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spdrvyn · 11 months

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touch-starved headcanons — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel isn't the most touchy person when you and him first meet but as your relationship with him developed over time and things started to get more intimate, you discovered new things about his love language.

THIS POST CONTAINS: like my last one. literally nothing but fluff. sleep-deprived and stressed out miguel.

NOTES: do you guys think miguel needs a hug because i think miguel needs a hug, reblog and like if you think that miguel needs a hug because i think that he needs a hu

– through the most painful methods (to his heart), miguel had found out that you really liked touching people. every time you greeted him, it was a big hug that he would hesitate to return. it's not that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that it wasn't something he was used to. it's not like people in the spider society were walking around giving hugs.

– although, it's not like he was opposed to it. it was you, after all. gradually, he began getting more comfortable. resorting to wrapping an arm around you and dragging his hand up and down your back, it would make the hug last just a little longer and he enjoyed the soft gestures. they meant a lot more to him than you thought.

– it took a little time to get him to fully hug you back. the reason for that was how he looked when doing so. he doesn't like being so public about it, he can hear the murmurs and light giggles from the passersby around him when you hug him. besides, the face that he makes is one that he finds quite embarrassing. he looked so content, compared to the stone-faced and distant demeanor he always walked around with at work.

"Miguel!"

He felt his body stiffen as you called out his name, head turning frenetically as to locate where exactly you were calling him from. Not until he feels a finger tap him on the shoulder, he turned around and looked down to see you with a grin tugging at your lips.

He isn't even able to get a single word out as you embrace him, head buried into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his torso. You're about to pull away before you feel two strong arms envelop you as well.

Your heart fluttered a little. Ever since the start of your friendship with him, you'd gotten used to him not reciprocating the hugs. You couldn't blame him honestly, some people aren't into it but it also perplexed you because it's not like he hated it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have continued.

After a few long moments, he finally pulls back and whatever just happened left a look of awe on your face that he reacted so adorably to. His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing into a straight line, the crimson eyes that you would lose yourself in averting from yours as a shade of deep red settles on his cheeks.

"So, what are you here for? How'd you even get in?" You wanted to laugh at the strain in his voice, but just this once, you decided to spare him the embarrassment.

Quickly digging into your bag, you bring out a small container. "Admittedly, some of your coworkers were a little... surprised when they saw me head up but I told them that I was your friend and they were slightly less mortified!"

You handed the tupperware over to him as he carefully took it in his hands. "I just wanted to bring you a snack. Haven't seen you in a while so I assumed that things were getting busier around here."

Miguel pried open the container as the scent of freshly baked banana bread wafted through the walls of his office. For a moment, you were concerned that he didn't like it. He stared blankly at the food for a moment before closing it once more to conceal the scent.

"Thank you, that's- that's very thoughtful of you..."

Your head cocked to the side ever so slightly to get a better look at his face, watching lovingly as the blush that painted his cheeks continued to deepen.

Oh, how embarrassed he would be if he knew you could hear his heartbeat during that hug a while ago.

– you weren't all that surprised when the affection picked up ten-fold when you two started dating. whatever sense of yearning and longing for a loving relationship that miguel had was definitely all pouring out now but it's not like you were complaining. if anything, he seemed to be more physically affectionate than you at times. he'd work towards trying to be gentle towards you at the start of your relationship, he was scared that he'd hurt you but once you reassured him that he didn't need to walk on eggshells, he didn't hold back.

– greetings went from hugs to straight up kisses, when you got back home from work and he happened to stop by your shared apartment just to fetch something, he would always pull you into a kiss which would always leave you breatheless by the end of it. whenever you two were watching a movie, he'd constantly have his hands all over you. he liked playing with your body, his fingers would rake through your hair and gentle massage your scalp, his hands would wander down to your stomach to trace shapes into it, then to your thighs to knead into the soft flesh like a cat making biscuits.

– let's not leave out how much he bites as well. he has a tendency for marking you up, sometimes you'd be cooking something on the stove and he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. when you finished preparing your meal and perhaps wanted to get a change of clothes, you'd see a small bite mark in the crevices in your neck. you were more than okay with it, of course, you just had one rule to not make it uncoverable. a rule that he had forgotten to obey at times because "you just taste so good".

"Fuck..."

You groaned as the blaring sounds of your alarm rung painfully in your ears, you reached over to the bedside table and looked at your phone screen (basically getting flashbanged as you forgot you didn't turn down the brightness last night). It was still early in the morning but you still had tasks to care of and a job to do.

You turn off the alarm and sit up from the bed, wincing as you take a big stretch. You're ready to actually stand up and start the day until an arm wraps around your midsection, forcing you back down onto the bed with a yelp.

Your back hits Miguel's chest as he cages you, his face buries itself into the crook of your neck. "Stay, s'early..." You can hear him mumble, hot breath tickling your skin and it sends a tingle up your spine. You giggle, your hand moving down to the ones that he has firmly digging into your belly.

"No matter what I say, you're going to keep me here anyway."

"Mhm. Just surrender."

You mumble out a small "okay" as you properly settle back into his warmth, a small hum escapes his throat as you can feel his nose digging into his neck and lips pressing the back of your shoulder.

Time seems to pass by slowly, surprisingly enough you're used to this. You barely get to see Miguel some days due to the nature of his job however the moment that you're together again, it all feels so heavenly.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you feel a shift of movement, Miguel maneuvers your body so that you're now facing him.

Only now do you get to see how cute he looks. His regularly slicked backed hair all messy, stray hair strands falling onto his forehead. Lips curled into a small pout and eyes lidded as it seems like he's staring into your soul or something.

"Corazón," He breathes out, your fingers move to cup his cheek. Your thumb swipes at the deep bags that formed under his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You let your actions speak for you as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his. One of the hands that he wrapped around your waist moves to your hair like always, fingers combing out the locks as the kiss continues to deepen.

Once you two finally part, a small grin makes itself present on your face and on his as well.

You realized now that whatever jobs you had, whatever lives you two lived didn't matter as long as both of you were happy. A thought intensified as he pulled you in for another kiss.

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #cute #domestic

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welovelouisandbucky · 5 months

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My two favorite Slytherin boys headcanons bc why not?

T/w: few swear words, my writing, and some out of character stuff because im delusional, little suggestive if you can call it that, and yes aside from that if you find any pls let me know:) also my writing

A/n: hi y'all, I just want to say pls be kind as this is my first time writing for these characters so if there's any mistakes pls overlook them thank you! Also I tried my best to keep this GN so everyone can read and enjoy this and yeah that's it, have great day!!!

S/n: requests are open so feel free to send in ideas, I'll love to write what you guys suggest. Also feel free to ask for more Slytherin or any Harry Potter characters you want headcanons/blurbs about, I'll love to write and add more🤗

Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle

(gifs credits to the rightful owner)

Also this one's long as you can see I got carried away😁

Mattheo who always looks forward to see your face after the end of the day

Mattheo who will fight any one who looks at you funny or talks shits about you

Mattheo who glares at every single person but the seconds he spots you his eyes softens up in millisecond in adoration

Mattheo who holds your books or bag everywhere you guys go, because God forbid if his princess/prince ever has to worry about those things when he's there to do them for you

Mattheo who waits after you when the class is over so he can walk you to other class while he pulls you as closer to him as possible

Mattheo who searches for you before every Quidditch game so he can have his good luck charm kiss from you

Mattheo who pretends to hate and act tough when you baby him while secretly melting into a puddle inside every time you call him sweet names. ( He absolutely loses his shit when you call him baby but shush it's a secret 😌)

Mattheo who has probably drawn you only few hundreds of times in his super, super duper, very classified sketchbook that no one knows of.

Mattheo who always encourages you to do things you want to do but are too scared to actually do it.

Mattheo who always supports your decisions, even if they are stupid

Mattheo who appropriates your little hobbies and interests even if they are weird, he just wants to you to feel safe and heard around him

Mattheo who's always there for you whenever you need him, always there to hold you close on bad days because he knows how it feels when you are at your worst and there's no one to comfort you (thankfully he doesn't have to worry about being alone now that you are here as well as his friends)

Mattheo who struggles with expressing his emotions and feelings but still tries his hardest to show them to you because he wants you to know how much you mean to him.

Mattheo who's not that good at comforting but still pulls you to him because he can't stand seeing you cry and not do anything about it.

Mattheo who willingly listens to you rant about everything and anything because he loves hearing your voice (even if half of the things you said are going above his head but hey at least he's trying! ☺️)

Mattheo who hates not knowing what's happening around him because it makes him feel helpless and he hates feeling weak. That's why he always, and I mean always knows what's going on everywhere

Mattheo who's touch starved (bc yk all that being dark Lord's son and growing up with death eaters and all) and craves your touch. He's always in any way touching you, whether holding hands, or a hand on your thigh or waist just any kind of physical touch because he wants to be as close to you as possible.

Mattheo who loves loves cuddles, doesn't matter who's spooning who as long as you guys are in each other's arms.

Mattheo who loves you so much that it physically hurts him, and there's nothing he wouldn't do you

Mattheo who will always protect you no matter what

~~~

Theodore Nott

Theo who loves to tease you throughout the whole day just so he can see you all worked up for him

Theo who looks forward to your quick comebacks every time he comments on something he knows he will get reaction out of you and absolutely loses his shit when you roast the shit out of him for it

Theo who calls you sweet endearments in Italian because he loves to see your confused smile, contemplating whether he roasted you or called you something sweet in foreign language

Theo who keeps you company while you finish your homework in library

Theo who loves spending time with you on Astronomy tower (he just in general loves spending time with you but astronomy tower is more special to him) while you are snuggled up against his side as you guys look at stars.

Theo who will read with you, doesn't matter what kind of books you guys are reading as long as both of you are together.

Theo who prefers reading classic novels but will happily read cheesy rom-com books with you because you said so (secretly he enjoys them too but hush🙈)

Theo who actually enjoys reading poetry, and sometimes when you guys are alone he'll read few to you

Theo who's always there to comfort you whenever you have problems with your family because he knows how it feels.

Theo who's always there to stand up for you in any situation

Theo who starts to smoke less around you if it bothers you, but if you smoke too then both of you guys will smoke together at the Astronomy tower

Theo who loves silence and doesn't enjoy talking much but is always ready to listen to you talk for hours, you are the only person he can talk and listen to for eternity without ever getting sick of it.

Theo who loves when you wear his clothes

Theo who said I love you first time when he saw you curse someone out because they said some shit about him, he doesn't really care whatever shit they were saying but seeing you stand up for him made him feel emotions he never felt before.

Theo who just absolutely loves you and wants to spend entirety of his life with you

Thank you so much for reading, likes and comments are very much appreciated. As well as positive criticism, pls don't hate this is a safe place for everyone!! Bye bye have great day!!!

~~~~

Enzo's headcanon!

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star-sim · 4 months

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your lips, my lips, apocalypse ☆ heeseung lee

☆ non-idol! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: sex, love, and romance tasted like poison on your tongue, a secret that you held close to yourself for years. unfortunately, when heeseung kisses you, he, too, could taste that poison. ☆ genre: hurt/comfort, angst, veeery suggestive but no smut, implied college! au, unclear relationship status but can be viewed as friends to lovers ☆ warning(s)? implied s*xual abuse, hypersexuality as a coping mechanism, if youre not comfy with these topics don't read! ☆ word count: 2.0k ☆ atp im just writing my entire playlist... based off of apocalypse by cigarettes after sex <3

Heeseung should have known the moment that your first instinct was to lower your head in shame and unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy undergarments and bare skin, because you thought your then-boyfriend was angry at you.

He should have seen the signs when you had no problem shoving your tongue down every team captain's throat for everyone to see, but danced around the topic of sex, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you clutched onto his sleeve.

He should have noticed the way you changed, how you slowly showed more and more skin, yet said less and less, shrinking into yourself whenever a pair of eyes glazed over you, almost like you were afraid.

But most of all, Heeseung should have known the moment that you attacked him with your lips, hungrily kissing him like a starved hyena.

He hated himself for realizing so late into the night.

There the two of you were, sprawled across your bed. You had your back flat against the soft, white sheets, your bare skin so pretty under the warm light. Heeseung, shirtless in his own right, hovered over you, admiring you.

Both of you were breathless, lips swollen and eyes blown out as you ached for each other, spending the last hour teasing each other.

What started as a calm night with his dear friend became an impromptu makeout session, that then became the two of you half naked in your bedroom.

The first sign should have been how you faltered at Heeseung's mindless mention of his love-life, the way your expression pinched briefly. You let out a few sad words, yet your tone was so happy that Heeseung didn't notice the way your brows furrowed, sinking your teeth into your lips pensively.

The second sign should have been the cloudy glaze over your eyes the moment Heeseung's hand accidentally brushed up against your thigh, and more importantly, the way your eyes were glued to his hand as he pulled it away, a small "sorry"falling from his lips.

The third sign was the way that you paused for a moment, giving him a confused look after you crawled on top of him, your lips attached to his neck. Heeseung's hand ghosted over your hips and waist, asking breathlessly, "Can I touch you here?"

This should have been the nail in the coffin, the way you looked so quizzical just because he asked permission to touch you.

But now as Heeseung pinned you under him, his large, doe eyes gazing down at yours, he felt his heart pound. You looked so beautiful. The sight of you under him was something that he could only dream of, but now that you were right in front of him, Heeseung felt dizzy.

All these years, he'd been waiting for his moment— to be so close and intimate with you, you who he never really escaped from.

Heeseung could feel the warmth of your skin against his, the feeling being so delicious that he wanted to bask in it forever.

As his long fingers slithered down to the hem of your panties, dipping into them, Heeseung watched your face.

Your head was thrown back, gazing up at him like he was a god. Your pretty lips were wet and parted, sucking in sharp breaths and letting out small sighs as Heeseung worked on you.

But what made Heeseung falter was the look in your eye.

He'd always known you to be bright-eyed; it was within your eyes that he could see the universe unfold before him, without a single speck of dust obstructing it.

But this time, your eyes told something different.

Earlier, they were filled with excitement and desire. But now, they were dull; storm clouds shrouded the sky that was your eyes, shedding a murky and foggy cast that was so dark that it bled onto the rest of your face.

Heeseung was no stranger to your past.

It was no secret that you had many sexual partners, almost to the point of being rumored to be a 'whore' or 'slut.'

Heeseung didn't know for sure, but he was perceptive enough to understand the link between the older boy that you dated for years in high school who was known for preying on younger girls, and your transition into being more sexually-charged. He had a feeling that your sudden change into being more sexual had something to do with the predatory nature of your relationship back then.

All this time, you'd told him that you were okay, that you'd moved on and did things because you wanted to do it, that you were no longer haunted by the memory of your sexually abusive ex-boyfriend from when you were seventeen years old.

But Heeseung could read you better than he knew.

From your eyes, he could tell that you were desperate.

Not desperate for sexual gratification or pleasure.

Not desperate to be touched.

Not desperate to be satiated by some sort of sexual hunger.

No, you were desperate to be healed, desperate to be held.

Of course. You were turning to sex to fix your problems. You were finding value in relationships and yourself through sex.

You didn't want to have sex with him.

Slowly, Heeseung removed his hands from you, pulling up your panties and getting up to find your shirt. Without a word, he slipped your shirt back onto you, his hand fixing your disheveled hair.

Sensing that something was wrong, you gently grabbed his face, pressing your lips against his. For a second, Heeseung forgot everything, only relishing in the way that your lips felt. His body was begging him to relieve him of his desire. Atlas wanted you. Oh, he wanted you so bad. He wanted you selfishly.

But Heeseung wasn’t going to have sex with someone that didn’t want it.

“No,” he mumbled against your lips as he tried to pull away. “[Name]-”

You only pulled him closer by the shoulders, squeezing them. Your lips were now crashing against his aggressively and with a passion that felt artificial. “[N-Name],” he tried to pull away. “No.”

“I just—” you said in-between kisses, “I just really want you.”

Heeseung could have easily pushed you away, given your strength difference. But he refused to hurt you. With a firm jerk, he was able to get himself free of your grip.

"I can't do this with you," was all he said.

You looked like you were about to cry. Heeseung felt a pang in his chest, but all he did was shake his head. Heeseung silently got off of you, finding his pants on the floor and slipping back into them. He went to your bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean your wet thighs up, his hands gently grasping your skin as if you'd fall apart if he was too rough.

Just as Heeseung was about to throw the towel into your hamper, you grasped onto his bicep, digging your nails into it. You looked up at him with tearful eyes, your brows knit together as you began to sniffle.

"I-I'm sorry," you whimpered. "Did I do something wrong? A-Are you mad at me?"

Heeseung immediately tossed the wet cloth aside somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"What are you talking about?" He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your head to your chest, feeling your tears stain his bare chest. When Heeseung pecked your forehead, you wailed even harder, your arms coming up to pull him closer to you, holding him like he'd save you. "Why would I be mad at you?

"W-Why don't you want to h-have sex with me then?" you shakily choked out. "Am I— Am I not good enough?"

"No," Heeseung's eyebrows crashed together, his eyes narrowing. His words were serious, but his voice was soft, as soft as a feather for your delicate ears. "I could tell that you didn't want it, Baby. I would never get mad at you for that. I hope you know that."

The sound of your sobs must have been the worst thing that Heeseung had ever heard in his life. He didn't like it one bit. Those hot tears were tiny droplets of all the pain and abuse that you've suffered from.

"I'm s-sorry," you whimpered. "I-I'm s-sorry."

What did they do to you? What have they done to you that you apologized so much?

Heeseung clenched his fists. His chest burned with a different type of anger, an anger that was so great that it was overwhelming, eating Heeseung alive and chewing him into dust. He'd kill them, he'd kill the son of the bitch that hurt you so much like this with his bare hands.

"Fuck," Heeseung cursed under his breath. In a single movement, Heeseung hoisted the both of you up, so that you were on top of him, your head rested on his chest. As tears spilled from your eyes, clinging to Heeseung, he petted your head.

Heeseung was warm, warm in a way that you couldn’t describe. You wanted to fall into him, let your eyelids flutter down peacefully, and relish in what was his essence.

You felt apologies prickle the tip of your tongue. After all, other than letting others use your body, saying sorry was the only other thing you knew how to do. You felt weak, helpless, like a wet dog at the mercy of its owner, yet you felt more sorry for Heeseung, who was now stuck with you.

“S-Sorry—“

“Shhh,” Heeseung whispered into your ear. “Don’t apologize, Baby.”

“But—“

Heeseung hushed you.

When your breath didn’t slow, in fact speeding up to the point that you were huffing in quick breaths and pushing out even shallower ones from your chest, Heeseung grabbed your hands.

It felt like the entire world was crashing down into your shoulders, hitting you all at once. Everything hurt, your body was trembling yet you couldn’t feel anything. You should be okay, right? After every one-night stand or sexual partner that inevitably used you like a doll, you were always left alone and cold. You experienced this exactly, and you’ve dealt with it every time alone. You can do it again, right? If you’ve been alone all this time, you can deal with it this time alone, too—

“Hey.”

Heeseung’s voice forced you out of your head.

“Hey,” he repeated, rubbing circles on your back. “Breathe.”

You swallowed down the sob that threatened to spill out. “I’m o-okay.”

“You aren’t,” he said simply. “I know you aren’t.”

You shook your head, pulling away from him. You wanted to shrink back into his warmth, to be sucked back into the paradise that was the comfort that was Heeseung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You were scared.

Why would he want to be around you? Why would he even want to have a burden of a person like you to hold? You were a mess, a wreck that had too many problems to count. You were unlovable, broken, fragmented and with missing parts because of all the men that have robbed you of your identity, your autonomy, your ability to love, and—

To your surprise, Heeseung simply pulled you back in. His hands gently slinked to your wrists, pulling you back into him. Your mind told you to run away and hide, but instinctively, you melted into him.

“Let me take care of you,” Heeseung said. His voice was calm, light on your ears in a way that made your heart ache. He took your hand again, squeezing it. “I don’t care what you say, I’m not leaving you.”

“Please d-don’t,” you whispered back, so softly that your voice was barely audible. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” was all Heeseung said. “You can count on it. I won’t.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #enhypen drabbles #heeseung lee #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung enhypen #heeseung fic #lee heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung smut

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moon-fics · 11 months

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Pretend-Simon Riley/Ghost

A/n: I found another old fic of mine and decided to post it just to have it back up! I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: You and Soap are forced to pretend to be a married couple on a mission. Ghost doesn't enjoy this in the slightest.

Warning: Swears, angst, jealous Ghost, bad jokes, Gender neutral reader

You wander the streets hand in hand with Soap, gripping his as tightly as possible. You hate going undercover in situations like this because you’re barely armed. You have a single knife in the purse you were allowed to bring while Soap is unarmed. If things go haywire you’re stuck defending the both of you in an impossible situation. You’re just grateful that Ghost will be watching over you two.

“This is the market we’re supposed to stake out, see if anything is fishy.” Soap reminds you, pulling you forward. He stops at the first stall where the fruit is being sold, some you’ve never seen before. You have to pretend to be madly in love with Soap and the idea makes you sick, you’d much rather have someone else in his place. Preferable a tall British man, but you can’t swap now.

“Aren’t these beautiful, honey?” You give Soap an adoring glance and he smiles at you. He agrees, picking up an apple from the stall and handing it to you. You pull out your wallet and hand the seller a random amount, and he thanks you gratefully. You assume you gave him way above the price, but you don’t mind.

“Would you like to look at those wooden sculptures?” Soap offers, pointing to a stall where a woman is carving into wood. Her stall consists of wooden figures of a large variety. Your eyes land on a small skull sculpture and you instantly think of Ghost. “I’ll take the rose-carved one,” Soap speaks up. The woman stops carving and picks up the rose-shaped wood. She gives Soap a wide smile as he hands her money.

“Of course, he would.” Ghost’s voice cracks through your com and you have to stop yourself from laughing. You’ll enjoy Ghost’s commentary on Soap’s actions, it’ll get you through this awkward mission.

“What a lovely couple!” She hums, handing over the figure. You can hear a grunt in your earpiece that’s hidden by your hair. She congratulates you and your eyes are still on the skull. “Oh, do you want the skull?” She asks, picking it up gently. You nod, digging for your wallet again. She holds up a hand and places the skull into your palm. “No need! It’s a gift for your wedding!”

You walk away from the stall after thanking her, taking Soap’s hand again. You’re about to drag him to another stall near a sketchy alleyway you want to check out. Before you can tell him about it Soap grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest. He places a finger over your lip and plants it on the other side of his thumb. Your lips don’t touch but it would be easy to assume you’re both kissing. You can hear more noise through the coms, but you can’t make out what Ghost is saying over your pulse rising. You aren’t attracted to Soap in any way, but the closeness is intimidating.

You want to ask why he suddenly decided to do this until a group of men in enemy uniforms stomps past you. You realize it was his way of blending into a crowd, because who wants to stare at a couple displaying PDA. He pulls away once he believes it’s safe, wiping his thumb off.

“Rude!” You tease as Soap rolls his eyes playfully.

You’ve scoped out any suspicious activity in the area, to the point where you can name every stall with your eyes closed. Your feet are killing you and the heat of the day is making you too sweaty to be comfortable. You’ve already eaten your apple from that one vendor and yet you’re still starving. You just want to get back to base and eat an actual meal.

“Are you ready to leave?” You ask, stretching your legs to give them a break from your weight. Soap gives you a mischievous look before grabbing you and picking you up. You don’t know what cogs are turning in his head but you know he’s planning something.

He pushes his face against your ear where the com is, whispering as sweetly as possible, “I’m so glad you’re finally mine. Marryin’ you was the best day of my life and I’m glad we met.” Your eyes widen at his words. You don’t know where this romance came from and honestly, you’re confused about whether he’s being serious or still playing his part.

“If I knew any better I’d assume you’re whispering sweet nothings to Ghost.” You joke and earn a laugh from both men. Soap begins walking away from the market with you in his arms.

“Just trying something out.” He explains vaguely and a part of your stomach drops. What does Soap have planned and why did he have to make sure Ghost heard? You’ll probably never get your answer from him.

Once you get close enough to the safe house without any risks of being seen, Ghost joins you. His attire stands out from the clothes you and Soap chose for your fake date. His mask is clinging to his face, the skull covering what the rest of the balaclava can’t. He’s looking straightforward, silent as a mouse.

“See anything we should know about?” You ask Ghost, Soap’s interest peaking. Ghost’s eyes look at you through the corners of them, the usual dead look in them. You honestly find his get-up interesting, it’s unique.

“A few cars slowed down while passing the market.” His voice is monotone and you miss how he’d comment on Soap’s acting. You thought it was hilarious how he’d mock Soap and make quips whenever he spoke to you. Now he’s barely talking and you feel disappointed. If you’re being honest, you imagined Ghost being your date instead of Soap.

“I invented a new word recently,” Soap speaks up and you just have to hear the word he’s going to drop on you and Ghost. “Plagiarism.” You let out a giggle but Ghost remains cold. You’re worried now, he usually enjoys these types of jokes.

“I saw a guy spill a bunch of Scrabble letters on the road once,” You start your joke, hoping Ghost will join in after you. “I asked him what the word on the street was.” Soap pats your back with a grin.

“Tha’ was garbage!”

You sit on the bed of your room in the safe house. You were lucky the safe house was pretty big, but not a place you’d enjoy staying. It’s an abandoned house filled with cobwebs and rotting wood. Since the sun has set the house is ten times worse. Every shadow looks like a person and right now you really want a snack. Sadly, Soap left his protein bars on the first level of the house.

You gather your courage to walk down the creek stairs. You feel like a child as you grab your flashlight and a knife. You shouldn’t be scared of the dark, you’ve spent a lot of time in it. But this house is terrifying to you.

You exit your room, slipping down the hall past the other bedrooms. You get halfway down the stairs when someone clearing their throat startles you. You trip a bit and use the railing to stop yourself from falling down the rest. You spin around to see Ghost standing at the top of the stairs with an amused look in his eyes.

“You need a bell on you!” You hiss and Ghost chuckles. The tension inside you disappears at the sound of his laugh. It’s nice to hear it every once in a while, even though it’s not a full laugh. You’re just pleased to see him in a better mood.

“What are ya doing up this late?” He questions, still not moving from the top of the stairs. You have no idea how late it is, you assumed it was about 10 PM but from the way Ghost phrased his question you’d change your guess to past midnight.

“I got hungry and Ghost left his snacks in the kitchen.” You answer. You conclude that he won’t bother you anymore and begin down the stairs again. You enter the kitchen and see a small bag that Soap uses for food. You zip it open and pull out three protein bars. You know Soap will complain to you once he realizes you took food from him.

You sit down in one of the rotting chairs, open a bar, and take a bite. The taste is nice but you miss the meals you’d be able to make yourself. You shut your eyes from exhaustion, mindlessly biting into the bar again. You rest your head on your hand, hoping you don’t fall asleep like this.

“You’ll choke if you aren’t careful.” As if he’s a profit you choke on the bite from surprise. You’re getting pretty pissed about how silent he is and you’re genuinely thinking about getting him a bell. You clear your throat and glare at Ghost. He’s no longer wearing camouflage and is instead in a black t-shirt and jeans, the mask still on but the skull is gone. His arms are covered in veins poking out, the moonlight from a window illuminating them perfectly. You can see his tattoos and they’re hard to see from how chaotic the scene on his arm is. You can make out a skull and a soldier, barely able to confirm dog tags.

You both sit in silence while you finish your second bar, already full. You quietly hand him your extra bar and he stores it in his pocket for later. You stand up and begin heading back to the stairs.

“Do you like him?” His voice stops you. You spin on your heel but he’s not facing you. You’re not sure what he means and he must pick up on that, “Soap.” You wonder what happens if you lie or tell the truth. What are the consequences of your choice? It's not like this is any of Ghost’s business.

“Why does that matter? It’s not like anything will come of it.” You test the waters. You want to see his reaction being answering him. There has to be a reason he’s asking you besides curiosity.

“It doesn’t.” He responds. You’re not satisfied. He can’t just as a personal question after being so closed off and why even ask if it doesn’t matter? You’re upset now and you can’t pinpoint why exactly. Because he asked a personal question or because he doesn’t seem to care about you the way you care about him?

You thought you were close enough to consider yourself a friend of Ghost but now you’re not sure. You’re beginning to doubt if he even likes you or if he’s tolerating you. Have you just been making up answers for yourself this whole time?

“Then why ask, huh? Why are you so interested in my love life? For all you know, I’m madly in love with Soap!” You taunt and you can see his arm muscles tense up. You don’t stop though, “I get that you’re the lieutenant and all but what do my feelings have to do with this mission?” You huff. He abruptly stands up and marches over to you. His eyes are dark even with the moonlight reflecting off them. You stare deep into his eyes, trying to figure out what his issue is.

“Are you?” There’s a long pause where your breathing can be heard. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly at the position you’ve put yourself in. He’s so close to you, you can feel the heat radiating off him. You want to reach up and touch his face even while angry, but you close your fists instead. “Are you in fucking love with him?”

“No.” You answer right after he finishes his question. You furrow your brows and frown. There’s no change in his eyes and you’re certain he’s going to scold you. You hate how many pauses you’ve taken in this conversation so you speak again, “Someone else.” You bite your tongue at your response, hating how it came out.

He steps away from you and cold air rushes to your skin. His eyes no longer harbor anger, instead, there’s a distance. As if he’s pulling away from you mentally as well. You can’t describe the emotion his eyes are presenting you but it makes your chest ache. You reach out and grab his hand, staring at the connection.

You partially believe he’ll rip his hand from yours and reject you in every way possible. Instead, he adjusts his hands to fit your better. “Me?” He mutters softly. You nod and avoid eye contact with him.

You hear fabric moving and your eyes are swiftly covered by a hand. His hands are rough but you don’t mind it. His other hand lets go of yours and grazes over your lips. You swear you can sense him smirking.

“’m gonna erase his kiss from your mind forever.” His voice is low, dangerously low. You don’t have the heart to tell him Soap faked the kiss, not wanting to ruin the moment. Ghost slams his lips onto yours, and crosses your cheek. He’s rough at first, hungry for anything he can get from you. After a while, he slows down and his kiss is more gentle. His thumb rubs up and down your cheek and your heart skips a beat. He removes his lips from you but his hand remains over your eyes, “You’re mine.”

“Who said I wasn’t?” You tease.

#ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x you #ghost cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x reader #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader

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roosterforme · 8 months

Text

Draft Day | Rooster x Reader

Summary: If Bradley knew anything about his son, he knew Everett wouldn't be happy with a normal job. Not after wishing and hoping to play major league baseball for most of his life. But when Draft Day turns out even better than expected, Bradley becomes a viral sensation.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I hate flying commercial," Bradley grunted as the enormous Boeing 747 touched down on the rainy runway in Pittsburgh. "These pilots couldn't land smoothly for a million dollars."

You kissed him where he was crammed into the economy window seat, his broad shoulders hunched slightly in discomfort. "I told you before we took off to go up to the cockpit and show them how it's done."

Bradley snorted. "And I told you that even though I wanted to, we'd get kicked off the flight. And tomorrow's too important to miss by being grounded in San Diego."

Bradley reached for your hand when it was time to deboard, and he ended up practically dragging you through the airport to the baggage claim area. "Can we slow down?" you asked with a laugh.

"No. Come on, Kitten. Ev's flight from Nashville landed forty minutes ago."

"Okay, okay," you muttered as the two of you ran toward an escalator. The entire airport was swarming with media groups and college aged players hoping to get drafted by an MLB team tomorrow. And your son was one of those hopefuls.

You had barely taken a step off of the escalator when Bradley said, "I see him." And you kind of loved the way he released your hand to rush toward Everett. Your son looked tall and strong in his Vanderbilt tee shirt and backwards Phillies cap, and a second later, he was hugging your husband.

"Hey, Dad," he said with a laugh as Bradley kissed his forehead and folded him up in his arms. "Hi, Mom." And then you were pulled into the hug, too.

"Did you get your bags yet?" Bradley asked.

"The last one's coming around now," Everett replied, and he bent to pick up the long, thin luggage that must have been filled with his baseball gear. "I'm starving. Where are we eating dinner?"

---------------------------

After Everett had two enormous roast beef sandwiches filled with french fries and coleslaw, Bradley said, "I was about to ask if you were still getting enough calories every day, but I guess it's safe to assume that yes, you are."

"I'm just always hungry," Everett replied from across the booth, patting his flat belly. "I think the fact that my baseball scholarship covered the cost of food on campus saved you guys from bankruptcy."

You pushed some of your uneaten fries to the side, and Everett started picking at them. "We would have had to sell the house," you said, shaking your head as your son polished off the rest of your meal, too.

"So what's on the agenda tomorrow? What time do we have to be at the field?" Bradley asked. "Some of the kids at the airport looked really young. Are you nervous?"

Everett just shrugged. "Nah, what's the worst that can happen? I don't get drafted? I mean, I'm still not twenty two quite yet. I skipped the draft last year so I could finish college, and I have a degree now, so I could always get a normal job. Or join the navy. I already have a call sign."

But Bradley knew his son didn't want a normal job. When he'd gotten an invitation to the draft, he called Bradley immediately and told him how excited he was. "You can't wear that cap tomorrow," Bradley said with a grin.

Everett spun it around so the battered Phillies P was facing the front. "You're right," he groaned. "I'll have to retire my favorite hat! But at least that would mean I'm pitching for another MLB team, you know?"

"Yeah," Bradley said with a nod as he pulled out his credit card. "It'll be worth it."

Once the three of them were settled into the two bedroom hotel suite, Everett headed right for his room. "You know he just wants to text his girlfriend all night," you said.

"She's not my girlfriend," he replied with an eye roll. "Goodnight." And then he closed the door with his phone already in his hand.

"She's totally his girlfriend," Bradley whispered, heading for the other bedroom with you right behind him. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it next to his suitcase before dropping onto the bed.

"She totally is." You climbed into bed with him as he turned on the TV to ESPN. They were already showing live coverage of the MLB draft preparations. Reporters were interviewing coaches, and they were starting to remove some of the tarps and set up the stage at PNC Park as the rain had finally tapered off. You were just starting to get comfortable curled up on Bradley's chest when he jolted so hard you yelped.

"Baby! They're talking about Ev."

You listened to the analyst on TV as he said, "And Bradshaw out of Vanderbilt, well he skipped the draft last year to finish his degree. That's almost unheard of! But his senior year stats were his best yet, so maybe he knew what he was doing. There are a lot of National League teams looking for a young ace pitcher who can also show up at bat, and he looks like he's just going to keep getting better. He should go late in the first round or early in the second."

Bradley's eyes were wide as he laughed and rolled you onto your back. "There are literally ESPN analysts talking about our son, Kitten." Then he kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were inside your shirt and you were giggling.

"Hey, you seem excited, Coach." Bradley groaned as his hand drifted down to the fly of your jeans. "Okay," you agreed, "but we have to be quiet." And then your jeans were off and your husband showed you exactly how excited he was.

---------------------------

"Oh my God," Bradley mumbled over and over again as the three of you headed up toward the enormous stage that had been erected on the outfield at the ballpark. The weather had mostly cleared, and the city skyline looked gorgeous lit by the late morning sun peeking through the clouds.

"Third row, Dad," Everett said, guiding them toward their assigned seats. Bradley and Everett were both wearing navy blue suits, but while Everett had chosen a neutral looking yellow and white tie, Bradley's was red. If they were going to have to start wearing a new team's jerseys and colors, he wanted to at least have one last hurrah.

Bradley let you go into the row first, and then he took the next seat so Everett could sit by the aisle. And when everything started up, the ballpark got loud. The regular seats were filled with spectators, and it was so surreal that Bradley was sitting down here with the draftee hopefuls and his own family.

You pulled out your phone and said, "Aunt Molly wants a selfie." Bradley grinned as you and Everett both leaned in closer to him and smiled. You snapped the photo and said, "I'm sure she's going to want a ridiculous selfie, too." So the three of you made obnoxious faces, and then you sent them to your sister with a giggle before letting your cheek rest on Bradley's shoulder.

It was starting to get hot in the sun now as the league commissioner made her way up onto the stage and announced that the draft was officially beginning. "Holy shit," Bradley whispered, reaching for your hand. He was so excited, practically shaking. And he cheered politely as the crowd screamed when shortstop Javier Marianas was chosen first by the Milwaukee Brewers.

"He's really good," Everett remarked, completely calm while Bradley was sweating bullets. "He went to USC and I pitched against him once. He nailed my slider."

Bradley could only grunt in response as the Toronto Blue Jays were up next. He had no idea how everyone around him was so calm when he thought he might throw up. He looked up to see the teams listed in order on the jumbotron. The Phillies had the sixth pick, which surely would never happen, but the Padres were drafting twenty third. Having Everett close to home in San Diego for most of the year would be amazing. Bradley was already crossing his fingers.

The Texas Rangers, Washington Nationals and Chicago White Sox all chose power hitters. Bradley tried to sit still while Everett told him that the player chosen by the Rangers was his roommate a decade ago at the Little League World Series. But Bradley was too distracted to listen to much of anything as members of the Phillies organization walked up onto the stage, and the clock started ticking down until their draft selection needed to be turned in.

And then Bradley could tell that while his son seemed calm on the outside, he was a little anxious after all. He saw the prominent bob of Everett's Adam's apple as he swallowed and whispered, "Would have been cool, huh Dad?"

Bradley gently let go of your hand and turned a little bit to wrap his arm around Everett's shoulders and pull him close. His son smiled at the awkward hug, and Bradley told him, "Kiddo, any team would be lucky to have you." He wanted to give him some more reassuring words, but there was nothing else to say. If Everett was selected, the team that chose him would be gaining an amazing pitcher, sure, but also a solid teammate and someone who cared about more than just himself.

So Bradley kept his arm around his son as the league commissioner returned to the microphone. There were Phillies staff members ready and waiting with a jersey and baseball cap, and they all looked excited for their new player to be announced. The commissioner cleared her throat and said, "With the sixth overall pick in this year's draft, the Philadelphia Phillies choose pitcher Everett Bradshaw."

"Holy shit," Everett whispered as he stared up at the stage with his mouth hanging open.

Bradley jolted forward in his seat as you scrambled to get your phone out again. "Holy shit," Everett and Bradley said in unison as the crowd started to cheer when Everett's stats started scrolling along the jumbotron screen.

"Ev!" you shrieked, and Bradley jumped to his feet.

"Kiddo! The Phillies!" he said, and slowly Everett rose to his feet too. "The Phillies!"

And then his son was in his arms, slapping him on the back as he said, "Dad. Oh my God! The Phillies!"

Bradley kissed his cheek and squeezed him. "The Phillies! Go up and get that fucking jersey!" And then Everett leaned in to give you a quick hug before he very gracefully walked down the aisle toward the stage.

But Bradley was absolutely losing his mind now as the cheering around them grew louder. "Yeah! The Phillies! Kitten, the fucking Phillies!" He raked his hands through his hair. "Our son is going to Philadelphia!"

"He got drafted!" you screamed over the crowd, and Bradley vaguely registered that you were holding your phone up as you jumped around.

"He got fucking drafted! By the best team in baseball!" Bradley shouted, pumping his fist in the air. And then there was a champagne bottle in his hands, and he started chugging it before screaming, "Yes!" He was jumping with you now, spraying champagne all over the place as he watched Everett take some photos on the stage in his brand new Phillies cap with the jersey held up in front of him. "That's my son! That's my son! I love you, Everett! He's a Phillie! Hell yeah!"

Bradley lunged for you and your shriek of ecstatic laughter had him scooping you into his arms. "Coach! He did it!"

He smothered you in kisses as you took the bottle from his hand and drank some of it. "That's our son! I'm so proud of him!"

"You did this, Coach! You're the one who made this happen!"

Then he shared so many champagne flavored kisses with you as Everett was escorted off the stage to riotous cheering.

-------------------------

A couple hours later, the three of you were back in the hotel room, all sticky from champagne with enormous smiles on your face. You watched as Everett kept hugging Bradley, and now both of them were wearing brand new Phillies caps turned backwards. "Thanks, Dad."

"You need to stop thanking me," Bradley replied softly. "It was all you. I'm so damn proud, Kiddo." But he did look pleased with himself. "Hey, my phone keeps blowing up. Everyone is so excited. I've got about a hundred texts from Maverick, Bob and Molly." But then Bradley froze and squinted down at his phone screen. "Charlie and Flora sent me links to a video they said went viral?"

"What is it?" you asked, but as soon as you looked at the screen, your eyes went wide. "Oh my God."

You watched as the video you had taken of Bradley screaming with the champagne bottle played on his phone.

"The Phillies! Kitten, the &%@#ing Phillies! Our son is going to Philadelphia!"

Everett erupted into laughter as Bradley just stared at the screen. "I feel like maybe I should be embarrassed?" he mumbled as he continued to watch himself spraying champagne everywhere.

"He got &%@#ing drafted! By the best team in baseball! That's my son! That's my son! I love you, Everett! He's a Phillie! Hell yeah!"

"How did Yahoo Sports get this?" Bradley asked as the video started to play again on loop. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

You were gasping as you tried to stop laughing. "I don't know! I only sent it to Molly!"

"Molly," Bradley growled, cradling his forehead in his hands as he blushed deeper.

"Dad, it's got half a million views already! This is the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life! I'm sending it to everyone I know!"

And when you turned on the TV in the hotel room, the video was playing there. And when you went back to that sandwich place for dinner, Bradley pulled his cap down lower over his face, because it was playing there, too. And you and Everett couldn't stop laughing no matter how hard you tried.

"It's okay, Coach. If you weren't the biggest Phillies fan in the world before, you certainly are now," you told him. He squeezed into the booth first and then pulled you in to shield him as the people sitting at the bar were laughing at his viral video.

"Nah, I'm just the biggest Everett Bradshaw fan in the world. But listen, we need to come up with a game plan," Bradley said, pulling up the notes section on his phone. "The Phils want you there by next month, Ev. So we all need to fly out and find you an apartment. We can pay the first month and the security deposit until you actually have your signing bonus available. And we also need to go over that contract with a lawyer when we get back home to San Diego. Kitten, can you call that lawyer in your book club?"

But you just kissed him on the cheek as Everett leaned over the table with a smile. "We'll figure it out, Dad. But actually... I was thinking after we eat dinner, you and I could go to that park down the block from the hotel? I brought all my gear with me. Maybe I could pitch to you until it gets dark?"

Bradley immediately dropped his phone onto the table and squeezed his son's hand while tears stung his eyes. "Yeah, Ev. I would love that. The perfect ending to the perfect day."

And then he watched his son eat two more huge sandwiches and half of your fries as he gushed about how excited he was to play major league baseball for his favorite team and Bradley's.

---------------------------

I love thinking about how Everett becomes known as the player with the "really excited dad". Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

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pablitogavii · 7 months

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NNN

Apperantelly, in America there's this thing called no nut november ;))

After hearing about it and making a bet with his friends (without thinking obv!!), Pablo was trying his best to be a winner of NNN. Everyone who knows Pablo, knows he LOVES to win and this challenge was no different.

First week was relatively easy because he was away most of the time for Champions League so there were not as man temptations as when he's home with you...like right now ;)

"Why would you agree to something so stupid amor!? It's pointless!!" you said removing your makeup in the bathroom wearing one of your new thongs.

"It's a proof of character and strenght of mind princesa!" Pablo said from the bedroom and you rolled your eyes (he didn't see it but he knew you did it).

"It's literally a relationship destroyer! Plus, there is no way you'll win Pablito!" you said stepping out of the bathroom immediately noticing your boy eyeing your new thongs.

"Hmm..why..um..why not princesa??" he was asking meanwhile his eyes staring directly at your pussy and his lower lip hanging adorably. He was craving you and you used it to your advantage ;)

"Because most of your friends are single..and it's harder for a taken man to resist..much..harder" you smirk touching his clear bulge but he pulls away running his hand through his sweaty hair. You were torturing him!!

"You should put some clothes on princesa!" he said and you giggled shaking your head and jumping towards the bathroom making your ass cheeks jiggle. That made pablo gulp..maybe he hasn't thought this through as he thought..

"Hm they are my new thongs..do you like them Pablitoo??" you teased wiggling your butt in front of his face and he smacked it roughly making you whine and jump to look back at him.

"I can still do that, so behave!!" he said clenching his jaw and you rolled your eyes calling him "no fun!" before jumping to bed.

Ever since that night,, you made it impossible for the poor boy to complete his task. For the next two weeks you would do everything in your power to drive Pablo mad every time he was spending time with you. It became too much fun!!

Every time he is laying in bed waiting for you, you would "accidentally" straddle his lap to fix your pillow before laying down and raising your hips up so that you bum was impossible to miss. Oh, and Pablo certainly didn't miss it. He would always place blanket over it to help himself (twilight anyone?). He would kiss your neck before saying a quick "goodnight" and trying desperately to sleep.

"I'm missing you amor.." you pout during a movie night since he was so far away and you just wanted your cuddle bear back not even caring about anything more(well you were always down to tease and make this challenge harder for him tho).

"Bueno..I'm gonna cuddle you but be good, vale?" he said moving closer and you nod although giving him naughty eyes. He knew he was in a world of trouble the moment your hands were on his body.

The longer the movie laster, the more wandering your hand got moving slowly downwards making him continually gulp and observe your actions.

"Amoor!! Basta!" he said and your grinned looking up as his hand gripped your raising it up and placing it on his heart again.

"Why is it so important for you to win this..!?" you whined starting to kiss his neck and he pulled back shaking his head no in response. Ughh you hated this!!

"Because they keep saying I'll fail cause I have a girl and I like to prove them all wrong!" he said and you sighed getting up and saying you were in no mood for a movie anymore just leaving to the bedroom.

You were so needy and desperate being touch starved but knew Pablo's rules were clear about touching yourself without permission..nobody touches what's his quoting him anytime you tried asking in the past.

"Amoor! Por favor..touch me..I need you pleasee!!" you whined when he joined you and Pablo told you that the month is over soon and that he will pleasure you properly then. But you didn't want "properly"..you wanted something..anything..right now.

"So just let me touch myself then!!" you say back angrily feeling his hand grip your neck as he came closer to your face.

"The answer is 'no' preciosa! You're mine and only mine!" he said and you gave him innocent eyes while nodding your head submissively..damn it he still got that effect on you!!

"Now shut up and cuddle me!" he said pulling you in as both of you fell asleep utterly unsatisfied and tired. This f sucked!!

"Someone haven't been sleeping..did our little Pablito cave??" Ferran teased during Practice and Pablo had enough really snapping this time.

"NO, I haven't cabrón! I didn't sleep cause she would cuddle up so close to me, I swOre to god I was gonna explode! This is stupidest thing I've ever chose to do!" Pablo just went to the dressing room where Balde was ready to add salt to his wound.

"You know I've heard stories of girls cheating much more during nnn because their guys don't satisfy them properly.." he said and that was the end of it as Pablo grabbed his bag and practically ran home.

Balde's words kept replaying in his head as he imagined some other man fucking you sensless in your shared apartment while he was on training..he was done with this bullshit! He wants you and will have you now!

"AMOR!" Pablo yelled barging inside like a maniac and you jumped in the kitchen while washing some salad later for lunch.

"Que pasa Pablito!? You alright??" you ask walking up to him and touching his face while he looked at your body wearing your home dress that looked way too delicious on your right now. Pablo couldn't resist anymore.

"Ohh nena.." he groaned placing his hands on your ass which took you a little by surprise after week of touch starvation. It felt nice to feel his hands on your body again..but why now??

"Que haces cariño??" you say while his eyes were practically glued on your cleavage as his bulge hardened more inside his shorts.

"Mm let's go.." he said and you raised your eyebrows deciding to play hard to get a little after being so patient for him.

"Go where??" you played dumb and he smirked looking towards your shared bedroom and then back at your lips while licking his own.

"But your challenge? You wanted to win." you say moving your hands to his shoulders while his moved up to grip your breast and then back down to your ass. Fuck..he was feeling you up and it felt SO DAMN GOOD!!!

"Here's a new challenge..make my girl cum until she passes out with my dick still buried deep inside her perfect pussy!!" he said grabbing your hips wrapping your legs around his torso carrying you towards your shared bedroom being utterly done with NNN!!!

Hope you enjoyes;) An idea sparked and vuola!!

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veronicathegoddess · 1 year

Text

forget sex, i just want to sit on his lap, wrap my legs around him and make out with him

#i hate being single #i am so desperate for intimacy #genuinely the most touch starved ive been in a minute #and i hate it #mine

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freyito · 8 months

Text

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ + ᴀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ-ꜱᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

this ones super self-indulgent, simply cause im in a bit of a mood and i need comfort. so why not write little drabbles with my HUSBANDS!!!! sorry im still working on requests! my schedule is packed and thursdays are about the only days i get to myself, so im working on them, i swear!!!

for more context, there's a couple different ways people can be touch-starved and how people react. i know some people seek out touch actively, but im one of the people who has an aversion to it. that's why it's written like the reader doesn't quite enjoy it!

also, this was kind of inspired by Kocham Wolność by Chłopcy z Placu Broni

cw: male reader, just fluff really, bonus, proofread

-Johnny Cage

Johnny's flashy, touchy, and over-the-top. Of course he is, he has to be. With his status, he wants everyone to know exactly who you are and show you off. You're all his, and only his, and he needs every single one of his fans to know.

So when you shy away from his touch, dodge away from his hand, or even keep your distance the very first time, his heart shatters. He doesn't quite know how to handle it. But he doesn't go with the same approach. He doesn't give up, either.

He's a sucker for physical touch, and if he's denied it, he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He quite literally looks down at them and wonders what he can do.

His first thought is that you dislike him, actually. That you hate him. He has a deep-seated fear of rejection, and for his beloved to turn away from his warmth and love, it stings. He overthinks, and he reacts as such.

Johnny is a 50/50 with being logical. It depends where he is and what environment he is in. However, with love, where he is completely and utterly vulnerable, giving his all to his boyfriend, logic does not take place with his emotions. He does not think that you do not seek the touch he seeks, he craves.

But, before he can let that vile, horrid, agonizing feeling in the back of his throat take hold, there's slight reassurance. A soft gaze that mends his broken heart, if only for a moment. That's when he finally rationalizes.

You don't even need to tell him at that point, he silently understands. Besides, he has other ways he can show his love for you. Spoils you rotten, tells you all he loves about you. See, he can find ways to make up for the lack of physical touch!

Johnny makes sure to ask you before any physical encounter. He asks to hold your hand, asks to hug you, asks to hold you, asks everything. And each time you say yes, he has the biggest grin on his face.

One night, while you two were sitting on the hood of Johnny's car by some cliff,- like those stupid romantic scenes in movies- you lean over to Johnny and rest your head on his shoulder. Your arms are touching, his shoulder provides a comfortable pillow. You feel safe. Gazing at the very few stars scattered in the sky, the night sky's beauty stolen by the city below (and by you, Johnny says). Johnny's beaming. He's trying so hard not to show it, he's trying to act cool. But he can't. He's almost vibrating because of the butterflies in his stomach. He's proud of you, he's in love with you, and god, he's so happy. He leans his head on yours, and whisper all sorts of sweet things, 'I love you', 'You mean so much to me', 'You're the most beautiful man I know', and 'Thank you'.

-Kenshi Takahashi

Since Kenshi focuses on touch mainly in the relationship, he has to re-evaluate how he goes about this without touch. He doesn't start off with it, like Johnny does. But he slowly builds up to it. And when he tries to place a hand on your shoulder, feeling you completely dodge him almost feels humbling.

He's at a loss. But unlike Johnny, his first thought is the right one. Perhaps you aren't ready, you aren't comfortable. And that's okay. He's going to think of different ways to seek out your affection, even though physical touch is the only way he really understands love.

But, he also understands. He knows what it's like to dislike touch, after years of hollow touch and forced affection. And he understands if you just don't trust him enough, he's empathetic.

He'll wait for you, however long it takes. He isn't afraid to admit it's a bit disheartening, but he understands and he loves you and he will always wait for you. He still cherishes your time together, and it isn't spoiled one bit. Besides, he can tell you just how much he adores you. He doesn't have to rely on touch every time.

Like Johnny, he will always ask. But he does prefer that you make the first move, at that point. Any little touch, he also cherishes. Even if it's your hand accidentally brushing against his while walking. You always catch a small smile from him when that happens.

He's happy as is, really. The lack of physical touch doesn't take away anything from the relationship or from you. Simply basking in your presence is enough for you. He adores you, and he knows you're his as much as he's yours. That understanding is really the only thing he craves in the relationship.

He relishes in every little touch you give him, however. Simply holding hands is the most intimate thing to him. He isn't big on PDA, but he loves holding your hand anywhere in public. Even if Sento offers slight guidance to him, he loves knowing you're there to guide him.

The night you finally initiated contact, he fell deeper in love with you. It was quiet, alone, still. In your room, you lay next to him, simply enjoying the pleasures of the mundane. You reach for his hand, and gently trace the ink on his hands. He's calm, collected, but inside burns a fire so bright, that you can feel his body temperature rise. He slowly turns his hand, opening his palm to you. For a moment, your fingers linger, tracing the creases in his hand, before finally intertwining your fingers with his. He turns his head to you, a soft and inviting small on his face. He breaks the silence, whispering an 'I love you, so much', before the silence lay over you two once more.

-Bonus! Johnny Cage AND Kenshi Takahashi

They both agree not to smother you and take their time with you and your comfort. Since most dates and activities will always center around all three of you, they're specifically gentle with you, and are rather hands off with both you and each other (as hard as that is for them).

Just because they are comfortable with each other and each other's touch, doesn't mean they are going to flaunt it. Kenshi believes the ideal is to slowly incorporate you into events. To suffocate you with the idea of touch is too much.

And they do just that. Johnny follows Kenshi's lead, really. Neither of them can live without your touch, and the idea of turning you away is a mutual fear.

When you found yourself between Kenshi and Johnny, simply "watching" a movie from Johnny Dearest, you ended up placing your head in Kenshi's lap, and your legs in Johnny's. You were tired, that was all. Just so happens you had the most comfortable men to lay on. Johnny gave Kenshi the most bewildered look, before realizing the man was still blind. But regardless, Kenshi almost shared the sentiment. However, Kenshi didn't waste his chance. He places his hand on your head, scratching at your scalp. While Johnny just revels in the fact that you've finally warmed up to them.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi x male reader #johny cage x reader x kenshi takahashi

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mamayan · 7 months

Text

★Good Boy☆

Sub! Genya Shinazugawa x Soft Dom! Reader

cw: Soft Dom! Reader • Fem! Reader Coded • Sub! Genya • Fluff • Mild Angst • Hand Job (M) • Mild Teasing • Mild Overstimulation • Praise • Fingering (M) • Oral (M)

wc: 3k+

A/N: He is an angel, no one can convince me otherwise—

“Can I…?” You turned to see your sweet lover standing in the entrance of the shoji, handsome as always but wearing an unusual nervous expression.

You cock a brow expectantly, smile curving your lips. “Can you what, Genya?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone which makes him purse his lips, pale skin beginning to flush red.

“T-Tanjiro was the one to bring it up, okay? I-I wasn’t listening to anything weird, alright?” His immediately defensive words before he’d even asked permission was a telling sign for you as interest sparked in your eyes. That made him even more nervous, but the sight of you sitting and being so patient made it even more difficult for him not to ask.

“Alright Genya, I understand. Now go ahead and tell me.” You weren’t asking, but your tone hadn’t changed. It didn’t matter though, as Genya immediately spit it out at your command.

“C-Can I lay my head on your l-lap?!” He’d all but screamed it. Panting as if it’d taken an incredible amount of effort to speak the sentence, the demon slayer with physical abilities that few could contend with appeared all but starved for oxygen. Those wide dark amethyst eyes are bloodshot and a little teary at the edges as he stared fervently at you.

“Yes?” You’d expected something different. Less innocent at least.

His face lights up though, and it makes any disappointment dissolve in the face of such a gorgeous display of happiness. His sweet smile and flushed cheeks make you coo, shifting yourself to sit in a more formal position as he scurries and secures a spot on your thighs with his head.

He lays himself almost stiffly on your lap, his large body frozen as if you’d change your mind if he were to move too much. You chuckle in amusement, his eyes flicking up to where you leaned over him. “Relax sweet boy, close your eyes.” He was too cute to deny right now, especially as he obeys with almost too much enthusiasm and tightly shuts his eyes with more concentration than necessary. You help him out, smoothing your hand lightly over his face, trailing down his cheeks and jaw with a feather light touch. He’s stuck between feeling like wanting to claw out of his own skin and melting in it. Your soft touch leaves him vulnerable, but as does the position which situates you over him, almost like he’s being protected. Genya ponders the last time he’s felt safe like this, but thoughts of his family and Sanemi hurt his chest too much to dwell long on, so he enjoys the fluffy feeling beginning to consume him and his mind.

“How was your day, my love?” He hates how much he adores your sweet names for him. As if each one is a balm to soothe his frayed nerves for each time he’s been hurt or insulted. He’s unable to deny a single request or command from you, nor does he particularly want to either. “I trained with Tanjiro, the dumb guy. He keeps getting stronger, while I’m just…” he grits his teeth, words not coming as easily as he tries to formulate the correct words which would describe his own inferiority to Tanjiro—

“Just what?” You goad.

“While I’m just me,” he doesn’t look at you anymore, eyes focused on the other end of the room as if his greatest enemy stands like a ghost in the corner. “I’m just me, I don’t have any cool ancestors or fancy breathing styles, I ain’t like ‘Nemi—,” you gently tilt his face back up towards you, eyes so warm he stutters on his words and stops entirely. How could you look at him like that? When he’s like this?

“You don’t need to be like him though, do you? You’re perfect just the way you are, sweet boy. Have I not shown you already? Your effort, your strength, your perseverance… they’re all yours, right?” His breathing nearly halts, so focused on your words he feels himself going light headed, “Focus on what you can do and focus on coming back to me. Isn’t that enough?” A single tear slides down his cheek, gaze blurry with the ones unshed as his chest fills with adoration and admiration for you.

“Don’t cry ‘Nya, I haven’t even done anything yet,” your teasing words make him flush deeper, the innuendo not lost on him despite his embarrassment.

“I-I ain’t cryin’!” He flinches as you inflict a small pinch to his cheek, “Sorry…” he apologizes quickly for yelling.

“Why are you embarrassed? Don’t you like when I play with you?” He wants to melt into the floor, but he’s trapped by the soft pillow of your thighs beneath his head and neck. Of course he liked it, he loved it even, but admitting it aloud was the most difficult for him. His silent trembling and watery gaze weren’t convincing enough apparently. Your hand leaves his soft tresses, smoothing down his neck and onto his chest where he tenses under the delicate pressure.

“That’s too bad ‘Nya, I really want to play with you now but… since you don’t like it, I won’t force you.” He nearly jolts up, but halts in fear of damaging your hand in his carelessness, instead panicking.

“N-no! I like it! I really, really like it,” his honest declarations are the easiest to achieve when he’s not given time to think of some crass response or lie, “Y-you always make me feel, well, good, really good,” he looks ready to burst, his cute expression almost too much for you as you withhold your laughter.

“Oh…? What do you like best then, sweet boy?” You knew he was close to his verbal limit, but to not push him until he couldn’t take anymore would be a waste since he so sweetly offered himself up like this.

Genya choked as your hand drifted lower, unable to control his body even with deep breathing as his pants began to feel tighter.

“I like… when you touch me, like this,” it feels like his throat is closing up. Your sweet hum of affirmation and your hand drifting lower was incentive enough to keep going. “When you—fuck,” his eyes nearly roll back just from you teasing the edges of his belt line.

“Finish your sentence, or we can stop here.”

“Wh-when you touch my cock—,” he looks like a boiled octopus, so red and flustered as he twitches helplessly beneath your hand. His eyes meet your own, as if asking if that was the right answer to get what he wants, no, needs from you.

He feels almost betrayed when you only lightly skim his stiff cock with the tips of your fingers, smile still in place as he gasps and jerks despite the minimal stimulation.

“I’m touching it, baby. Just how you like,” he wished you’d end the teasing, weak to your voice and touch as he grows closer to his breaking point.

“M-more please, like you usually do—,” his tone is getting whinier and more desperate.

“How do I usually do it…?” You drag one finger just up to the tip, chuckling as his hips hump uselessly up for even a tiny bit more friction. You deny him of course, playing dumb while dragging your finger around the opening where pre-cum was already pearling up.

He huffs, a light moan being drawn when you press down on his opening. “Y-you grip it, fuck, my cock—please, I-I need you,” there it was, your smile widens as tears spill freely, his eyes finally losing their defiance and cocky attitude in favor of showing you the sweet softness he holds beneath the surface just for you.

“There’s my sweet boy, I was wondering where’d you been~” you coo and give in finally, curling your fingers around his poor leaking cock and tightening until his breath became lodged in his throat and his body stiffened. “My sweet boy always tells me what he wants, doesn’t he?” You give no warning, only jerking him harshly and quickly, loving the way his eyes flash with pleasure and trepidation. Genya can’t speak anymore, only choked gasps and moans escaping as you drive him towards a quick and viscious end, back arching up, head pressing deeper into your thighs. “Wa—ngh—c-cum—please, I—!” Drool slides down the corner of his mouth as he brokenly begs for permission.

“Of course you can cum, sweet boy. Make a mess for me, ‘Nya” and he does, the vigorous stimulation right after being teased has him tumbling down the cliff’s edge as he shoots ropes of thick hot cum all over your hand inside his pants.

“Ah—!” He always cums with such emotion you can help but lean deeper and swallow his cries, tongue easily invading his mouth and tasting the sweets he likely shared with Tanjiro earlier.

He jerks as you continue your fast and unending pace, hand able to work him easier now that his cum has lubed himself up.

“S’too much—!” He can only cry against your lips, clearly becoming overwhelmed and overstimulated but you merely hush him with another kiss as he’s forced to cum again, though much less coming out but not at the cost of pleasure as his mind goes completely blank as pain bleeds into the orgasm.

When you pull away, he’s left as a true mess on your lap, dazed expression languid and body completely pliant now.

As a slayer, he’s quick to recover, eyes lazily tracking your hand coming out of his pants, sticky with his release as you bring it to your lips and make a show of licking it up.

When his cock jumps to life again under the lewd display, you happily share in the experience and press two fingers against his lips.

He doesn’t even think as he parts them, your fingers pressing in and forcing his own release inside his mouth. He cleans your fingers eagerly, less shy now and with vigor.

“Good boy, ‘Nya, clean them good, okay? Get them nice and wet, I plan to fuck your ass with them.” He nearly passes out at your vulgar language, face becoming completely molten as you work your fingers around in his mouth, rubbing against his tongue while his eyelids grow heavy. “Does that sound nice? Do you want that, Genya?” The use of his full name lets him know he needs to answer or you’ll stop. You pull your fingers away so he can speak.

“Yes, yes please, I-I want that.” He doesn’t hesitate, knowing full well you can and will deny him if he’s slow to reply. You smile and plunge your fingers back into his mouth, swirling them a bit and even intentionally poking a little too deep to see his eyes water. “Such a good boy, my good boy,” you murmur, and his heart swells at your claiming of him.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull them free with an audible pop, saliva nicely coating them while Genya sits up, expression akin to a puppy eager to please its master for a treat.

“Strip and lay down for me,” you order softly, voice never rising but command firm all the same. It sends shivers down his spine, the ability to completely let his guard down and let you make the decisions for him, let you lead him because without a doubt he trusts you.

“Slow down,” you chuckle and tell him, slowing his violently fast movements to strip into a more normal pace so you can watch his skin be revealed like a present being unwrapped. He’s scarred, a physical reminder he’s survived, but not without cost and pain. His sinewy muscles are revealed as he folds and sets aside his top like you enjoy, his upper body bare, pale skin tinged pink like his face, veins bulging out as he trembles under your stare. He’s embarrassed and aroused, painfully aroused, but it wasn’t anything new in your presence. You set him on fire, made him melt into a puddle. He’s trembling even as he stands and pulls his pants down, adorable white underwear stained and soaked from his earlier release, his cute cock smacking against his skin with a wet noise as he pulls them down and releases it.

Down his lithe muscular legs, Genya fully undresses for you, obeying and sitting back down on the tatami mat below and letting his body lay out.

“So good for me, knees up and legs spread baby,” you coo, kneeling down as well after removing a few layers yourself. He’s star struck, eyes unable to look away from your perfect figure he very much wishes to worship, licking his drying lips in anticipation.

He stays as still as possible, only twitching a little as you blow cool air on the dark reddened tip of his plush cock, the leaking tip mostly hidden by his foreskin. “Keep your eyes on me, okay? If you look away, I’ll stop.” His pupils dilate, watching as you pull his foreskin down and reveal the sensitive tip, tongue slipping out to lick him. He’s panting and you’ve hardly even begun, hands clenched in shaky fists, nails digging into his skin as he struggles to keep his eyes locked with yours as you slowly open your mouth and let a glob of spit roll down his shaft. He wants to burst, ready to cum again by sight alone but he doubts you’ll give him permission to cum before you’ve had your fill yet.

Then he feels the cool wet sensation on the tight ring of muscle below, his balls drawing up as you gently prod with a single digit until he breathes out and relaxes, earning a smile from you as your finger slips inside of him. It doesn’t even burn, only a slightly alien sensation at first as you gradually wiggle and stretch his hole, pad of your finger lightly grazing his prostate.His eyes roll back as a loud moan escapes him, hips jerking up and smearing a line of pre-cum across your lips and cheek as he stutters.

It’s too late when you completely pull away, finger leaving him as well as you sit back patiently. His eyes went wide with panic, “N-no wait—! I-I’m sorry, please, Y/N, I’ll be good, please,” his desperate little pleas tumbling out freely. “I’m not upset ‘Nya, my good boy, I just need you to look at me baby, you can be good and do that right?” He’s nodding before you even finish, a pretty flutter of dark hair moving where his mohawk rests. “Be good, I’ll be good,” he affirms, eyes so serious and strained you giggle, moving back again to his cock twitching desperately for any attention you’re willing to give it.

Genya gasps in shock as you give him two fingers this time, his ass stretching just enough for a tiny burn before it fades as you lock your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue under the skin around his tip. His eyes water, unblinking as they look at you, and you’re blessed with the sight of them finally falling as he grits his teeth and whines for you. Your fingers prod and brush his prostate, warm tongue so gentle and sweet compared to your calculated thrusts into his hole, his whines becoming delirious moans while he pants and drools, face fucked out and so cute you can’t help taking more of his cock into your mouth. He feels so good, a building thrum of pleasure swirling from both his cock and ass it’s turning his brain to mush.

“I-I need, please may I, Y/N—!” He howls your name, one eye nearly closing but he holds strong when you suck particularly hard on him. “May I cum, fuck, please, please I need—!” Tears flow freely now, his dark purple eyes reddened on the corners as they spill down his cheeks while his hips thrust up begging for release.

You pull off with a pop, free hand working his cock still just like before as he grunts almost as if in pain but you know he’s simply holding on by a thread.

“Cum for me ‘Nya, let go baby,” you encourage, and he does. Unable to deny you a single thing and truly unable to stop the white hot pleasure which rips through him as his cock twitches and spurts his hot load. You open your lips, catching his cum in your mouth as he gasps and writhes below, sweet moans and whines filling the space as you gently work him down. You pull your fingers free at last, his tight ring twitching too as you do.

He’s left a sweaty satiated mess when you pull up, easily crawling over him and slotting your lips against his. Genya opens, groaning as you push his cum into his mouth, his salty sweet taste now filling his senses along with the taste of you.

You kiss him with all the love you feel, only pulling away when you need the air finally, adoration and awe covering your slayer’s cute face.

“I love you,” he looks so vulnerable saying it, as if you rejecting him might destroy his fragile heart.

You’d never do such a thing though.

“I love you too, my sweet boy, my Genya,” and he’s gone as you affirm his love. As you claim him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and we can have dinner.” Your aftercare is nothing short of perfection, and while he’s shy in receiving such tender care and love he’s been deprived of so long, he’s unable to deny how lovely it is to be cherished like this. He might still not be on the best of terms with his brother, but he knows a safe space will always remain in your arms.

“Y/N…,” you look up, his eyes shining with tears again but this time his smile is filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” his voice is hoarse, but you laugh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest as you kiss his head.

Dividers by/@cafekitsune

#Sub! Genya Shinazugawa #soft dom! reader #I’m a sap I know #He’s too cute though #I wanna peg him too lol #dom! reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny smut #genya shinazugawa #genya smut #Genya Shinazugawa x reader #Genya Shinazugawa x reader smut #kny Genya #kny Genya smut #kny Genya x reader smut #demon slayer smut

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pandoraslxna · 10 months

Text

Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 3

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, conflicted emotions, mentions of murder, dirty talk, praise & degradation, vaginal fingering, clit slapping, begging, virgin reader, obsession, authority kink, power play

Notes: if this reads like a I’m a villain fucker it’s because I am

Miles Quaritch is everything your mother had conditioned you to hate in a person.

He's rude, you’re reminded every time he throws out insults and sarcastic comments like they're candy at a parade. He's disrespectful, you think, when he never has a good word to say about anyone who’s not an authority figure. And he‘s a narcissistic prick, you realize his high sense of own importance whenever he strolls through hallways and enters a room like he owns the place, not caring about anything or anyone that isn’t himself.

No, he certainly isn’t a good man. He's probably killed way more people than you could even count on both hands. But he did it for his country and mankind and all that stuff, and apparently that kind of murder is considered honorable. Still, there's no way Quaritch is anywhere close to being good.

At first, you liked to imagine he is; that he's got an actual heart where his badge of honor was. But if you've been hired by the government to do shady shit on another planet, killed by blue aliens and then somehow reincarnated, trapped in a body that looked like said enemy, odds are that you're probably just comfortable with bloodshed.

And while he's definitely no boy scout, he still seems far removed from that cold-hearted, disgruntled soldier that didn’t gave two shits about this moon and everyone who wasn’t considered human, the one you’ve heard so many stories about, that you have a hard time accepting that both versions of him are just past and present forms of the same person.

But no matter how you might want to put it, in the end, Miles Quaritch just wasn’t a good man.

And you hate it.

You hate the fact you don’t hate him at all.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel, you ask yourself. Are you supposed to feel the way you do as you wake up in the morning, sleep deprived and yearning for the man that had left you, abandoned like a toy he didn’t want to play with anymore?

Maybe you’re just so starved for touch that you don’t hate him at all, not even after what had happened. It's not heartbroken, or remotely close to the feeling of being sad. You hadn’t shed a single tear like you thought you would. You just felt confused and empty. Empty, more in a physical type of way than metaphorically, if you were being honest.

Quaritch had left you when you were still floating in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever managed to coax out of yourself, yet he hadn’t even bothered to touch you.

If anything, you just felt frustrated. So, so frustrated and embarrassed, like you’ve never been before.

If there was something you proved to be good at in these past couple of days, it was running on caffeine, carbs, and minimal sleep. You hunched over your equipment at the laboratory, carefully abstracting the fluid of a tsyorina'wll- a flour seed plant, before inspecting it under a microscope. You observed the reaction the plants fluid had when coming in contact with oxygen from Earth and then documented it.

Your breathing was at a steady pace, and your brows were furrowed in a tight knot, wrinkling your forehead above your eyebrows in concentration.

Despite the silence in the room, a headache was slowly spreading from your temples over your forehead, pounding loud enough that it almost completely drowned out every thought in your head. If only it was strong enough to stop yourself from overthinking…

You were working in a cleared space in the laboratory, a quiet corner you had mostly to yourself, which made the whole situation so much worse.

You had been personally situated by Dr. Garvin, who had sat you by the big floor-to-ceiling window, giving you access to your own computer and a rather big desk with all necessities you would need for your studies. You weren’t quite close to the big examination table, giving Garvin, who frequently worked there when he wasn’t away for outpost explorations, plenty of space for only God-knows-what. You got used to all the little yellow post-it notes littered across his desk, labeling basically anything as "do not touch!!!" (yes, even his favorite pen) pretty quickly.

Initially, Ian had been quite annoyed when Ardmore suggested letting you use up some more space. Impressed with your accomplishments and scientific studies, she had promoted you to the higher department on your very first week. But for two whole years, that had been his private space to fuck around and work, and he didn't like the idea of having to share it with somebody he didn't know. Yet that tension was quickly eased with how considerate, thankful, and downright nice you were to him.

Oh and there was also Laura. A kind, middle aged woman and fellow scientist that worked on a thesis about pandoras flora that was very similar to yours. If you were to ask Laura, she would probably describe you as neat, always cleaning up properly and not talking too much. But when you did, it was a nice, pleasant conversation that would elicit a few chuckles, even from Garvin himself.

Laura was kind, too. She probably wasn't even assigned to do this, but somehow she ended up becoming a mentor for you, showing you around and introducing you to everyone in the first couple of weeks after your arrival.

She was cute, small and very extroverted, which was funny considering that she had been sharing the same work place with the most introverted person you’ve ever met for the past two years. And she also had a notably adorable focused look on her face while she worked, with her glasses sitting entirely on the tip of her nose.

But unfortunately, Laura wasn’t here today. She had called in sick a couple of days ago, with what sounded like either a stomach flue or the symptoms of having caught a pandorian bug after her little field trip last week. You made a mental note on bringing her some soup from the cafeteria later that day.

The other scientists, like Maggie, who were closer around your age and could probably help distract you from the mess of thoughts running laps in your brain, were spread out on the other floors and different laboratories, which left you to work all on your own today and most likely the rest of the week too.

Normally, you were glad for all of this alone time.

Being alone usually meant, you could zone out of the window and if you were lucky enough, you could catch a glimpse of Colonel hot-as-fuck, before he went on another mission into the depths of pandoras jungle. Or you could gawk at him during lunch break, stroll up and down the hallways more times than actually necessary just to maybe walk past him and get a whiff of his cologne.

Usually, you were more than just glad to be alone, because the thought of being caught gawking at him by a coworker and having to explain why you were eye-fucking the recom squads leader would be kind of degrading.

But right now, you absolutely hated being on your own, left alone with thoughts that dared to consume you whole if you wouldn’t find a way to distract yourself within the next hour or so.

This whole week had felt like you were stuck in a loop.

Almost two weeks had passed since your little encounter with the Colonel. And it suddenly felt like the days went by quicker than you could even blink. You had spend most of your time cramped inside the laboratory, only ever coming out to take a shower and sleep for a couple of hours, maybe even get something to eat, if entering the cafeteria felt safe enough, before you went back to work.

Before Pandora, before Quaritch, there was never really a face to the man in your dreams, your dirty little fantasies; only the blur of a body, hands touching you, feeling you up and down. But now there was a face. And there were eyes now, too. Watching you, always just watching. To the point you got anxious walking through hallways and entering the cafeteria to get yourself something to eat, because what if you accidentally stumbled upon him, what if those eyes were also there, watching you like they had been watching you from across the bed.

Okay, scratch that. Anxious was maybe the wrong word to describe what you’ve been feeling lately. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed because you spend day and night overthinking all the possibilities that lead him to just get up and leave like a coward.

You spend a lot of time after that wondering just how the fuck Quaritch of all people came to be the one you just couldn't categorize. None of the many little boxes in your head that stored people you‘ve got all figured out ever seemed like quite the right fit for him.

Why did he leave? Why?

Did he not like what he saw? Did he not like you?

He had proven to be harder to read than most people, you came to realize, and you didn’t like that one bit. It had your mind spiraling, running wild with the absurdest thoughts and theories.

Of course a man like Quaritch, who had about four decades worth of sexual experience, wasn’t fond of the idea of fucking a dumb little virgin that probably had no idea what she was even doing. God, you definitely made the biggest fool out of yourself, you thought. Vivid images of Quaritch, passing around all your polaroids to a snickering recom squad, began to visualize themselves in your head. All laughing over the naïve scientist that thought she could get into the Colonels pants just like that. Like she was someone.

It was pretty much self explanatory why you had stopped sending him polaroids after that day. Obviously you wouldn’t continue to act as a dumb little plaything for him and his squad to make fun of. You were just glad that the ones he already had of you didn’t show your face, so if he ever decided to make them public, you at least had the chance to deny that the woman on these photos was you. And it wasn’t like the whole of bridgehead knows about your little cherry tattoo, basically the only indication that it was, in fact, you on them. Hopefully that meant you could keep your job, if any of your supervisors was ever to see these damn Polaroids.

The hard-to-ignore fact that Quaritch also hadn’t bothered to reach out to you since then only adds further to the horrible images in your mind, until you actually felt yourself starting to believe that this was clearly a one time thing and that he only wanted to see what he would get himself into, before deciding that he would never want to see or talk to you again.

Besides craving the numbing of whatever you currently didn’t want to feel, you also began to crave the lunch that you completely missed to get about three hours ago. The loud grumbling of your stomach informs you so. Unfortunately the decision to get up from the chair you had seemingly been glued on for most of the day came to you when the cafeteria was already closed, which left you with no choice but to take the elevator, travel two floors down and get some unhealthy snacks out of the vending machine. But it’s whatever. Not like you had to look good in a bikini any time soon or would put on another show, as naked as the day you were born, in the next couple of days– or ever again.

Rounding the corner after exiting the elevator, you don’t even wait until you reach the laboratory again, already fiddling with a bag of chips that somehow, even on Pandora, ended up being filled with eighty percent of air. Pushing the labs door open with your hip, your whole focus was on opening the damn bag of chips and greedily reaching for the first one, before stuffing it into your mouth.

Finally glancing back up to look over at your workplace, all blood in your body seems to run cold at once.

There he is, Colonel fuckin' America, leaning against your desk with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you like you had the audacity to keep him waiting. Like nothing has ever happened. Like this is so natural for him, to be here in your space.

The sight of him practically sitting on your desk, unbeknownst to him crumbling several important documents under him, had you stopping dead in your tracks. Confused didn’t come nearly close to the word that could describe your facial expression when you looked at him, the bag of chips almost slipping from your grasp as you wondered just how the fuck he even knew where exactly you worked?

"Colonel", you simply say, itching to face palm yourself because you might as well salute him too now.

"It’s Miles", he responds, the corner of his mouth curving up in what could be a grin as he pushes himself off the desk and slowly walks over to you. When he begins to circle you, the by now familiar feeling of being his prey returns to you.

The clinically white lab coat you were wearing always helped you feel grounded, like a talisman that reminded you of your true nature, your worth, and it also gave you something to fiddle with to ease your nerves. You wringe the fabric of your sleeve between your fingers, pulling and pinching it in an attempt to keep your hands busy so they wouldn’t start shaking.

With your nerves on high alert and more adrenaline pumping through your veins by the second, your legs decide to move without your brain’s consent, walking over to your desk to place the bag of chips on the smooth, white surface, before you awkwardly begin to sort every document that Quaritch was so kind to make a mess with, as he sat down on them.

"What are you doing here, sir?", you ask to try and end this nerve wrecking tension. That elicits a low chuckle out of him. You force yourself not to look up at him, but you hear him follow you, stepping closer, until you feel his warm breath fan over the top of your head.

"It seems you’ve stopped sending me your little polaroids, cherry", he hums, tilting his head so his lips were closer to your ear. "How come?"

"I- I- I‘m, I didn’t know if you would still…", there’s a pause and you take a deep breath, your voice growing quieter with every word, "if you were still interested in them."

Behind your back, Quaritch’s ears twitch. Damn Na’vi and their distinctive hearing, you curse them. You see the dancing shadow of his tail, curling and swaying as he processes what you had just told him.

"And what made you think that?", he then asks, and your heart skips a beat at his voice, giving you false hope with the sound of being genuinely interested.

"I don’t know, I– I just-“, you struggle to find the right words and sigh. "I thought you weren’t interested in me." It’s a honest confession. You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment as you keep letting the words flow out. There was no going back anyways now. "You didn’t even… touch me or anything so I thought you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Especially after finding out that– that I’ve never…"

You don’t finish the sentence. Partly because you can’t bring yourself to speak it out, name the obvious, and partly because he didn’t let you.

"Is that what you want?", Quaritch cuts in and you whip your head around just in time to see his lips part into a toothy grin, his sharp canine poking out from under his lip. He cocks his head to the other side, "You want me to touch you, huh?"

There was something to be said about power and pleasure. Any moron could inflict pain, for all the power it gave to them and certainly pain could be a useful tool, especially to someone like him. But it surely wasn't pain that gave him the feeling of power when it came to you. Quaritch stroked a finger over the back of your neck, carefully flicking your hair over your shoulder.

"Alright, I‘ll touch you, cherry", he hums, "But only if you promise to keep these pretty pictures coming, yes?"

Humans were never designed to fight what felt good to them, you knew that. Pleasure had someone who was expecting a fight as disorientated as a baby bird that just hit glass. The power of making someone melt in your hands, it must be intoxicating. You couldn’t just see it in his eyes, you also felt it in the way his hands wandered from your neck to the collar of your lab coat, gently pulling it down over your shoulders.

You never wished to be better at controlling your expressions as in this moment. You could feel the blush growing on your cheeks, giving away what you were feeling too easily. And it only encouraged Quaritch further. You let him pull the coat off of you completely, and look away briefly as he tosses it over your chair. A moment passes, his hands just lingering but not entirely touching you, until you cast your gaze back at him.

"Okay", you breathe out, nodding slightly, and that’s all the confirmation he needed.

Quaritch lets his hands fall lower, to snake down your thigh, fingers skimming over the fabric of your skirt. His big hands almost entirely curl around your leg, fingertips pressing into what he already seems know is one of your favourite places to be touched: your inner thigh, where it tickles and arouses you in equal measure, but he doesn’t linger there. His hands wander past the vulnerable flesh, further up where he then hoists your skirt up to expose your panties.

A sound between a low hum and a content purr comes from deep within his chest, as he cups your clothed cunt with his warm balm, slowly running the tips of his fingers against the soft fabric between your thighs. Your breath hitches when he finds the outline of your clit, nudging it gently. He drags his knuckles across the fabric of your panties, a barely-there touch, but you’re so sensitive already that your hips twitch at the contact and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. And that ultimately makes you come back to your senses.

"W-Wait, you– here?", you whisper. Your eyes slide to the door, made out of milky glass, closed but unlocked. It’s late and you’re almost sure everyone else that worked on this floor has already went home, but still. Anyone could just walk in here at any second.

You take a quick look at Quaritch over your shoulder, brows furrowed, a worried almost pleading look on your face.

"Yes, here", he confirms.

"You- you can’t be serious." You’re blushing more deeply now. The colour blossoms over your cheeks, the tip of your ears and even creeps down your neck, disappearing beneath that neatly ironed blouse you picked out this morning.

The Colonel chuckles, "You want me to touch you, don’t you? So that’s what i‘m going to do, cherry."

"I didn’t mean right here!"

"But I did. C’mon now, take these off for me", he says, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties to pull and let them snap back against your skin, causing you to flinch slightly. You hesitantly reach for them, pulling the soft fabric down ever so slowly, like you were still debating if you were loosing your mind and with it, any sense of caution.

All it would need was for one oblivious person to enter your lab and catch you with a ten feet tall recom, messing around in a workspace area that’s supposed to be clean and free of any contamination, and you would most likely loose your job and get sent back to earth within the next twenty-four hours.

But do you really want him to stop though? His velvety voice washes over you, ensnaring you in warmth, his desire, and anticipation.

You don’t want him to stop. It would kill you if he did.

Once you slipped out of your panties, Quaritch places a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest lays flat against your desk.

"Spread yourself for me." It’s an order to be obeyed directly, so you reach behind yourself, one hand on each side as you pull your cheeks apart. Your glad for the rather cold surface of the table when you rest your burning face against it, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Behind you, Quaritch groans at the sight.

"What a cute little pussy, all pretty and pink."

You feel his eyes rake over your body, burning across your skin, drinking in the sight of you bent over for him oh so nicely and willing, entirely at his mercy. You hear him give a satisfied exhale and your flush deepens.

"Poor thing really missed me, huh? Dripping already and I haven’t even started", he laughs.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’re warm all over, particularly between your thighs, where you feel more wetness pool. It amazed you that he had this much control over you with just a few touches and some pretty woven words. His voice, his touch, the power he exudes in the air around you… it all targets you.

Ever so slowly, he then slides his middle finger between your folds, coating it in your arousal. You whimper softly, once he comes in contact with your clit. It’s a teasing touch at first, but he soon puts more pressure into it as he expertly begins to draw small circles over the little nub.

Your breath comes in quick gasps, the more Quaritch plays with your clit, and you can already feel your legs begin to tremble. Your abdomen clenches with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Another whine leaves you and he chuckles deviously directly into your ear.

"So needy…", Quaritch hums, his breath hot against your skin. To your surprise, his warm, wet tongue then licks the curve of your ear, before he bites down playfully. You gasp sharply, and at the same time his middle finger moves to tease your entrance. "…and so wet for me.”

You should feel shame, you think, as you arch into the broad stroke of his palm.

"Please", you can’t even muster your own voice to have any strength to it, "please, sir. I- I need more."

And then, a single finger slides into you, answering your prayers.

Despite the ridiculous amount of slick seeping out of you, it’s a tight fit. Quaritch pushes inside with some effort, slowly sinking into your tight, wet tunnel, spreading you wide around his thick digit. It’s twice the size of a human finger, in girth and length, and you bite your lip, whimpering softly while he enters you, hands digging into your own flesh as you continue to spread yourself.

Another finger moves to roll over your clit, while he pushes inside you to the last knuckle.

"That’s it, cherry. Just like that. Look at you swallowing my finger like a good girl", Quaritch huffs out a breath, "Goddamn, your fuckin' tight."

He gives you a few second to collect yourself, let your body adjust to the unfamiliar stretch before he starts moving. Your velvety walls clamp down on his finger as he sets his pace, moving it in and out, curling it up and dragging it along your insides.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in his touch, but the feeling of his finger moving inside you while another runs over your clit is something else. Your toes curl into your soles and you can’t hold back the moans spilling from your parted lips.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy and the delicious stretch that his rough finger bought you.

"There you go, there you fuckin' go", Quaritch groans. His fingers work relentlessly on you, somehow finding the exact spot where you craved him most. And as if the floodgates finally broke, a stream of incoherently words and syllables came out, babbling and begging as his thrusts became more rapid, the palm of his hand smacking against your folds with the sheer intensity he was suddenly finger-fucking you in.

"Oh f– please. Fucking– please", you gasp, squirming underneath the large palm that kept you pinned against the desk with enough pressure that you started to feel a little lightheaded.

"What was that?", the Colonel raised his brows, snickering at your already fucked-out state.

"I need you–", you manage to force out between wanton moans, but then you take a big, heaving breath, and your next words come out in almost a sob, "I need you to fuck me!"

There comes no response. His movement doesn’t falter either, he doesn’t slow down for even a second and you feel that familiar coil in your core tighten more and more.

"Miles–", you try to straighten up, but he pushes down on your back again. You let him push you flat against the table without putting up any sort of fight, safe for the begging of course. "Miles, please." You try to reach him by calling his name, pleading, but it’s no use.

Taking matters in your own hands, you push back against his palm, trying to roll your ass directly onto his crotch behind you. The hand that had been laying on your back moves down to your hip and tightens there, fingertips digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. His sharp intake of air, followed by a low growl leave you momentarily satisfied, thinking you might actually get what you were begging for this whole time.

"You really are desperate.", Miles growls. Then, he pulls his finger out of your sopping hole, until only his fingertip rests inside you. It makes all hair on your body stand up straight as you wait in anticipation. But instead of drawing away entirely to replace his hand with his cock, you feel a second finger nudge past your tight entrance. You inhale sharply, feeling yourself get stretched to the absolute max as both of his thick digits enter you slowly. You nearly sob, once both of them are halfway stuffed into you, all the way in to your own physical limit.

"I thought I’d fucked an onslaught of people who topped the list of desperation, but cherry, sweet thing, I have to say–", his other hand reaches around your middle and gives your clit a light slap to emphasise his point, pushing his fingers just barely an inch further in and you whine in response, “Nobody was ever quite as pathetic or as needy as you are."

It felt like your brain was overheating, daring to melt out of your ears the moment he curled both of his digits inside you like he was beckoning to you, and then started to thrust them at a fast but steady pace.

His palm smacked against your wet folds, fingers creating loud squelching noises as he fucked you with them. The feeling of your juices running down his wrist actually had him grinning behind your back like the smug bastard that he was.

“Oh my god, don’t– don’t stop", you moan, cursing under your breath, and thank fuck he doesn’t. He fingers you in the same way you imagined he would fuck you. Hard and fast and deep enough to feel so incredibly full of him, but it only reminded you of much you actually wanted this to happen. "Yes, yes please. Please I need it, need you to fuck me, please, sir!” You cry out, cutting yourself off with a moan of his name, "Miles, Miles, please–”

You nearly scream when he pushes his digits in to the last knuckle, feeling his fingertips prod at your cervix in a means to shut you up.

"That’s not gonna happen, cherry", he forces out through gritted teeth, leaning over your much smaller frame before his tongue once again curved over the shell of your ear.

A shudder runs up the curve of your spine and you whine softly, "Wha– Why?"

"You really think you can take me? Look at you", he chuckles lowly into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body, "You’re already sobbing and I’m barely two fingers in. You couldn’t take my cock even if you weren’t a goddamn virgin."

You shook your head frantically, denying his doubt of your physical abilities. But with the way he was plunging his fingers in and out of you, the obscene sounds of slick smearing between his palm and all over your pussy, it was hard to talk back to him. Instead, you were chanting his name under your breath and it became louder and higher in pitch the closer you got to your release.

Your brain had completely checked out sometime around when your felt yourself squeeze his digits so painfully tight, it didn’t even left room for some of your slickness, so it started leaking out, running down the inside of your thighs and dribbling on the tiled floor.

Your breathing has turned rapid, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster than you could probably even process it. With a downright embarrassing, needy voice, you began to brabble whatever nonsense came to your fucked out mind, your need for release so shamefully on display that it made him scoff.

Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, you were fighting the urge to lose consciousness. You never welcomed the cool surface of your desk against your cheek as much as right now. Your whole body felt hot, sticky with sweat and other body fluids as you went slack, only held upright by the table you were half laying on and the force of his hands on you.

"Don’t pass out on me", you distantly hear him laugh, before he delivers another slap to your clit, causing you to jolt. "You cock hungry little slut."

The heat that pooled in your stomach felt as if it would overflow soon, as if the knot that had tighten would snap any second, harder than you ever thought was possible. And then, showing more mercy to you than he probably ever had to anyone, Quaritch curls his fingers against your g-spot just right and growls,

"Come for me. Now."

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fuckmyskywalker · 11 months

Text

Dilf!Anakin — Part II.

— CW: Dilf!Anakin x Younger!Reader ;). Modern!AU, Smut, 18+!, Anakin is divorced, and obviously touch starved. Blowjobs, minor facefucking, cum swallowing. || Part I

— a/n: part II! Yay! Ssssorry for not uploading it sooner, I'm currently moving my whole life across the country and it's been a bit stressful. Anyways. I hope you like it and they definitely gonna get hornier in part 3! ;). Reminder that requests are open even for this dynamic so yeah, I need em.

It's been a week since Anakin last saw you, and the memory of your lips on top of his haunts him every single night.

He keeps telling himself to get a grip, he's too old for this, or at least that's what he thinks. He shouldn't make any illusions, and yet he does.

Every time he has a notification he checks his phone looking almost desperate and instantly, Anakin reprimands himself. Why is he so eager? What can you possibly have that has him so hooked?

So while he waits outside your house, his hands sweating over the steering wheel, he has to scold himself down, because now he feels like a teenager on his second date. The second you walk towards his vehicle he can't stop the smile from lingering over his lips. You look exceptionally beautiful, although Anakin knows that you just carry a natural form of beauty, but tonight? He believes you surpassed that limit.

Then he feels extremely corny, and embarrassed.

Oh, and underdressed.

"Hi" You say with a shy smile, seating on the passenger side with that bright smile that has his heart racing.

"Hey" Anakin replies, giving you a little smile.

He wants to ask how are you, what you did throughout the day, how can you be so fucking gorgeous? But he just... stares.

"I missed you" You add, the slightest hint of a blush covering your cheeks.

Anakin has to take a mental note, to engrave that pretty sight of you blushing in his memory forever.

"I missed you too" He replies, placing a hand on your thigh by pure instinct. It feels right, but immediately regrets it. Wasn't he being too blunt?

Again, as if you read his mind, the moment you see him retracting his hand, you place yours on top of him, your thumb tracing small circles over the back of his hand.

"Shall we go?"

He doesn't need you to tell him twice.

When you two exit the bar, he has to guide you with a hand around your waist, while he carries your heels in his free hand.

He helps you buckle your seatbelt, while you lay your head in the seat smiling to yourself.

"I like you" Your voice is slightly slurred, but it carries a certain sweetness that has Anakin dropping his keys to his feet.

"You do?" He asks after he picks them up, looking at you from the driver side.

"Hmm" You nod, closing your eyes.

"I like you too" Anakin mutters, lowering the manual brake and beginning the drive to your place.

After a joyful night of listening to you talk, laugh and talk again, Anakin feels even more convinced and allured to your persona. He can't quite put a finger on it, but you are like no one he has ever met before.

He steals quick glances every now and then, admiring how your eyes are now wide open and staring at the road, lost in your own thoughts. Once again, just like he felt on the first date he shared with you, he hates this sour feeling of departure. He wishes he could keep you all night by his side.

He parks outside your house, helping you unclasp the seatbelt and ready to walk down his vehicle to open the door for you; But your hand on his thigh stops him from doing so.

"Wait" You speak, staring at him dead in the eye, and it shouldn't make him nervous but it does. Your glassy eyes are piercing his soul. Anakin could get lost in your eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"I didn't thanked you for paying… again" Your voice sounds somewhat embarrassed, and he finds it absolutely adorable.

"You don't have to thank me anything" Anakin shrugs. "It's my pleasure"

"Is it?" Your question has him spiraling, not because the words but by the change in your voice. There's no trace of embarrassment, instead there's a… hint of sultriness.

"It is" He confirms, nodding and instantly noticing how your face is slowly inching towards his.

"Still…" You breathe right in front of his face with half lidded eyes. "Let me… thank you" Before Anakin is able to protest, your lips hover on top of his.

This is probably the first time Anakin is taken back by a kiss. He wastes no time on cupping your cheek and pressing you closer, venturing into the abyss of your lovable kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip and he parts his mouth with pleasure, allowing your tongues to intertwine and slide against each other.

Anakin gasps against your lips when your hands find the buckle of his belt and struggle with it. He pulls away momentarily, staring into your beautiful eyes. "You don't have to do this to thank me…" A sting of guilt pierces his stomach, but the fire in your eyes hushes every doubt.

"I want to" You whisper, licking his lower lip. "Please"

Right there, he snaps.

"Fuck" Anakin mutters under his breath, kissing you again with more force this time, as the little restraint he has left begins to crumble.

Your fingers pop up his jeans and fight with his zipper, palming him over his boxers. Anakin hisses and his hips buckle against your hand, sending a wave of desire straight to your core. Anakin is trying so hard not to reveal how needy he is for your touch, it's been... probably more than a year since someone else besides himself touched him in such a way.

He's hard in no time. Forcing a moan to the tip of your tongue at the weight and size of his dick in your palm. He's definitely bigger than you imagined.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and drag them down impatiently. His large length springs free and Anakin's breath hitches at the feeling. His cheeks are flushed and his chest is heaving a bit, staring at you with narrowed blue eyes.

Your eyes on the other hand, remain locked on his impressive girth, your mouth salivating at the thought of burying his cock deep inside your mouth.

Without hesitation you wrap a hand around the base, delighted by the weak moan that escapes his lips. "You're way bigger than I imagined" You communicate your dirty fantasies with a quiet voice, and Anakin is clearly affected by them, biting his lip.

"Yeah?" He asks breathlessly, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull when you begin to stroke him slowly.

Enough words.

Lowering your face, the flat side of your tongue meets his already leaking tip and Anakin curses in the hot air of the car, a hand flying over your head to keep you still. Complying, you begin to suck on the swollen tip of his cock urging more of those delightful noises.

You venture lower and down, until half of his cock is inside your wet mouth, making him bend and close his eyes. Anakin is trying so hard not to blow his load right there. Your heavenly mouth is what's making it difficult.

That's why, when you manage to deepthroat all of him, Anakin's loud groan of pleasure loosen all the little self restraint he had. His hand over your head tangles his fingers around your hair, securing a tight grip on it and forcing your mouth up and down his cock. His actions took you by surprise but this newfound rough treatment is more than welcomed. You moan and gag around his cock making him throb and pant your name in ragged breaths. Anakin is in heaven, he is absolutely melting by the sight and the sound and the fucking feeling of your tight throat constricting his dick.

His hips begin to raise over and over in an obvious attempt of pushing his length further down your throat. Your hand squeezes his thigh for leverage and your eyes roll in clear pleasure of being used by the man you fucked your own desperate pussy in those nights when all you could do was text him.

Anakin's moans become louder and unstable, as his hips begin to falter. Your throat feels raw but his cock feels harder than it has ever been. Your scalp burns where he has that iron grip on your hair but your panties are soaking wet that they will be a pain in the ass to wash.

"I'm gonna come" He whispers in between moans and groans, letting his head back and biting his lip. A small bead of sweat runs down his brow, down his scar and gives him a delicious, fucked up look.

Instead of pushing yourself away from him, you hollow your cheeks around his cock silently asking him to do it in your mouth. Anakin doesn't even hesitate, with his pearly white teeth sinking into his lower lip and his dick throbbing one last time before he presses your face against the base of his cock, almost bawling your name in a cry of pleasure and desire.

His large cock throbs and releases thick ropes of cum inside your throat, almost choking you with the insane amount he manages to spurt. He might as well been holding up for a while now.

You swallow every single drop, and not content with that, your tongue traces his overworked cock in an attempt to leave him clean, making Anakin sigh at the feeling.

You return to your seat, staring at him and admiring how pretty he looks with his hair all messy, glowing with a thin layer of sweat and red cheeks, staring at you with a hungry smile.

"I should be the one thanking you" Anakin whispers, placing his large hand over your thigh. He licks his lips almost in a predatory manner. "For being such a good girl"

"It was my pleasure" You manage to reply despite the burn of your throat.

"My kids will be away with their mother for the weekend... wanna stay over at my place?" He offers, his hand itching upwards and dangerously reaching your center.

"I can't wait."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin #anakin smut #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin star wars

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