the trigger, raring to go. “Help me, Kento.”

“I’m right here, princess. Don’t worry. Just listen to me, okay? Follow my every word.”

You nod, hypnotized by each syllable uttered from his lust laden lips, like an obedient slut. You’ve almost forgotten that you’re alone in bed, convinced he’s whispering filthy instructions directly in your ear beside you, watching you unravel with the dormant toy pressed to your pussy. “Can you turn it on now, honey?”

He’s gentle and affectionate in the beginning, hiding wicked desires behind endearing pet-names. Soon, he’ll start taunting you, tormenting you for being so fucking sensitive, so fucking needy. The two sides of him work together in perfect sync, angel and devil, both determined to make you lose yourself in the throes of passion. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing you, or in this case, hearing you, completely unhinged for him, and only him.

When you finally push the button, the low buzz playing in the background, he can’t help but increase the pace of his strokes. He pictures your thighs open wide, the shaking tip nestled between your delicate pussy lips, the vibrations stimulating your clit, radiating down to your pointed toes. Head thrown back into the pillows, cheeks hot, tongue sticking out in that adorable dumb expression you make whenever you’re being fucked. It won’t take long for you to climax, not when he’s on the phone guiding you as he jerks his twitching cock. Just the thought of your body spasming from exhilaration is enough to get him off.

“That’s it, right on your clit, honey. Does it feel good?” He knows it does, judging by how the only response he receives are your shameless moans. He chuckles, stroking himself faster. “I can’t understand you, honey. Does it feel good?” Still no reply, he growls, “Answer me.”

You choke on your spit, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. When you catch your breath, you let out a trembling, “Yes!”, resulting in another sinister laugh from him.

“Feels so good, you can’t even speak properly, can you? Too fucked out to even think, huh? Nasty slut.” His devilish side kicks in, hell-bent on hearing you orgasm, to have you coming so hard you spill onto the sheets. “I married such a whore, didn’t I? That’s what you are, a fucking whore. You’re so fucking slutty for me, I love it.”

You’re a whimpering mess now, the vibe sending you into a spiral, clit aching from the relentless tremors. There’s not a coherent thought in your brain; you’re incapable of admitting to him that you’re close. You let him figure it out when you cry out, “Fuck!”, legs quivering and stomach tight from the intense high.

“Give me your fucking orgasm, baby. Let me fucking hear it,” he spits out, sweat forming on his forehead. He’s since stripped his robe off entirely, laying on top of It while he masturbates to the sounds of his precious slut doing exactly what he wants her to do. What he needs her to do.

When you’re finished, you slide the toy lower so that it’s not directly on your sensitive bud. The fluttering tip starts making soft splashing noises at your arousal, indicating just how fucking wet you are. You place the phone right on your abdomen, hoping he can hear the lewd squelches from your pussy. For the first time since you began, you’re able to formulate a proper sentence, body relaxed into the mattress. “Can you hear it, baby? Can you hear how wet I am for you?”

He definitely can. “Ah, fuck,” he swears, fisting his shaft faster. His hand is not enough; it never is. But he lets his imagination do the rest for him. He knows how fucking juicy his pretty wife’s pussy is. Your perfect, luscious pussy lips puffy from overstimulation, covered in sticky sweet cum. He’d do anything for a taste of it right now, to run his tongue along your glistening folds, gather your slick and swallow it to quench his thirst. Dip his finger inside that gushy entrance only to stick it into his mouth, slurping every last drop. He admires the mental image before flicking his wrist with fervor, pumping his cock until he shoots his load onto his stomach.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the static noise and muted buzzing from the phone settling in the silence. Nanami looks down, inspecting the wreckage splattered across his abs, leaking down his side and onto the robe beneath. He runs his fingers through his hair, forehead tacky with perspiration, exhaling with a satisfied smile before calling out, “Honey? Are you still there?”

It's only now that he remembers that the low hum is from the vibrator, still buzzing against your supple skin. Reserved moans growing louder as you circle the toy back to your needy clit, ready for another round.

Nanami smirks to himself, holding the phone closer to his ear, rock hard again. It’s going to be a long, fulfilling night.

#kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #Kento Nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk nanami

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 months

Text

A Benevolent Hand

Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, masturbation (Fem), fingering, dirty talking, degradation(?), Khonshu wants to actually fuck you but won't admit it because he's a prideful shithead

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: did I stay up until ten last 4am to spit this shit out? Enjoy whatever horny poetry my sleep deprived brain supplies you. Be free, my horny little doves *yeets y'all into a field*

Also idk why but this gif does things to me

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dull, dead night. There were no evildoers to stop, no killers to send to the sands of the Duat.

Even Badr told you to go home and rest, you deserved it after your diligent work and devotion to your god.

But, of course... "settling in" for the night wasn't something you know how to do anymore.

You've been Moon Knight for so long you weren't even sure what normal people did during quiet nights at home, anymore.

You ate, showered, exercised in the cramped space of your seedy apartment, before sitting on the couch to idly flip through channels, clicking your tongue and reminding yourself to sign up for some streaming services or pirate some stuff at the local library.

You were so bored you settled on an old corny horror film from the 80s, R-Rated and strangely enough, uncensored. But then again, adult channels were still a thing apparently, so you settled in for some cheap blood and guts, stupid busty camp counselors and a masked killer.

But of course, the sex scenes were there, as well. It didn't show anything like porn would, but the actors did a good job of "having" sex beneath the covers, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they went at it like rabbits, panting and saying things to each other in shared breaths.

They were gonna die, that's how these things went. You have sex in a horror movie, you die. The psychos from Scream got that part right about the ole cliché.

But... The way they acted with each other, playing out the part of a couple very much in love and very horny had you... bothered.

You craved that kind of intimacy. Sure, you can go out and find someone to hook up with, have a forgettable one night stand with some idiot at a bar... but it didn't have the physical closeness that was acted out on the cheap flat screen in front of you.

Being a Fist of Khonshu was often lonely life. You couldn't engage in the seeming frivolity of a relationship that was seen every day you walked down the street. No bed warmed by another body, no good morning kisses, no... love?

You shoved those melancholy feelings aside for now, deciding to focus on the throbbing heat blossoming between your legs.

You bit your lip and slid your hand down your front, slipping it beneath the waistband of your pajamas and beneath your underwear, touching the slick wetness that began to coat and soak through the fabric covering you as the movie droned on.

Your fingers slowly started circling your clit as you breathed out a hot puff of air, eyes closing momentarily as you imagined it.

You, with a man who was head over heels with you, tangled up in the sheets.

Sweaty, groping hands pawing at slick skin, tongues dancing as you kissed like you were all the two of you needed to breathe--

Your fingers began to increase their movements, gathering your sweet juices on your fingers to lubricate your clit as you circled with more need.

You dropped your head onto the back of your couch with a pathetic groan, eyes closing as you let the mental image take a better shape, using the sounds from the TV to help mold the scene for you and your faceless, imaginary lover.

You grunted and kicked off your bottoms and underwear, discarding them on the floor as you spread your legs, one foot resting on the cushion to allow better access as your other hand groped at your breast over the fabric of your threadbare tank top.

"Fuck." You cursed aloud to yourself, falling back into your fantasy as your fingers played with your wet, puffed folds.

Your lover would slowly slink down your body, his lips and tongue pressing on your skin until his mouth reached your hip bones.

He would kiss your clit before licking up your slit, his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing it before he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves at the top.

You let out a heady moan, your toes curling as you held back the urge to plunge your fingers inside of you; for now settling on focusing your attention on your twitching clit.

You roll your hips in time with your hand, sliding your hand beneath your top to squeeze your breasts and roll your nipple between your fingertips.

Your lover would lick, kiss, nip, and tease you. He would rut his nose against your clit as his tongue--

Your mental fantasy bubble popped when you felt a very large, very warm, and very real hand slide down your torso, leaving a blazing trail beneath your skin in its wake.

"I sometimes forget how often mortals have these urges." The deep, raspy voice that the hand belonged to sighed out, his tone dripping with... disappointment? Boredom?

You snatch your hand away from your core and instinctively try to close your legs, to conceal your shame as the ancient being crowded around you, the dry smell of sand and spices assaulting your nose as his heat threatened to overwhelm you as he leaned over the back of the couch.

"K-Khonshu--!" You sputter, almost gawking as his bare hand slides to replace yours, his large, thick fingers spreading your lips and gathering your wetness on his digits.

"A rather needy thing, aren't you?" His voice murmured, almost a humored huff coming from him as his thumb circled your clit, sending bolts of pleasure jolt up your spine.

You bite your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to come out; shame blending in an intoxicating cocktail as your very ethereal and otherworldly benefactor began to pick up where you left off.

"You were being so loud a moment ago." He chastised, his fingers moving very quickly over your clit, his mind focused on how the little nub was swollen and twitched beneath his grasp.

"Don't bother concealing it from me, now, you needy little thing. You're like a cat in heat, right now." You could feel his voice rumble through your, your bones trembling and the deep baritone vibrating your clit as your hand gripped weakly at his forearm.

Your stubborn pride told you not to, not to give in, that this was probably one of the most shameful things a god could catch their follower doing, but...

Most gods wouldn't participate, now would they? Surely, they would chastise you, or walk away and leave you alone to tend to yourself.

When you didn't comply, he grunted and pulled his hand away, your dripping cunt lamenting the loss of his warm touch; hips chasing him for more.

The characters in the movie long moved past the intense love-making between the protagonists. One of them screamed as they found the dead body of one of their friends.

"Disobedient little runt. I will not give you what you want so easily, especially not if you defy me."

The threat was cold, and... oh, fuck it.

"I--I'm sorry." You whimpered, your head dropping back once more, this time hitting the stiff bicep of his other arm he used to brace himself on the couch.

"Good girl." He purred, his hand once more resuming his cruel, blissful torture.

You hiccuped and moaned, rolling your hips once more, this time into the touch of another as heat bloomed low in your belly; molten lava creeping through your veins like thick molasses.

Your chest heaved as his other arm curled around you, his hand taking the soft weight of your breast into his palm, kneading the mound of flesh and pulling your nipple in perfect synchronicity with his other.

"Oh, ffuuuh--" You panted, your body caged from behind as the ancient deity whose age was beyond counting helped you rub one out on your dingey, shitty couch in the dead of night.

You felt your womb throb, wanting desperately to have something inside--

"Poor thing." Khonshu tsk'd. "Could you not find someone--something--to satisfy you? Here you are, rutting against my hand like it is all you know how to do. Pathetic."

You moaned louder this time, arching your back at the words he spat at you. You weren't one for this kind of dirty talk... but having it come from him had your head spinning like you had just gotten off of the tilt-a-whirl on Coney Island--but in a sinfully delicious way.

"Perhaps I should have left you alone. You seemed quite consumed by your little fantasy." He mused, his thumb pressing so hard against your clit that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

"What were you imagining, little dove?" He rasped lowly, the dry, smooth side of his beak sweeping against you, feeling almost cool to your blazing cheek as you leaned into it.

"A nobody? Playing house with you? Laying you down in bed and devouring you like a banquet, perhaps?"

Oh, little did he know how close to the truth he actually was.

Or maybe he did know, and was using it to merely drive you over that mind-numbing precipice you wanted so desperately to fling yourself off of?

You could never tell with him, not when he was playing his mind games.

"I... Uh--ah--" You whine.

Khonshu's fingers pull up enough to slap your clit, the sudden feeling making your body jerk against him as the sound of your went cunt was heard even over the volume of your forgotten movie.

"I am reciting rhetoric. I will talk, and you will listen." He growls, his hand sliding down, his palm grinding against your clit as his fingers toy with your fluttering entrance.

Oh, you were so close, so fucking close. If he would just--

"I don't understand how mortals can function when urges like these are so strong." He sighed boredly, as if he wasn't currently fucking you with his hand, teasing your needy hole but not giving what you were truly craving...

"You are destined for more than a pathetic little house with a yard and a garden. You were meant to carry out my will."

That irked you, deep down. Yes, you knew attaining that very thing was highly unlikely for you, but he didn't have to insult you for fantasizing about being normal.

"F-fuck you." You managed to spit out, eyes crossing as they rolled back into your skull, your voice lacking the conviction and venom you wanted it to.

"You seem to be doing just that, my dear." He tipped his head to the side in a jerking motion.

He gave you not a moment to ponder his words as he hooked a thick finger inside of you, curving upwards and pressing hard against that textured spot inside your spongy walls, making you cry out and lift your hips off of the couch

"...In a manner of speaking." He sighed, pumping his finger in and out, paying extra attention to that oh so delicious spot within you, mapping out your very insides with methodical precision, quickly finding the method to get the best reactions out of you as your walls clenched down around him.

"Look at you, so desperate that you are letting me do this to you." Khonshu mocked softly, a chuckle coming from him as his fingers plucked your nipple and his palm ground hard onto your clit.

"Do you like this? Your god giving you such special attention?"

You keened, panting hard as your orgasm began to swell, each pulsing wave battering down the shores of pride and resolve you had struggled to build over the years of serving out the will of this... god.

"Ah... You are close, are you not?" He teased you, "Let's see..."

He managed to slip another finger inside of you, a groan actually rumbling out of him. You never thought you'd heard a sound like that from him.

But then again, you never expected him to finger-fuck you in your own couch before, either.

"You're tight, little bird." He growled, his voice strained as he scissored his fingers in and out of you, shoving you forcefully to the edge of the shores of your oblivion.

"When was the last time you bedded anyone other than your own hand? Months? Years?" He huffed, pumping them in and out of you rapidly, now.

You were so close you could feel the waters of sybaritism that you could taste the very petals of a lotus on the tip of your tongue.

"No wonder you have been so testy as of late."

Almost.

So close.

Just a bit more!

He leaned over, holding you to him almost like a child clutching a beloved toy; only it was far from something so innocent as you ride his hand like your life depended on it.

Your mouth open, your tongue just barely peaking over your bottom lip as you finally dove into the warm waters, silently waiting for the petals of a lotus to fall onto the wet, writhing muscle; drowning in each drop as your orgasm dragged you out to tide, drowning you as your god dabbled with your most intimate parts in such hedonistic fashion.

You were so lost in your post-coital haze that you didn't even register his hand leaving you until his body retracted; leaving you bereft of his warmth.

You turned your head in time, your eyes bleary, blood-shot and faraway as you watched him turn, toying with the sticky wetness coating his skin.

"Don't fall into this trap again, little dove." The god of the moon tells you over his shoulder, before disappearing in a cloud of mist.

But most certainly not before you had taken notice of the prominent bulge beneath his bandages and robes...

#moon knight #khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu moon knight #moon knight khonshu #khonshu smut

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 months

Note

Aemond is soon to be married to a political arrangement by their mother, so for his last unwed nameday, Aegon takes him to an elite brothel on the street of silk. He’s shy and doesn’t know what kind of woman he wants, so the owner of the brothel send him her most expensive girl to seduce him

A short little thing for Aemond (longer requests are coming, don't worry)

Warnings: 18+, prostitution,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Coming to the street of silk was Aegon’s idea. Unlike his brother, Aemond never visited brothels. They never appealed to him. He’d much rather sit in his chamber and read about the history of Valyria than bed a stranger for some gold coins. But Aegon insited that his brother needed to experience the ‘pleasure of fucking’ before he got wed to a highborn woman for the sake of politics.

Aemond had never seen a more bustling place. The sounds of ambiance music, laughter and whispered promises filled the space, accompanied by lewd moans in some corners. Women were dancing and parading around scantily clothed as men were pawing at them.

Holding back a grimace, the prince shifted his eye away from them. Despite his discomfort, he held no judgment for the people who made a living here. Not everyone was born in luxury.

Aegon nudged his brother forward. ‘’Pick the woman you want,’’ he urged as they entered.

Cloak still covering his head, Aemond gave him a quiet hum.

They separated and ventured into the brothel. Women attempted to seduce him, attracted by his tall stature and youthful face, but Aemond politely rejected their advances, not interested.

He spent a long time looking around, knowing Aegon would never let him leave the brothel without bedding a woman.

Exploring further, Aemond followed a narrow hallway lined with makeshift rooms crafted from old sheets, offering a semblance of discretion in an otherwise open environment. The muffled sounds of pleasure emanating from behind closed curtains were more explicit, making the prince not want to take a peek. He wasn’t into voyeurism or exhibitionism.

‘’Found anyone, brother?’’ Aegon asked after a few minutes, already having his own eyes on a few for himself.

The taller prince shook his head. ‘’I have not…’’

Aegon pursed his lips, observing around them. There were women of every body type, age and hair color, why did Aemond have difficulty picking one?

Then, it struck him. It wasn't a lack of options that troubled Aemond, but rather a mismatch of tastes. Perhaps he would prefer someone more elegant? Aegon searched for Maege, the owner of the brothel and asked if she had a higher priced woman for a special customer. The plump woman smiled, her eyes shifting to the white hair beneath his cloak. She nodded and Aegon handed her a few gold coins. It was much more than she was requesting, but he figured it would buy her silence too.

Maege showed the way to one of the private rooms of the brothel. They were expensive, therefore only used by exclusive customers.

Aemond thanked Maege as she opened the curtain for him, and told him to get comfortable. The room was about the size of his bathing chamber and had a large canopy bed dressed in red sheets and cushions ornate of a gold trim. Aemong felt like he had been transported to a completely different brothel. Candles were lit on the cherry-wood tables, bringing light to the room.

As he waited, echoes of other people's pleasure could be heard. Aemond tried to ignore them, telling himself that this will soon be over.

After a few minutes of waiting, you pulled the curtain open slightly and slipped inside in silence. Maege had given you a couple of rules before she sent you to the private room. 1. Do not ask the customer any personal questions and keep the talking to a minimum. 2. Treat him with your best services. 3. Never mouth to others about his identity.

You assumed he was a Lord, a married man. Not the Prince Aemond.

You curtsied upon recognizing him, bowing your head before straightening up.

Aemond glanced at you, his good eye surveying your figure from head to toe. Your hair cascaded down your back as if they hadn't been cut in years, rivaling with his own. Your body was covered by a long chiffon shift that didn't leave anything to the imagination. From the color of your nipples to the curve of your hips and even the slit between your legs.

He inhaled a deep breath. A part of him wanted to dismiss you, or simply sit in silence for long enough to trick Aegon that he fucked you, but something about you was calling to him.

‘’What do you want me to do, my Prince?’’ you asked, your peaked nipples poking against the thin, pale fabric.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #aemond hotd

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ginkgo-phyta · 3 months

Text

masterlist

ALL REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

pink - smut // purple - fluff // orange - crack

spencer reid

tantalizing pt.1 // pt.2 after not having enough time to fool around with spencer behind your coworkers' backs, you decide to visit his hotel room for some unadulterated fun...until you two get interrupted

let me take care of you // request n.1 you've been caring for spencer since his knee got shot. not being with you has left him feeling frustrated yet guilty about initiating anything. when you notice, you happily service him.

branded // request n.2 spencer had been released from prison not too long ago and although you'll never leave him, the truth is that some things have changed. to show how much he appreciates you, spencer gifts you a locket necklace...with his initial engraved in it.

i'll be your cushion // request n.3 spencer loves people-watching, meaning he's picked up on a few of your habits. when he understands why you cover sharp corners, he decides to do it for you one night

oh, that damn vest // blurb n.1 two scenarios of you telling spencer he looks mighty fine in his kevlar vest

aaron hotchner

makeshift pillow // request n.4 you and hotch have been in a relationship for a few months, only having told the team more recently. although it was mutually decided that pda was strictly off-limits, hotch falls asleep on your shoulder in the jet

"princess" treatment // blurb n.1 a little look into your relationship with aaron, how he treats you, and how it influences his son jack, too

above image by @milla984

#masterlist #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #spencer reid #aaron hotchner

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denim-devil · 9 months

Text

Rage | Robber!Frank Castle x Male!R

Summary - The burley “punisher” known for his menacing presence and crimes happened to stumble by your home…

A/N - A simple thought that became something more then it should of, although this has been sat in my drafts for weeks now, I just decided to leave it open, maybe a PT 2 if yall are interested idk…

The night was young.

You sigh, scribbling down notes, anything that came to mind to help with the current case “Murdock and Nelson” was handling.

A series of break-in’s littered the papers of Hell’s kitchen, the bastard had managed to wriggle himself from the grips of the N.Y.P.D, stalking the shadows of the night for his next victim.

Flopping back into your chair, the cushions helped relieve the strain between your shoulder blades from standing a while, bending over the desk that currently wasn’t visible, messy crumbled up balls of paper and yellow documents detailing the certain aspects fitting the onslaught of crime covering the varnished service.

The cool breeze of the city left you shivering and alone reminding you that the law firm you happened to call home for past couple of months was your intake of madness and the decent into a spiralling well of secludedness, you hadn’t had the time to truly enjoy the character Hell’s Kitchen was and will remain.

Once clasping the window shut, you stand, rubbing at your eyes, the tiredness that stuck to them like honey grew thick yet withstand-able, it was if the city was listening, creeping and sauntering, figuring you out, a loud clunk echo’s through your apartment, ringing from wall to wall.

You had guessed it was the stormy weather outside but curiosity killed the cat…didn’t it?

“Fuck-“

Ushering out profanities was your way of coping, taking course of a few steps, gradually making your way to the wooden frame of the door consoling the running thoughts swirling around in your fuzzy brain, you still before turning the bitter-cold handle.

It wasn’t a shock, it almost felt real, more then anything you had witnessed over the past coming months, there he stood, a tall burley man, broad shoulders and toned physique, dressed in all black and a ski mask to cover his identity.

Silence fell over the room but his confidence stood proud, his muscular arms falling to his side underneath the dim light the outside street lamps provided.

“I don’t want any trouble sir-“

You tremble at the thought of becoming his next victim, although he hadn’t killed, the offer still loomed over you like his figure. It wasn’t immediate but you had guessed something within him flicked like a light switch, he placed the bag he managed to fill with stolen goods, your goods, on the floor with the same clunk from before, moving himself closer until he began to invade your space.

“What…do-“

With the incapacity to speak, you stumble back into the wall, his brown hazel’s staring deeply, trying to figure you out. He huffed before licking at his dry lips, closing in on you like an animal with it’s prey, trapping you from a potential exit.

At first he huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf, eyes twitching and lips still, as intimidating as he was, curiosity did infact kill the cat. You waited, keeping your eyes trained on his own, watching for anything.

“You’re a little to curious for your own good”

His voice was low and growly like the worn-down roads of New York City, a shiver ran down the edge of your spine, tingly yet comforting, almost riveting. Although you had no plan of escape nor defense, you melt into the wall keeping you up right, he eyed you up, almost checking to see if you fit the checkbox he had granted himself.

“Are you saying…I gotta be careful from now on?”

You question, hands glued by your sides whilst his block you against the structure of the room. This wasn’t how you expected it to go nor is it how you expected him to be, in ways he seemed softer, almost sweet like your favourite candy dissolving on the tip of your tongue.

He nods confidently, quicker then you would have liked. You can’t help the shakes the ran through your body like a tumble dryer and clothes, eager to figure out what it was that he so desired from you but also to terrified to even speak another word.

“There’s a bad guy out there, he could hurt you, y’know?”

Was it a threat? Or was he simply taking his time? His voice had managed to make you calmer, although being the aggressor, you couldn’t help but reach out, placing a hand on his hard chest, trying anything to communicate.

“Please- please I don’t want this, I-“

Worrisome pleas seemed to do nothing as he stood, still blocking you. The glint in his eyes had changed from dangerous to lustrous within seconds as if he wasn’t here to steal anything but your innocence.

“Don’t you think you could learn a lesson or two?”

A warm hand cups the base of your throat, tightening until your breathing was short-circuited, restricting each intake until you faced him, watching as he tugged a smile onto his plump lips.

Pressing forward, you allow your hand to drop from his chest, his overwhelming presence shifting until his warm breath began to fan against the shell of your ear.

“Never disturb a man whilst he’s at work…”

He presses more firmly with his hand this time making you gasp, choking on the air that seemed to be invading the small space in your lungs. He chuckles before pulling away, essentially playing with his meat, doing everything and anything in his power to make you dumb and nonchalant.

“I- please”

Your ache prolonged, blossoming as you grew harder, he was tall, practically looming over you, closing in and eventually overshadowing you from the light, his burly body blocking you in. A single hand of his cup at one your cheeks, his thumb trailing against your bottom lip in attempts to quieten you.

“God your sweet ain’t ya…”

His mouth was vulgar, his smile stretching as you accept the thumb into your mouth, tongue rolling against the thick digit. Frank could feel himself twitch, it was unusual for his nightly escapades to go like this, it was uncommon for someone to be so inviting, non the less he was entirely enticed by the whole ordeal.

You groan once he pushes deeper, jabbing the palette of your throat causing you gag, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He couldn’t deny how pretty you were like this which pushed him to pull his now slick digit back with a pop.

Frank doesn’t fight the urge to dip his head low enough to connect your lips, locking you within a searing kiss, one that left you both hungry for more. His tongue, long and wet, rolled smoothly against your own, the material of his disguise rubbing against your upper lip and the tip of your nose, giving enough friction to calm the storm.

It’s chaste and sweet much like he was trying to seduce you which had worked a little to well considering how dumb and weak you had gotten from one touch, one look.

Pulling away with a quick press of his lips, he looks hungrily downward, lips slightly red and lick from the sloppy snog. Still leaning one muscular arm against the wall just to the right above your head, he leans further into you, pressing all of his weight against your front.

That’s when you had felt it, thick and plump underneath his black cargo’s, he settled against your own slowly growing bulge, the continuous roll of his hips relieving the ache as you sigh, practically falling into his chest.

“Just one touch and yer’ dumb for me, for it, come on, show me what i’m missin’ sweetheart”

His hands wrap around your waist once he pulls away, just enough to softly throw you onto the sheets of your bed, his talented hands make quick work of your night shorts and boxers, his eagerness prevailing once they fall into a pool on the carpet.

You hiss when the cold air hits your now oversensitive tip which dripped copious amounts of pre, Frank noticed with a deep chuckle, strong hands pushing up your legs with no resistance as he settles on his knees, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs.

He takes note of your pale pink hole, salivating at the thought of finally planting his face between the two pert globes you had offered up.

“There he is- fuck look at that”

He wouldn’t ever admit just how hard you had got him, you we’re pretty, a little to pretty, maybe ditzy and a little stupid for letting someone as dangerous as him touch you in ways that had you clutching at the sheets.

“Sir- I can’t, need you-“

Is all you could mutter passed pressed lips, it had been so long, to long since the last time you had gotten intimate with someone, this one took the cake, it was all kinds of strange, only taking note of features shown, the way his eyes had changed to a dark shade of lust, how his lips softly pressed dirty chaste kisses to the skin of your under thighs…why was this happening, you were suppose to help catch the bastard, not fall into bed with him.

“Say that again- wanna hear yer’ beg”

Each kiss led lower until he settled just above your hole, pressing two rough, sloppy kisses to the puckered skin surrounding it, he wanted to hear just how eager you were to finally have him, to finally allow him to dissect you like a butterfly, clip the wings and make you his own.

“Please- I need you, anything-“

He tuts before chuckling one more, the huff of hot breath settling over the coolness of your hole, without any thought, you sink back into the sheets before reaching for the top of his head, with a surge of confidence, you smush his face between your cheeks as he spreads them, feeling him smirk against you was everything, but the long lap, from balls, taint to hole was much more.

He had witnessed the case file you had on him, guessed you were some sort of lawyer working for murdock, it just fuelled his fire, his urge to take control, make you forget, make you understand that he is the man you should fear, but the man you should come running to, it had his dick jump with joy, you were easy but he liked that.

He lapped and lathed at your hole dirtily like some pornstar, eager to uncover the very thing he craved. You could feel the once more slobber roll down from his tongue to your balls, dripping onto the carpet below, shivering in his hold, you begin to push back, wiggling against his face as he noses at your wet clutch.

The tips of two fingers were present, pushing into you alongside his tongue like butter, no resistance, just pure admiration and pleasure, allowing the stranger to ruin your hole, lavish licks and darts of his tongue had you quivering around the intrusion, his fingers smashing in and outwards, scissoring them apart to prepare you for the oncoming assault.

“So easy, just wanna be used? Yer’ that hungry for me? yer’ been stalking me for months and here I am…using yer’ like a damn whore…what would Murdock and Co. think of yer’ spread out and whining for the biggest criminal in Hell’s Kitchen?”

You whimpered at the thought, almost driving you over the edge. He was vulgar and dirty with his words and his tone, deep and low, almost making you dizzy along side the third digit slipping inside, burying themselves to the knuckle making your cock jump.

He smirks against your hole before giving it a few final laps. He pulls them away, standing to glare down at your fucked out features.

“Somethin’ tells me yer’ like the sound of that hmm?”

You watch attentively as his fingers work to unclasp his belt, whipping it off. He unfastens the button, watching as his cargo’s pool around his ankles before kicking them off along with his boxers.

His cock slaps up into his abdomen with a sharp thud. You glare at it, taking it in, judging it harshly. He was big, big enough to leave an impression, he was girthy and long, thick from base to tip, his head an angry shade of red, his balls resting heavily between his thighs, the light shedding of hair framing the beauty.

“Don’t think yer’ gettin’ outta this boy, yer’ gonna take it like the pretty little thing yer’ are”

Peeling off his long sleeved t-shirt, you glaze amongst the muscles that bulged, his physique was godly, heavenly, everything that had your body spreading automatically to give him the space to slot between your legs, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“Fuck- you look-“

Your words were slight encouragement to Frank as he dipped, still the Ski-mask stayed, secreting his identy, you could still kiss him, sloppy and rough. Whining into the kiss notified Frank of your eagerness, so much so, without warning he pressed the spongy head of his cock against your rim, practically asking for permission.

Breaking the kiss had you back to reality, but it was to late, you mumbled a sharp “yes” allowing him to enter, pushing into your sloppy, slick hole with resistance. You both moan in unison as Frank pushes the air out of your lungs, pushing each inch inward until he sheathed himself fully, now resting against you.

“Atta boy, all the way in with no complanin’, yer’ such a pretty boy ain’t yer’, taking me in all the way like a professional-“

You flutter against him as his arms throw your legs up, pushing them against your stomach giving him enough space to settle just above you, his lips kissing at your jaw, nibbling on the skin as he pulls out, pushing back in slowly to allow you to adjust.

How were you going to explain the current set of events to the law firm and two of the closest men to you, Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson, the intimacy of your thoughts only lead you to believe that this would put you at risk…of wanting more.

#male reader #x male reader #frank castle #robber AU #the punisher #mcu #frank castle x male reader #smut

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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 19 days

Text

Killing of Lacey Fletcher: She moulded into the sofa.

Lacey Fletcher was autistic and was reportedly bullied in high school. Her parents Sheila and Clay Fletcher later withdrew her from school in favor of homeschooling. Sheila and Clay were known to complain about Lacey, stating that they did not want to be caregivers when they became parents.

When Lacey was 24 years old,a decline in her cognitive health led to her being unable to leave the house.She became confined to the family's leather couch. Instead of seeking medical assistance for Lacey, Sheila and Clay left Lacey on the couch. Sheila and Clay left her on the couch and placed towels next to it, so Lacey's faeces and urine would be easier for them to clean. The rest of their house was well-cleaned, except for the couch, where Lacey remained unable to move from the couch on her own. Over time, Lacey's clothes began to no longer fit her, simply draping off of her body. Clay and Sheila would frequently leave for days on end to go on vacation, leaving her there to starve.

Over time her muscles atrophied, and vermin began to eat at her extremities under the couch leaving mouse droppings and maggots to thrive in the space. There were signs she had been trying to lift herself out of the couch to avoid the pain, but due to severe malnourishment and atrophy in her leg muscles, she was unable to. Her body fused into the leather couch cushions as she was covered in urine and feces, as well as maggots living in her hair and inside her. She suffered starvation and bone infections, leading finally to sepsis which caused her death. She had faeces and couch cushion both under her fingernails and in her stomach contents, showing she had attempted to save herself by eating her surroundings before dying on the couch whilst or shortly after Clay and Sheila vacationed for the holidays. Lacey was found at autopsy to have COVID-19.

On January 3, 2022, Sheila called 911 and stated that she had found Lacey dead on their couch. Emergency services and the coroner arrived at the home and discovered Lacey's dead, partially clothed and malnourished 96-pound (44 kg) body fused into the family's leather couch, with clear signs of neglect. It was determined that Lacey had been dead for one to two days before Sheila had finally decided to call 911. Sheila and Clay lied to police that it had been Lacey's own decision to lie in those conditions for 12 years. Her autopsy ruled her death a homicide. Investigators stated they could not sleep or eat after investigating the killing due to the mental distress that the gruesome nature of the case caused them.

On March 20, 2024, they were sentenced to 20 years in prison, with a consecutive 20-year suspended sentence

#lacey fletcher #crime #true crime #news

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

hello :))) can you do enha x their non verbal love languages for their partners like other love languages outside of words of affirmations

⋆｡°✩ enha's love languages

includes: established relationship, maybe not totally accurate but i did my best

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

gn reader (no pronouns used)

feedback is always appreciated <33

⋆｡°✩ heeseung - gift giving

(word count 195)

heeseung pauses in the middle of the sidewalk when a small flower catches his eye. he recognizes it as one of your favourites - complete with beautiful white petals. he smiles softly to himself as he kneels down to gently pick one of the flowers before tucking it safely into his palm as he turns to head back to your apartment.

heeseung finds you still laid in your shared bed, tucked into the covers like you were when he left for his daily morning walks. your disheveled hair is spread out across the pillows and one of your arms rests on top of the blankets.

he stifles a small chuckle as he sits down on the edge of the bed, gently pushing a stray strand of hair back into place. you stir at the action, face scrunching up slightly.

heeseung leans down to press a kiss against your forehead, finally making your eyes flutter open. “hee?” you whisper.

he tucks the flower just beside your ear, positioning it so the petals sit just out of your eyesight. you remain silent as he carefully adjusts the plant before pulling back with a satisfied smile. “good morning, jagi.”

⋆｡°✩ jay - acts of service

(word count 199)

you sniffle, wiping your teary eyes once again as you turn the key to your apartment before pushing the door open. a soft gasp escapes you when you’re met with the overwhelming smell of your favourite food and your loving boyfriend standing in the center of your apartment rather than the darkness you had grown accustomed to.

“jay?” you whisper.

“hi jagi,” he softly smiles. his eyebrows furrow slightly as he steps closer to you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. his thumb wipes away a few stray tears that threaten to roll down your face. “rough day?”

“yeah.” you let your eyes flutter shut as you lean against jay’s chest, letting warmth surround you. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug as you slowly relax into his hold.

you stand together in a comfortable silence for what feels like hours before jay speaks again. “i made dinner,” he whispers. “your favourite. and i folded your laundry and took the trash out. i know you hate dragging the bag all the way downstairs.”

you pull back slightly to look at jay before pulling him into a deep kiss. “thank you,” you whisper.

⋆｡°✩ jake - physical touch

(word count 198)

jake’s head falls against your shoulder as you curl up beside him, still entranced by the movie playing on your living room screen. his hand rests comfortably against your thigh as he rubs small circles against the fabric of your sweatpants just hard enough for you to feel.

slowly, his arm wraps around your waist from behind as he slowly coaxes you to lay down on the couch. he pushes a pillow over to give your head more support against the arm rest before he leans his body down on top of you. jake lets out a soft sigh as he nuzzles his head closer against your chest, effectively trapping you against the cushions. you chuckle to yourself at the feeling of his hair tickling the exposed skin of your neck as you reach up to push some of the strands down.

jake’s arms remain wrapped loosely around your waist. “what?” he murmurs, moving just enough to look up at you.

“nothing,” you smile as you carefully adjust his fringe so the hair is out of his eyes. “i’m just… so in love with you.”

jake smiles brightly, reaching over to grab your hand. “i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon - acts of service

(word count 204)

sunghoon lets out yet another annoyed sigh, gently beginning to rub at his temples in an attempt to ward off an oncoming headache. across from him you glance up from your own work to look at him; your eyebrows furrow slightly in concern.

you quietly stand up from your seat, walking up to the counter to order a coffee and a small dessert in the hopes of cheering him up.

“here,” you whisper, pressing a chaste kiss against sunghoon’s forehead as you slide a fresh cup of coffee and tiramisu towards his side.

“thank you,” he murmurs with a soft smile. he lets the cup warm his hand as he raises it to take a quick sip. it tastes sweet as he swallows it. “tiramisu?”

“your favourites,” you nod. a light flush spreads across sunghoon’s face, complete with a soft smile. an overwhelming feeling of love washes over him at the simple actions.

he pushes his computer to the side, momentarily abandoning his responsibilities for the day. he reaches out to push the tiramisu into the center of the table before sliding a fork over to you. “thank you, jagi,” he smiles. you reach out to grab his hand across the table.

“of course.”

⋆｡°✩ sunoo - gift giving

(word count 200)

“sunoo!” you gasp at the sight of your boyfriend, immediately running towards him.

“y/n!” he laughs when you jump into his arms, nearly tackling him to the ground in the process. his arms instinctively wrap around your waist to support you as you both stumble backwards from the force.

you bury your face into sunoo’s neck, pressing fleeting kisses against the exposed skin. a light blush spreads across his cheeks as he places you down onto the ground. “i missed you so much,” you whisper.

sunoo pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs against your skin. he smiles brightly at you before he quickly pulls you into a sweet kiss. “i missed you too, jagi.”

sunoo gasps slightly as he reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. “i got this for you,” he smiles as he hands you a necklace. you hold the thin chain in your hand, carefully observing the small pendant that hangs from it. it shines beautifully in the sunlight.

“wow,” you whisper in astonishment. “it’s gorgeous.”

sunoo takes the jewelry back from you to carefully feed it around your neck before clasping the chain. “thank you,” you smile.

⋆｡°✩ jungwon - quality time

(word count 200)

jungwon rubs the exhaustion from his eyes as he wanders over to sit beside you on the couch. he lets out a soft sigh as he stumbles over to lay beside you on the cushions, letting his head rest in your lap. his disheveled hair lays sprawled out against your thighs as he wedges himself further against your thighs.

you let out an amused hum as you watch him for a few seconds. you gently trail your fingers along his jawline before pushing a few strands of his hair back and out of his eyes. jungwon lets out a content sigh at the feeling, shifting slightly closer to you. you softly smile as you continue to rake your hands through his hair, twisting the strands between your fingers.

“tired?” you whisper.

“exhausted,” jungwon sighs. “just wanna lay here with you.”

“okay.”

the drama playing on your tv plays is forgotten as you continue playing with jungwon’s hair. you watch as he slowly begins to drift off to sleep; his breathing evens out and his eyes begin to flutter closed. you smile, reaching over to raise one of his hands up to press a soft kiss against his fingertips. “goodnight, wonie.”

⋆｡°✩ niki - quality time

(word count 202)

you rub an aching muscle in the back of your neck as you finally close your computer, glancing over your shoulder. you softly smile at the sight of niki. he’s sitting on your bed with a console in his hands as he finishes yet another round of mario kart.

you silently stand up from your desk, walking over to sit beside him. “you’re finished?” he asks as he hands you another console.

“for now.” niki smiles brightly. you connect your console quickly before leaning back against your headboard with him, starting another round.

your shoulders occasionally brush against each other as you move your bodies in tandem with the players as if moving will adjust the characters. “hey!” niki playfully complains when you accidentally block his view of the tv screen.

he knocks his body against yours as he covers your own view. “don’t cheat!”

“you started it!”

your laughter mixes together as you continue intentionally moving in front of each other until your controllers both lay forgotten on your bed. you wrap your arms around niki’s shoulders as he moves to pin you against the blankets. “i win,” he proudly whispers as you reach up to pull him into a kiss.

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tasseledhome · 7 months

Text

Discover a wide range of door curtains online to add a touch of elegance and functionality to your home's entryways.

#cover #home #interiors #service #cushion

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holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Between a rock and a hard place (5)

Summary: You are in big trouble and in need of money. Two wolves are more than willing to help you. For a price…

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Mobster!August Walker

Warnings: angst, language, power imbalance, debts, scared reader, groping, gaslighting, darkfic, both brothers are not nice guys, mafia au, a tiny hint of fluff/aftercare, possessive Walter, jealousy?, cockwarming

Between a rock and a hard place (4)

Between a rock and a hard place masterlist

Shutting the world around you off, especially the two men using you to their liking, you fell asleep on the couch at the club.

You slept for almost two hours before Walter finally decided it was time to go home. He covered your body with his large shirt and picked you up in bridal style.

August was less aggressive and loud on your way toward the car. He grinned and talked about your perfect ass the whole time.

At least you got him off your back by letting him fuck your ass. A silver lining in the dark pit your world became.

“You’ve done so well for us. We made so much money,” Walter soothingly runs his big hand over your back as you try not to move too much.

You are in the largest bathtub you have ever seen. Walter insisted on running you a bath and on joining you. A trick, of course. You ended up impaled on his insatiable cock to keep him warm once again.

“Feels good keeping my big cock warm, doesn’t it?” He laughs when you hide your face in his chest. You’d love to tell him that you are sore and tired, but he wouldn’t listen to you. None of them does.

“You tricked me,” you murmur, afraid to speak louder. “You lied too.”

“Kinda,” he pats your head. “We let our customers fuck our employees but provide a different service too. I kept my word, didn’t I? I only shared you with August. No other man will touch you ever again, lamb.”

“We call it live-action porn,” August snickers as he joins you in the tub. He stretches his long legs out and you instinctively cling to his brother. “Don’t worry, I’m satisfied for tonight. The blowjob you gave me in the back of the car was mind-blowing. You’re a little minx.”

“She was such a good girl for me. I’m so proud of her for letting herself fall,” Walter’s praise, makes your heart flutter. “I rewatched the close-up and got hard again. My sweet little lamb is a star. I hate to say it, but I told you so.”

“Hmmm…you don’t hate to say it, brother.” You squeak when August leans forward to grope your ass. “As long as I can fuck her, you can keep her. I’ll figure out how to make her disappearance believable.”

You stiffen. “Relax, baby lamb. We only want to keep you to ourselves. Bad people are after your dead husband, and I can tell, they’d love to get their hands on you.”

“You’re ours now. No need to be officially alive, right?” August pinches your ass meaningly and snickers when you try to move away. But you are trapped, still impaled on his brother’s cock. “Right.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Walter slaps his brother’s hand away. “She made fifty thousand bucks in one night for us. I told you she’s going to be good for us.”

“Good for you,” you sniffle. “So good…”

Walter showed mercy after he filled your cunt up for one last time. He cleaned you and put you into a barely-not-there nightie to present you to his brother.

“I like the way you dress her,” August laughs as you lie on the bed, worn-out, and tired. “She’s a damn porn star with a mouth and a tight hole like that.”

“She has had enough for one night,” Walter points at the door. “You can fuck her with me at the club, but nowhere else. The blowjob at the car was a one-time thing. She’s mine.”

“Christ, you are obsessed with her,” you hide your face in the cushions when the brothers start fighting over you again. “I want her at the club again next week. I got some VIPs waiting for a good show.”

“Next week,” Walter jerks his head toward the door. “Now leave. She needs sleep and me too. I fucked her so many times I’m a little tired myself.”

August glances at you one last time. He can’t help but feel a little jealous as you immediately move closer to his brother the moment he lies on the bed next to you.

“Night,” he walks out of the door, slamming it shut with a loud thud. You flinch and sniffle, knowing he’s mad at you again.

“Let him sulk, lamb,” Walter moves closer to you. “Come here. I’ll keep you safe and warm.”

You don’t argue or fight Walter when he tells you to lie on his chest. It’s easier to be good for him and do as he says. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

“He’ll lose interest soon and then you are all mine,” he whispers. “I’ll make sure that he doesn’t hurt you, my sweet lamb. You’re too good for me to go to waste.”

Walter runs his big hand over your back up to your shoulders and back down. Your eyes flutter shut, and you feel warm.

“I knew you were special when I saw you the other day. You smiled and giggled, but your husband didn’t pay attention to what you had to say. I think you came to the event to show off your pretty new dress, but he only had eyes for some other woman.”

Your eyes snap open again as he continues.

You remember that night. It was the last time you went out with your husband.

That was over a year ago. – He must have watched you for a long time if he saw you that night. How could this happen to you? Maybe he even had a hand in what happened to your husband.

“You looked so cute in that dress,” he nuzzles his face in your hair. “I would’ve loved to take you right there and then.” He chuckles. “August told me to not pay attention to some pussy but I watched you all night. Your smile faded and you hid in a corner as your useless husband flirted with some other woman.”

You don’t say a word, even if your heart is racing. Closing your eyes you try to pretend you are asleep. His words replay in your mind while you struggle to not freak out.

“I set my eyes on you that night,” he tickles your skin with his fingertips. “I knew you’d be a natural submissive - a little lamb.” Walter hums. “You enchanted me with your innocent smile and soft laughter. You didn’t dress to impress but looked like a goddess to me. August calls it an obsession. I call it fate…”

“Come with me,” Walter wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you out of the safety of his bedroom. “I told you I got a surprise for you.”

You nod and let him lead the way. What else can you do? His admission from last night is still swirling in your mind. How could you not see that Walter knew you from the beginning?

“You’ll love it, lamb,” he murmurs and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“What is she doing here?” August grunts. He watches you like a hawk and squares his jaw. “I asked you a question, brother. We agreed on letting her stay in the guest room or your bedroom. The rest of this place is taboo.”

“Shut up,” Walter snaps at his brother. “After last night she has every right to be here. She let you fuck her ass and blew you off. We made fifty thousand bucks because of her. Now get out of my way.”

“What? I—”

It’s a small win, but watching August step out of his brother’s way makes you smirk for a second. At least he didn’t lie about protecting you from his brother.

“You heard me, brother. I bore your one-nighters and bimbos for years. If you don’t leave my lamb alone, you will not like my answer.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t live together if you always fight,” you murmur. With your eyes cast down, you can’t see the brothers turn their heads toward you to look down at you.

“Would you look at this cocky little bee,” August roughly cups your face, making you whimper as he forces you to look up at him. “What did you just say?”

“Fighting and arguing isn’t good for your well-being and blood pressure,” you recite one of the articles you read. “You are brothers and shouldn’t be mad at each other all the time.”

“Aw, she’s already worried about me,” Walter kisses your temple. “I knew she’d love me, brother. My sweet little lamb.”

August grunts. “She has a name. Maybe you should use it once in a while.” You glance at August, wondering if he’s as bad as you thought. He’s not wrong. You’d love hearing your name, not only a pet name.

“She likes it,” Walter bites back. “I can call her whatever I want. Maybe one day I’ll call her my wife!”

You suck in a breath.

“What?” August huffs. “You can’t be serious! Walter, you let me fuck her in front of dozens of guys jerking off while we destroyed her holes.”

“See, I share the most precious things with you, and you never appreciate it,” Walter possessively wraps his arm tighter around your shoulders. “Now, let me show Y/N my surprise.”

“Walter!” August calls after his brother. “This isn’t over!”

You follow Walter, stunned and speechless as he tells you how much you will love his surprise…

Tags in reblog.

#august walker #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #mafia au #walter marshall x reader #august walker x reader #darkfic

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crazy-ache · 2 months

Note

22 … elucien!!

22…in a rush of adrenaline.

When Lucien suddenly grabs her, breaking them into a frantic run through the maze of the city streets, it is the first time they have ever held hands.

Elain gripped his hold tightly, placing all of her trust in his lead. They were somewhere deep into the Fae lands of the Continent on their way to Vallahan. It was a particularly seedy town, one that Elain did not care for, one that made her heart race with fear at every turn. But there was no choice, as they were currently being trailed by dangerous enemies. All she could do was pump her legs faster as Lucien twisted them through various alleyways. From the slamming of footsteps, she could tell they were close.

“In here,” he urged, whipping a door open so they could quickly duck inside.

She wasn’t sure how Lucien selected which establishment to hide in, but a brothel had not even been close to an option in her mind.

“Lucien—” Elain’s feet were frozen to the floor, her wide brown eyes taking in the cacophony of the room; the loud, sultry music reverberated across the open hall, a tangle of males and females scattered across velvet couches, tables, and bars, the strong scent of ale and sex permeating her senses like a fog. It was all so fae and full of vices and entirely foreign from anything she had ever seen in the mortal lands.

But then Lucien was pulling her again, leading her to the back corner. A small couch in a secluded dark corner. She could hardly register what was happening as the adrenaline from their chase and panic was now colliding with the nerves of watching Lucien sit down and spread his muscular thighs open. “I’m sorry,” and she saw the genuine apology flash across his features before he pulled her into his lap in a quick motion.

“What are we doing?” Elain breathed, watching him pull the hood of cloak closer to his face. “Hiding in plain sight,” Lucien answered, but his eyes were scanning the room behind her head closely. Perhaps they had been spending too much time together, but when his metal eye whirred frantically, she knew he had seen the assailants that had been chasing after them.

Lucien looked nervous as he met her stare. Elain gave a quick glance around the room, and the pieces seemed to fall into place in understanding. She could hear their hearts rush in sync, warped by the echo of the music blasting in her ears.

Hiding in plain sight. She understood what needed to be done.

She threw her leg over until she straddled his lap. He tensed momentarily, then sank deeper into the cushion, spreading his legs further and resting his arm on the top of the couch—like a rakish male indulging himself in the services offered. His other hand gripped her waist.

Face-to-face with nothing but a hairsbreadth between them. Her forehead met his as a means to help cover their faces. Tentatively, her hand found his scar—his most prominent and identifying feature, save for his molten red hair that was covered by his hood—and covered it with the palm of her hand. At her touch, Lucien inhaled her deeply, melting into her hand. Witnessing that singular moment made her breath hitch and unlock something deep inside her chest, like a spark waiting to blow.

It was purely for survival that she surged against his lips. Lucien met her with a mutual eagerness as if he understood the script they needed to play, his fingers digging into the valley of her hips. It was purely for survival that their tongues danced with a sloppy force, teeth clattering, lips sucking, as if to fit into their sullied surroundings. And it was purely for survival that Elain found herself grinding her aching core into his already hard shaft.

“Elain—” Lucien gasped, his own cheeks flushed with red as he pulled away to catch his breath. “They’re still here,” Elain said as she glanced over her shoulder before snapping her hips again in emphasis to keep the facade up.

So she shoved Lucien’s face into the curve of her neck, savoring the sensation of his canines digging into her skin, his tongue lapping along her pulse. He played along effortlessly, his fingers skimming along her breasts. Elain wrapped her arms around his neck, closer, closer, closer until their bodies were an indistinguishable mess.

Her heart was still racing. She told herself it certainly wasn’t from the previous lie—because the pursuents had already long left.

Kiss prompts.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien fanfiction #hehehe this was fun #this time elain is the wicked one #ask box #kiss prompts

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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Operation Apollo | 2.4 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, guns, serious injury, mentions of potential character death

…

Your brows are knitted, fists curled into the sheets. Even your rest is disturbed. This is the longest that you have managed to sleep consecutively in two days. Four hours. Jake’s blinks started feeling heavy an hour ago, and have been becoming more strenuous since then. He exhales slowly and stretches out his legs in front of him, taking the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb.

It’s colder tonight, now a week into September. You’re supposed to be back in Los Angeles, starting the first week of your grad programme. No one expects you to be there and there will be allowances made for you to catch up, but Jake wishes you were anywhere but here.

Staying in the White House seems like it’s making you worse. You’ve barely left your room and when you do, it’s just to venture down to the kitchen or the library. As much as you can, you’ve avoided going anywhere that requires Manny or Jake to be with you. It almost crosses Jake’s mind again; if it were up to him…

It wasn’t. It still isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t be hurting like this. You wouldn’t be waking up hyperventilating every time that you do manage to get a small amount of sleep. Your dreams wouldn’t be chilling repeats of the blood seeping into that ancient flooring, the shilouette of that man in the darkness of your room or the guilt on Jake’s face in the reflection of that rear view mirror.

This afternoon. The clip you had seen, an interview on a morning talk show amongst a few women much older and far less media trained than yourself. Asking, rhetorically, if this could have been avoided, if fingers could now be pointed. Jake had swiftly turned the television off. You had swiftly pushed yourself up from the couch and marched back to your room.

Your sleep is still restless now. Tossing onto your left side and pushing the covers down a little, face scrunched in concern. Jake knew that it would be. You sat with your mother for a while this morning. The colour faded from her skin and the jagged wound, covered with a cushioned bandage that peaked out from the top of her shirt. You saw it without the coverings. Red, puffy, torn flesh that has been put back together by some of the best surgeons in the US and still looks exactly like what it is.

Breeze blowing the curtains, a darkened navy hue tints the skies this morning. Jake could tell you exactly what every sunset and sunrise has looked like since Saturday, as well as all about the blackness of the night itself. He hasn’t been sleeping much either. He hasn’t left your side much, either. Your record for consecutive hours of silence is doing better than your sleeping. You’ve barely spoken to him since you left the hospital.

Gasping like you’ve just come up for air between the break of waves, you shoot up. He glances back at you from where he had been staring out of the window. Hair tousled and messy, green eyes dark and tired, stubble covering his jaw.

Uneasily, you push the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Jake catches sight of your legs trembling as you put weight on them. It’s faint, and that stubborn heart of yours forces them straight again swiftly. You walk silently towards the bathroom.

“You alright?” Jake asks softly, right as you pass by him. The bathroom door closes behind you in response, the lock twisting. He closes his eyes, resting his hand against his chin.

Heartbeat thudding in your ears and sweat beading on the back of your neck, you claw your hair back from your skin and brace yourself beside the toilet. Nausea floods your entire being, head spinning. It was stupid of him to ask, if you look anywhere near as awful as you feel.

As per usual, nothing comes. It’s just you, staring at that stupid fucking polished porcelain until finally you give up and move across to the sink. Keeping your gaze pointed down at all costs, you run the water for a moment until it’s sufficiently freezing over your fingertips. It slows that uncomfortable slam of your heartbeat, just slightly. You lean down a little bit and guide a handful of water over your face cautiously.

The thought of Jake being on the other side of that door brings that surge of nausea forwards again. You turn and sit down against the counter, trying to buy yourself a little bit more time. The water streams on at your side, leaning your head back against the mirror. The light’s too bright and you’ve still got a headache, but it’s better in here than out there.

People keep telling you that you’re lucky to have walked away without a scratch on you. Closing your eyes, the brightness of the light still makes them ache. Luck has nothing to do with you making it out. It was just Jake. It’s not just you that was lucky either, apparently. You keep hearing it. The president was lucky. The one that really hurts is hearing that your mother was lucky.

Her colour faded and two of her ribs almost shattered by the bullet that had buried itself between them, six surgeries and a difficult recovery ahead of her. Nothing seems lucky about that.

You’re silent as you walk past Jake, slipping back into bed and pulling the covers up over your legs. He’s staring at you, blank-faced, still sitting in that arm chair.

“You should go back to your room, people will ask questions if you’re here all night.” You mumble dully, settling down and turning onto your side away from him. Jake swallows at the lump in his throat, scratching at the stubble on his jaw and then shaking his head. You close your eyes, impatient, “Please go.”

Silence follows, no sounds of him making any effort to move. You can still feel his eyes on you. Finally, a strained exhale. Briefly, you think that he’s going to give in and leave. You should know better. Jake bites the inside of his cheek and glances downwards. He shifts slightly in the seat, like he’s getting comfortable, letting you know that he’s going to stay.

His eyes are still on you when you sit up. Yours are ablaze, fist curled into the sheets. It’s the most emotion he has seen from you in days. Tears brimming, teeth gritted. He just watches you, calm. The lack of reaction is just fuel to the angry, blisteringly hot fire growing in the pit of your stomach.

Those pretty features darken across the room at him, tongue venomous as you spit, “I don’t want you anywhere near me, get out.”

Again, nothing. He just watches you, heart steady, albeit aching. Jake shakes his head slowly, “I’m not going to leave you on your own.”

You blink the tears back, anger bubbling in your core, “What? — Like you being here means anything? — I don’t fucking trust you, Jake!”

Your words are scalding, and he’s almost certain that they’ve marked him physically, but he doesn’t react. He just keeps on staring at you, folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you hearing me, you asshole? — I can’t fucking stand you.”

A muscle in Jake’s jaw ticks, but he remains steadfast. He stretches his legs out in front of him, sighing softly. “Say what you want, I’m not leaving.”

Finally, gasoline touches that bubbling fire and you snap. There’s a brief pause between the two of you, and Jake has been wounded by women before, but he knows what a kill shot looks like and you’re headed right for it.

“You never would have betrayed Dani like this.” You tone is soft and cold; political. Devastatingly poised, and for this first time, Jake sees your father in you. He has been holding onto that degree of separation, that kindness in your heart and the good that fuels your being. You’re just a product of this game that your parents are playing.

“No, I wouldn’t have.” Jake answers you eventually, his tone is quiet and slow, like this concept might be challenging for you to grasp. There’s a sadness to the cadence of his voice, but no anger. He’s always been so angry at the mention of her name. Now, he just swallows and shakes his head. “But now she’s dead.”

Silence again. You watching him, him studying your face and the wounds he has caused you. He’d take it all away if he could, but that isn’t enough. Finally, your body betrays you as fat, furious tears spill out onto your cheeks. Your chest heaves, a silent sob as you fall forwards and cover your face with your hands.

She steps forwards into the front of your mind, the beaming little girl who sat at the front of her first grade classroom and told everyone with astounding certainty that her dad was going to be President someday. She watches through your eyes, the fat tears and the gasping sobs as you press your face into the bed, confused.

Princess dresses and big, long hallways, meeting the kings and queens of every country in the world, being famous. Every sparkling, shiny idea in her little head, pouring out in damp patches onto your floral sheets. It was never supposed to be like this. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of after being tucked into bed at night. This isn’t what she was promised when she had been perched on her father’s knee, asking him why he had to work so much.

The bed dips as settles against your side and wraps his arms tight around you, enclosing you against him like you’re being tucked in. His lips press softly to your head, arms squeezing tighter around you. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispers, voice cracking just slightly.

He swallows and composes himself, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. He whispers it again and again, squeezing you tighter as you soak his black t-shirt with tears, “I’m so sorry.”

“You should have told me.” It’s barely coherent with your face pressed into him, gasping between your tears and your voice strained and trembling. Jake nods against you. He guides you back by your shoulders and lifts you chin. Tenderly, he brushes away your tears with his thumbs and tilts his head to meet your gaze. Your lip trembles, feeling sick with heartache. “I told you… about how everyone lied to me— and— you still…”

You cover your face with your hands again. Childish, shrinking in on your safe. Memories of your mother’s hand squeezing around your forearm at important dinners and hissing, “Don’t you dare cry in front of these people.”

You hide yourself away from him, even as he tries to guide your hands away. There’s no way, with these fresh and bleeding wounds, that you’ll ever be able to look him in the eye and tell him how much you hate him for letting himself become one of them. Holding you at night and listening to your deepest, darkest fears, seemingly indifferent to them.

“I know. I know that now,” Jake agrees, smoothing his hand along your back. He kisses your shoulder gently, then your neck. It’s chaste, soothing, almost platonic. He murmurs your name against your skin, pleading whispers for you to just please look at him. Curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, you press your face into his neck and whimper, the only answer that your body can give him. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I hate you.” Voice broken, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, your tears spill out onto his skin. Jake swallows at the lump in his throat, pulling you tighter against him. “I hate what you did.”

“I’m never going to let anything happen to you again,” Jake mumbles into your hair, exhaling slowly. He squeezes you in his arms, pulling the covers over your trembling legs. “I swear.”

That fire in your middle is all white smoke and ashes by this point, but the tears are warm enough for you to still feel its presence. Jake’s words don’t make you feel any better, they don’t soothe the ache in your chest, but they do make you go quiet. Quiet, warm, and in a dark enough room that sleep comes fairly naturally. Tucked against his chest, tear-stained cheeks and jagged breaths that shallow out into gentle exhales.

The steady thrum of your heartbeat against his chest finally makes Jake stop fighting, his tense muscles aching even more as he lets go for the first time in about a week, letting himself relax around you.

It lasts a while, your head on his chest and him on his back, maybe three hours. Jake doesn’t move when you startle awake, the days of just napping rather than sleeping finally catching up to him. Heartbeat thudding and stomach churning, you try to sit, knocked back by his arms tight around you. Your cheek brushes against the cotton of his t-shirt as you settle back against him.

Judging solely by the purple hue of the morning sky, it’s a little after five. You brush an open palm against his abdomen and allow yourself, just briefly, to be held. You’ve been trying to make sense of it. How you could have let yourself fall for it, and open up to him as much as you had. How you could have possibly trusted him.

But now, you’re back in it. These quiet mornings in his arms, feeling how tight he holds you, how well he sleeps with you in his bed. Even if the rest of it was, there’s quite simply no way that this could not be genuine. So, it leaves you with the same question that you’ve been asking all week. Why?

Lifting your head just slightly, you study his sleeping face. Still tired now, face perpetually furrowed into a soft frown, always serious. He shifts a little and presses his cheek to the top of your head, obstructing your view. Jake usually wakes up earlier than you do. You haven’t had too many opportunities to just sit and observe him like this, to think to yourself.

Your mind races. Lilac clouds pass over the brightening morning sky, breeze coming in through that open window, Jake’s familiar smell warming your senses. It just doesn’t add up.

Jake’s a pretty light sleeper. It takes some maneuvering, lacing your fingers through his and moving slowly like you would if you were still sleeping. Eventually, you’re on your feet and walking down the hall in your pyjamas while he’s still safely in your bed. Old but abnormally clean carpet under your bare feet, never empty halls, none of it matters and your course remains unwavering.

“Morning, sweetheart, your dad’s just in a—“

You step around his assistant’s desk and swiftly side step the dumb looking security guard that’s perched on that desk and flirting with her.

“Oh, no, you can’t—“ She continues to try behind you as your fingers curl around the door handle. Every idiot in a suit and earpiece in that room all look at each other in unison, unsure on if it’s still protocol to stop you after what you’ve been through. They’re too slow on deciding.

You swing open the door and close it again behind you. Matthew turns, brows furrowed and ready to yell, phone pressed to his ear. He calms, fingers curling tighter around the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

He sets the phone down and smiles at you. There’s a look in your eye that he hasn’t ever seen before. Your relationship with him is usually so professional, you’re always so poised — he hasn’t seen you in your pyjamas since you were a kid. For you to have stormed down here like this, he knows that he’s in trouble, and he knows it’s something to do with your cocky little boyfriend.

“What’s up, princess?” He smiles at you.

Wolffish, face cold, you stalk towards him. It’s strange. The little girl he raised, walking towards him in her pyjamas, and yet — Matthew’s gut tells him that there’s something to be afraid of in this woman before him.

“Did you know?”

The thing about this little game, is that he might be surprised by the make, but he’s good enough at it to remain one step ahead. He has tricked people far more cunning than his little girl. “About you and the bodyguard, you mean?”

It catches you off guard, just briefly, he sees it flash across your face. He sits back calmly in that expensive chair behind that famous desk, raising his eyebrows with an inch of expectation. Truthfully, he’d hoped that you took after him a little more than that. But, maybe you’re more like your mother: soft, naive.

“About the attack.”

“Did your boyfriend give you that impression?” His lips quirk just softly, eyebrows still raised. There it is again, that flash of realization and Matthew knows that you know what he did. Maybe you are a little bit like him after all. Your stomach flips, stepping closer to the desk, eyes blown wide — almost fearful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whisper to him, instinctually moving to protect Jake.

Matthew’s smile grows, he scoffs at you and shakes his head. You watch him pull open the top drawer of his desk and retrieve a simple brown envelope from the carefully carved mahogany. He pulls the photos from the inside, then sets it down gently on the top of the desk and turns it towards you.

You avoid the photos, your eyes on him.

“I had nothing to do with what happened that night,” Matthew answers you calmly, “But I think you and I should have a little talk about the kinds of things that this guy has been telling you, princess.”

…

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