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yeeterthek33per · 1 day

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Bound (to happen) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Content/Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, restraints, r being tied down, bottom r, top Steph and Caitlin, strap use, oral r giving and receiving etc.

(This took a much more different and dirty turn than I initially planned this to go but the request said make it spicy.... so, anyway :) Have fun...? )

The fact you hadn't counted on them doing this really put a wrench in your plans.

The initial plan was to go out, party a little and then go home and get a good nights sleep before the game against Brighton tomorrow.

However, your girlfriends had other ideas.

After a rather surprise appearance by one of your childhood best friends, Anna, you'd ended up a little inebriated dancing with her, laughing and drinking.

Caitlin and Steph themselves don't drink much or if at all knowing they'll be starting tomorrow, and also know one of them will be driving home after this.

Of course, that's the plan until they see you practically grinding on someone.

They weren't an overtly jealous pair, knowing more often than not that you were affectionate with most if not all of your teammates and close friends.

However, they had no idea who this woman was, only that you'd jumped into her arms the moment she tapped you on the shoulder.

Quite literally.

It goes on for an hour before they've had enough of the touchiness coming from both of you.

You're about to head over to the bar for more drinks when a hand grabbing yours pulls you away from Anna, who looks a little confused and then slight anger at the sudden strangers she didn't know, grabbing you and pulling you into them.

It sobers you up a little but you recognise the warm body you're pulled into and immediately turn around grinning, completely oblivious to the possessive grip you're now being held in.

"Oh! Hi Baby! You guys haven't met yet. This is Anna, she's a childhood best friend of mine!"

You turn back to Anna who's eyeing them both up closely.

"Anna, these two are my girlfriends! I love them both so much, we play football together!"

It's a little slurred and almost drowned out by the blasting music just ten feet from the group of you.

At that, she relaxes and, still eyeing them up, extends a hand out to the two brooding brunettes, noting the tight grips they have on your waist and arm.

Steph steps forward first, gripping the woman's hand tightly and shaking rather stiffly and she has to nudge Caitlin to repeat her actions.

"Nice meeting you, Anna. We really have to be going though, we've got a game tomorrow and we don't want this one too hungover before a match."

You pout at them, looking between them and Anna, before allowing them to tug you away.

But not before offering up your number to catch up later, which Caitlin and Steph both tense up at, which of course, your oblivious self doesn't notice.

In fact, you don't even question them until you're halfway home and sobering up with a water bottle shoved into your hand and a late night sandwich just about forced down your throat.

Noticing their unusually quiet demeanour, you poke Steph's shoulder from the backseat.

"Yes, Y/n?"

Oh.

You're in trouble.

"Did uh... You two okay?"

"Perfect."

The clipped reply makes you shrink a little into your seat and you catch her eye in the rear view mirror. There's a glimmer of something there you don't recognise at first other than mild annoyance.

Caitlin doesn't respond to your question only glancing Steph's way.

Slowly, you put two and two together when you're just about back to your shared home.

"Is this about Anna?"

"We'll talk when we get home."

Sighing softly, you settle back into your seat.

Only, you don't get the chance to say much when you're just about dragged inside and pushed against the entryway wall, two pairs of hands and legs keeping you pinned to the wall.

Suddenly, this night is going much differently than you expected.

"Anna wasn't-"

A hand gripping your jaw makes you close your mouth.

"Say her name again and you won't cum for a month."

Whimpering under their fiery gazes, Steph moves to slip two fingers past your lips while Caitlin tugs at the hemline of the top you're wearing.

Sucking on the intruding digits, not wanting to push their buttons any further, you lift your arms to allow the piece of clothing to be discarded, and then your pants following that.

Now, pressed down onto the bed, stripped bare, one body sitting pinning your hands above you, the other moving about the closet, you're feeling a little nervous.

"You wanted to be little slut at the club with that woman, you can be a little slut for us instead and take what we give you. Can you be a good girl for us?"

Steph's words make you shiver under her, breathing already hitching, finger tips pressing down on the back of your tongue almost forcing a gag out of you and making your eyes water.

She then removes them for a moment.

When you don't answer straight away, you're met with the same fingers gripping your chin tightly to look back up at her.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Steph."

"Good."

She nods, satisfied and gestures to your other girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of... cuffs?

The younger of the two releases Steph's grip on your wrists only to click them into place above your head.

"Since you can't be good for us lately, we figured a little assistance might be in order. If you're good, we might let you touch later."

The fur covered metal only digs into your wrists enough to provide resistance against any movement outside of their upright position attached together above you, her hands holding the cuffs in place.

Satisfied with your level of restriction, Steph moves to rest between your legs rather than on them.

You're so focused on Steph's movements that you're surprised by Caitlin's sudden presence on the bed once again, this time stripped down to just a sports bra and dildo strapped to her hips.

"You're gonna be a good girl and give us a show, like the good little slut you are."

The tone sends shivers down your spine and you're nodding without even processing too much what was said, though it does leave heat pooling ridiculously fast between your legs.

They'd been like this before but never this dominating and it was making your head spin.

Caitlin manoeuvres so the tip of the strap is pressed against your lips, your head turned accordingly to line up with it.

Slowly, she presses her hips forward, lips parting to accommodate the silicone head.

"That's a good girl."

You have to suppress a keening whine as you start breathing through your nose the deeper she pushes the fake cock.

"Go on then, pretty thing, give us a show."

Doing the best you can with the little leverage you have, you start bobbing up and down (more like back and forth with the way you're currently stuck).

With encouraging hand in your hair, you're being met with an occasional impatient thrust from the forward.

At a particularly rough point, she thrusts and hits the back of your throat harshly and forces another gag from you, at one point even holding your head down on the full length long enough to spring tears to your eyes.

Finally, she let's go and eases off on your head, letting you pull off her with a gasp of air.

"There's a good little slut. Being so good for us."

Steph's words of praise in your ear bring you back to the present.

She'd shifted to a better view point beside you and her hand now has settled on your collarbone, pushing you back flush with the mattress once more.

"Such a pretty little mouth, would hate to see it unoccupied."

Steph gestures to your other girlfriend to shift behind her, between your legs, and you're distracted by the woman stripping down completely, internally groaning at the revealed sight of bare skin and muscle.

Moving your arms so they're relaxed resting on your hips instead of above you, she moves to straddle either side of your head looking down at you with a small smirk.

You whine softly, anticipating getting your mouth on her.

"Ah ah."

She tuts softly when you lean up.

"Beg."

Shivering softly, you lean back to make full eye contact.

"Please Steph, let me taste you."

She raises a brow.

"Please, I need you. I need to taste you. Let me show how good I am."

You whine the last part and she pretends to think for a moment before nodding down at you.

"Go on, baby, you know what to do."

Meeting her halfway down, your tongue dips straight into her and lips wrap around her clit, finally getting a taste of the brunette.

Steph moans above you, hand tangling in your hair with an encouraging tug.

"Fuck, that's it."

Just as you slip your tongue into her, you feel your legs being pushed fully apart and a pair of arms wrap around your thighs, holding them in place.

A mouth on you has your hips canting up against the woman's face and a moan reverberating into the woman above you.

"You make her cum first and you get to cum."

You almost don't hear it with Steph's thighs clamped around your head but as soon as it's out of her mouth and she's returned to sucking your clit, you know she isn't gonna play fair about this.

Moving your tongue, you drag it over her several times, swiftly shaping over her clit and sucking best you can with the little room you have to move your head.

Using every trick you have to make your long time girlfriend cum on your tongue, you can hear her getting more vocal above you.

Curses and praises mixed together angled towards you as she rocks against your mouth, forcing your ministrations to be faster and more harsh on her clit, though you can't find it in you to complain.

You'd gladly spend the rest of your life buried between her thighs, taste exploding on your tongue.

Meanwhile, Caitlin's doubled down on you, her hand slipping beneath her to slide two fingers inside you and to start pumping against your g-spot, angling perfectly while she suctions on your clit.

You can feel yourself soaked on her digits and you realise just how close you are already.

Definitely not playing fair but you don't go down without a hard fight.

Steph's legs just start to shake around you as your stomach starts to clench and you fight off cumming for as long as it takes to ravish the woman sitting on your face.

Surprising yourself, you only let go when you hear Steph's moans peak above you and her thighs clench tightly around you, stomach tightening as she releases onto your tongue, and moan loudly, vibrations pushing her fully over the edge.

Caitlin's movements slow inside you, making small massaging motions to bring you down and your stomach unclenches as well as your legs.

"God baby, so good for us. So good for me, making me cum so well."

She slips off your head leaning down to capture your now very swollen, sex mussed lips with her own, tasting herself on you instantly.

With a small whine as Caitlin runs her thumb over your still sensitive clit, you shift in the cuffs but don't move to touch either of them at all.

Steph notes it with a knowing smirk and more praise spilling from her lips.

"Well done, baby. Trying so hard to be good for us and not move."

When you gasp suddenly, arching your back, Steph looks back and up at the striker now sitting on her haunches between your legs with a raised brow.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

She's got the strap head pressed into you, hips fighting not to completely bottom out in you just yet.

The head alone has you stretched out deliciously and you can barely stop writhing onto the strap.

Steph moves your wrists to back above your head, hand falling to splay across your bare stomach.

"That's it pretty girl, be still for her. It'll fit easier."

Caitlin slowly pushes into your cunt, the shaft stretching you much like the head and when she bottoms out, you can't help the whimper you let out, your eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Steph's other hand leaves your wrists, finding your throat instead, giving a little squeeze as Caitlin pulls slowly out again.

The lack of air makes it a little harder to pace yourself on the stretch when she pushes back in but you find yourself loving every second of it.

Giving a small go ahead nod, followed by a squeaked moan as she starts finding a pace, leaning forward to rest her hands either side of your head as she starts thrusting faster, leaving you keening into the air of the bedroom, head falling back as moans start to fall from your lips louder than before.

"How's she feel, Cait?"

"Fuck so tight, babe."

Caitlin's panting between thrusts, abs clenching with effort as she pushes the strap into you with vigour.

"Taking her cock so well, baby girl."

Her lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing the skin as she tries to avoid disturbing the other woman's rhythm too much.

You're a whining, whimpering, keening mess underneath them, now straining to avoid moving your hands anywhere other than where Steph left them.

"You gonna be a good girl for us? Stay nice and still while she fucks you? Makes you cum?"

Her fingers tighten around your throat.

"Wanna be so good for you!"

You're moaning in time with the harsh thrusts into you, Caitlin fully pistoning her hips forwards, hands coming to wrap around your thighs, pulling you down onto her with every thrust forward.

"Fuck, pretty girl, taking me so well."

Her eyes train over your sweat sheened form, hands gripping and nails digging into the flesh of your legs, which you're sure will leave bruises later.

Not that you can find it in you to mind all that much.

"Please! I'm so close!"

Looking to Steph for permission, when she receives a nod, she plants herself again, putting a final effort into her hips slapping against yours, the strap massaging your insides perfectly.

You can barely keep up with the feeling her of rutting into you, and the coil in your stomach tightens and then finally snaps when her thumb moves to rub your clit hastily.

Steph watches on, mesmerised with the way your body reacts to Caitlin absolutely destroying you.

Watches the way your mouth drops open in one final silent scream, legs quivering, stomach clenching and unclenching as the woman slows to a mild thrust after chasing her own high.

You're whimpering softly with your eyes squeezed shut after a moment, the sensitivity getting to be a lot.

"That's it pretty girl. So good for us."

Steph mutters the words into your ear, teeth grazing and tugging on your earlobe, before pressing soft kisses across the skin.

Caitlin slides out slowly, careful not to budge you too much as your breathing calms.

Tossing the strap off to the side, your arms are finally able to come to rest on your stomach again still cuffed together, Steph moving to the bathroom to grab a cloth and then downstairs for water.

Steph returns, undoing the water to let you drink while waiting for Caitlin to come back, running the damp cloth over you, soft praises uttered in your ear.

"That's our sweet girl, did so well."

After a brief moment of shuffling around, you hear the younger of the two yell out from the closet.

"Babe, where's the keys?"

"I thought you had them."

"...."

"Cait.."

"....Uh?"

Steph's head whips to the open closet doorway.

"They should've been in the packaging, check in there."

"..."

Another moment of some shuffling.

"We threw out the packing yesterday, didn't we?"

"CAITLIN JADE FOORD."

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#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #steph catley imagine #steph catley imagines #steph catley x reader #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord imagines #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord x steph catley x reader

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homestylehughes · 2 days

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forbidden love

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!hughes sister

summary: what happens when they both want a love that's forbidden?

warnings: fluff, sooo much flufffff. nicos a cute little baby in this. shy, nervous and cute reader. use of pet names and y/n. cussing, implied smut 18+ intense makeout, nothing too heavy.

wc: 3.6k

an: hiiiiii loves!!! NICO FIC NICO FIC NICO FIC!!!! about damn time!! loveeee nico. hes so ?? to many words. i really enjoyed writing this. this is my first hughes sister story i've written, and i loveeee, hopefully you guys do too! i had trouble deciding if i should make this a cliffhanger or not... i kinda did but i think i want a part 2 if you guys want that!!! share your opinions, i love hearing them!! anyways i hope you enjoy, this might be my favorite piece yet. i hope you guys enjoy! like and reblog if you do, much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Nico knew he couldn't have you, but he wanted you anyway. Being Luke and Jack's older sister, made you off limits to anybody on the team, older or not. Nico had not always felt this way about you until recently.

Ever since Jack got drafted to the devils, and then luke, he started to see you at more fundraising events held by the devils, team outings whenever you were in town visiting. Stealing little glances at you when you were in the same room, being pulled in by your smile and how you moved your hands as you talked to anyone and everyone.

If that didn't already pull him into you even more, what did was, how you acted with the rest of the team treating all of the boys like they're our own family. Always greeting nico with a shy smile and hi, making conversation about anything, hockey related or not.

Nico was enhanced by you, but he couldn't have you, which brings you guys to this moment.

–

“Jack if you don't answer your phone, god help me” I yell shout out, as I call Jack for the 10th time in the span of 15 minutes. Already calling Luke’s phone around 30 times, still no answer. My hands are shaking as I type out random masses of texts to both of them.

So maybe taking an impromptu trip to see my brothers wasn't the best idea. living in vancouver had its perks, being close to Quinn was one of them but i missed my two younger brothers, or maybe i should say assholes since neither of them can answer their phones.

I'm standing outside their apartment soaked from head to toe, not thinking about the rain, nor was I thinking about the fact that they had moved, leaving me with no key to their place.

So I'm stuck, knowing there's nothing I can do. I pull my suitcase over to the wall, slowly and dramatically slide down the wall, letting out a deep sigh as I do. My phone is almost dead, I'm hungry, jetlagged, annoyed, cold, wet and so many other words right now.

Dropping my head into my arms that rest on my knees, deciding that this will be my final resting place, for tonight. I hear the elevator door ding open on the floor, not bothering to look up knowing it's neither jack or luke walking down the hall.

“y/n” I hear my voice with a thick accent say, knowing the voice I slowly lift my head up, locking eyes with the one and only Nico Hischier “Hi..” I mutter back embarrassed at the fact that look like a lost wet dog right now in front of him.

“Are you okay, did something happen?” he asks back as he begins to walk closer to me. “I uhh…wanted to surprise Jack and Luke but it seems like they aren't here.” i sign out, “to make it worse i don't have a key to their apartment, they're not answering my calls or texts. My phones almost dead and i'm covered in wet rain and i'm cold.'' I huff out the last part, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I close my eyes quickly not wanting to look like a fool even more and cry in front of nico.

“Oh y/n”, expecting him to just stand there, instead he makes his way to me taking a seat on the ground next to me. "What are you doing nico?” I say, opening my eyes again, turning my head to lock my eyes with his. I get a good look at him for the first time since this, and fuck is he beatiful.

His deep voice snapping me out of my trance as he speaks, “sitting with you, what else does it look like.” he says followed with a soft chuckle. “Nico, you don't have to do that, I'm okay, you can go home, I'm sure you're tired.” instantly feeling bad he's wasting his night away with me out here.

“Jack and Luke would kill me if I left you out here by yourself”, “if I don't kill them myself” I say back my eyes now dropping back my feet. That earns a laugh from Nico, he has such a nice laugh, I think to myself. y/n, snap out of it and get it together.

Sitting up straighter, pulling my head to lean against the wall, mirroring nicos position. “Are you sure? You don't have too, i'm not even sure when they'll be back.'' I say looking at Nico, who's looking back at me. “Well I do have another idea,” he says, licking his lips before speaking again. “I live right down the hall, if you'd like you can stay with me until they come back.”

“Nico i can't do that, i feel bad”, “don't feel bad, i'm offering. I'm leaving you out here by yourself.” he repeated to me again. My heart picks up at his words. Taking a deep breath, I weigh my options in my head, knowing that this is probably the best option, but also my worst.

How am i going to survive with very, sweet, hot, sexy, nice, handsome, pretty, swiss caption of the new jersey devils, nico hischier? I'm probably not, but at least I'll die happy and not here.

“Okay, I'll come. Thank you so much nico.” I finally answered him, “dont worry about it, come on let's get you changed and warmed up i can't imagine how cold and tired you are” he says with a soft loving look on his face. Getting up before me, holding out his hand for me to grab, pulling me up from the floor. His hand feels so soft and warm in mine, I don't want to let go.

Pulling my hand out of Nico’s, I go to grab my suitcase, to follow him down the hall, before I can fully grab it Nico has it in his hands. “Nico..i can grab my own suitcase” “i know you can, but i want to do it, so i am” he says as he looks back at me smiling.

Ignoring how his smile made my whole body tingle, I sigh out and shake my head as a small smile breaks through on my lips, as I follow Nico down the hall.

Stopping at his place, only a few doors down from my brothers, popping in the key and turning the lock, quickly opening the door. He motions for me to go in first, I give him a small smile as I enter the apartment.

Taking in the place around me, pictures of his family and teammates over the walls, little nicnacs that fill the space, it feels like home. “Does my place give you your approval?” he says from behind me, “yes it does, jack and luke need to take a few home decor lessons from you.” that earns me another laugh from nico.

“Let me show you the guest bedroom” he says, leading me through the apartment, down a hall, opening a door which I assume is in the guest room. “Here's the guest room, hopefully it's okay and comfortable for you, I wasn't expecting anyone over anytime soon and i-” “Nico'' I say, cutting off his ramble. “It's perfect, thank you” I say walking in front of him, pulling him into a hug.

God, he smells so good. The way his warm body is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, I don't want to pull away, but I do after a few moments.

“You're welcome y/n” he says looking at me again, i can feel my heart beginning to heat up. Clearing his throat before looking away, “the bathroom is at the end of the hall, my room is at the beginning of the hall.” he says, while pointing in the direction. Nodding in understanding even though he can't see me.

“Feel free to shower and get changed, i'm going to head to the kitchen to start making dinner” he says now turning back to face me, “nicooo… you don't have to cook anything. You're already doing so much for me by letting me stay here, really”

“Now what kind of host would I be, if I let a pretty girl like you starve under my watch.” Nico replies with a teasing smile on his face. “A bad one i guess” I smile breaking through my face. “You called me pretty” I said again, my eyes never leaving his. “I did, because you are.” he says before walking out of the room, leaving me stunned.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” I hear him shout from the kitchen, popping my head out of the room, “no! Surprise me!” I replied.

This is dangerous, I can not think or find him attractive. He’s my brother's captain, teammate and also one of their closest friends. I have to keep it together.

I gather my things to take a shower, making my way to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on. I then work on peeling off my semi- wet clothes off my body, the relief filling my veins once they're finally off, finally making my way into the shower. The hot water relaxes my body instantly. Throughout the whole shower all of my thoughts are about Nico, and I'm going to act once I get out of here, making me nervous and feeling things. Things i shouldn't feel.

Turning off the shower, getting out and drying myself quickly. I began getting redressed again, clearing the mirror to take a look at myself, the old devils shirt i've had for god knows how long, that's probably three sizes too big, and shorts that you cant even see. Not bothering to pack pants, because I thought I would be staying with my brothers, not Nico.

Inserucies start to plague my mind but I push them down. brushing my hair, fixing my shirt, deciding that it's good enough. Grabbing my things before making my back to the guest bedroom. dropping off my things in the room before taking a deep breath making my way towards the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen, nicos back is turned to me. A sight that I'm not complaining about seeing. The way his mussels are ripping through his shirt, is enough to make my mouth water. What I'm doing. Get it together.

Walking further into the kitchen, I get a better look at what he's cooking, pasta boiling the water and it looks like he's making a type of sauce. Smiling softly to myself, at how sweet he is.

“Do you need any help?” I say breaking the silence. Nico turned around quickly, a smile dancing on his face. “No, I'm okay, thank you though. How was your shower?” he asks before turning back to the stove again.

“It was good, thank you” I say, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure where to go or what to do. “I can feel your nerves from over here y/n.” nicos voice breaks through the kitchen as he speaks, “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” I nervously laughed out loud. “Why?” Nico says as he circles his way around the counter leaning against it, in front of me.

“You make me nervous, I don't know how to act around you.'' I said truthfully to him, while looking in his eyes. “You make me nervous too, don't worry” he says as he looks me up and down, his gaze feels like summer sun on my skin, leaving trails of heat throughout my body.

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, feel free to take a seat, or keep standing there checking me out. Either work for me” nico says to me, winking as he walks around the kitchen again. I'm frozen in place. What just happened? Is Nico flirting with me? The wink? Holy shit.

My mind and body are on fire, as I walk over to the island to sit down. Tension fills the air, I sit there for a few minutes trying to wrack my brain of something to say.

Nico beats me to it before I have the chance to open my mouth. “You look different” he says, back still turned towards me. “What do you mean by different? Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Not bad,” he replies now, turning to look at me, “just older, I'm not sure how to explain it, but you look good.”

“Thank you?” i say my cheeks are warming with blush. “You’re welcome” he hums back. “You look really good too” I say, Nico chuckles at me “shit, sorry. You look good like everything you know? Mussels, everything. I'm rambling, shit. this is embarrassing." I say, dropping my head into my hands with a groan.

“I found it cute, don't worry pretty girl.'' Turning around to get plates out of the cabinet. Pretty girl. Gosh he's making it harder to not go pounce on him right this second.

“Dinners done, are you ready to eat?” he says a few moments later, nodding my head at nico as he looks my way. Grabbing two plates filling them with the pasta he made , which looked so good. My stomach growling, reminding me how hungry I am.

Placing my plate in front of me, along with a glass of wine that I didn't even see him pour. “I think you might need this after today” he says justering to the wine, as he takes a seat next to me. “How'd you know?” I slowly laughed to him, “this food looks so good, nico. Thank you so much”

“You don't have to thank me, y/n but, you're very welcome.” he says to me. “Now eat, I heard your stomach growl in the kitchen.” he says in a teasing tone. My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my fork, and digging in. the flavors, melting on my tongue. I internally moan at the taste.”fuck this is so good” i say with a mouth half full. Forgetting Nico is right next to me, I'm quick to cover my mouth with my hand.

“I'm glad you enjoy it.” Nico says, smiling at me before taking another bite. Nico and I make small talk as we eat, talking about anything from hockey and my brothers to my job in Vancouver, and everything in between. Finding myself laughing and blushing more than I would have liked. Nicos charm pulled me in, and I couldn't find a care in me to stop falling for it.

“Thank you again for dinner nico” I say as he clears the plates. “Of course, not everyday I get to cook for thee, y/n hughes” “shut up” I laugh back at him.

“At least let me do those dishes, since you made dinner,” I say , making my way to the sink where Nico is standing. “No way, go sit back down,” Nico says, looking down at me. “I'm not taking no for an answer nico.” I say placing my hands on my hips, “fine, but I'll dry them.” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I know why Jack and Luke say you're bossy”. “Hey now. I'm not that bossy, shut it” turning my body away from him as I speak. Turning on the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap, and began washing the plates in the sink.

Nico just chuckles in response. We began a system of wash, dry, wash dry. The silence is comfortable as we work in peace. It almost feels domestic? Something that I could get used to. y/n stop thinking about that. It will never happen.

“y/n” nico says snapping me out of my day dream, “hmm?” “You've been washing the same plate for the last 2 minutes. I'm pretty sure that it's clean ""oh!" I say looking down at the practically shiny plate in my hands, “here you go I'm sorry” handing him the plate, our hands grazing, making my heart rate speed up.

I have to get out of the kitchen, I say to myself. Turning off the water and drying my hands on the towel, stepping away from the sink, locking my eyes on my sock covered feet.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks me, raising my head to look at him. “Yes I'm okay, just tired,” I say softly. “I think I might head to bed, see if Jack or Luke responded to me or not.”

“Of course, feel free.” Nico says, while putting the dishes away. “Okay..thank you again for dinner, again. Goodnight.” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen, Nico following behind me. “Good night y/n.” he says to me with a small smile on his face, i smile in return and make my way to the guest room for the night.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. making my way over to the phone to see that neither jack or luke have responded to me, a frown falling on my face. I call them each again, even sending Quinn a text asking if he's heard of them.

Locking my phone, setting it back on the bedside table, I pull back the blankets settling into the bed. Slowly sinking into the comfort of the bed, I can feel the effects of today hitting my body. My eyes slowly closing, the one thing crossing my mind is nico.

Just as I'm able to fully close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. Getting out of bed, opening the door to see a now shirtless nico in sweatpants standing in front me. Hair messy, like he's been running his hand constantly through it.

“Everything okay, did you need something?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes on his face only. “Everything is fine, yes” he replies to me quickly. “Are you sure?” I ask again, feeling like he hasn't told me the whole story yet.

“Can I do something?” He asks me if I can feel his eyes looking at my lips, “yes?” I say swallowing quickly. Nico takes a step more, until he's directly in front of me, his face a few inches from mine.

“I shouldn't want to kiss you y/n '' he begins, my breath hitching as he places both of his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on them. “I shouldn't have these thoughts about you. Youre jack and lukes older sister, fuck i should be thinking about you like this.” he says now locking his eyes with mine.

“I can't help myself though, everything about you is perfect. I want you all to myself.” one of his hands begins tracing up my side, making its way to the side of my neck holding it place, lifting my head to meet his face better.

“I want you so bad. I can't have you though. You're like a forbidden fruit that i want to taste and kiss and love so bad but i can't have you, and it's killing me.” he finishes dropping his head lower to mine, our faces now only a few centimeters apart.

“Who says you can't have me?” I say softly, not trusting my voice, trailing my hands around his neck. “What if I want you too?” I whisper out before connecting our lips together.

Nico is quick to respond, pulling my body flush against his, our lips dancing together. His hand trailing down to my ass, grabbing a handful of it before pulling away, smiling at me, “I've wanted to do that all day” he smirked at me, before connecting our lips together again. His tongue enters my mouth as we fight for dominance, deciding to let Nico win.

I began to walk backwards towards the bed, hoping Nico would follow. Before I know it he's picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and tossing me on the bed in his bedroom.

I look at the room around me, taking in every detail, before locking eyes with nico who's now looking at me from above. The way his chain dangles in my face, and his brown eyes look in the dimly lit room, and how his chest rises and falls is a sight I want to see forever and forever.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he smirks to me, “you're just so pretty” i say as i run my hands through his hair. “Isn't that something i'm supposed to say?” he asks as he begins to place soft kisses down my exposed neck.

“Maybe you could show me instead?” I say, pushing my lips to his again. His hands quickly fell underneath my shirt, tracing up my bare sides. I remove my hands from nicos hair, pushing myself up from the bed. Pulling off my shirt, throwing it somewhere behind us, clipping my bra, tossing it in the same direction as my shirt. Now leaving myself completely bare in front of nico besides my shorts.

Our chests are raising and falling together, our eyes locked. “y/n..” nico says to me breathlessly. “Fuck you’re so beautiful” his hands running along my bare sides and underneath my breasts. “Are you sure about this?” he asks me, our faces close together again, “i've never been so sure about anything in my life, Nico please touch me.” desperation in my voice dripping like honey.

A growl like noise rips through nico, as he reconnects our lips together again. His hands are everywhere, heat spreading all throughout my body. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere.

If he's a forbidden fruit, then why does it feel so good?

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #nico hischer x reader #nh13 #nico hischier #njd #nico hischier smut

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postersofleon · 3 days

Text

gonna bully re6 leon because he needs to be humbled. the way he disrespected chris is still living in my mind. angry/mean sex. fem!reader

the trip back to america was silent. you and leon sat silently in a hotel. you tapped on your foot, feeling annoyed that leon thought he was right. you were the only idiot making progress in the simmons case while leon pointed a gun at chris. "i," you attempted to swallow your anger towards your boyfriend, "why, why didn't you just fucking read my reports?" you even worked on it with ada to see the consequences of simmons, but the moron thought carla was ada. you repeatedly tried over and over through cons or messages and the idiot read it way too late.

"i always feel like I'm talking with a stupid brick wall."

leon opened his legs to man spread, "i thought i was doing right."

"yeah, and what did that get you?" you asked him. leon faked his death to chase simmons and... he gained what? new wounds she has to clean up. you rubbed your face, "and ada still having to clear your name because you focused on the wrong things."

he grimaced for a bit. "simmons was threatening the situation."

"did you even try to ask the people around you?" you asked him. "i know you and Chris don't speak a lot, but, fuck," you couldn't help but laugh, "you are so lucky chris is a good guy. you threatening him for ada despite you knowing shit."

leon's face turned red, "ada saved me. ada had saved the two of us so many times-" his voice was raising every second he got more angry. you laughed softly, he was unbelievable sometimes. "yeah, and defending her for neo-umbrella." you snapped back, "jesus, kennedy, i didn't know you fucked with neo-umbrella. was i the only one actually trying to form a friendship with ada?" the three of them have met for so long. ever since raccoon city, you were the only one who apparently spoke to ada.

leon's nose twitched, "i just wanted to help her."

a small silence was between you two. you two always swore to have sex if an argument was getting too bad. leon took off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. you followed his direction. you took off your jeans and kicked them down.

"you are a fucking idiot." you hissed softly before sitting on his lap. you rubbed against his bulge, "you are only worth it because of your cock." you grabbed his face.

leon glared at you, but once he felt your pussy lips rubbing on his bulge he groaned weakly. "bitch..." he muttered back. your breaths were mixing with each others. leon's eyes soften for a second until he remembered his anger.

he leaned in and kissed you, nearly throwing you to the ground. leon ripped open your shirt and slapped your tits. "those fucking tits always so fucking needy. you are so angry with me yet your cunt needs me." you grunted weakly from each slap. his hand grabbed your tits and squeezed it.

"you fucking asshole." you moaned weakly. leon dove in and sucked on your nipples. his teeth nibble on the pebble and gently tugged on it.

"you love my bullshit." he muttered softly.

trimming was enough for the two of you.

leon tugged down his underwear and rubbed his cock around your covered panties, "you fucking love my bullshit." you were getting more pissed off and leon moaned softly. "your pussy..." his fingers tugged the sides of your panties. his pre-cum was trailing down your own pubes that you didn't have time to shave completely. you worked too much to worry about it, and leon was the same.

the tip of his cock dragged around your pussy lips. "look at you... god... i need to marry you before i fuck up too badly." his tip circled around your clit making your back arch.

leon's fingers harshly rubbed your clit and they slowly slide down your hole. harshly moving his fingers deep in you. your eyes rolled back as you moaned loudly. "pu-put your stupid cock to work..." you mumbled softly. leon nodded his head.

in the end of the day, leon loved your pussy more than anything. he removed his fingers and slowly slid into your hole. he moaned softly. his anger turned into lust so quickly. your warm walls were always so good. you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

"you need to apologize to chris."

leon nodded his head, "i will. i promise." he grabbed your legs and put them on his waist. you tighten around his cock and he moaned pathetically.

leon is a moron who can't think straight, but he shuts up so fast when he is inside of your cunt. those pathetic little cries of pleasure, his cheeks all red because he wants to keep quiet. leon was moron. you roll your hips so he can feel those specific details, his pathetic cock slips out and oozes out his cum on your tummy.

"i'll be good. i'll shut the fuck up." he grabbed his cock and put it back inside. you two moaned together as he began to push himself deeper into you. your butt was raised from the ground as he pounded you faster and deeper. his balls hit you over and over. his face was in front of yours. the anger in your eyes vanished for a second. you fucking loved this idiot. you kissed you, he stopped thrusting for a bit to properly kiss you.

"i love you..." he mumbled against your lips.

"i love you too."

leon smiled brightly before continuing to fuck your pussy. he rubbed your thighs gently and held your ass tightly against the palm of his hand. he didn't want to lose you despite it sometimes being seen like that. especially with the way you looked at him. he moaned softly, you had the galaxy in your eyes everytime he was around.

he pounded you faster over and over. his hand grabbed you a bit too hard that you moaned loudly. leon was bending you more and more, your legs were completely off the ground as he kept and kept going. the tip of his cock hitting your spot over and over. "leon... leon!" You grabbed his injured shoulder, he hissed out with pain but kept going. his cum painted your wall and filled you up. leon looked at you weakly, he was just an idiot in love with his girlfriend. his hand gently caressed your face. his fingers caressed your lips, "i'm sorry." He whispered softly.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re6 leon

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fawnpires · 1 day

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hihii idk if ur requests are open but I'd like 2 kindly question for a konig x hyperfem! reader?? just konig falling in love with cutesy fm reader -🎀

୨୧ — anon, you’ve just blessed me with creating the concept of college!könig + hyperfem!reader together as a pair.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ -> COLLEGE AU, hyperfem + fem!reader, college!könig, undertones of pining, strangers to lovers, dumbification, size difference, oral sex [fem. receiving], mutual loss of virginity, messy sex, tons of manhandling, usage of pet names.

There's something about him that appeals to no other girl; he's around a year or two older in comparison to you – a kept-to-himself, socially bordered-off type of guy, barely knows how to communicate with others, barely knows how to converse with girls at that.

Hell, you don't even think you've seen him up until now, – excluding the classes you have with him – perched up in some corner of a borderline sketchy frat party, spread-legged on the couch and stiff as ever with a red solo cup cupped in his equally tense fist. Not his kind-of environment. Not the sort to be here. Makes you wonder where he'd much rather be right now.

You're smitten by him, as early as those feelings sound and fully embedded itself in your head. But who were you to deny them about a guy like him? – a lean, tall structure with just a sufficient amount of softness and toughened muscles around the edges, the kindest hues of blue gracing the formations of his eyes, and that nearly dreamy shade of pale-sandy that his shaggy hair and light stubble takes on.

And you don’t have the faintest clue how, but you would never expect to end up on that couch, the bared skin of your thigh beneath the pleats of your little mini-skirt rubbing up against the coarse fabric of his jeans. although it’s probably the alcohol, or the closely intimate atmosphere of the party, but either way, you had no doubts that his mere presence was to have you hooked onto him. (save for the innocent school-girl crush that you'd never owned up to until right about now.)

"König, right?" you asked, striking up benevolent conversation all while giving him a timid yet sweet smile plastered against the puffiness of your glossed-over lips.

The moment you had first made your way over here and politely invited yourself directly next to him, it left him paralyzed, constricted in his own body to some extent. He couldn't deny your beauty as much as you found his own; a bit ditsy in all the right places appearance-wise, but possessing your own personal fashion sense which he found quite endearing. Little pale-pink ribbons he had always observed you wearing around campus and during classes somewhere in your hair, a variety of mini-skirts and dresses, or the occasional crop top and a track-suit. The cliché feminine kind.

This particular exchange seems to pique his interests. He comes across as oddly indulged in you, eyes discreetly alight than usual.

“Mhm. I know you,” he nodded, a delicate gruff-ness lingering in his tone. “you’ve become a common sight to me, not to sound strange, but I'm sure we have most classes together.”

“Not strange at all. Though, I barely see you around outside of classes.”

“Yeah, I figured. just not the partying-type, it’s a mystery as to how I ended up here.”

You snorted. “The frats are my best guess, complete assholes. Must’ve gotten to your head about letting loose, stupefying yourself… somethin’ like that.”

He chuckles, ending it in a brief dragged-out sigh, sincere and throaty, his lips left agape.

“You know, they may not be entirely wrong,” he ponders aloud, eyeing your doe gaze before aimlessly staring ahead. “there’s no harm in loosening up every now and then – but still, I fear the farthest I can go is alcohol.”

“No girls?” you remark teasingly, tilting your head like a curious puppy. “That’s hard to believe.”

The tease of a compliment causes him to roll his eyes in a light-hearted manner, his head sloping back down to stare down at you as he’s left with a raised eyebrow – along with a small, stupid-plastered grin smudged across his semi-thinned lips. Focused. strange, charming, loser of a man he was. It was probably just the alcohol really enhancing on his actions and speech, but who was he to not take advantage of such abilities?

In some subconscious portion between his assumed temporary self-confidence and original, reserved and sweetheart-of-a-man self; an arm reached around the expanse of your back, keeping you close to him in a fragile way of handling you. His hand had itself in your hair, lightly toying with the satin material of your ribbons in the most tender way possible.

There’s evident potential amidst the both of you – he knows it, and you know it.

“Not so hard to believe when I'm talking to one right now.” he comments, blinking at you with a subtle smirk. “I've never told you or anyone this but… god, you’re a beauty.”

His flirtations were kept sweetened, innocent and a tad shy still. He's pleasant enough to converse with rather than fraternities. They weren’t much of empaths, just insufferable pains in the asses. Turning girls into their insignificant wet dreams. At least König beat the poorly-set expectations of getting together with a man like that as a last resort out of you, a chance at more ideal circumstances.

You found yourself enamored with the guy the second you walked into this party – gaping over at him through the corners of your eyes across the room, across campus, – and now, without a train of moral thinking in your head, you’ve got yourself in the same position like every other girl at a college party; settled in some handsome stranger’s lap, and making out with him your life depends on it. The last thing you remembered was the way his words in the form of a compliment came to you, before you had your legs rested on each side of his spread legs and large hands caging gently at your waist.

It’s an ambiguity as to how quickly your body molds into his, ridges and curves sculpting as if they were familiar to one another, almost like they were predestined to attach like a hidden prophecy. His kisses are a far cry from how you initially expected them to be. (unfortunately rough, messy, just like how you’d seen your friends get it on with their boyfriends.)

A heavy hand palms at the back of your head while the other is left at one side of your hip – the cushion of his lips meeting yours with a lenient, mutual desperation. You barely know anything about him, yet here you are caught in this trance of letting him take guidance in this, all you’re doing is pursuing in whatever he does. Your arms wrap around his neck, chest rising and falling against his as the intimacy of the kiss begins to naturally register in your brain. He had you in the palm of his hand, clearly.

You’re so deeply in savoring the exhilarating taste of him that it was beyond your realizations he’s up and lifting you off of his lap, instead leading you on with only both of your arms clinging to one of his own – leaning onto him in a love-drunk predicament. You could’ve sworn he was looking down at you with the most adoration you’ve ever seen on a man’s face, nothing surprising when he was being the right amount of considerate to accompany you back to your own dorm – to lose his heart’s worth and devotion to. He had such a pure heart, virtuous even. That is, until you’re at the foot of your door, and you’re unlocking it without a realistic thought in mind – were you really this yearnful? – lacing fingers with a foreign individual, breaths lost in a slight stagger until you’re swinging the door wide open and stumbling inside along with him.

It’s when your legs wrap around the dips of his hips, and your arms once more caging in framing his neck, you definitely knew that this was something beyond casual. He ghosts kisses against the course of your jaw, trailing down to your neck, a hungering fluctuation. Your head is leaned backwards, body held in the confines of his towering-self and the solid wall; truthfully, it was a reality of euphoric suffocation with his hand gently resting around your neck and the whole situation with him and the wall, fingers resting on the skin for some stability rather than the purpose of choking you out.

In all of his honesty, he doesn’t know where he’s obtained this abrupt ability to turn such a pretty girl into a melted pile of mush in his hands, considering his substantial lack of experience. However, he couldn’t deny putting it to good use.

With a share of his hoarse huffs and your choked-up intoxicated sighs, he rounds the corner of your living room area and nearly trips over the threshold of the bedroom bringing you into it. You project your gaze onto his face – and bizarrely, find that you are unable to stifle a smile at the sheer sight of him, girlish and one possessing the aspects of authentic love, a rosy color blooming across your facial features. He cups the softness of your ass beneath the stretched material over your skirt, chuckling beneath his breath at the show of flusteredness occupying your face. He pecks chastely at your forehead before laying you down in the center of your mattress, hunched over, affectionately trailing his lips across the stretch of your shoulders and collarbones. He's gentle, stroking at the outlines of your sides soothingly, getting your heart-rate spiking and the blood in your veins pulsating, reveling in a newer warmth.

“You might just be the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says to you in a hushed voice, palming at the dough-like flesh of your breasts through your top and bra before shedding them off of your chest. He stares dumb-founded at the caused nudity, his eyes downcast and a slight bob in his adam’s apple. “you must really like me a lot to let me do this to you, huh, prinzessin?”

You bit the region of your lower lip, teeth sinking into the kiss-swollen rawness while you nodded your head, eyelashes fluttering up at him. “Like you so much, König. I…” you swallowed, brushing the back of your hand against the contours of his face. “I think you’re the sweetest guy in the world.” you finish breathily, eyes half-lidded in a sensual-ardent craze.

He kisses your knuckles, and then the area beneath. “Yeah? I've got a bunch of feelings about you too.” König says, his hands now finding their way to the edges of your skirt and pulling the piece of fabric down to discard on the floor next to your bed.

“Really?” you respond with a ditsy little smile.

A small smile creases his lips. “Of course I do. How do you think we’ve even managed to end up like this in the first place?” he says, “Feelings and a beautiful girl do have their tolls on a man.”

And there is when those carved, rugged hands of his do the most predictable; fingertips over lace and hooked into the waistband, dragging down that last article of modesty down and giving him a full worth’s perspective of the girl he had longed after, and not so shamefully, fell in love with in a single night. Desperation is put at the forefront of his mind from this point and on – since the manner of which he plants his knees into the mattress and nestles himself in between the spread of your legs that now rested curled and caging around his hips was something truly explicit in nature.

Calloused fingers slip between your thighs within a matter of a few seconds, the pads of his fingertips massaging from your clit and right to the center of your puffy folds, glossed over with copious amounts of your slick. Your benefit of bringing him right back to your dorm room, a man with an eagerness to pull an orgasm out of such an angel of a girl.

König has that terminal objective in mind as he observes the way your lashes flutter over your lash-line, his index and middle finger extended – pressing against your clit and moving with just enough pressure to draw a few gasps and softened mewls from your lips. You’re left writhing on the sheets, hips elevated off of the bed due to the sensual arch of your back, and panting out his name so pathetically your own voice was far from recognizable; like you would lose all genuine sanity if he wouldn’t just get straight to the point.

To your luck, he doesn’t hesitate – because he to is way too pent-up, and in some dire need of simulation – and disengages his fingers away from your pulsating cunt just to lock your legs in two muscular biceps, his head finding its own heaven right there in between your squeezing thighs wrapped around his head. Drills his tongue into your silken walls and gives you the blissful sensation of being stuffed full with just that. He’s only ever seen this in the casual porno here and there, sure, but the real thing was something distinctly new to him; made him feel like not a beginner, but more on the side of heavy experience on knowing how to coax a pretty cunt to open up for him.

You feel his stubble graze over your sensitivity, and the curved ridge of his nose bumping right up against your clit additionally. A union near impossible for your cunt to not squeeze around his tongue that was so expertly getting you stupefied for him in all the right ways – it was overwhelming in some sense, but you would surely not be lying if it you said that König, withdrawn and mannered-craze, had definitely ruined you for any other man on sexual terms.

“Doing good up there so far, engel?” he asks, a slight growl to his accent with the muffle of his mouth stuffed of you.

“Yes! just… don’t stop, please,” you manage to whisper back breathily, fingers lacing and gently tugging through the now-unkempt bits of his hair. “feels so good.”

Your mouth is left open, head slanted back, and your doe eyes now hooded-over as you gazed down at where his broad, large figure had resided. His tongue fills you up, plunging in back-and-forth motions until the messy combination of his spit and your arousal began to make a soaking mess right between your thighs, drooling down your skin and collecting in a small pool underneath you in a lewd sight. He’s got you quite literally trapped between this bordering exhilaration of his euphoric ministrations and his rooted physicality below you.

He’s rather sloppy with how he’s eating you out, lips kissing at your folds in a near-disgusting-erotic implication of making out with them. You feel the warmth of his breath against you; the coarseness of his stubble simultaneously pressing there. He drags the muscle of his tongue over your clit repeatedly, his gaze fully focused on the overwhelming neediness that was slowly beginning to dissipate your natural consciousness. At this point, his cock was straining up through his boxers and the suffocating fabric of his jeans – albeit his belt being undone and his pants pulled down to only his hip-bones in a poor attempt of getting them off.

On your end, you were submerged in the hands of his treatment. Your glistening, doe eyes glazed over with arousal and the small bits of wetness gracing the lengths of your lashes. Your lips are kiss-swollen and tinted a faint blush-red, lip gloss smeared at the corners and difficult to really make-out if it was really product or the residue of his own saliva from his sensual, hungry kisses. Your hands rest on top of his that were keeping your thighs parted – that is, until he fully registers your touch and instead keeps a gentle hold on both of your hands amidst the intimate scenario. Large fingers laced with your manicured ones, his thumbs drawing small circles into the forms of your knuckles poking out while his sweaty palms lovingly press up against yours.

König’s going down on you like his life depends on it, some excessive lapping and kissing, over and over again. one of his hands release from yours, two of his fingers nudging their way into you beside his tongue – a stuttering in your breathing patterns to accompany the fucked-out expression of your pretty, ruined face sleeked with sweat. You’re fully convinced that was the peak of your euphoria, cunt squeezing so firmly around his tongue and fingers pumping without pause, hitting that sensitive spot of nerves. it was a requited sentiment – his rigid cock aching to be freed from their denim confines, your cunt dripping out of neediness and warmth – and you both knew it, though not verbally expressed, that you needed one another to really get down to being the pinnacles of each other’s deepest physical wants. perfectly-timed.

It's not long before you succumb to his doings, hips lifting off the mattress a few inches and squirming against him, hand tightening to his as your mouth locks in a momentary position of being hung open, and nearly all the possible sounds of an orgasmic reverie pulling from your throat. König kisses against your folds, more delicately this time, then grazing his lips up to your pelvic bone and worshipping the skin there. Slow and sensual. A tender contact to contrast the aftershocks of your release you were still inevitably riding out at the moment. Your cunt flexes around his remaining digits one last time, before softening and releasing; he takes this as a sign, hesitantly pulling out with a coarse sigh.

He sits on his heels, durable hands easily maneuvering your body to his chest and sitting you up against the nude sturdiness of himself. “You put on quite a show, don’t you?” he muses, kissing the side of your head with the smoothest of pecks.

You arch your back into him, entire head mentally stimulated on all of him. “Where'd you learn how to do that?” you question, mildly-dumbfounded and wallowing in his sexual expertise, dexterity.

“That's for me to know, and you to find out, meine liebe.” he teases to you, rubbing the tip of his nose against your scalding cheek.

You huff out, rolling your eyes. Cheeky. “Then… enough chat and let me ‘find out’.” you bit your lower lip at him enticingly, sore cunt almost-instinctively rubbing up against the erected, center portion of his jeans and staining the fabric with the pearl-esque mess of your arousal. A whine, docile and lenient, comes from you at the grasp of understanding what you were doing. König’s aware, too. None of you were a cut above. An orchestration of deep groans and much more higher, feminine sounds of an equal intoxicating high. The denim deepens in its color, thanks to that pretty little thing at the core of your legs painting all over it.

König’s a big man, and a strong one at that. (for a nerd like him, he’s awfully muscular. has he got a side hustle? it really makes you wonder.) So, what kind of a man would he be to deny giving you just one more fuck? A genuine one, one that could really make you fall head over heels for him and have your little heart beating for him days after this night.

He can just see it in your dolly little eyes, lashes batting at him while you were sat, naked, grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat, waiting for him to just do something. Anything at all. Before he knows it, he’s almost immediately giving into you, hands ridding the rest of his clothes and fishing out his fat cock from the last remnants of material.

His cock smacks against the lower region of his abdomen once released. Bulky and heavy. In this state of a longing, aphrodisiac-like crave, the veins adorning him are more prominent, the blunt head leaking of an abundant quantity of pre-cum and decorating his subtly-tanned skin. The sight has you flushing and sent straight to a mindset of dumbification, some place where you’re pliant and completely in love with all of him; his seraphic body of masculinity seemingly crafted by the gods themselves, the profuse amount of worship he held for you. It’s almost comical how fast it’s taken you to fall for him in such little time.

There’s so little to do now except to take you in position, give you the satisfaction of an unconditional, non-negotiable fuck out of reverence. You’re given an eyeful of him once he turns you around, bending you over to linger above a disheveled bed – a safe haven made up of a messed, cum-stained mattress. He’s seductive, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be all vulnerable for him right now; fucked-over with the case of an ample heart, and an ache in your pussy – is this really the effect of a hunky-loser austrian had on you? No complaints. The guy’s sultry in his own way.

He's as tall as always behind you, even on his knees. menacing, gentle bastard. His hands find a purchase on either sides of your bare hips, fingers molding into the flesh. A place carved out just for him. Sturdy hips attach to the fullness of your ass, sweat-on-sweat; has you whining beneath your breath like a sniveling dog, especially when the lips of your puffy cunt cushion the length of his cock as he slides in between yours folds – collecting slick, an audible squelch from the mess reverberating through your heated ears. The flushed head taps against your swollen clit before gliding into you with precision. Your back automatically forces itself into a deeper arch to push back against him, arms encased to one of your pillows to which you muffled your incoherent pleasure-made sounds.

Your once-stubborn pussy, now so well-trained to be compliant for him, took in his shallow thrusts. Not much, but what was there to expect? A rough fuck wasn’t your thing – and a majority of campus’s male population wouldn’t even put a girl’s vulnerability during intimacy in the forefronts of their minds – so you were thankful for him.

“Christ, you’re huge.” you nearly sob out in a whimper, with the divergence of a dumbified, slack grin on your ruined lips.

He grunts, “Takes a little to get used to, eh?” the smack of a kiss lands against the face of your right shoulder. “You doing okay? Could always eat you out again, y’know… doesn’t hurt to.”

“Yeah – yeah. I’m fine,” a small gasp leaves you, unfamiliar with something so foreign filling your guts up at such a pace. “fuck what I feel, god, just fuck me.”

He rubs the sides of your hips with his thumbs, stilling within you, and slightly hunching over in position – the chiseled and softened fat of his torso rubbing up against your sheen, curved back, his hands falling from their grace at your hips and instead settling between the crevices of your smaller-in-size fingers. They lace like ribbon through eyelets, fingertips pressing down intently at the tops of your palms, and his head plummeting to the curve of your shoulder to your neck where he conceals his face with ease.

His thrusts are no longer those of a gentle, bonafide lover, but instead restored with something more starved – like he’ll die a poor man if he doesn’t modify your insides into the shape of him.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, engel.” lips pucker and latch onto your neck for gentle caresses, “You needed this, can see it in – Scheiß – those little eyes. “

“Mmph – yeah.” you croak out, throat hung out and dry. Sandpaper for a throat.

“Smart girl. you love me, huh?” König forces you into a deeper arch, coercing that love right out. No oral communication needed. He collapses further ove you and takes the angle of your chin, tilting it in a fragile-hold from the pillow as he holds it up – right enough to meet his dilated, enveloped-of-eyelids gaze. so he takes advantage of this posture and kisses you and shares the taste of him, licking you, worshipping you, tongues overlapping one another right about to define the proximity; pistoning, widened hips and a malleable receiver.

Then you do the sluttiest thing a girl like you has ever done – grind your hips back onto the canvas of his crotch, his single hand holding you tight against him, rubbing intermittently across your lower stomach when he shifts all his of his focus onto his calculated motions and the way your cunt drips onto him. Down the length of him all, and discarded below to the sheets.

He's so explicitly hard he could feel it all around him, his muscles, his throbbing head, and you’re no better, squeezing him so tightly that he’s suffocated. The good type of suffocation, one that makes you feel like you’re all blissed out. It’s one whole mass of flesh and intimate rapture. He thrusts harder, squeezes harder, and you continue to grind back onto him – the cycle continues, dragging on and on, and you’re aware this is no longer some hook-up – it’s gotten way too intimate now to be classified as such.

A string of higher-pitched yes, yes, yeses! are spoken like a prayer from you and your unable-to-be-shut mouth. And then, because he can’t really help himself anymore, he wraps his arms around your full torso and presses into you more, thrusting and thrusting to the point where he’s too psychologically stimulated on sex, fucking you, desperate, adoring, each motion enhanced with the softcore-aggressive, dragging, shoving, capture of this fragile body of yours. The pressure’s a give-and-take situation on you and him.

You;re inclined to a drawn-out call of his name as he drives all mustered force right into you, nails clutching crescents to the surface of stained linen, and your cunt coating him in that same wetness that’s been drooling down your legs.

König mutters a gruff fucking take it, prinzessin, before just one single plundering thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm so suddenly, so harshly, occurring out of you, a fervent gushing erupting. Man’s first one-on-one orgasm, and he’s just so managed to make you squirt. A madman, surely. Even he thinks it’s unreal – something straight out of his PC monitors, out of the porn websites he’s browsed when his hormones were on a high every other day; he’s a degenerate turned man-of-his-dreams.

A soft cry is perceived from you as he grinds his hips once more, cock kissing sweetly up to your cervix, his pelvis rubbing into your pubic bone – and you mewl, orgasm dragging itself so needlessly that another surge of fluid spurts from you, painting his abdomen in an array of glistening transparence. He won’t stop, you think.

That is, until he’s feeling all sensitive in his lower abdomen, sharp and tangible by a sensual inebriation. He pulls out – avoiding the next-few-days-consequence of knocking some poor girl up – and cums across your folds, spewing lines; hot, scorchingly hot. “You’re something else,” he says, totally out of breath, exuding heat and sweating, rivulets tainting his skin of moisture.

He’s an accomplished man now.

“So hard to believe you were a virgin before this.” you said, rolling onto your back, the side of your face smushed into a pillow, the quivering of your body signifying the aftermath of his relentlessness still existent. He’s laid down next to you on another pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling with an opened, heated mouth.

“Porn’s pretty accessible, not that hard to pick up on some skills.”

“Oh, you’re a perv,” you say, half-jokingly. “But what’s new? Can’t expect an innocent man anymore. Clean slate and all.”

“It’s a fucked-up world, schatz. You’re just a little, eh… stupid, oblivious, when it comes to the male gender.” he shrugs.

You smack him blithely on the bicep, a mock-irked expression to the ceiling. “You’re all sickos, that’s why,” you shoot back, “and I’m just a proper lady. I don’t indulge in such things.”

“Proper lady my ass. You look the part, but anyone can see past those sweet ribbons and beady eyes of yours – minxy piece of work you are.”

You pout. “You’re mean.”

He turns his head to the side. “It’s all honesty,” he says, sitting up to the headboard and stretching out his aching shoulders. “And if you’re ever in the mood again, I’ve got my practice, and I can say – I’m not that bad at this whole ‘screwing’ thing.”

Sighing, you rest your cheek on his slick thigh. “You make it sound like you’re just another campus-fuck offer,” you giggle sweetly, “What did I really do to you, König?”

"Nothing, nothing at all,” he responds, brushing your disheveled hair and making the poor attempts at adjusting your little girlish ribbons to their original state. “Other than having the most prettiest little thing at my disposal, nothing.”

#.୨୧ fleur's writing.#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty smut #female reader

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lvndosnorris · 2 days

Note

🍒anon

how about lando letting his girl be on top for the first time ??? luv u

🍒 you've made my inbox so happy — sending you kisses

it was perhaps the fourth, fifth, time you'd slept together before you swallowed your nerves and asked lando if you could be on top this time. almost immediately you felt a wave of embarrassment, the urge to bury your head in your hands and pretend you hadn't uttered a word became overwhelming as you tried to inspect how your newish boyfriend was going to react.

the position you were in had already formed that all-too familiar knot in your stomach — sat in his lap as his blunt fingernails dug into the bare flesh of your thighs. for a split second he thought he misheard you, only realising what exactly you'd proposed when you ducked your head to finish tracing your forefinger over his collarbones. you couldn't stop your babbling, even when you tried; "it's just— i'd hate for you to think that you always have to do all the work, especially because i know how much you enjoy it and— lando stop making this awkward!"

he'd only be able to shut you up by gripping your cheeks, squeezing them together gently as he raised his eyebrow in a manner of are you finished yet? and lando wasn't entirely sure on how to respond: simply catching your lips with his as you shuffled that little bit closer, whining almost pathetically into his mouth as he tilted his head back, letting your tongue slip further against his. it was a messy kiss, a heated one laced with urgency as he felt the blood rush to where your bodies were connected.

you were thankful that he was pressed against the headboard, the wooden piece offering leverage as you lifted your hips just enough for you to bunch his shirt up onto your waist and lando to kick his boxers between the sheets. he couldn't take his eyes off you, even if he tried, enthralled with the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you nudged yourself against his tip, "just go slow, yeah? don't want my girl to hurt herself."

his words offered solace as you strangled back a whimper, barely able to lift your chin from your chest as lando's hands cupped the back of your thighs for support. the angle was different — one that made your cunt stretch in a new way, the pounds of your heart drowning out any mewls that left your mouth as you pushed him further inside of you.

it was lando who stopped you halfway down his length, his forehead scrunched as his sight became impeded by a strand or two of his hair. it was picturesque: the way his biceps flexed as he held you tightly, a sheen of sweat coating his skin as he dropped his vision to where he had disappeared inside of you. his moans were incoherent, a mixture of fuck and your name as he guided your movements, only letting you sink deeper when he heard the way you drawled out your pleads.

mouths clashing he concealed your quiet whines of pain, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that you'd never felt before. his lips didn't leave your, hungrily attached as you languidly rocked your hips, hands clung onto the back of his head as you pulsated around him. lando's hands trailed from the curve of your ass to between your legs, the wetness that coated his fingers earning a groan as he thumbed at your clit — the pleasure surging through your veins as you listened to him groan, neither of you set on cumming anytime soon in fear the euphoria would end too quickly.

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beskarandblasters · 2 days

Text

I Don't Wanna Keep Secrets Just To Keep You

Part Three of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Chapter summary: You come to terms with your feelings for Cooper. Later, you share an intimate moment at The Man From Deadhorse cast party.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied and wears a dress + makeup, unspecified age gap, jealousy, drinking, dub con/consent under the influence, !!! sweaty Cooper !!!, hair pulling (Cooper’s), oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, cum swallowing, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart), angst, no use of y/n

That one fateful night led you headfirst into a secret affair. The first night could’ve been nothing but a fluke, a one-time slip-up as a result of a poor decision. But it’s really the second time that confirms the undeniable attraction you two have for one another. The affair lasts through the rest of the shoot. You fall into a routine of getting together at night after the workday is done, always in his trailer and never on weekends. It always ends with you two lying with each other, talking about life. He shares his misgivings about his wife and her job at Vault-Tec. He’s a paranoid man but based on what he told you, you can’t blame him.

As the end of shooting draws near, you form a pit in your stomach. A sense of dread and longing looms over you. What if you never have nights like these again? What if this is your first and last production working with Cooper Howard? And now that the end is in sight, you realize you have a serious problem…

You’re head over heels in love with him. It’s driving you crazy, craving a man who will never truly be yours. You want more than just his midnights. You want his mornings, his weekends– you want him all the time. In the countless nights you’ve spent with him in his trailer, he’s shown you colors you’ve never seen before. It makes you sick, thinking about the hold he has on you.

But you wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.

It’s the last day of the shoot. These past couple of months have flown by. You thought by now you’d be upset to lose your sense of community. But the truth is, you never felt like you were fully integrated into this environment. You joined the crew about halfway through the production when there were already pockets of established groups and cliques. It’s ironic to think about, the leading man being the only person to welcome you with open arms. You never expected him to even give you the time of day and yet here you are, sharing secrets under the cover of night, sweaty limbs intertwined paired with labored breaths. Those nights were fleeting moments of bliss. You wish you had appreciated them a bit more. And now that the shoot is wrapping up, you’re not sure when you’ll ever get moments like that again.

After a long, hot, tiring day, Emil finally calls wrap. Everyone is packing up when Emil calls everyone for an announcement.

“I know it’s been a long day and you all want to get home to your families but I just have an announcement I’d like to make,” Emil says. “This has been a long shoot, a lot longer than I intended it to be, and to celebrate I’m having a party for the cast and crew Saturday night at seven. If you need my address, find me before you leave. Thanks, everyone!”

A party for the cast and crew.

You get butterflies in your stomach, thinking about the possibility of seeing Cooper outside of the studio. You can only assume Barb will be there, too. But it’s worth hearing his voice and seeing his smile, at least one more time. Saturday can’t come soon enough.

You make sure to get Emil’s address before hanging back like you always do. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see Cooper in his trailer again. You can only hope since it’s the last day. But you’ve never talked about what will happen to you now that the shoot’s wrapped up. A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that your relationship will end after tonight.

You wander aimlessly while you wait for Cooper, reminiscing on your time here and most importantly with him. You turn and glance over your shoulder, watching as Cooper walks towards you, out of costume and in his regular clothes. You smile when you see him but he doesn’t match yours, his mouth forms into a tight frown.

“Everything alright?” you ask as he approaches you.

“I can’t stay tonight.”

“No worries,” you lie, already fighting the urge to cry.

“Something came up with Janey.”

“I hope everything’s okay.”

“It’ll be fine. She’s just sick and Barb has some big meeting with the executives at Vault-Tec tonight. Babysitter’s not available on short notice.”

“Sounds important.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday, sweetheart,” he says, turning and walking away.

“You’re going?!”

“Of course I am!” he calls over his shoulder, walking to the parking lot.

So much for one last time together.

The shoot wrapped up on a Thursday so luckily you only had to wait a day before Saturday rolled around. After spending an exorbitant amount of time on your makeup and outfit, you head to Emil’s house. You’re wearing one of your favorite dresses, a color that compliments your skin and hugs your body in all the right places. You pull up to Emil’s house, a huge mansion in the hills, overwhelmed at the sheer size of it but also expecting nothing less from him.

His house is packed with everyone from the studio, letting loose over cocktails and cigarettes. For a minute, you feel like a deer in headlights, anxious about who to talk to and where to hang out. You spot Cooper across the living room, talking with a group of people you recognize. But you’re not comfortable enough to go over there and insert yourself in the conversation. To your delight, Barb isn’t with him. But before you get too excited, you remind yourself she could be elsewhere in the house.

You get a drink from the wait staff in the kitchen and hang out in the corner of the living room, sipping your drink and awkwardly waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in. But you’re pulled from your pining when a man approaches you, drink in hand and wearing an uneasy smile. You vaguely recognize him. You’ve seen him around on set but you couldn’t place his name or what he does at the studio.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“I’ve seen you around on set.”

“Likewise.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Dan,” he says, holding out his hand.

You reluctantly shake his hand and tell him your name, letting an uncomfortable silence fall between you two.

“Actually, I… I wanted to tell you something else.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, and I…”

What’s he saying turns into white noise as your gaze fixates on Cooper again. To your surprise, Cooper’s looking right at you with his jaw clenched. Could he possibly be… jealous?

You look back at Dan who’s silent, waiting for your response. You blink a few times and say, “That’s sweet of you. But I’m not looking for anything right now.”

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, you say, “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need some air.”

You push past him and make a beeline for the glass door across the living room. But before you can step outside, Emil stops you.

“Hey! I just wanted to give you something,” he says, setting his drink down on a shelf and reaching inside his pocket. He pulls out a small envelope and continues, “Open this when you’re alone later.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the envelope from him and putting it in your purse.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m okay. I just need some air. Thanks, Emil,” you respond, sliding past him.

You head into the backyard, sitting on a lawn chair by Emil’s pool. The prospect of another man confessing his attraction to you just sends you further into Cooper’s arms, confirming how badly you want to be exclusive with him already. But you also wonder what could possibly be in that envelope Emil gave you. You go to open it but a voice stops you, an unmistakable voice.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You look up at him as he places a hand on your shoulder. He’s wearing concern all over his face.

“That guy wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s just a little overwhelming in there.”

“What do you say we go somewhere more private?”

“Where?”

He gestures across the pool with his head. You glance in that direction and spot a pool house, turning and looking at Cooper again with a smirk on your face.

“You go first. I’ll meet you there.”

“Is Barb here?”

“Nope. She’s at a Vault-Tec dinner.”

Perfect.

You walk over to the pool house, creeping the door open and poking your head inside, just to make sure no one’s inside. It’s bigger than it looks on the outside. You opt to turn on a lamp rather than the main overhead light. You don’t want to draw any extra attention. A large sectional sits in the middle of the room, complete with a bar cart at its side. You toss your purse on the couch and turn to peek into the bathroom, finding a full-blown sauna.

Cooper joins you and closes the door to the pool house, putting a hand on the small of your back.

“Impressed?”

“Uhh, yeah. This is wild.”

“Wanna use it?”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, turning up the dial.

He starts taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Before you get undressed you ask, “Are we going to get in trouble?”

“Hell no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would you stop worrying so much?” he says, hands gravitating to your waist and pulling you close. He leans in and whispers in your ear, “Strip for me. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, turning around so he can unzip your dress. You peel off your clothes and kick off your shoes as the small wooden room heats up. A warm, earthy scent fills your senses. You look at him, his belt undone and his pants hanging low on his hips.

“You’re gorgeous… But I’m sure you’re sick of me tellin’ you that all the time.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll never get used to it,” you say, sitting on the bench.

He gets down on his knees, pulling your thighs apart with his hands. Without warning, he dives face-first into your cunt, licking one long, slow trail up your entrance. A shiver runs down your spine as you take a deep breath, the woodsy aroma filling your lungs. You look down at him and find him staring directly at you. His tongue swirls around your pussy before he latches his mouth onto your clit, sucking with more and more pressure. He moans into you as he works you up to the edge. You reach between your legs and run your hand through his hair, gripping his locks as you teeter on the brink of orgasm. You tug on his hair every time his tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s already slick with sweat, forehead glistening in between your legs. Your moans and whimpers grow louder and stronger, coming out as choked-up sobs as he pushes you over the edge. Waves of pleasure wash over you, your cunt clenching around nothing while your thighs close around his head. He laps up the remnants of your release before sitting on the bench next to you, swiping his fingers across his jaw to collect the rest of your spend and popping them in his mouth.

You trade places with him, sinking to the floor on your knees. One of your hands cups his balls as the other wraps around the base of his already hard cock. You waste no time taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock over and over again. He throws his head back and curses under his breath, bringing a hand to your face and caressing your cheek. You flash your eyes up at him, watching him go crazy for you. His jaw is slack and his pupils are wide, adoration written all over his face.

Just when you think he’s going to cum, he grabs your face and pulls his cock out of your mouth, “Not so fast.”

You stand up and turn around so your back is facing him, taking it upon yourself to sit on his cock. He curses again, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with your nipples as you bounce up and down.

“Such a good girl. Bouncing up and down on my cock like a fuckin’ angel.”

“Only for you.”

“That’s right,” he responds, letting one of his hands leave your waist to deliver a swift slap on your ass.

Between bouncing yourself on his cock and grinding your hips back and forth, you’re well on your way to your second orgasm. Your wetness seeps out of you and coats his lap, making it easier to grind against his lap. With one last motion of your hips, you cum around his cock, feeling truly full. You lean back against his chest, both of your bodies hot and drenched with sweat. Aftershocks of your orgasm rip through you, making you shudder. His hands roam up and down your body, leaving no part of you ignored. But he can only hold off his orgasm for so long. He grabs your hips and coaxes you to get up, ordering you to get on your knees again.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

You face him with your mouth open, tongue sticking out as he strokes himself. Soon enough, he’s coming into your mouth with a guttural moan. You swallow his release before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You crawl into his lap and wrap yourself around him, always listening for his wild heartbeat. Both of you are completely covered in sweat, but it’s not gross. It’s a pleasant aroma of his natural scent mixed with the woodsy fragrance of the sauna. It’s a scent you could get addicted to if you’re not careful enough. He strokes your back, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Tilting your head, you look up at his face. “Were you… jealous of that guy earlier?”

“Who? Dan?”

“Mhm. You look like you would have punched him right then and there,” you tease.

“No one flirts with my girl.”

Those two words. My girl. That’s all you wanted to hear him say over these past few months. But then reality settles in. Dan doesn’t know you’re Cooper’s girl.

You think about where you are and remember that you’ll have to leave the pool house separately. You remember that he can only call you sweetheart in secret. You remember that he’s just… not truly yours.

The affair’s been fun and all but it’s just been placating you from what you’ve been craving this whole time– exclusivity. You want to be more than his dirty little secret. You want his Friday nights and his Sunday mornings. You want to eat dinner with him every night. You want to go on dates. You want to walk red carpets with him and listen to him gush about you in interviews. You want him to show you off.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” he asks. He must’ve sensed you going abnormally still and quiet.

You pull back and look at him, worry written on his face. What you want to tell him is on the tip of your tongue. But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Okay,” he says, cupping your face again. “We should probably get showered and dressed. I have no idea how long we’ve been in here.”

“Right,” you nod, pulling yourself off of him no matter how hard it is. You reach for your clothes and walk into the shower. He does the same and turns off the sauna. You turn on the water, letting steam fill the walk-in shower before getting inside. He gets in with you, chest pressed against your back. He grabs the bottle of shower gel and creates a lather in his hand, rubbing it up and down your body as you relax. He’s careful to not ruin your makeup like a true gentleman. Once you’re clean you do the same for him, washing each other in comfortable silence. The end looms over your head but you choose not to focus on it. You choose to focus on the few fleeting moments you have left.

He turns off the water and grabs a towel, helping you dry off and get dressed. And soon enough, you’re both dressed again as if what happened in the sauna never occurred, except for your makeup that’s a little sweat-ridden. Before you part ways he kisses you, soft and sweet, telling you good night before slipping back out into the party.

You grab your purse off the couch and remember the envelope Emil gave you. Now that you’re alone you open it, finding a handwritten card that says;

Just wanted to say thank you. You really saved our asses with this production. As a token of my gratitude, here are two tickets to The Man From Deadhorse premiere.

-Emil

The two tickets slip out of the card. You glance at the date and see it’s not until January of next year, four months from now. Regardless, that was nice of him. When you signed up to work on the film you never thought you’d be able to attend the premiere. Your stomach swirls at the thought of seeing Cooper all dressed up on the red carpet but then it sinks when you remember he’ll be with Barb.

You shove the envelope and the tickets back in your purse, glancing at the room once more. Once you turn off the light, you leave the pool house, dragging your feet as you walk back to your car. The reality of the situation is sinking in now– that was probably the last time you’ll see Cooper for a while. And maybe it’s the alcohol or the post-sex hormones talking but you could break down and cry at any given moment. But you don’t give in until you’re alone in the comfort of your car, cursing the man who welcomed you with open arms on your first day on set.

End note: This series is five parts now because I’m an indecisive idiot 🤧🤧 This is also some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? And thank you to @clawdee for beta reading and telling me I needed to make Cooper sweatier 😏

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍

Check out the series playlist! 🎶

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @the-faceless-bride @birdieofloxley @raviolisenpai

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x f!reader #fallout #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #time wondrous time

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weirdmarioenemies · 17 hours

Text

Name: Sheep

Debut: Super Mario Odyssey

Wow! Sheep, from Super Mario Odyssey! Sheep are such an extremely iconic animal, it's hard to believe they were invented by this game in 2017! The success of Super Mario Odyssey has gaslit us into believing that sheep were even one of the very first animals to be domesticated by humans. That just shows the massive impact Super Mario has on society!

Sheep in Mario's world weren't domesticated by humans, they were domesticated by skeletons! They are first seen in Tostarena, under the ownership of a Tostarenan farmer, and every last one of them wears a sombrero. These sheep are tired of their wool being used to make clothing for other entities. They decided THEY could wear something stylish yet practical, too! And they did it. Now they can graze in the desert without having to worry about sun in their faces! I don't know what they are grazing on, but they can do it safely, so don't worry about it!

Or ARE they wearing sombreros? They wear them regardless of region, and no matter how much the sheep get knocked around, their hats remain firmly affixed! Maybe... they are not hats at all! Perhaps these sheep have been selectively bred for bizarre horn shapes, resulting in a sombrero-shaped mass of keratin that naturally shields their eyes from the sun! Which is then decorated to look nice.

I don't mean to be rude to any fake pretend people in this fake pretend world in this videos game, but I don't think any of them are very good sheep owners. Every single sheep owner in this game, no matter the kingdom, has lost all of their sheep and needs Mario's help to herd them back! You would think sheep owners would be better at that, but I guess not. Maybe it's because they keep their sheep in shallow depressions in the ground with no fence to speak of. I personally would not do that.

These sheep seem to be based on the Suffolk breed, which is the most generic cartoon looking sheep there is, pretty much! I think there is such a charm in a real animal looking like the generic cartoon image. If you are in the northern hemisphere, it is currently Sheep Shearing Season! If you are able, I recommend going to see some shearing happen! It's funny. They get sat down on their butt like a person. Hee hee!

#sheep #super mario odyssey #mario #mario allies #mario neutral entities #mod chikako

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 2 days

Text

Not My Boyfriend : Teaser

Word Count : 0.7k

Warnings : drinking, swearing, mention of heartbreak, jealousy, arguing

A/N : I don't have an official release date for this story yet, but I wanted to get a teaser out for you. I want to finish Changbin's story before I start on this one, so hopefully the epilogue will be out soon and I can start this one! I'm really excited to share what I've been working on. Hope you enjoy!

“Cheers to you!” She clinked glasses with Hongjoong, a smile spreading across her face as the two of them downed their respective shots. “I really am proud of you. You’ve been working so hard for this.” She placed a hand on his arm, giving him a sincere look so he knew she was serious.

“Thank you, Y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if it wasn’t for you, though.” She cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to go on, tell him how she helped. He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “You really don’t know?”

“How am I supposed to know, Kim Hongjoong?” She questioned, bringing her face closer to his. Hongjoong chuckled again, pushing her face away from his. “Tell me.” She pouted. And he knew he was going to tell her everything the second he saw it. As if her pout was a superpower. Drawing out any and all secrets you’ve kept hidden.

“The theme for this exhibit was love and heartbreak.” He started slowly. Realization hit her and she took a step back. His name fell from her lips and he shook his head. “Y/n, I loved you in high school. Idiot.”

“Oh.” She giggled.

“And in the first year of university. But you met Minho and I moved on.” Hongjoong added with a laugh, taking a sip of his drink. “I like someone else now, but I the idea of a first love and the feeling of letting that go, I knew it would be a success.”

“So what you’re saying is I should get half the profits.” Y/n teased.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Y/n said as she linked their arms, smiling over at Hongjoong. He smiled back at her, sliding her drink farther from her, telling her she’s had enough. “Look at you caring about me. How did I never notice?”

“This is me being a friend. But you’re oblivious. You’ll never realize when someone likes you, no matter how obvious they make it.”

Minho saw them from afar when he burst into the bar. Watched for a minute as they laughed and got too close for his liking. The way she was far too comfortable with him, a man that wasn’t him.

He started walking towards them, fire in his veins, only seeing red. Hongjoong saw him first, and turned to whisper something to Y/n. She turned, and when their eyes met, it was like the world stopped. His anger melted and all that was left was jealousy. “Minho?” She seemed confused. Of course she would be. This was supposed to be her night out with her friend. But why didn’t she tell him the friend would be a guy?

“Time to go home.” He said simply, grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the bar. She said goodbye to Hongjoong as she was dragged away. Part of her was angry that he would come and pull her away from her friend. But another part was swooning. Hopeful that her feelings weren’t one sided. But she stopped herself from feeling anything but anger. Stopped herself from feeling hopeful that they could be anything more than what they are.

“Okay can you tell me what the fuck that was?” She asked, pulling her hand away, and crossing her arms over her chest. Minho turned around to face her, his anger and jealousy obvious.

“When you said you were grabbing drinks with a friend I thought you meant a girl. Who the fuck even is that guy hmm?” She scoffed.

“Hongjoong. You know him. We went to university together.” The name sounded familiar to Minho. One of the many guys that hung around her. One of the many guys that had feelings for her. Minho would know because he was one of them too.

“That still doesn’t explain why you told me you were grabbing drinks with a friend after work instead of just telling me it was Hongjoong.” Minho countered. “If you two are really just friends, there would be no reason to hide that.”

“Oh my god Minho. You’re not my boyfriend! It doesn’t matter who I grab drinks with. Who my friends are. Who I spend the day texting. You. Are. Not. My. Boyfriend.”

“Well if you would pick up on my damn hints, I fucking would be!”

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yanderes-galore · 20 hours

Note

Can I request a short scenario about Gojo falling in love with Sukuna’s favorite lover? They got unsealed first & was discovered by Gojo. Darling tried to escape one problem only to acquire an even worse one

Darling is gender neutral and it’s Romantic Yandere Gojo

~Anon~

The plot was a bit complicated yet vague so I hope the idea I came up with works ^^; I don't know much about the Heian Era so I am guessing. AU where Jujutsu High is actually Jujutsu University for the sake of ages and plot.

This deviates from the request a bit but I hope you enjoy it anyways :) The end is a bit butchered as I had no ideas :( The yandere behavior is vaguely implied, I wish this was executed better but I was working with what I had. Constructive feedback is appreciated.

Possible Manga Spoilers, Please read with caution.

One Long Century

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Story (Ft. Sukuna)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Possessive behavior, Slight rivalry themes, Jealousy, Stalking, Darling hates relationships, Themes of toxicity in relationships, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

The Heian Era was known as a legendary time for Jujutsu Sorcerers. After all, this era was where Sukuna and Kenjaku originated from. Speaking of which, there was another Sorcerer that history recorded who dealt with these two.

You were Sukuna's favorite lover, out of all the partners the King of Curses had, you were his best. You were experienced in utilizing Curse energy, which made you a favorite. However, you never wanted to be tied to the monster.

Sukuna took you as a partner due to your abilities as a Sorcerer. While you were originally his enemy, he broke you in due to his strength. You were never stronger than him but he liked your potential. Truthfully, your plan was to die trying to take him out.

You never got such an easy fate.

No, instead Sukuna contacted Kenjaku to speak of immortality. You understood Sukuna wished to live forever, but you fully expected to die here. Unfortunately... Sukuna didn't want to waste such a good partner.

"Make them a cursed object, too. I want them to follow me eternally."

You were never like Sukuna. No, your morals were more pure than his. You had the morals of more modern Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Protect the weak... For you are strong.

Against your will you were made into a sealed cursed object. You reluctantly lay in wait for a time where you can awaken. With the body of a host... you can be reborn.

Even if you didn't wish it.

---

For a century your cursed object was passed around and stored. Legends and rumors told of your relationship with the King of Curses. It was often said that you could calm the King of Curses if things ever got out of hand.

Eventually, like some of Sukuna's fingers, you found your way into the protection of Jujutsu University in their Cursed Warehouse.

You weren't chosen to be reborn until enough of Sukuna's fingers were collected. Higher-ups realized that if something goes wrong they should have you ready. Which lead to a host being chosen...

And you being reborn.

It felt... strange to be reborn in the modern age. Everything was so different, from the amount of Sorcerers to even the clothes and buildings. You were brought back for a reason it seemed.

You feel like you're being judged.

You can't blame these modern Sorcerers for suspecting you. Sukuna was known for sadism and being known as his favorite lover didn't help. However, you did your best to prove your true allegiance.

Any side fighting Sukuna works for you.

You didn't meet Satoru Gojo until you were allowed to be "used". Their wording disturbed you, yet you try not to judge in turn. They have their reasons to be worried.

Unfortunately... meeting Satoru Gojo comes with reuniting with... Sukuna.

You were told that Sukuna had taken host in a student named Yuji Itadori. Satoru Gojo was given the job of being his teacher and being a handler. Your job?

Stick by them both... and keep Sukuna under control.

You loathed the idea... but you hated the idea of Sukuna going unchecked more. As a result, you comply with the order. This makes you part of Gojo's group.

It also gets you involved with Gojo and Sukuna... the blights of your life.

---

As expected, being in the group started uncomfortable for you. Gojo was curious of an ancient Sorcerer such as you. One who wasn't malevolent... but kept alive for some reason.

Admittedly you weren't as strong as Gojo... but you were up there.

You then met the younger students who accompanied him. Yuji (Sukuna's vessel, according to your intel), Nobara, and Megumi. They were all quite interesting and powerful in their own right... and over time you found yourself attached to them.

Then there was Sukuna, the King of Curses and your supposed lover. He festered within Yuji, much to your disgust. You dreaded whenever he took control.

You could never have a normal conversation with Yuji without Sukuna popping in to taunt you. He was unfortunately still flirtatious, seeing you as his lover. He didn't care if you hated him... just like all those years ago.

You wished you could just stay enemies with him.

You wished you weren't brought back.

Arguments often occurred between you and Sukuna. It was usually verbal as Gojo was around to prevent physical fights. For the sake of everyone around you.

Speaking of Gojo, you often spoke with him. You both often acted as mentors and guardians to your group. Originally, the air between you was tense.

Then Gojo realized he could get along with a strong Sorcerer such as you from ancient times.

You don't mind Gojo at first. He helps you adapt to modern times now that you're able to be out and about around other people. You two even bond well in battle against Curses.

Sukuna often mocks the fact Gojo is so close to you. The King of Curses is still possessive of his remaining lover. You often hear Sukuna vowing to take you back once he takes full control of his vessel, Yuji.

You plan on preventing that with Gojo.

You help Gojo train his students. For the most part you stay out of the way of other activities unless it's Sukuna related. Occasionally you even help with Kenjaku issues once those become known.

Soon months begin to pass and Gojo grows more... intrigued. He knew attachments could be dangerous, especially with an individual as mysterious as you. However...

It didn't stop Gojo from falling for someone he shouldn't have.

Gojo's obsession with you doesn't go unnoticed by Sukuna. In fact, he often acts out more around Gojo. Which leads to more work for you.

You begin to notice things when Gojo leaves your side less. He often excuses his actions as the higher-ups just wanting to keep you monitored. You believe it since Gojo is technically monitoring two dangerous Sorcerers.

In reality, Gojo can't keep his eyes off you.

He originally didn't want to think of the idea of being in love with you. Yet despite the difference in your eras and origins, Gojo still managed to be playful and interested in you. You even played along.

If anyone was worthy of Satoru Gojo...

It was you.

---

Gojo is really your only guide to getting around this new age. You have power, but without him you could've been misguided. At least, Gojo seems to think so.

As you work with Jujutsu University, Gojo only seems to grow closer to you. He often asks how you manage to get Sukuna under control and what you've learned throughout the ages. If anything, you're the most valuable asset he and the rest of the Sorcerers has other than Yuji/Sukuna himself.

Gojo's strange behavior doesn't get better as you work with him. It perplexes you. After all, you aren't that much of a threat. So why is he so close at all times?

If only you knew the true extent to his feelings.

You haven't thought much of romantic relationships due to your circumstances. After all, Sukuna is still around and he's turned you off to such relationships. Which is why it disturbs you when you notice Gojo's... obsession.

It's fitting that the strongest craves the strong, no matter how forbidden it is.

However, when you see the signs, you're reminded of how you were treated all those years ago. The possessive glares, then hostility towards those who don't accept you... it's familiar.

Gojo's much nicer and more playful than Sukuna...

But it appears they're both their own type of monster.

Whenever Gojo pulls you into an embrace, you shove him away. Whenever he playfully teases you, you go cold. You don't wish to be trapped again....

Yet Gojo never stops to consider his actions....

His hold on you is always tight. His confession for you was rather sudden once he did say it. When you tried to refuse, his behavior didn't change.

In fact he only seemed more violent towards those you fought against... Including Sukuna.

"We're good partners, aren't we?" He asked you, a smile on his face. "So wouldn't we be good... romantically?"

You hate that you still persist even now.

Even now, when you just want to rest, Gojo's there. You begin to dislike company of any type by this point. Yet you're forced to endure as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

Originally you could deal with him being overly affectionate. The hugs were even originally comforting. You kept telling him you didn't like him romantically, but he seemed to ignore such a thought. You were tired of him constantly being by your side no matter where you go.

Although, snapping would only bring you trouble.

If you snapped, the higher-ups would order you exorcised and their control over Sukuna would falter. That or Gojo himself would seal you so you're harmless. As much as you hated it...

A century ago you told yourself serving Sukuna was your duty. Now, in modern times, you tell yourself that serving alongside Gojo is your duty. It didn't matter what happened as long as the weak were protected....

It was once again your duty to please.

Gojo was so focused on you two being strong together, he never thought about what you think. In his eyes, the strong belong together. No matter what.

Instead of piercing red eyes, you're met with glowing blue ones. Instead of the King of Curses, it's the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer. There may be differences...

But in the end you're still left with a monster...

A monster that has so much more power over you... A monster that claims to love you... Just to take everything you have all over again.

A long century has passed... and nothing has changed.

"We'll be unstoppable, won't we, baby?"

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo

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snowdropluck204 · 3 days

Text

A Date With Death - Spencer Reid x Unsub Fem! Reader

Hi my lovelies! After a lot of people seemed interested in this story, namely a few that commented who I am tagging below! If anyone wants to be tagged in these chapters from now on, let me know! I am going to try and plan this out okay, I'll post a separate post with the release dates of the chapters! With that! Enjoy!

Also, I'm a Brit writing about America... Specifically Colorado! So if there is anyone from there that would be willing to help me, please do!

Tag List: @vexis-world @inexplicableeee @flowercrownsandtrauma

TW: Murder, gore, blood, vomit, mentions of rapists, pedophiles, abuse, y/n being mistaken for male.

Spencer pov

The BAU hadn't had a case like this for a while...

This case had gotten media attention across the country, further even. All because this unsub was doing things that many a soul had thought about, hell even acted upon, the difference between their unsub and the average person, is that he was getting away with it.

For the last month, bodies had been cropping up all over Denver, Colorado, all with the same MO. People, both men and women, had been found dead in different locations, the only things that the victims had in common were the ways they were killed and that they were all once convicted of a crime. These crimes have ranged from rape, domestic abuse, paedophilia and stalking, but each of the victims had been killed using three consecutive methods.

As the car arrived at the scene of the crime, the body being found outside his own home, I wasn't massively shocked to see the crowd of media representatives surrounding the scene, I was a little perturbed to see a separate crowd of protesters.

"How many of them are there?" I asked confused, "God the street is crawling with them!" Morgan nodded from beside me, as we both stepped out of the car. Hotch grumbled under his breath, "Clearly the local cops didn't secure the area very well." The reporters seemed to have noticed us, we weren't exactly inconspicuous in our suits and sunglasses, but we still flashed the badge, asking them to move as politely as we could.

Immediately we were swarmed, questions being fired at us left and right, "Do you have any idea who was behind this killing?" "What is being done to keep this community safe?" "Why has it taken this long for the FBI to become involved?"

We tried to answer as many as we could without giving away too much of the investigation, including how little had been discovered so far. The police here had no leads, so we were working off of very little, and, until we had analysed the crime scene, we had no working profile of the unsub to make up a suspect list. This was square one...

Morgan walked over to the protesters, myself following close behind, they were all carrying banners or picket signs, they each read various forms of propaganda, 'He's Saving Lives', 'Let Him Live', 'Grim Will Save US.' I tilted my head as we walked closer to the crowd. Derek very clearly hadn't assessed the situation as strongly...

"Don't you worry folks, we'll have this guy behind bars soon!" He called out, trying to get the group to leave peacefully, only to get angry faces and practically being spat at.

"Why? He's doing what our government is too scared to do now! I say let him go!" A woman cried, beginning a chant of, 'Let Him Go.' The chanting became louder, Hotch began seeming more nervous as they advanced. He turned to shout over his shoulder at the local police.

"Can you hold them back please?" At the authority in his voice, the cops quickly rushed to attention, herding Morgan and myself into the front yard. The crime scene.

The body had been placed, almost gently, into the flowerbed in the front yard, some of the blood that decorated his body had even been mopped up. "Do we have an ID on the victim yet?" I asked Hotch, receiving a negative, apparently the neighbours knew of the victim, knew that he lived here, but rarely spoke to him and didn't know his name, so I crouched down to see what we were working with.

This victim's demise, also followed the same MO of the last seven victims the unsub had killed. Each of the victims before this one, had been killed with three separate methods, asphyxiation, the throat was slit and then the victim was garroted. "Reid." Hotch asked from behind me, I turned to look at him, showing him he had my attention, "What have we got?"

I looked back to the body, fiddling with the gloves on my hands, "The victim seems to have been killed in the same methods of the unsub's MO, it's called the threefold death, it's a religious method of killing going as far back as Druid-Irish folklore. The threefold death obviously entailed a person being killed three separate times, in this case, asphyxiation, a form of stabbing and then a mixture of the two... It was said that this method of death was saved and used as a punishment for those who didn't deserve to die only once..." I told them, trying to be as concise as possible.

Hotch nodded, whilst Morgan began taking a closer look at the garrote around the man's neck. Each of the previous victims had been convicted of a crime, violent and sometimes sexual in nature. Each of the garrotes used seemed to be personalised, a single word scratched roughly into the wooden handle of them, this garrote in particular had the word, 'ABUSER' carved into the grain of the wood.

Morgan pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear, "Babygirl, newest victim apparently has a history of abuse or domestic violence, can you work your magic?"

I focused back on the body.

Like all the previous victims, the body was as clean as the unsub could get it, he seemed to have cleaned up any blood that pooled on the skin, before laying them to rest, in an almost respectful manner. Laid flat on their backs, hands and arms crossed over their torso, with a single white lily laced delicately between their fingers. The only thing that didn't seem as respectful, was the plastic bag tired around their face, using the same garrote that was used to kill them. I decided to speak up my thoughts to Hotch.

"The unsub almost seems to have feelings of remorse, the funeral like way of displaying the bodies is another part of his signature, strange for what we would assume is just a spree killer, it's more likely that he was targeting these people, or that there was an extreme trigger involved.

"The white lily represents the transience of life and the emotions of grief and mourning, also strange for your average serial killer. There is the possibility that the unsub knew his victims before he killed them... That could prove that he has anti-social personality disorder, he's trying to replicate an emotion he has seen around death, like copying the process of mourning at a funeral." I finished, even I felt confused...

Hotch nodded along, before the three of us walked over to the front door of the victim's home, judging by the track marks through the blood, the victim was murdered in the home and dragged out to the garden. "The unsub must have been surveying the house and the neighbours, because most of them work nights or have late night activities, the victim was found outside his home at around one in the morning. Somehow, the unsub made his way into the home, killed this guy using three separate methods and dragged the body out of the home and positioned it the way he wanted in a small window of about three hours." I told the room.

Hotch nodded, following the trail of blood around the house, leading to a chair in the middle of the kitchen, the kitchen tile had a clear tarp laid over it, the chair on top, both were coated in a thick layer of dried blood, the knife used to slit his throat wasn't at the scene, so the unsub still had it...

(y/n) pov

The sting in my throat and eyes was horrid as I retched into the toilet bowl, the tears running down my face were falling hot and fast. Eventually, the vomiting stopped, I took a deep breath, now that I could, I flushed the toilet and shuddered.

I stood up, my legs shaking, almost buckling underneath me, I stumbled my way to the sink, looking up I saw myself in the mirror, the blood spattered across my face, my arms, my hands. My eyes were different to how they used to be, they were clouded by this grief, this agony I didn't know how to get rid of anymore. The colour was faded, the whites were blemished with deep red veins and my pupils were so dilated, so scared. Memories of the night flashed behind my eyes.

I was walking slowly, stalking forward, making my way to the front door of the house. I'd been watching the house for the last few weeks, he was a monster. Beat his previous wives, now he was alone. Beat his children, now he wasn't allowed to see them. The bastard was too scary for those poor women and children to keep charging him with the abuse, so now he was a free man...

Once I got to the door, I smiled seeing the electronic lock, I pressed a small device to the side of the lock, hearing a small buzz before the door clacked open. Taking my time, both so as not to alert my target and also partially dreading what I was about to do, I pushed open the front door, sneaking through the hallways, until I found the kitchen. The pig was drunk, he hadn't been home longer than half an hour, and he was almost passed out wasted, beer bottles lying around where he was sat on the couch, staring listlessly at the television.

I wobbled over to the shower, flinging back the curtain, my head reeling, I waddled carefully in, trying not to slip. I turned the shower head on, full blast, almost blistering hot, and began to scrub at my skin as hard as I possibly could. The water ran off of me in dark red waves, before they faded to pink and then clear. Once all the bloody water was sucked down the drain, I finally began to relax, which was a mistake.

I slunk up to the guy, leaning behind him before pulling out a plastic bag, the crunching sound of the bag alerted him. He turned and met my face, hidden by a mask, a cheap, crappy masquerade mask, a candy skull, hiding my face. A flash of realisation on James' face made me fear he had recognised me, instead, he began to stutter. "You're h-him, aren't you? The k-killer, t-the Reaper?" He whimpered. Coward. I leapt forward, wrapping the bag around his face and pulling.

I curled myself into the corner of the shower floor, the hot water making me more dizzy and in a deeper haze as tears filled my eyes.

"Please..." He kept begging, pleaded with me to spare his life as he tried to rock himself back and forth in the chair he was now tied to, "I'm sorry! I haven't gone near my family since the restraining order!" He shrieked, the most pathetic sounding noise. I almost spat at him, "Then your a liar as well as a beater." I growled, once he heard my voice, he realised that I wasn't the guy everyone was thinking of. "You're a pathetic excuse of human life, weak. You target the people who you're supposed to care for, children, your own wife." I snarled, stalking forward with a small, but extremely sharp, hunting knife.

The blood went everywhere, the walls, David James' face and clothes, the floor, me. The smell was metallic and bitter, it made me feel vile, hideous, tainted.

He was gasping, struggling for breath as I wrapped the bag around his face again, pulled out the garrote, bound the bag taut around his neck and began twisting, the wire digging painfully into the deep gash already across his neck. Eventually, he stopped struggling, stopped breathing. I let go of the garrote, the handle provoking me with my own handwriting, PAEDOPHILE. Taunting both David James, the beater and myself. (y/n) (l/n), the reaper.

I placed him in his car, and drove the short while down to the cemetery, I huffed as I pulled James' body out of the trunk, dropping him rather unceremoniously outside the gates, in a patch of half dead grass. I closed his eyes through the plastic bag, crossed his arms over his chest, and threaded a single white lily through his hands. After I had finished, I stood slowly, bowing my head, a moment of silence for the deceased, however undeserved it may be.

I left the shower, the water still dripping off of my body quickly becoming cold. I knew there would be little to no physical evidence that I was at the scene. I shuddered once again, the shiver continuing down my body. I quickly got changed and curled up in my bed, trying to remember who I was doing all of this for...

Spencer pov

After examining the crime scene, we all went back to the station, Garcia's face appearing on the laptop screen as we began to review the case, what we knew so far. Gideon was writing on the whiteboard, pictures of the victims taped to the surface, annotations lining them. Elle was pacing the room, fiddling with a pen as she asked about the scene and, in turn, the unsub.

"The protesters outside, they sounded like they were supporting him, how popular is this unsub?" She asked, Garcia quickly typing up on her computer, finding the information in quick keystrokes.

"Oh, he's huge, most of Denver population believe that he's saving their children and friends, he's only killing off people who were convicted of a crime, there's never any witnesses, never any tips called in. These people believe that the government was wrong to get rid of capital punishment in Colorado, that these people deserved it.

"A lot of people also think that the unsub deserves the death penalty too, but that he's some sort of public figure, he knew the risks and the punishment, but took out those who were a risk to their society. The unsub has a lot of names, The Grim Reaper, Charon, The Wraith, lot of mythological connotations..."

I sat, stuck, staring at the whiteboard. "What's going on in that big, beefy brain?" I heard Garcia ask, I finally looked up at the team, all looking at me worried. I felt my brow furrow further as I stood and walked quickly, over to the board. There were seven victims up on the board, the ones we had found, who knew if there were more. Now there was an eighth.

"None of this makes sense." I murmured, "All of the evidence contradicts itself, we can't make a linear profile of the unsub..." I trailed my hands along the pictures, "The unsub should be someone who shows little to know emotion, but he sets his victims to rest in a nice place, with flowers, almost mourns them. He gruesomely murders his victims with an ancient religious process, only to have no showing of any other religious motif or ritualistic killing.

"They clearly have been watching their victims, their neighbours, their homes, but there is no physical evidence of that! The places the victims are left were proved by relatives to be special to them, so the unsub leaving the bodies there shows some sentiment and that, somehow, the unsub knew them but none of the victims had ever met each other and have no social circles in common with one another!"

I had never felt so frustrated and confused. Hotch patted me on the shoulder as I sat down again, running a hand through my hair. He began a pep talk that always begins the investigation, "True remorse from the unsub might only be capable if they were compelled to commit the killing for reasons unknown to even them, or he's being forced to..."

#cute #love #fanfiction #romance #x reader #comfort #open requests #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x fem!reader

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sxcret-garden · 3 days

Text

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding.

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp.

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better.

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you.

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him.

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?"

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again.

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you.

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..."

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders,

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core.

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now."

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him.

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around.

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

#ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez x fem reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez series #ateez drabbles #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #smut

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thalialunacy · 1 day

Text

[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Tour, which affords me the opportunity to be supremely self-indulgent]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) 13: laugh

Is this still the number for John Watson?

John pauses, thumb hovering. Before he can choose a response, another message flashes in.

It's Harry

He nearly drops the phone. Or maybe he nearly throws it against the wall. Hard to say.

His reflex to caretake wars with his lingering resentment of her absence. But he knows he would regret ignoring an olive branch… or whatever this is.

Everything okay?

No small talk, got it

Yes I'm fine, good in fact

and no I'm not going to ask you for money

He breathes in deeply.

I'm glad things are going well for you

And he is, at least in the abstract.

Thanks

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to ask how you are

But you know I'm pants at texting

Can we just have coffee or something?

John taps his phone to his lip absently and considers his options. A public reunion seems like it could be a volatile mistake, not to mention it's 7pm on a weekday. Sherlock is at the lab, Rosie is having her after-supper blanket time, and John is catching up on charting.

And to be honest, he's pretty bored.

Come to mine for tea?

Harry's three dots wibble for a while, which John supposes is fair.

Right now?

With my schedule, I have to take opportunities where I can

Okay, yeah, I'm free

He sends her the address, feeling both pleased and annoyed. One would think that hitting his own rock bottom would make him more sympathetic towards his sister. But really, it just piles helpless anger on top of guilt on top of anger, ad nauseum.

He's not even sure she knows he's a father, for Christ's sake.

Turns out, she doesn't. She walks through the door he holds open for her, and stops abruptly when she sees Rosie. 'Oh my God,' she breathes, staring. 'Oh my God. You--' She turns to John, eyes wide. 'She-- Johnny. She's yours?'

He nods, and despite everything, he feels his face curve into a proud smile. 'Her name's Rosie.'

'Can I--' Harry indicates the blanket with a sharp movement. 'Can I say hello to her?'

'Yeah, course.' He follows her, and folds himself down behind Rosie. 'Sweetheart, this is your Aunt Harry.'

Harry makes a bit of a squawking noise, probably at the 'aunt' bit, but tamps it down. 'Hi, Rosie,' she manages, her voice rough but determined. 'It's lovely to meet you. What are you playing with?'

'Avocados,' Rosie mostly manages to say, then holds one up for Harry without hesitation. Harry takes it with a giggle, and before long they're thick as thieves with a pile of emoting avocados between them.

Harry glances up at him when there's a lull. 'So. The dad life is treating you well, yeah?'

He hesitates, then nods. 'It is now.'

She eyes him, but doesn't ask about what came before now. Instead, she says, 'I'm just going to ask, alright -- who's the other parent?'

He raises an eyebrow. 'Why d'you say there is one?'

Her eyes twinkle. 'Because you do not have the fashion sense to have bought her this outfit. Your bird rich, then?'

He coughs. 'Well. No.'

She waits, though he can see she's trying not to be annoyed by his reticence. She's never understood people wanting to keep things private. 'No?'

'My… flatmate. He's able to buy her things I don't give a toss about, yeah.'

She blinks. 'You have a gay flatmate?'

John feels his ears heat up. 'I do, yeah.'

She seems weirdly impressed. 'You've come a long way from being a rugby lad, haven't you?'

He snorts. 'I'm learning how to do plaits, if you'll believe it.'

'She's not got enough hair for that yet.'

'Sherlock--the flatmate--insists it's a useful skill, though I've no idea why.'

She doesn't reply, and he looks up from where he's helping Rosie with her current avocado. 'What?' he asks, though he knows it's useless. Harry is no Sherlock but honestly, she doesn't have to be, because his emotions have always been written all over his face. It's a curse and a blessing.

'Oh holy shit,' she breathes out.

'Language,' he admonishes reflexively.

'Sorry, I mean-- Holy noses, Johnny.'

'Don't be smug.'

'Oh, I take no credit for this, I always knew the overcompensating locker room talk was hiding something.'

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. 'Yeah, insecurity about willy size.'

'Okay, ew, first of all. Second of all-- What the--' He gives her a warning look. 'Ever-loving heck.'

'Short version?' She nods quickly. He decides to also give her the slightly-less-mad-sounding version. 'Got married, got pregnant, had baby, wife passed away, realised I had feelings for my flatmate. Who is a man. And who is effectively fathering my child.'

She claps her hand over her mouth, and for a moment he fears she's going to cry, but then realises she's laughing.

'Oi, that's just not on,' he protests.

'But it's ridiculous!' She holds out a hand to him placatingly, speaking through continued laughter. 'It's lovely and sad and all that, but you have to admit--'

There are tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and he feels it begin to bubble up in his chest, too. Her laugh has always been a thing of beauty, of loud, annoying, contagious, unforgettable beauty, and he can't help it.

And she's right, really. It is kind of ridiculous.

He lets out his own laugh, finally, and reaches for her hand.

[❤️]

#it's gonna be MAY 2024 #May Prompts 2024 #MayPrompts2024 #BBC Sherlock #Parentlock

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delopsia · 18 hours

Text

for what it's worth | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 6,600 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, panic attacks, riding, unprotected sex, depictions of injuries, comfort, overstimulation, unfamiliar places. Inspired by the Stephen Wilson Jr. Song Brief Summary: Maybe he isn't ready to leave Wabang. Not right now.

Boots stumble. Thumping across the floor. Spurs chime with every backward step. Heaving through an open mouth. Air whistling in his throat. The wall jumps forward, knocking into his back. Eyelashes flutter. His left knee buckles, balance teetering like a seesaw. His hand is trying to fly out to catch himself, but it's secured to his chest, and he can't stop his shoulder from knocking into the corner instead.

And his face is warm.

Why is his face warm?

"Rhett."

He doesn't realize that his ears are ringing until it stops. Crystal clear. Like he's just pulled his head above water for the first time in hours.

Soft hands squish against his cheeks, a thumb swiping across the delicate flesh beneath his eye. And he knows that he never shut them, not for longer than a second or two, so why did it take this long for him to see you standing in front of him?

"Rhett," repeating yourself, the corners of your mouth turn downward with a frown. "Are you alright?"

Air catches in his throat, breaking around fragments of words that never form, his face whiter than the peeling paint behind his head. Delicate, you tilt his head to meet your gaze. That bitten, bleeding bottom lip begins to wobble.

But he's not falling apart.

There's still a singular thread holding him together at the seams, and you're not even sure when he began unraveling to begin with. Was it when the crowd roared with horror after he fell? The empty stadium seats? Or is it something he's yet to tell you about?

One of your hands drifts to the back of his neck, all five fingers gently pressing to the soft skin there. And that's all it takes to have him collapsing into you.

Scruffy face burying into the crook of your neck. Silent as a mouse, as if he's afraid of what may come out of him if he allows himself to make the slightest noise. His arm knocks into your chest, held there by a flimsy sling, and it's all you can do to avoid bumping it as you pull him in by the waist.

He melts like sugar in the pouring rain, muscles unwinding into putty, that weary arm of his curling around you the best that it can. You can't feel the tears fall but you're well aware of how they wet the hem of your shirt, chased by a shudder that you can almost feel ripple down his spine.

"Rhett?" Saying his name again is beginning to feel redundant, but it's the only thing you can think of.

His head shakes back and forth, unruly hair tickling your ear. Slow, the hand resting against his back glides up, smoothing between his shoulder blades. The left one has only just begun to swell, the muscle there still traumatized from suffering through a dislocation. Warm breath puffs against your collar, chased by a sniffle.

A hand presses against the small of your back. Jerks away as quickly as it got there.

"Is your wrist hurting again?" Whispering. Anything louder might set him off again.

"Never stopped," his voice is hoarse, so barely there that it cracks at the end.

You can already see his brace, the off-white material poking out of an unzipped duffel bag. Restricting the mobility of his only functioning arm isn't exactly ideal, but maybe it'll only be for a night or two. A little extra time to let that old strain temporarily sort itself out before it rears its head again in the next month or two.

"Don't—don't let go of me," his arm cinches you in before you've even moved an inch. "Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," speaking gently, your fingertips find the knobs of his spine, pressing into the grooves of them. "I promise."

But he doesn't seem so sure about that, eyes darting between you and the bag, haphazardly discarded on top of the spare bed. It's only a foot or two away, but the squeeze of Rhett's arm suggests he might not let you move an inch.

"'m gonna look a little funny with somethin' on both arms, don't ya think?" He mumbles. A little too easily, his hand slides out from behind you, falling to dangle at his side. Limp.

Your fingers blindly brush against his brace, haphazardly lifting it by the velcro strap. This old thing has seen better days, dirt staining the edges and seams frayed from the regular abuse of being worn on a cattle ranch. But it still works, and Rhett wouldn't be an Abbott if he didn't insist on reusing it 'till it breaks.

"I'd rather you look a little funny than you get hurt any worse," and if not for his own benefit, then for the sake of your heart. It's stopped enough times for one day.

You don't notice the swelling in his wrist until after he's lifted it, the dull bedside lamp illuminating the raised skin, so rounded and thick that you can no longer see the bony joint at all. It's a wonder you don't have to loosen the strap as you slide the old thing into place.

His hand twists, rolling back and forth, always has to be inspecting your handiwork, "think I look a lil dumb."

"No, you looked dumb that time you tried to wear a camouflage shirt with your dress pants," and even then, you're not sure if you'd classify it as anything other than funny—the things he does to avoid his momma's attempts at taking him to church.

Those pretty blue eyes roll, the corner of his lip wobbling with a smile.

It's hard to keep standing here when there's an open bed calling your names. Big, fluffy, and half the damn reason you spent the extra fifty for this specific room. The mattress doesn't so much as squeak under your combined weights, completely and utterly silent, unlike the talkative ones in Wabang's only hotel.

"Do y' know what town we're in?" Rhett's finding his way to you before you've even settled, his only usable arm draping over your side.

"I didn't think to look," pausing as your head hits the pillow; there's way too much stuffing in this thing, cranking your neck uncomfortably high. "I can't imagine we've gotten far, though."

Without getting up to grab your phone off the dresser, your best guess is that you've only made it thirty minutes away from Wabang. Maybe even thirty-five. If Rhett's injuries would have allowed it, then you'd likely still be on the road, driving until the days events properly caught up with him.

His brows knit together, a thought visibly flickering through his mind. You can hardly stop your hand from wandering up to his face, fingers smoothing across the dirt that mottles his cheek. A shower might do him good once his jaw quits shaking like it is.

"Y' think..." Rhett's mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again. Gaping like a fish out of water. "Never mind."

Your index finger trails across the unshaven scruff clinging to his cheek, still short enough to feel like sandpaper. "You can say it."

"Do y' think they'll miss me?" There's that glassiness to his eyes again, remaining even as he tries to blink it away. "My folks, I mean."

Words gather in your throat, pushing and shoving to be the first to land on your tongue, but not a single one does. Slow, your head nods, and it's just enough movement to rattle a few out of the traffic jam. "I'm sure they will," your voice is barely there, a ghost of what it was a moment ago. "Is that what's bothering you?"

His shoulder rises with a shrug. Almost instantly, his eyes are scrunching shut, hissing through his teeth. "Kinda."

There are things you should be saying, arranging sentences to comfort him, but you haven't got a single thing to start with. What do you even tell him that his momma is probably sitting in the kitchen and wondering why he hasn't come home yet? That Amy is going to be asking where her only Uncle is?

The mattress dips as he squirms closer, fitting himself into the space beneath your chin. His nose bumps into the side of your neck, so close that you can smell the faint odor of sweat, still clinging to him from his ride. And it should be enough to stop you from squishing your cheek against the top of his head, but for reasons unbeknownst to you, it's not.

"'s just..." his voice rumbles through your body like thunder, the beginnings of a thought that he doesn't know how to finish.

Your eyes dart to the window, peering out the open blinds. Wabang is far too small to house a single chain restaurant, never mind enough to create a neon array of colors along the street. Didn't have these new-fangled flashing crosswalks or the sharp screech of a sportscar tearing down the midnight streets. Try as you might, you don't think you can hear the rumble of a single farm truck.

"Too much at once?" Finishing his sentence after a second. Now that you give it some thought, he's never spent more than a week away from home before.

The hair atop his head tickles your neck as he nods. You're starting to think that the feeling might be mutual. This whole idea sounded wonderful at first; running away together, never to be seen again, but your daydreams never depicted the unease that rests in your bones.

At least this mattress is somewhat familiar. Softer than what you've grown used to, but a bed is a bed. The air conditioner doesn't squeal like a wounded animal when it kicks on, not even a distant thumping of old country music from the bar next door. Maybe that's what makes it so easy for the silence to drag your eyelids to a close, the edges of your consciousness slipping away.

A horn blares outside. Poorly muffled voices shout.

"We should've stayed in town for the night," you mutter; whatever heaviness was keeping your eyes shut has entirely dissipated.

Why do you dislike Wabang, anyhow? Is it the ack of your favorite fast food chains? The memories that haunt every corner? The overwhelming blanket of silence that sprawls across town once night falls? Whatever the reason was, it's not coming to you.

Rhett's lips find your collar, lingering for a moment before drawing away to press a second one nearby. "We should've?"

"At least it's quiet in Wabang," your fingers slide into his hair, tangling in the long strands resting at his nape, the ones he keeps saying he'll trim.

Another kiss presses into the corner of your jaw. Another right next to it, and another, inching across your cheek, kiss by kiss. "I can think of a few distractions if that's what you're implyin'," you can hear the smile in his voice, getting closer and closer to his final destination by the second.

His arm shifts in its sling, hand thumping against his chest in what was supposed to be an attempt at reaching out to you. He doesn't say anything, too focused on meeting the corner of your lip, and then—

Rhett's bitten lips meet yours for the first time this hour, hardly enough pressure to count as one to start with.

"For god's sake," he grumbles against your mouth, "can't do a damn thing like this."

You draw back, peeking at his face. That nose of his is wrinkled, the slightest bit irritated with his situation. "Is there something you're wanting, cowboy?" Teasing.

"Bet ya can't guess," he winks, maybe the slightest bit cocky, despite his lack of functioning arms.

Sitting up isn't the easiest thing, elbow uncomfortably digging into the mattress, and it's all you can do to keep from accidentally bumping into any of his injuries. The bruising along his collarbone and the swelling in his shoulder blade, still agitated from that unceremonious dislocation. But Rhett doesn't seem to be thinking about any of that right now, too focused on leaning up to meet your mouth. Your hand drifts to his jaw, tilting him down the slightest bit.

Finally, those thin lips find yours, solid and there and unbroken by an uncomfortable angle. He tastes like that goddamn Rainier beer he loves so much, chased by the obscene notes of dirt and sweat that ought to make you gag and point him to the travel-sized mouthwash sitting on the sink.

But Rhett's humming like he's just come home from a long day at work, lips softening, melting into the delicate dance of yours, and you suppose that today...today he gets a pass. That desperately needed shower isn't so urgent anymore. His nose bumps into yours, both tilting in the same direction as gravity begins to drag your body down.

Your leg swings out, clumsily straddling his hips as he twists onto his back, only breaking apart to twist your head to the other side. His fingers lazily trace their way to your spine, ambling up it until he can comfortably splay his palm against the middle of your back, pressing just enough to inch you closer. Chest to chest, so close that you think you can feel his heart beating away in his chest, wild and alive.

A siren screeches to life outside the window. So shrill that you jolt, teeth clacking together.

You could have sworn that ambulances were quieter than that. Or maybe that's just a Wabang thing. It's not like that town has a whole lot of people there to warn.

"Think 'm startin' to see your point," Rhett's lips bump into yours as he speaks, thumb drawing circles into your back. His body jerks upward, awkwardly bumping into your ass before falling back against the bed. "Fuckin'—ow!"

"There something you're wanting, cowboy?" Saying it as if you don't have a clue what he wants, feigning blissful ignorance.

"Yeah," huffing, dramatic as can be, "somethin' I can't have."

Your hand meanders down his chest, nails catching on the pearl-snap buttons of his flannel. The top two burst open, falling apart to reveal the beginnings of a milky white chest. "What makes ya think you can't have it?"

He lifts his wrist, brace on full display. "My arms don't work like they used to."

Before you can think twice, your eyes roll. "Well, mine do." And before he can say another word, you're reaching for the end of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head.

Rhett's eyes flutter, pearly white teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The cat must have gotten his tongue because, all of a sudden, he doesn't have a damn thing to say. Completely and utterly silent as you rake your finger through his remaining buttons, fingertip tracing against his belly the whole way down.

"Amelia County Bull Riding Champion," you muse, nail tapping against the metal of his buckle, so new that it doesn't have so much as a scratch on it. It's almost hard to believe that he's spent the past nine years chasing this one-of-a-kind trophy and its equally shiny title. Sure wonder how long it'll be before he's chasing a second one.

"'n my reward is two fucked arms," Rhett chuckles, the rough material of his brace skirting up your naked side, "they could've at least refunded me the entry fees."

Something thunks behind you. Chased by a second thing. And you think those might be his boots hitting the floor.

"At least you didn't get charged for letting the paramedic check on your shoulder," pinching the buckle open, you reach for his button.

If he were in any better shape, maybe you would have time for the theatrics of kissing down his belly and getting him worked up before you start tugging on his zipper. But he's down to half a functioning hand, beaten and abused from three rides in one night, and you're not sure if he'll even be awake if you stretch things out that far. Even clambering off of him feels like a dangerous task, as if he could possibly fall asleep in the span of three seconds.

One little tug is all it takes for Rhett to lift his hips. "Congrats on winnin'," his voice strained with the effort of keeping himself up. "Here's a bill that'll take all your prize money 'n then some."

The hem of his jeans catches on his boxers, and it wasn't your intent to take them down all in one go, but you're not making any effort to stop it, either. Haphazardly pulling the dirt-stained fabric past the thick fat of his thighs and down his ankles, tossing it to the side.

You suppose this means you'll be following suit.

"Shit," Rhett's knees knock into each other, squeezing close, "'s cold in here."

"We'll find a way to warm you up," hooking your thumbs beneath your waistband, dragging your pants and underwear down your legs, discarding them somewhere near Rhett's.

A spring chirps as his feet dig into the mattress, pushing himself up against the headboard. Maybe this bed isn't so perfect after all. "Can't imagine what y've got in mind," he grunts, head thunking against the smooth wood.

You don't need a response to that. Not when you can lift your leg and swing yourself back into his lap, arms lazily looping around his shoulders. Sparkles dance behind his eyes, like the glittering night sky, doesn't need to say a damn thing. His arm winds around your waist again, the other one jerking against his chest, held back by the sling.

There isn't much strength to be found there, but his hand flattens against your naked back, and that's all you need to find yourself leaning forward. Half-parted lips bump into one another, slow and steady, not quite willing to risk another clash of teeth.It's so much easier here, situated in the comfortable warmth of his lap, where you can curl your hands around his scruffy cheeks and feel them squish beneath your palms.

You're just tired enough to let yourself believe that you're floating. High above the clouds, lost somewhere between Neptune and bliss, twisting and turning, suspended in the depths of eternity. Not a damn thing separating you aside from this flimsy sling and his unbuttoned flannel.

Delicate, your hips roll back, the soft swell of your inner thigh brushing against his cock, half hard and resting against his belly. It's nothing but a haphazard touch, and yet he sucks in a breath as if it's something so much more than that.

"Keep doin' that," he murmurs, the tips of your noses colliding. And you do.

Hell, you were never planning to stop. A little too eager to draw your body up against his, feeling the pressure of him against your inner thigh, heat rushing up your belly and into your cheeks. He's already beginning to drip, leaving behind a shimmering wetness on your skin. But then he's shifting a little bit to the left, and his length is pressed right against your cunt, and it's too late to stop the noise that draws out of your throat, dancing in tandem with Rhett's.

You need...you need..."Did you—"

"In my back pocket," he's interrupting you before the question has even left your mouth.

Why you ever thought it would be in a different place, you're not sure. So used to this routine that you don't need to look as your hand blindly pats around the material of his jeans. The round outline of his Zyn can tells all you need to know; those little lube packets are always tucked right next to it.

"I thought you were quitting this stuff," commenting as you fumble with the plastic; there's a notch on it for easy tearing, but you can never seem to find it.

All of a sudden, the packets are gone entirely. Plucked from your hand, the culprit lifting the edge of one to his lips. "I did."

You're not sure you follow. That's definitely the can. You'd know that old hunk of plastic anywhere. "So why do you have the container?"

"Shake it." And he sounds so serious about it that you can't help but do what he says, fishing it out and haphazardly waving the plastic container back and forth. Something hard rattles around inside, a couple of somethings, at that.

"Are those rocks?" Shaking it again. Yeah, those sound like rocks.

"Found 'em on the ranch," Rhett pauses, biting the corner, pulling as hard as his hand will allow. Clear fluid is already spilling out the top, glistening on his fingertips before he can even begin to hand it back to you. "They're made of some weird black powder that would crumble in my pocket."

The lube is still warm from where it's been resting against the curve of his ass all afternoon, running down your fingers and dripping onto his flannel as you reach between your bodies. This stuff always makes a damn mess, but it's so hard to worry about stains when Rhett's sucking in a gasp, hips jolting, all from the way your hand wraps around him.

Loose. Just feeling the weight of him in your grasp. How he twitches when your index finger catches on his mushroom tip, hardening so fast that you can feel it. The way he grows a little wider, longer too, until he's once again the same menacing size you've come to know and love. One little pack of this stuff isn't enough to coat him, running down his length before you can spread it, but he's already tearing open a second. Drops of it scatter like rain, hitting your cheek and landing on the once clean sheets.

You've never been so thankful to have two beds.

"'m sorry," kissing at a wet spot next to your nose, "was tryin' t' help."

The remaining lube pours directly onto your palm, so much of it at once that it begins to squelch, loud and bouncing off the corners of this tiny little room. Any more, and you reckon it might travel to the neighboring rooms. At least out here, you don't have to worry about a distant acquaintance of the Abbott family overhearing and running their mouth to half the congregation come Sunday.

"Need any more?" Rhett shakes a third and fourth pack as if you could have forgotten how many he's carrying.

But you're in no particular mood to wait. Not when you can feel him throbbing in your grasp, desperate and leaking and ready for you. "That's plenty," any more, and you two may be swimming in it.

"Gon' be limpin' in the mornin'." Whatever sincerity he has is lost to the twitching of his mouth, rising up into a grin. Always has gotten a kick out of watching you waddle after it's all said and done.

"Good," winking, "It'll keep us in bed longer."

Those pretty blue eyes roll back into his head, as far as they'll go. Giggles sputter out of you, and that's all it takes to have them rumbling out of him, too. Foreheads knocking together, noses clashing once more, lips brushing in what might be a kiss.

"a'ight," he's speaking quietly, as if this air is too fragile for anything more than a whisper, "if that's what ya want."

You don't need any further encouragement, knees digging into the bed as you lift yourself up, guiding him between your legs. His tip slips through your folds, a little spark of heat jumping up your spine, and you really shouldn't stop to rub him against your clit, but you can't help yourself. Selfishly circling him around the little bundle of nerves, such a simple thing that has you growing just a little wetter.

An involuntary twitch in your wrist has him sliding back, nudging right where you've been craving him.

"Shit," gasping, your head tilts back, the ceiling blurring as you finally begin to sink down on him. A soft pressure that grows with every passing second chased by a sharp, stinging reminder of why you should have listened when Rhett tried to offer you more lube to open yourself up with.

But it's hard to focus on when he's leaning forward, the stubble on his jaw scratching as his mouth finds its way to your neck. Leaving behind a kiss so wet that you can hear it, swiftly chased by another and another and another. Your hand slips away from his length, too eager to wind your arms around his shoulders once more.

His tip slips into you without any more fuss, and you think there might be an ache from being stretched so wide, but you don't have the capacity to pay attention to it. It's too early in the night to be drowning in the lap of a wild-eyed cowboy, and yet here you are. The only two people in the world, if only for a few short minutes.

"You're sure y' don't need more?" Rhett's tilting his head up, chin brushing against yours.

"I'm sure," your voice is weaker than it was a minute ago. One of the many things you've left behind in Wabang, you suppose.

Oh, or maybe you do need it. Hands scurrying, nails biting into the thick muscle of his back. He never seems that big until he's between your legs, thick cock splitting you uncomfortably wide, just enough to send your cunt into a frenzy of spasms.

"Shit," Rhett's eyelashes flutter like the wings of butterflies, "'s fuckin'..." But he can't finish his sentence, cut short by a stifled grunt.

"You can feel that?" Your tongue feels loose in your mouth, heavy, and difficult to control.

All he can do is nod his head, breathing heavily through parted lips. "Uhuh."

His hand slips away from your back. Leaves a jarring coldness in its wake as it darts between your chests and up to his sling, pinching the plastic clasp until it comes loose. But his left arm falls from its mesh prison and lands limp against his belly, so unceremoniously that you nearly freeze.

"Are you sure that you should be...?" There's no point in finishing your thought. Not when he's already trying to move, the corner of his eye scrunching as he slowly lifts it.

"'m just holdin' ya," carefully winding his arms around you. Loose, but they're there, strong and secure as they've always been.

Tires squeal somewhere on the street. So jarring that you hardly notice the way your ass comes flush with his lap, perfectly seated on top of him. Nothing left to take. There's still an ache between your legs, but even that cannot take away from how full you are of him. Stretched to your very limit. Couldn't hope to take another inch of him, even if you tried.

One of your hands rises to tangle in his hair, pulling just hard enough to draw his head back. Lips melting together in some kind of breathy dance that shouldn't even count as a kiss. It would have lasted longer if you had the patience, but you don't, already beginning to lift yourself. Only by an inch or two before falling back into his lap.

Lube squelches, sickeningly loud.

A selfish part of you hopes that every person in this city can hear it. Spitefully rising a little faster now. Eyes almost crossing as he rubs against the sensitive nerves along your walls, and you can feel yourself getting wetter around him.

"Fuck," Rhett's moaning against your mouth, "y' feel so good wrapped 'round me."

You'd ought to be talking too, but you can't find a damn word in your head. Literacy be damned, all you can think of is the way his fat cock sinks back into your throbbing cunt, so big that he can't help but massage against all those little sweet spots. Works a soft noise out of your throat, then another, and you don't think you can stop them from spilling off your tongue.

"Promise I won't..." Rhett's hips jerk up off the bed, meeting you midway with a little 'smack.' Then, trying again. "Promise I won't make ya ride me all weekend."

As if you've ever complained about riding a cowboy.

"What?" Searching for words. Ones that don't contain expletives or variations of his name. "Have plans to break in the table by the window?"

A puppy caught stealing food has been less obvious. Big blue eyes and swollen, parted lips, staring up at you as if he can't believe you could foil his plan. Has the audacity to make that dumb, whimpering noise; all he needs are the floppy ears and the wagging tail.

Your nails rake against his scalp, swallowing up his raspy cry with your own. In the back of your mind, you're vaguely aware that you've got your lubed hand in his hair, and that's not going to dry prettily. Especially not with the thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, shimmering in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, little beads of it collecting on his forehead.

His hips tilt back, arms pulling you the slightest bit forward and—

oh.

"Rhett," you whine, pitchy and drawing out the vowel. Little sparks of fire tingle up your spine, spasming so harshly around him that your body nearly stalls entirely. Fuck, and his cock head is kissing your g-spot head-on, nailing it with every stroke, sending a galaxy of stars glittering behind your vision.

"'m close, " Rhett's sputtering, his head shaking back and forth as if he can somehow ward it off, "darlin' 'm gonna..."

There's an ache in your thighs that wasn't there before, a wildfire burning deep in the muscle, the flames licking up your spine and into your lower belly. A heated coil winds tighter, but you can't stop moving. Chasing that broken rhythm, every fall of your hips punctuated by the lewd clap of skin against skin.

"Cum," it's the weakest order you've ever given in your life, pulling on the ends of his hair, desperate to hold on to something. "Cum for me, Rhett."

He's so close that you can hear the way the air catches in his throat as his eyes roll back. The arms around you shiver as he cums in you with a cry. Body jerking up into yours, and you can feel the way his cock twitches, painting your poor cunt with white, absolutely powerless to do anything but give it to you.

And your thighs are screaming for you to slow down, ache burning all the way down into your knees, but you just can't help yourself, too wrapped up in this dizzying up and down. Panting against his lips, lost in the sickly loud squelch of cum and lube.

"Fuck," grunting, Rhett's forehead knocks against yours, keening high in his throat, "fuck, fuck, fuck, you're still—"

He doesn't get to finish that, cut short by another whine. Sensitive. So, so sensitive. His hand squirms between your bellies, arm caught in a horribly awkward angle, a shivering thumb pressing against your clit.

Your whole body jerks, that fire roaring up into your face. "Hang on for me," leaning back onto your haunches just far enough for you to catch a breath of air that isn't his. "You can do it."

But his head is shaking like he doesn't think he can. Thumb spiraling against your clit like he's getting paid to do it, a wateriness building behind those big blue eyes. "Please cum," babbling, his thighs quaking beneath you, "please, please, please."

Maybe it's his thumb on your clit, or the dizzying massage of his cock against your g-spot, or maybe it's the babbling, but that coil in your belly is winding tighter and tighter. Rhythm crumbling into a jerky, impossible-to-control pace, skin prickling. And someone is shouting in the hallway, but you can't hear it.

Not when your ears are ringing from the smack of Rhett's thighs against your ass and his pitchy voice, chanting your name like it's the only thing he knows. Sweat and tears rolling down flushed cheeks, his shivering arm weakly cinching you into him.

His mouth clashes with yours, moaning into your mouth, and it's as if you've been thrust into heaven. Head spinning as your orgasm washes over you, cumming around his softening cock without a sound. Or maybe you are making noise, vaguely aware of the melody of whimpers tumbling off your tongue, a shiver rolling up your spine like an ocean wave.

Rhett's thumb is still going, working in loose circles that seem to push you higher and higher into the clouds, and you think you're about to float right on out to space. Can feel yourself falling to the side, weightless for the briefest moment, before a cloud rises to break your fall. Soft and warm and squishy, your very own bed, all the way up in the sky.

A warm wind tickles your nose.

Or maybe that's the breath of a cowboy. Doe-eyed, lips wobbling with a lazy grin, gazing back at you. The scruff of his facial hair tickles your skin as your hand curls around the side of his jaw, feeling the hard bone and soft fat hidden there. You're not entirely sure when you landed on your side or when he wrapped you up in his weary arms, but you're here, and he's so, so warm.

Another voice shouts from the hallway. Masking the squeal of the bed springs as you squirm closer. Rhett's head tilts, nose bumping into yours. A third shout appears, and you're fairly certain that it's a whole group, but you can't pay them any mind. Too lost in the eyes of this dumb cowboy, who's almost too eager and willing to throw everything away and go to the ends of the earth for you.

Your mind jumps back to the corner of the room. The hazy recollection of turning around to see him backing into the wall, face whiter than the paint, floundering like a fish out of water. You'd known something was off when he quit talking mid-drive, but that was...

Maybe he isn't ready to leave Wabang. Not right now, at least. Not when he's never spent more than a week away from his folks and has only ever known that tiny, minuscule town. Why did you never think of that?

Frankly, you're one screaming sports car away from abandoning the idea of leaving, too. At least the nights there were quiet and not...this.

"For what it's worth," your tongue feels too big, struggling to shape around the words, "I don't mind the idea of staying in Wabang."

His mouth opens, the corners of his lips rising before quickly falling shut. Then, opening his mouth again.

"Yeah?" That twenty-four karat smile working its way across his face. "You'll stay in that stuffy ol' town for me?" And either your ears are playing tricks on you, or you may have just heard a giggle bubbling out of him.

"Yeah," parroting him. There's more you should be saying; your reasoning behind changing your mind, asking what he thinks, about what his folks will say when you come back, but you can't be bothered to say that many words. The future version of you can have that conversation. "I don't see why not."

You blink, and suddenly, you're being pulled closer into some kind of makeshift hug that squishes your face into the crook of his sweaty neck. A good, long shower is what he needs, a faint stench of sweat meeting your nose, but again, you can't be bothered to try moving away.

"What changed your mind?" He's so close that you can hear the way his voice rumbles in his throat.

"A lot of things," saying anything more would require you to think. As if you didn't do enough of that in the passenger seat of his truck.

He hums, some grumbling noise that sounds like thunder rolling in the distance. "Was it that obvious that I ain't never done somethin' like this before?"

"Just a little bit," kissing the scar beneath his collarbone, the one from when he fell off a bull and got caught on a sharp horn. So much blood for such a small injury.

For a moment, the room is quiet. Just you and him, wrapped up in each other, tangled in these messy sheets. Two fingers walk across your back on their own little journey down the curve of your spine. Some mindless little thing that you can't help but mirror, using the knobs of his spine as stepping stones.

"Was a little excited for the whole wakin' up next to each other thing," he murmurs, fingers stopping at the base of your spine, the end of its imaginary road.

But you don't mind going off-road, making your way down the soft curve of his ass, pressing harder just to feel the way the fat gives. "We can still do that," grabbing a handful of it.

"My bed ain't that big, darlin'," snorting, Rhett leans back, sleepy blue eyes meeting yours once more, "'n we can only afford so many hotel rooms."

You don't think heeven fits in that bed, now that you think about it. Maybe he did when he was fourteen and hadn't been hit by that whirlwind of a growth spurt, but those long legs and broad shoulders aren't quite meant for a twin-size mattress. But by that logic, he also shouldn't fit in the bench seat of his truck...

"That little house on Floyd Street is up for rent again," you find yourself saying after a while.

Rhett must have learned to read your mind because you don't need to finish your sentence for that grin to appear once more. An apartment together should have been your first step, but who's keeping a record of things like that? Certainly, not you, and definitely not Rhett, too busy dipping his head down to rub your noses together.

"Think y' can help me wash my hair?" He whispers, brace scratching your skin as he tries to flatten his palm against your cheek, thumb swiping back and forth beneath your eye.

Your nod is all that he needs. Bones popping and cracking as he sits up, before sleep can begin to overtake him, flannel slipping from his shoulders and pooling around his waist. Miles upon miles of freckled, milky white skin, exposed in the blink of an eye, the left side stained by blotches of black, blue, and purple.

Kissing them won't make it any better, but you've already found yourself leaning up, mouth pressing to the darkest of them. His head tilts, hair tickling your face as you work your way up his shoulder, peppering over the swollen joint as if you can possibly kiss away his injury altogether.

"Kissin' it better?" He asks, red cheeks and all.

"Trying." Kiss. "Too." Kiss.

There would be a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, but Rhett's already turning around, catching your lips in his. Those big hands rise to cradle your cheeks, fingertips squishing into the fat of them, almost purring into your mouth. Your head is spinning again, senses tingling with the beginnings of something warm. Hazy.

The bed rises up to meet your back, and this cowboy obediently falls right along with you, legs parting to straddle your hips, palms still resting against your face. Weight settling on top of you, nothing but lean muscle and bone. The same cowboy who's a little too eager to jump the gun for you. The diamond to your gold. Sweet as honey.

And could really use a bath, but that can wait a few more minutes.

#rhett abbott x reader #outer range #oneshot #afab reader #rhett abbott

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