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bloobharry · 2 days

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How’s your head? H.S

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduced her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Or,

Harry is Y/N’s best friend, and he just wants the best for her.

Content warning: mature content.

Word count: 3.8K

When Y/N told Harry she wanted to hang out with him Friday afternoon, she didn’t quite think it would end up like this.

The original plan was to essentially do nothing all night. After a long, tiring week at work, nothing satisfied Y/N more than lazing around on her couch and snacking on all the chocolate sitting in her pantry she had been fantasising about having while at her desk. It was always nice to have someone do these things with you, though, where both parties could lie in silence, munch on snacks and glue their eyes to the television to forget everything that happened in the past workdays.

Y/N quickly realised Harry was the perfect person for this. He didn’t have much going on for him either so there was no reason why he would turn down a night of gorging Y/N’s pantry and flopping over her hunched body on the sofa so they could watch whatever show she was recently obsessing over.

And that was how the night started.

Harry came over at about 7, with a pizza for takeaway and a large soda, and claimed the furthest right corner of the couch, snuggled up with Y/N’s cat Lola. While Lola took her time sniffing Harry’s fingers and tentatively licking his knuckles, Y/N warmed up some popcorn and ruffled Harry’s hair as she walked past him to her spot on the other end of the sofa. “Heeeeeey,” he began, a furrow in his brows, “you can’t just do that. I put a lot of work into making it look this good.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “if it looks like that after all the work I’m afraid you’re not doing enough, Harry.” He didn’t say anything, only scoffed and shoved her legs slightly from where she had swung them on his lap, “you need to pull that stick out of your ass. Let off some steam or something.”

“Right and do you want to volunteer as my punching bag?” She retorted. She wasn’t really trying to be mean, a teasing grin on her lips when he feigned offence once more, “that’s not what I meant. There are other ways to release tension, you know,” he said.

“Harry, if you want me to drop-kick you, just say i—“

“What I want is for you to go out and get a good dicking so you can stop being such a menace to me.”

“I’m not being a menace, this is just how I am. I thought you’d know that by now.” Y/N’s eyes widen, looking at him like she can’t believe he hadn’t realised her quip-y and teasing comments have been entirely satire. “Menace or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been on edge lately and could go for an orgasm not brought to you by your vibrator.”

“Harry!”

”What? I’m just saying,” he said through a smirk. Y/N’s eyes narrow at his dishevelled sight, his hair just touching his collarbones and his black sweater swallowing him whole. “My orgasms are perfectly fine, thank you. And my vibrator does a very good job at helping me ‘let off steam’.”

He sighs, almost mockingly. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Why would I tell you?”

”Because I’m your friend. I promise I’m just trying to help,” he says sincerely. The dim lighting of the living room made his eyes sparkle and Y/N avoided eye contact by fiddling with her fingers.

God, there was just something about the fucker that made a person want to spill every secret before his jade gaze. “I dunno. Maybe five, six months?”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, what the fuck? Weren’t you seeing Daniel like 3 weeks ago?” His voice goes up a few octaves, looking at her all bewildered. “It’s Danny,” she corrected him, “and I stopped texting him a while back. He was a bore in real life and quite frankly, a bore in bed.” Danny was one of Y/N’s coworkers' brothers who she had tried setting her up with, and Y/N did have some fun with him at first. It was always nice having someone to flirt with back and forth and get compliments from every now and then but he just never scratched that itch for Y/N. She ended up ghosting him 2 dates in and she knows that's a dick move, but really a second more of listening to him go on and on about his mum and how much his new PC game cost would make Y/N want to gauge out her own eyeballs with a dinner fork.

“Did he ever get you off?” Harry asked. Y/N was incredibly appalled, not appreciating his prying hands all over her sex life. Or lack thereof. “No and that’s none of your business anyway, jeez.”

“There you go again, snapping at me. You know if you’ll ask me nicely I’ll stop.” He sat up against the arm rest, fingers grazing her bare leg from when he pulled it back on his lap. Y/N knew she could ask him to stop asking her all these questions and he would, but was it really a conversation with her if she wasn’t being at least a little bit hard to read?

Besides, maybe it would do her some good talking about it and whatever advice he had might actually help her out. Harry seemed to be more than well-equipped when it came to charming the heck out of someone and working his way into their pants. “Sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eye, “no, he didn’t get me off. We never actually had sex, I just gave him a blowie once and he tried to go down on me.”

Harry smiled softly knowing he got her to crack and squeezed her calf, “tried?” He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, wedging his fingers between Y/N’s brain and asking her to recall her time with Danny.

“Yes, tried. It was fucking awful.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, busying herself with the strings on her hoodie, “and he definitely came in your mouth?” Y/N’s cheeks went pink, and she quickly pulled her legs away from him, “Harry!” Her voice was high pitched and defensive, and while her mind told her that maybe confiding all this in Harry isn’t the smartest thing, her heart wanted to see where an odd conversation like this could lead.

“I’m just asking!”

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Well fuck, Y/N, sorry to say it but you were seeing an absolute douche.” Harry makes this diagnosis like Y/N didn’t already know, his fingers reaching for her legs again, tugging them onto his thighs with a strength that made her tummy flip. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I know. It was fun but I didn’t want anything more with him.”

“Good. But you still need a good fuck. One where you actually get to come and don’t come back home all high and dry.”

Y/N gasps, trying to get off him again but Harry holds her down, laughing at her bright red embarrassed face, “you’re such a dick I hate you.”

His dimples dug deep into the soft of his cheeks, and he pulled her legs so she was sitting much closer to him. Her ass touched the edge of his thighs and she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, making her skin even hotter. Y/N remained frowning, shoving his chest when he wouldn’t stop giggling, “stop laughing, Harry!” For obvious reasons that doesn’t work and the little genuine crink in her eyebrows had him almost cooing and smiling wide at the same time. When she didn’t let up the frown and tried to move back to her spot, Harry only grabbed her hips and pulled her back, close enough that her ass was now on top of his thighs, “okay, okay I’m sorry. You’ve got a really funny angry face.”

Y/N was near seething at this point, gearing up for an attack, “I’ll show you an angry face,” she tried lunging for his hair again but very quickly realised she failed to take into consideration her position when he instantly caught her wrists in between his long fingers, holding them tight but not enough to hurt her, “okay, John Cena let’s take a breather.”

God, was he able to make her skin absolutely crawl at times. He was still holding her wrists when he brought them down, watching her blazingly. She didn’t realise how far she had shuffled into his lap and how close his face was to hers until now. Until she could smell the strawberry mints he was sucking on on his breath.

She made a half-hearted attempt to smack his chest, but his hold only tightened around her, suddenly dragging her even closer to him over the soft fabric of his sweats. Y/N held her breath. He was too close to her, his nose daring to touch hers. She’d never been in such a vulnerable position with him and she might possibly just faint if he didn’t stop staring at her mouth and then her eyes, flicking his gaze between the two like he couldn’t decide where to settle.

She moved her head back, trying to create some space between the pair, “what are you doing Harry.” The sound she makes is an odd one— one that she doesn’t make often and it’s desperate and needy, akin to a weepy whine. His fingers finally loosened enough for her to break free and she quickly moved her face away from his where it seems like it was magnetically pulling her closer and closer.

Harry didn’t say anything for a while and Y/N found herself frozen in her spot, still right on his lap. “What’s going on here, hmm?” He said, glancing down.

Y/N followed his gaze, confused at first and it took her a moment to realise what he was insinuating. His fingers grazed her hips. “What’s got you all squirmy on my lap?”

He was still staring right into her eyes, making her go crazy with the stolen glances at her lips with every passing second. Meanwhile Y/N’s chest heaved and she unintentionally shuffles again, “fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s voice was deep and groan-y, vibrating through her body when his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’m not squirmy, Harry shut up.” She was lying right to his face and her poor attempt at covering her actions made him laugh again. The sound was teasing, nothing like the light-hearted giggles spilling from his lips when he found her angry face amusing.

“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.” His fingers fell to her upper thighs, which he gripped harshly. Only then when she couldn’t move did Y/N realise she really was practically rubbing herself against him, milking even the slightest pressure against her heat from his warm, pliant lap. Her face pinkened again, embarrassment coursing through her veins and making her want to dig a hole and hide in it forever. She couldn’t believe what she had just been caught doing.

Y/N expected him to fully push her off his lap, disgusted by her basically humping his leg, but he didn’t.

Instead, he dug his fingers into her skin and slowly helped her move back and forth, pushing her down just slightly to give her the friction she was searching for. Y/N’s mouth dropped open in another little whine.

“Will you let me, then?” His eyes searched hers, gaze sincere, though Y/N didn’t know what he was implying, only half listening to him. She was clearly preoccupied with the delicious pressure pressing right up against her clothed clit.

“What?”

Harry laughed, a large, ringed hand slipping over her ass to squeeze lightly. “I said, will you let me make you feel good? Help you relax? Have you gone dumb already, baby?” Y/N couldn’t really do much other than nod frantically, afraid he might pull away if she didn’t say yes. The pet name melts her even further, paired with the way he was holding her like he was going to swallow her whole made her insides slosh.

She preens under his gaze, now holding the front of his sweater tightly between her fingers. “Yes,” Y/N breathed, “yes please.”

Harry wondered for a second if she was agreeing to being cockdumb or agreeing to him touching her but nonetheless he took it as his queue to push her off his lap and position her the way he wanted.

“I—what, I thought you we—“ Y/N protests, neediness evident in her voice and her hands which chased after his warmth, like she was afraid he was going to leave her be in this desperate state. Harry only pressed on her shoulder until she laid back on her back, hands coming to part her legs so he could fit between them, “shh.” A wet kiss was pressed to her cheek, like comforting a rabid animal, which Y/N was feeling exactly like as she stared at Harry’s frame cowering hers.

His curls hung past his ears and tickled her face when he slotted his hips between her legs so she could continue grinding down on him, “who knew you were such a needy little thing?” Y/N sighed in response. Another suckling kiss was pressed to her jaw, “do you need me to make you feel good, baby? Hmm? Need me to make it better?”

The way he was talking to her made her feral.

She had trouble believing this was the same Harry who irritated her to no end and pushed all her buttons to rile her up. Except this time he was pushing other kinds of buttons, moving his body around hers so perfectly Y/N wondered if this was like second nature to him.

“Yes. Please don’t tease me.” She commanded him and Harry chuckled at her desperation, lips sponging these warm, slow, gooey kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. When she went to sift her fingers through his curly hair, he pulled back to look at her. “You’re so bossy,” he accuses, pulling her thighs further up his hips, “it’s okay though. I’ll fuck the attitude right of you.” He grinded down against her, one strong roll of his bulge against her heat. “Are we going to have sex, Harry?”

“No.” He grinned.

“Why?” Y/N’s eyes crinkled in pain like he just told her her cat died and her lip jutted out in a pout which Harry quickly tucked away with his thumb. “Because,” he started, using that same hand to wrap around her throat, “we need to talk about that before we do anything. Don’t want to lose my best friend, do I?”

His rejection almost made Y/N cry and she would have had Harry not tightened his hand around her jugular. The cold press of his rings sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “Why would you say anything then?” She asked, craning her neck to allow him more room to cover with his palm.

“I said I won’t have sex with you. Didn’t say I wouldn’t make you feel good.”

With that, he took the hand that made a home around her throat and patted her cheek, hard enough that the feeling went straight down to her tummy but soft enough that it didn’t hurt her like someone might think it would. He crawled further down her body, shoving her hoodie up with his hands and exposing her stomach to the cold air of the room. Y/N thinks he was trying to keep up some boundaries, bunching the shirt just below her tits like protecting some kind of modesty and pressing ticklish kisses across her skin and down her belly button. Her body tingled with anticipation, breath bated and eyes glazed as she watched him.

She felt him nuzzle into her tummy and inhale loudly, “you smell so fucking good.” Y/N giggled, taking pride in her extensive shower routine and incessant rubbing of various lotions into her skin, “thank you.”

When his mouth reached the waistband of her tiny shorts he murmured a small, “can I take these off?” To which Y/N hummed in agreement. She couldn’t agree with anything more. If Harry walked up and out of this room right now, Y/N was certain she would die.

Once they’re off, Y/N realised she was completely at his mercy. Her underwear is the only thing protecting her modesty, and with how wet she’s feeling, she doubts there’s anything left to the imagination down there, “would you look at that. You’ve soaked right through.” His fingers toyed with the edge of her wet gusset.

Another embarrassingly desperate sound left her throat and she pushed her hips in the air in search of some friction. Harry delivered a harsh slap to her thigh, “don’t move.”

His stern voice did unimaginable things for her but she complied and tried to stay as still as she could, which seemed like a task for the impossible with the teasing touches Harry delivered to her skin.

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduces her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Harry doesn’t do anything for a while, just admiring how her pussy looked soaked through her panties, playing around with the lace lining of the fabric. He grabbed the gusset and pulled it tight against her so her folds swallow the cotton, “fuck. A little manhandling and this is what happens?” He more so makes a statement rather than asking her, punctuating his words by leaning down to lick a wide, sloppy strip across the cloth. It makes Y/N squeal and attempt to shut her thighs but Harry makes sure to hold her down, biceps bulging.

He pulled back to drop his fingers firmly against her clit, just keeping them there pressed tightly, feeling her heartbeat against the tips. “I thought I told you not to move.”

“Yes, I’m sorry please, please don’t stop.”

He went back to nosing at her covered clit, not making any attempt to wrap his lips around it. At this point Y/N was itching in anticipation, every ounce of her working not to rut her hips in his face and ride his tongue like she wanted to. When he finally touches her again, it's where the wetness pooled, soft suckling kisses over the fabric which made Y/N’s heart and pussy flutter.

She was incredibly frustrated, wanting nothing more than to rip her underwear off and shove his face into her but she held back, not sure if Harry would appreciate that after he made it clear time and time again how he preferred her to remain immobile while he played with her. Instead she waited until he was through with kissing every inch of her and when he finally peeled off her panties, she could practically come just from the prospect of having his mouth on her.

He doesn’t give her a second to think though, because his mouth is unrelenting. Teasing the tip of her button with his tongue before circling his lips around it and suckling in sweet, soft pulses. The sensation has her panting and gasping, squeezing his head between her thighs while one of his arms swung across her hips to keep her down and the other wiggled between the two to push her lips apart in a V shape. With her clit now exposed to the cool air, Harry zeroed in on the nerve and worked magic with his tongue, flicking it up, down, left, right and circling the button with such fevor Y/N could burst.

What electrified the experience was the sounds in the room, which were just sinful.

Her pussy squelched with each suckle Harry gave, making Y/N moan and pull Harry’s curls which in turn had him groaning lowly against her. It was an endless cycle of pornographic music.

When he pulls away from her clit, the pulsing it does is almost amusing, like it was personally begging for Harry’s attention. Instead he kissed down the length of her slit and took his time playing around with her folds, slicking her hole and letting his spit drip down to her ass.

It was so perfect and messy.

Before she knew it, Y/N’s thighs were shaking and Harry’s tongue was back to abuse her poor button. A couple more flicks and a harsh kiss pushed Y/N over the edge, her orgasm washing over her and nearly blinding her. It’s euphoric and the most intense she’s ever felt, no vibrator of hers or cock she’s ever had compared to what she was feeling and even then Harry didn’t let up on her pussy. He continued his assault, now both of his arms locking around her hips to tone down her thrashing. Only when she pushed his forehead away did he finally depart with a final lick across her slit and smiled at her fucked-out state.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and brought it to his lips, sitting up between her legs which she clinked shut. A second passes.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes were shut, an arm thrown across her forehead. “I think so.”

Harry giggled, leaning over her to remove her arm, “how’s it feel?”

“S’good. It was really nice. Thanks.” She was slightly dazed, too far gone to really understand what was going on. Her limbs felt like jell-o and she let Harry kiss her cheek again before lending her a hand to help her sit up. “I’m glad. Come on now. We need to clean you up.”

She doesn't know how she stood up from that godforsaken couch and how she made it to the bathroom, Lola returning from her retreat to her bedroom to wind around her ankles. Harry bent down to pet between her ears, “hello babydoll. Did you miss me?” He cooed.

She looked down at the pair and Harry easily sensed her wary gaze. A dashing smile was sent her way. “Do you need me to get you some underwear? Or are you afraid I’ll stumble across your array of sex toys?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. He was still the Harry she knew before he gave her the best head she ever received.

“You’re such a dick.”

“A dick that gave you the best orgasm of your life.” She couldn’t even argue with him on that. Instead, she flipped him off and disappeared into her room. Once she was all changed and wearing a fresh pair of undies and shorts, she walked out to see Harry passed out on the couch with Lola snuggled into his throat. It was then when her head finally returned to the ground and she realised the gravity of the situation.

The looming prospect of a long, painful chat in the morning hung over Y/N like a dark cloud, filling her with a gnawing sense of dread she suddenly couldn’t seem to shake.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Hiiiii i hope you like this one, first time posting in a long time so feeling a little nervous omg … leave feedback if you have any!!! Mwuahh

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles Drabble #Harry styles au #bloobharry

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em-harlsnow · 2 days

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there comes a day when mickey will make fun of ian in front of his whole family for the whole mexico thing (they will both ignore how it ended)

they’ll be taking the piss out of each other on the couch, while everyone else just sort of minds their own business.

it will end up something like

“please you still fucked me when i had long hair and hadn’t showered in a week” mickey rolls his eyes at his husband.

“you never had long hair” lip says, thinking he’s talking about when they were young.

“when he broke out of prison he did.” ian elaborates.

“yeah, and how long did it take you to cave?” mickey prods, and lip laughs.

“seriously, ian, ive always wondered about that. i mean, you were dating someone else so how long did it take before you went with mickey?” debbie asks, putting her phone down.

“um- i mean- it wasn’t instantly-“ ian tries to defend himself.

“wasn’t instantly my ass, man. you said ‘i have a boyfriend’ and i said ‘okay, what are u doing here then’ and that’s all she fucking wrote because you were all over me.”

“really ian? that quick?” lip mocks

“i mean- not- it wasn’t like that! it was just like- you were doing that stupid lip thing and we’d already kissed so- and i hadn’t seen you in ages! and you were like bouncing ur eyebrows and-“ ian keeps gesturing at mickey like it’s just all his fault.

“all i hear is i was too irresistible.”

ian scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“jesus ian, you’d already kissed? so what, it was even less time?” debbie pokes lightly and lip laughs.

“he kissed me!” ian argues, making mickey raise his eyebrows.

“yeah, you seemed real upset about it too. you definitely weren’t an active participant” mickey rolls his eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“urgh, shut up, mick! it took- it took convincing! he was texting me beforehand!”

“i texted u ‘r u comin’ because i was freezing my ass off. not exactly a love sonnet, man.”

lip laughs. “you’re so easy ian. jesus christ.”

“i am not easy, lip. you’re the slut here, not me.”

“c’mon man, you are kind of easy for me.” mickey teases jabbing him in the ribs slightly.

“oh fuck you mickey as if you’re any better.”

mickey holds his hands up. “never said i was.” he gives ian a toothy grin, which he scowls at. “but really? my hair was down to here. surely it should have taken you longer to fold.”

ian rolls his eyes again, and mickey chuckles.

later, when they’re alone, ian admits, “i liked the long hair though. i mean you looked sort of homeless… but i liked it.”

mickey smiles at him. “ur such a sap. i love you”

“i love you too.”

“but you folded SO QUICK, gallagher. you barely even tried to avoid fucking me!”

ian rolls his eyes and punches him in the shoulder for ruining the moment.

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction

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rustchild · 8 months

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they should invent being a nun. But for agnostic Jewish dykes

#Every day I think about how good I would be at nun life #if it weren’t for the whole Jesus thing #ik there are other kinds of monasteries but I feel weird abt the idea of being a white person who goes to a Buddhist monastery to #~find themself~ you know #There’s also the kibbutz but I am not going to do that for very obvious political reasons #so really they should invent being a nun but for me specifically

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domesticateddog · 2 years

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nsfw tmi annoying sexual oversharing r/ihavesex tags etc etc…

#holy shit is dirty talk fucjing good lol like a half hour ago that was the hottest time yet jesus christ im still reeling….#i cant even think straight. the things he said to me when i was sucking his fingers…. 🥴#that was definitely worth the wait lol he’s so fucking hot i cant stand it #im so over the fucking moon in love with him it’s insane every single thing is perfect we’re best friends who havethe best sex fucking ever #we’re two peas in a pod and it’s so clear to me now after coming back to his house after leaving today and just the relief of getting to lay #in his arms while we tell each other about our day apart while he rubs my arms back and hair. i just felt whole when that happened.#he said he wasn’t sure he wants to hang out with his old friend again bc quite ‘his jokes weren’t funny’ LOL he said after every joke he’d #just give him the autism stare as it fell flat lmao but that means *I* make him laugh! which i do. (<- self absorbed narcissist)#he just fell asleep next to me after a LOOOONG ass day and i already miss him how lame and codependent of me #we miss each other when we go to the fucking bathroom too lol we’re insane but we are free #sorry.#*quote not quite

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unkreativstermensch · 8 months

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"Still super jealous as hell by the way.“

"Okay, now, can you…get outta my face?“ Steve annoyedly swats a hand at Eddie’s chest and ducks out of his space.

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you-" He purses his lips, thinks. "You don’t…you still don’t like me very much, do you?"

At that Steve stops walking, huffs out an annoyed breath and presses his eyes closed. He turns to Eddie, looks at him with an expression Eddie can’t read and says, "No, Eddie. No, I don’t."

Eddie just watches him for a second, not sure what to do, studies his face, the furrow between his brows, the clear discomfort in his expression.

He scoffs. Getting a little angry. "Jesus, man,“ he says. "You just can’t get over it, huh? And here I was rambling on about how you were actually a good dude after all, but…no, turns out Steve Harrington is still just as much stuck in his stupid high school mindset as I would have thought.“

Steve just looks more annoyed now, a slight shift in his eyebrow and…he looks…frustrated? A little? How does that make sense?

"You,“ Steve says, voice low, but not because of the monsters, Eddie knows that much, "are unbelievable.“

Eddie blinks. "What?“

"Eddie, you’re the one who can’t get over it,“ Steve accuses him. "You always talk about that non-conformist shit and how people should just stop with the categories and drawers and labels but, dude, you’ve never judged people that way yourself! I have been saved in your brain as this dumb idiot jock ever since you’ve known me and…“ Steve huffs out an unbelieving breath. "And Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you…but you’ve never been nice to me. Ever. And when Lucas made the basketball team, which is amazing, by the way, you weren’t proud of him or supported him for that incredible achievement like you should have if he’s really one of your 'little sheep‘.“ He draws quotation marks in the air. "You punished him for it. You said you can’t make Hellfire? Fuck you. I’m just gonna have the most important part of the campaign without you, because you know what, you don’t deserve us anymore now that you’ve joined the dark side. Now that you’ve taken up a…a jock game. Because god forbid, somebody could actually ever enjoy playing sports.“

Eddie can’t follow. His mind’s lagging behind, still stuck on Steve apparently knowing DnD terms and saying he was never nice to him and-

Steve takes another step back.

"Eddie, for as long as I can remember you hated me. And yeah, sure, I was stupid and I did some stupid things, but…“ he shrugs one sided. "But I don’t think I deserve to be treated that way. I think I at least deserved a chance. And you never gave me one.“

Eddie blinks. "What do you mean I never gave you a chance, I-"

"Biology, sophomore year,“ Steve interrupts him. "We were assigned lab partners. I tried to really…put all of it aside, tried to get to know you, because actually, Eddie, you know what? I was sort of obsessed with you. Because you were so…loud and so unashamedly yourself, I admired you so much. You didn’t care about anything and you stood up for yourself and that’s something I’ve never been able to do, my whole life. I…“ Steve looks down, sighs a little. "I let people push me around because it’s the only way I feel like I can be of use. But you…you made me believe that maybe actually I…could do it, you know? Like, tell Tommy H. off or something…“ He looks so hurt. Eddie kind of wants to die. "But you…you acted like it was the worst thing ever, getting partnered with me. You didn’t even look at me. You…never gave me a chance, Eddie. So…sorry if one 'you’re actually a good dude, Harrington' doesn’t make me forget all of that, make up for it. Because I’m not so sure I believe you.“

Oh.

Oh no.

Eddie fucked up.

#Steve is so wrong about what made eddie act like that #my boy had a crush #a bad one #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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ink-n-shadowfiction · 9 months

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Alright...hear me out. Ghost with a fem!reader that wakes him up with a blow job, and he later returns the favor by waking her up by either eating her out or very gently fucking her awake. I am a FERAL for consenting somno.

this, THIS is what i needed to write about😌

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

word count: 908

warning: smut (minors—DNI), consensual somnophilia (m! and f!receiving), oral (m!receiving, mentions of f!receiving), slight dirty talk? (basically just simon having a way with words), not proofread

note: pt. 2 can be found here ⤳ link

you wouldn’t even know how this whole thing started with simon. you would both probably be a bit tipsy, trying to celebrate his most recent mission with a few sips (an entire bottle) of wine at home.

you would be sitting in simon’s lap, thighs hooked on either side of his hips and leaning back against the hands he was running along your spine. you weren’t even sure you heard him right at first, which made your eyebrows furrow a bit as you met his gaze.

“you want me to what?”

simon rarely got sheepish or embarrassed, but when it came to sex, he was typically a bit more reserved.

“c’mon…don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. that’s fuckin’ cruel to do to a man.” he joked quietly, the touch of his hands on your back becoming a bit firmer as he pulled you closer. “just wanted to give you somethin’ to think about, lovie. i think it’d be bloody sexy to wake up with my cock halfway down your throat."

simon never mentioned it again. but you remembered, letting the idea hang in the back of your mind for weeks. the more you thought about it, the more it excited you. so when you woke up early one morning with simon still fast asleep next you, you knew that it was the perfect time.

you slowly slipped down the bed, nestling yourself under the blankets and between simon's slightly opened thighs. you gently tugged down the hem of his briefs until you could fish his semi-hard cock from its confines, unable to hold back the soft hum that fell from your lips as you felt its heaviness in your palm.

it didn’t even matter that the blanket over your head concealed simon’s peaceful face—all you could focus on was licking a long stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue flicking against the soft pink tip and fingers squeezing along the base. the heady taste of simon bled out on your tongue, making your eyes slowly flutter closed as you closed your lips around him and gave him a gentle suck.

simon’s legs twitched at the sudden stimulation, his brain slow to catch up and stir out of his tired stupor. “mmm…what’re you—oh christ.” his hand found the back of your head beneath the blanket, his other making quick work to push the fabric away from your face and letting his eyes feast on the sight in front of him. “jesus, sweetheart. m’not—fuck, not gonna last long with your throat squeezin’ me like that.”

simon was still half-asleep, his movements slow and sluggish as he shifted further up on the pillows to get a better look at you sucking him off. one hand remained on the back of your head, not as a guide but simply to touch you, the other resting along your opened jaw and fingers brushing at the corner of your stretched lips. he was right—he didn’t last long. it took only a few more languid dips of simon’s cock into the back of your throat before he spilled his cum into your eager mouth with a soft hiss and whimper of your name.

what you didn’t expect to happen after that morning was for simon to return the favor.

you had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, legs splayed open and head nestled against the armrest as you slept. it was a blazing afternoon, one so hot that you were only wearing a pair of silk shorts and a tank top—all of which exposed too much and not enough all at once.

simon was walking through the door, arms loaded with his bag of gear and dirty laundry he’d collected while away at base. his eyes caught on your figure immediately, and it took everything in him not to drop the items in his grip. you looked so peaceful as you slept, but simon couldn’t care less about that.

once he had placed this things into a neat pile by the door, simon made his way over to the living room and sunk down on his knees in front of your sleeping form. he didn’t even bother pulling your shorts off of your hips, afraid the movement would stir you from sleep too quickly—so he settled for pressing heated kisses directly along your clothed core, a soft groan leaking from his lips as one arm curled around the thigh propped up against the back of the couch and tugged you closer to his waiting mouth.

a smirk flitted on simon’s lips as your sleeping body reacted perfectly to him, your legs falling open a bit more as you shifted your hips up in your sleep. he continued pressing those kisses along your covered slit until a breathy whine fell from your mouth. he peeked one eye up to notice your tired eyes fluttering open, a soft ‘what’re you doing, si?’ falling from you in a panted breath.

“remember last week? woke up cummin’ down that pretty little throat of yours.” simon mumbled into the heated skin of your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, pulling away with a lewd pop. his hand dragged up your body, palm pushing against your balmy skin from the top of your cunt until his fingers were splayed on your sternum. “just returnin’ the favor, sweetheart. relax f’me, baby—yeah, that’s it. go back to sleep and let my tongue do all the work, m’kay?”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley headcanon #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #ghost mw2 #iNs requests ⭒#iNs anons: ✧w✧#iNs over 1k ❂

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flynnriderishot · 4 months

Note

i know vinnies like a car guy and even though it’s christmas anymore i saw the “i put diesel in my car” prank on my fyp and was wondering if you could write something about that?

festive - v.h

reference video

as you sat in your car with one of yours and vinnie’s, you were given the bright idea to prank your boyfriend.

now, as christmas was coming soon, you didn’t think now would be the time to possibly give your car loving boyfriend a heart attack, but you couldn’t resist the urge when you saw the tiktok jett showed you.

the two of you were taking a really quick trip to the gas station to grab some snacks while vinnie worked on his own car in the mean time.

you two were meant to be going out the next day and he wanted to ensure that his vehicle was in tip top shape for the trip.

you mentioned wanting to go to the store but absolutely refused to go alone. it all fell in line when jett walked in the room commenting on how he was ‘craving’ a bag of sour patch kids.

so now, here you were, shaking your head at the video that played on jett’s phone.

“he’d kill me.” you laughed out loud.

jett shrugged, “the kids in love with you, yn. he might think you’re a ditz but he’d love you the same. besides, it’s a joke.”

you nodded along, pulling up your boyfriends contact before you could stop yourself.

it rang twice before vinnie’s voice echoed through your speaker,

“hello?”

“hi, vin…” you said in a tone that showed nothing but hesitance.

you could practically see the furrow in vinnie’s brows, “hi, baby. everything okay?”

“no, not really.” you voice cracked, selling the whole ‘i want to tell you something but i’m scared of how you’d react’ persona.

“are you okay?”

“oh, i’m okay.”

“you’ll never guess what she did, vinnie.” jett cut in at your signal.

at the sound of his friends voice, vinnie huffed, “what’d she do?”

“okay, so, i was putting in gas while jett was getting his snacks, right?”

“uh huh.”

“and i was going to pump my gas and i saw that the pumps were christmas themed—“

“yn.”

“apparently they weren’t.”

“no fucking shit they weren’t! what the hell, babe?”

“it was an accident!” you continued to defend yourself.

“you put diesel in your car?!”

“i thought it was christmas themed, vincent.”

“why the hell would they have christmas themed gas pumps, yn?”

“i don’t know, i thought they wanted to be festive!” you struggled to hold in your laugh, jett doing the same as he stuffed his face with candy to hopefully drown out the sound.

“it’s a gas station, yn. there’s no such thing as a festive gas station.” he sighed heavily, “how much did you put in?”

“a little over half the tank.”

he repeated you words under his breath, “jesus, fuck.”

you could hear him pacing back and forth as he thought over what to do, “my god, you’re so pretty.”

your mouth fell open as you gasped dramatically in shock as jett’s laugh filled the car.

“it was a fucking prank, you ass!” you shouted into the phone, “what the hell does that mean?”

“i-“

he was cut off by jett’s laughter growing more intense.

“i’m gonna fucking piss myself.”

your face fell blank as you watched him laugh his heart out, “alright, it’s not that funny.”

#sturniolo triplets #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

#steddie #stranger things #Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo #everything I write is soft #they deserve to be soft #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #cw: implied homophobia #cw: internalized homophobia #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #robin buckley #steve x eddie #soft boys #post s4 #bisexuality awareness

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p3terparker · 8 months

Text

𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter and you argue because he loves to spend all of his money on you.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: sorry for disappearing for a few months… again 😭 i am slowly getting back into writing so please bear with me! i saw my last fic reached over 9000 notes so that really motivated me to write something else for you guys ♡ i’m not so sure how i feel about this but i really do see peter as the type of boyfriend to blow all of his paycheck on you so i just had to write this LOL anyways i hope you all enjoy this!!

“put it on my card” you suddenly hear peter say as he pulled your earphones out, causing you to jump.

you were trying to keep yourself awake while waiting for peter to come through your window after patrolling for the night. to keep yourself occupied, you decided to listen to music and do some online shopping (which consisted of you just putting things in your cart but never actually buying anything). with your back facing your window and your earphones in, you didn’t see or hear peter come inside.

“jesus christ peter, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“yeah yeah whatever” he says not really caring that he nearly scared the life out of you. “as i was saying before you rudely snapped at me, put your order on my card”

“i literally have over $400 worth of clothes in my cart”

“and?”

“what do you mean and? that’s expensive”

“your point?”

“that’s more than half of your paycheck”

“doesn’t matter. the whole reason why i have a job is to spoil you” he says while taking off his suit and getting comfortable in your bed.

“aww pete, you’re too sweet. but still, no. i don’t want you spending that much money on me”

he hummed an okay which led you to believe he was gonna just drop the conversation.

you were so wrong.

before you know it, he’s shooting a web at your laptop and dragging it over to him.

“NOOOO!” you scream dramatically and tackle him on your bed before he can type in his card information.

“LET ME BUY YOU CLOTHES!” he screams back while trying to push you off of him so he can grab your laptop again.

you quickly snatched your laptop from the bed and ran out of your room as fast as you could.

“GET BACK HERE!” peter shouted while chasing after you to which you just ignored and kept running away.

“you know what, you leave me no choice” he abruptly stops chasing you which causes you to stop in confusion.

suddenly, he jumped and stuck to your roof with his webs, and webbed your laptop over to him. you literally had no way of getting to him now.

“that’s no fair, you’re cheating!” you whined.

he laughed at you standing helplessly below him and finally placed your $450 order on his card.

“here you go” he smiled and jumped down from the roof, handing your laptop back over to you.

before you were about to scold him for spending so much money on you, you heard a knock at your door.

you and peter both looked at each other confused because you weren’t expecting anybody for the night. he walked to the door and opened, revealing the people you were least expecting.

the police.

“hello, we were called over here for a noise complaint. your neighbors reported screaming being heard from your apartment room and they were concerned. is everything alright?”

you did not expect to end your night by explaining to the police that you and your boyfriend were screaming over buying clothes.

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theemporium · 4 months

Note

oscar w a feral!gf who fully believes that she could fight a kangaroo. idk, it's kind of a shit prompt but just a lil something

-🌠

don't know what the fuck this became but enjoy! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“You sure you’ve got her?”

“ I'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got—wait, baby, no—”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you felt Oscar’s arms wind around your waist, pulling you back into his chest before you could get far. You leaned back into his embrace, tilting your head back until you were practically looking up at him upside down—a sight that only made you giggle even more.

Your friend raised her brows, looking at Oscar with a doubtful look. “Are you absolutely sure?”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile as he held you up, but something in his chest eased a little at how concerned your friend was. It was reassuring, in some odd way. It was nice to know you had a good support group when he was half-way across the globe, wishing he was beside you.

“I can handle her,” he said, almost sounding amused when you let out a scoff.

“I don’t need help! I am so fine on my own,” you commented, attempting to step away from him to prove a point but the stumble in your legs had him clinging onto you. “I could, like, totally fight a kangaroo right now.”

Oscar pressed his lips together to bite back his smile. “A kangaroo?”

“Yeah,” you nodded confidently before gasping, looking at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “Oh my god, you’re basically a kangaroo.”

“Jesus, you drank a lot,” Oscar murmured as he waved your friend goodbye, watching her head back inside to the bar he had just driven to to pick you up before he began guiding you towards his car.

“I could fight you!” You said, sounding far too happy about the prospect of it. “I have a mean right hooker!”

“Hook,” he corrected with a fond smile. “Do you even know what that means?”

“Of course not,” you said before bursting into another fit of giggles, practically sinking back into his embrace and giving him your full body weight.

To his credit, Oscar hardly even faltered. Instead, his arms remained locked around you as he practically carried you towards the passenger seat of his car. He continued to let you ramble away, knowing that at some point you would tire yourself out and the sleepier side of your drunk self would come out.

“Do I annoy you?”

Oscar’s head snapped around to you so quickly, it was almost comical. Luckily, the car had been parked at a red light, but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable twist in his stomach when the question passed your lips.

“What?” He frowned as he watched you lazily blink at him, almost as though you were waiting for him to say yes. “Baby, I—” He paused, shaking his head. “No, of course not.”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a small smile. “I don’t think you’re annoying either.”

But the light-hearted teasing didn’t shift his attention away from the heavy question. “Why would you ever think you annoyed me?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, unable to fight the yawn leaving your lips as you leaned further back in your seat once the lights went green and Oscar began driving again. “Just heard some people mentioning something.”

Oscar frowned. “Who?”

But you just shrugged again.

And maybe somewhere in your drunk and fuzzy brain, you knew not only would it be embarrassing to say out loud, but also that Oscar would be upset by it. He didn’t get angry, not when it came to himself. He was fairly laid-back, he let things mostly wash over him before moving on with his life.

But when it came to the people he loved? When it came to you? It was a whole different story.

You knew that it would upset him that somebody upset you, that their words affected you enough to play on your insecurities and doubts. It would upset him to hear someone bashing you in such a cowardly way, mocking the way you acted and how loud your personality was. It would upset him to hear the way they thought you were too much for him, not good enough for him.

People like you weren’t right for people like Oscar.

“Baby,” he said in a soft voice after you had fallen quiet. He watched as you blinked, glancing around and seeming to realise you were now parked outside his place. “Look at me.”

You turned your head, your eyes meeting his and something eased in your chest.

He reached towards you, his hand engulfing your cheek as you leaned into his touch. He watched you for a moment before leaning over the console, pressing a soft and chaste kiss on your lips before he spoke. “I don’t know what happened but you could never annoy me.”

You blinked, your hand reaching out to hold his wrist like you were scared he would pull away. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said with a nod before smiling at you, that full lip smile that made your heart stutter a little. “C’mon now, need to get my pretty girl ready for bed.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes even if the idea of your boyfriend doting over you warmed your heart. “M’tired,” you grumbled as you watched Oscar reach for the door. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“Nuh uh, gotta take your makeup off, baby,” he said with a shake of his head, smiling a little when you let out a whine. “I promise I’ll do all the work.”

Your smile brightened. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

“Yeah, once or twice,” he grinned back at you. “I love you too.”

“Of course you do.”

Oscar sighed. “Had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?”

“Just pointing out the facts, my kangaroo boy.”

His nose scrunched up. “Please do not let that become a thing.”

You could only laugh in response.

#oscar piastri #formula one #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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sweetiecutie · 8 months

Text

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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k1ngpin42 · 13 days

Text

Abby being insecure about how needy she is ;)

Warnings: Not proof read at all 😭 I wrote this while sick at like 3am so sorry for this monstrosity. Pretty intense sexual references, some fluff if you can call it that.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Abby breathes out apologetically, bringing one of her large hands to the soft flesh on your face. You cock your head, smiling at her softly. Your wide eyes bring a smile of her own to Abby’s face as she makes the comparison to a deer in headlights in her mind.

“I just…” Abby explains, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I mean I- feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You were stunned by her words. In fact, you were stunned by the whole situation. Abby; without her cocky fucking facade about her, the fact Abby would think she’s taking advantage of you.

You had wanted this from the start, so if in any plane of reality she was somehow taking advantage of you, you’d let her, 100 times over.

“What are you talking about? You know I love our sex…”

“I’m objectifying you.” Abby tries, and you let out a laugh in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t. It makes me feel so selfish I can barely say it.”

“Say what, Abby? I’m so confused-“

“I want to have sex with you. Every minute of every day. I think about you when you’re on assignments, I dream about you when you’re sleeping elsewhere, I want to fuck you senseless in front of everyone I- Jesus what am I saying? What am I doing, even? But it’s true I just…whether you’re wearing tight jeans, short skirts, long dresses, even a fucking hoodie I want to tear it off and do so many things to you. Maybe…maybe we should break up, this shouldn’t be normal, it isn’t-“ You stop her by planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Abbys gaze softened and her shoulders slouch back into place.

“Just calm down Abby….I love our sex. Fucking love it.”

“But-“ You shake your head, quickly preventing her doubts from festering.

“Love…we’re in a relationship….if you didn’t feel passionate for me there wouldn’t be much of one, would there? Now just look at the place around us. This place was once used for actual football…by people who lived in a world with an abundance of simple pleasures. We live in a world where pleasure is so much rarer, it’s no surprise that you revel in what we have…what you can give me….especially since you’re a soldier. Always so…tense.” She listens to your explanation intently and nods, hesitantly.

“I still feel…you know….” You look at her with a comforting smile, but it was still clear to her you weren’t a mind reader.

“I know that I love being around you…hugging you…kissing you…I could probably survive without the sex but I still feel like I’m using you somehow…I mean we’ve…” she clears her throat, now wondering why the word ‘sex' suddenly felt like poison in her throat.

“Had sex at least twice a day every day that we’ve been together. I mean that one Saturday I-“ She pauses and you both blush remembering it.

“You were still limping by Monday….” She concludes. You can’t help but laugh at her babbling.

“Abigail Anderson…this is emotional stuff, you know you should write this down…ooh maybe you can try poetry?” She shuts the idea down with a playful hit to your shoulder.

“Ow.” You laugh. Your smile fades a little and you close the gap between you guys, leaning into her ear.

“You think you’re the only one who craves it every day? I know you don’t want to hurt me but when you’re rough holy fuck….the marks you leave on my body…it’s stupid and embarrassing but I get off to them….” Her eyes widen.

“What? You never said-“

“Well because I thought it was toxic at the time-“

“Hey you said this stuff was normal!”

“It is!” You exclaim back, playfully. You both laugh and you kiss her deeply. She leans back onto her bed and you fall onto her lap, kissing her fully again.

“Hm, so what other shit do you want to tell me, then?” She asked, playing with your hair. You just smirk at her.

“To be honest…I think I’ve had enough talking for one afternoon wouldn’t you agree my little sex addict?” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re so annoying.” Abby replies, unbuckling her belt.

#abby anderson #tlou2 #ellie williams #abby tlou #abby x fem reader #sub abby

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tremendum · 1 year

Text

Mr. Miller’s House

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 7.6k requested: yes summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really, this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it. as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE!

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller. part three other Joel fics: fever landmines ]

★

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea.

fuck.

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table.

they glue themselves to him.

fuck.

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this.

you yearn for that escape as much as he does.

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad."

speak for yourself, Ellie.

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil.

this girl's going to kill you.

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement.

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner.

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile.

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it?

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father?

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel.

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks.

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all.

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey.

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist.

the anger and hatred grew awful.

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her?

you ought to punch his fucking face.

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners."

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him.

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk, "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?"

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him.

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember.

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine.

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive.

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it?

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand.

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him. "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline.

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again.

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore.

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it.

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit.

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core.

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs."

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning.

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table."

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice.

you listen, for once.

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence.

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen.

at least you and her are trying.

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you.

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you.

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both.

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity.

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised.

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?"

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him.

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-"

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat.

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward."

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking.

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now.

"Ellie, go home."

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious.

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something."

yeah, you think. you might.

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence.

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away.

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold.

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone.

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks.

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps.

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic."

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted.

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that.

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it."

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters.

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that."

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me."

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell.

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again.

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?"

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice.

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing."

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited."

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won.

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet.

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze.

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you.

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel."

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words.

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all.

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago.

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no.

you have to go over.

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you.

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him.

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ.

god, you're so fucked up.

christ.

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it.

what the fuck are you doing?

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah. that’s... that’s fine.

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly?

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs.

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now.

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.

the door swings open in an air of irritation.

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes.

"y'here for more?" he snarks.

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit.

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm.

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel.

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in."

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought.

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker.

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again.

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard.

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink.

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock.

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him.

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response.

you give him one.

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction.

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner.

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?"

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly.

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours.

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now."

his voice is... scary.

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so.

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready.

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?"

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator.

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation.

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you.

"are you wet?"

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes."

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty.

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen.

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.)

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner."

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging.

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet.

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller.

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him.

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you.

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums.

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please."

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up."

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away.

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat.

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink.

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand.

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him.

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you.

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in.

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away."

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze.

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon.

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it.

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?"

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling.

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart.

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk.

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out.

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you.

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?"

you groan, "fuck you, Joel."

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit.

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious.

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand.

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch.

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him.

"get on your goddamn knees now."

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans.

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum.

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick.

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?"

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir."

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it.

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house.

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air.

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut."

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions.

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut."

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself.

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house.

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more.

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest.

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you.

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs.

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?"

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room.

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame.

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind.

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him.

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days.

you love it.

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him.

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know.

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream.

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex.

your arms are tugged roughly.

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling.

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus.

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice.

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you.

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it."

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you."

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone.

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours.

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much."

he hums, "you want me to stop?"

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop.

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it."

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl."

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl.

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds.

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer.

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear.

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body.

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you.

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you."

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name.

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it.

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw.

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close-

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white.

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you."

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him.

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl."

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat.

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone.

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted.

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it.

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it.

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you.

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job.

(what a cocky asshole.)

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway.

. part three .

requests open

#joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou spoilers #tlou fanfiction #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)

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xyziiix · 11 months

Text

𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐉.𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Captain John Price X Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (P in V, fingering, spit kink - Price spitting in readers mouth 🫣, unprotected sex, hints of a breeding kink?) PRICE IS A NASTY MF - implied secret relationship, language, mention of violence, mentions of guns, description of bullet wound, hint at Ghost being a peeping Tom @ the end, reader is described as a woman!!!!

Small summary: after a mission not going as smooth as planned, yourself and the boys had no choice but to hunker down in a safe house while you stitch up Soap - him taking a nasty bullet wound to the thigh - the heat is overwhelming and anticipation bubbling as you weren’t sure if you were entirely safe, the only thing that could take your mind off of it was your Captain’s lingering eyes, promiscuous and completely unprofessional thoughts racing through his mind about you.

!not proof read!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Sergeant Mactavish exclaims, his head thrown back as a pained groan rumbles from his chest - his accent thicker as he complains.

“Hold still, Soap.” You reply - your voice coming out stern as you focus on pulling the bullet out of his thigh, your breath wavering as you tried to concentrate - pushing away the panic and anxiety you were feeling at seeing your friend injured. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone deep - and as far as you could tell - it hadn’t hit an artery. “Almost out.” You added, trying to get him to calm down.

“Stay calm, Sergeant.” A low - gravelly voice filled the clouded room, your Captain stood behind the groaning Scot, a hand placed on his shoulder to ground him as well as keep him still in order for you to work easier.

The house you were holed up in - though you could barely call it a house - was in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere - not another sign of life in sight as all that surrounded you was sand and heat. The scorching sun blared through the single glass-pane window, lighting the room enough to your satisfaction - and if you looked over to the ray of sun, you could actually see the abundance of dust floating in the air. It was safe to say you were surprised when you learned this was a marked safe house and not some deserted shack in the middle of the urzikstan desert.

You were kneeled on the chalky ground, your knees aching from the concrete floor as Soap sat above you in the rickety chair, the furniture groaning in protest at the agitated soldiers weight. You hands worked fast - managing to remove the bullet from the surface of his flesh and immediately going to disinfect it.

“Shite!” He hissed, the wound burning as you pressed a antisept-soaked cotton pad to the open area, cutting him an apologetic look as his neck strained - teeth bared at the stinging pain shooting through his nerves.

After a few minutes of you working swiftly and silently - save for the few ‘sorry’s’ when you see the Sergeant wince when you push the needle through his flesh in order to close the wound - you managed to successfully stitch him up, sighing as you lean back slightly, the strain in your back and the cramp in your hands pushed aside as you observe your work - wanting to be extra sure your teammate was taken care of. After wrapping gauze around his thigh, Gaz and Ghost move over to Soap - wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they guide him to stand.

“You go and lie down, okay? You need to rest that leg so you don’t tear the stitches.” You order softly, rising to your feet - feeling your knees pop from the benumbed feeling of kneeling for so long.

“Aye.” Johnny grunts, exhaustion taking over his usually lively self as he looks to you, “I owe you big time, lass.” He says gratefully, casting you an appreciative and tired smile before he’s moving out of the room with the other two - Ghost mumbling something to about not being so reckless, his cold demeanour failing to mask his genuine worry for Soap.

You let out groan of relief as you take a seat at the rustic table, your whole body aching as you tried to relax as best as you could in the beaten down chair.

“You alright, love?” Price asks you - and for a moment, you’d forgotten he was still in the room with you - stood over by the window he’d pried open, a cigar in his hand as he looked over to you. He’d barely spoken a word since the mission had gone south, and as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay, you knew it was best not to pry for the moment - understanding that a lot of stress and emotions were weighed on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” You responded, a hand coming to rub and knead at the back of your neck - attempting to unwind the knot that has formed there. You felt uncomfortably warm, having removed your vest a while ago - leaving you in a simple tank top, though it did little to relieve your skin - the air almost impossibly humid.

Price surveyed you, bringing the thick cigar to his lips, relishing in the smoke burning his throat and lungs as he took you in. A light sheen of perspiration was layered on your skin - collecting between your breasts that gave the illusion that your skin was glowing, your once-neat updo having loosened, your hair falling more loosely and wild, and stray, defiant strands of hair stuck to your damp skin. Price had been silently replaying the events of before in his head - what he could’ve done to prevent it; to prevent Soap getting shot, and to prevent you being put in danger. But, seeing you now - looking as ravishing as you did, helped to take his mind away from his own self-doubt for a beat.

You reluctantly stood, having looked at the scattered medical supplies on the table and floor long enough - hoping that if you glared at it hard enough it would magically be cleaned up and put back to where it was supposed to be. You began slowly picking up pieces of gauze, rolls of surgical suture and various other supplies before placing them back into the first aid box, lost in your own thoughts as you stayed contently silent.

You felt his presence before he reached for you, he smells of ash, and a lingering acrid taste of a cigar burns your tongue. His aura is intrusive, but it’s never uncomfortable. Two calloused, large hands place themselves on the outside of your arms, pressing his hard body to yours - his chest to your back as his familiar, warm lips press onto the heated skin of your neck - the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets.

“John…” you breathe, eyes flickering over to the open doorway - painfully reminded that you weren’t alone in the house, and if either of your teammates walked in, the first thing they would see is how your Captain is practically trapping your body to the dust-covered table with his own.

“Hm?” He hums back to you, the vibrations crawling from his chest and settling into the sensitive skin of your neck. He was doing it on purpose. Acting nonchalant about the compromising position that you could be caught red-handed in at any moment. “I love hearin’ y’say my name.” He murmurs against your skin, one of his sizeable hands placing itself on your midsection - effectively pushing you back and closer to him, also chipping away at your resolve as you fought back to not sink into the feeling of him. Your skin grew impossibly hotter, the weak feeling in your thighs becoming known as you were silently glad you were being held up between the table and John - certain your already exhausted legs would collapse - you had to stifle a gasp when you felt the light graze of teeth under your jaw, the wiry stubble of his goatee scratching across your delicate skin - your Captain continued his onslaught on your neck, nearly groaning at the taste of salt on your skin.

“They could catch us.” You remind him, breathlessly.

“They could.” He agrees, though he made no move to step away from you.

It was a dangerous game you were both playing. It’s not important how your dalliance with your Captain started - it being a long story of what started as lingering looks and intrusive thoughts as you distantly admired one another - knowing the consequences of what would happen if you were to act on your feelings. You could lose your job, and John would be punished greater than you - being kicked off the team and risking being stripped of his rank. Yet, it seemed he cared little for the consequences when one night - he’d shown up to your room in the barracks, telling you that you both needed to talk - a long overdue conversation - which actually led to him fucking you senseless on your single bed. You both agreed afterwards that you needed to keep whatever this was quiet - John promising you he’d find a way to make it not result in backlash when others learned about your relationship, and in the last few months - you were both in your own content little bubble outside of work, spending most of your time from deployment with him in his apartment in London.

Panic flashes across your face as you hear footsteps descending the stairs, each step groaning and creaking from heavy combat boots, Price then stepped away from you - going back to his place by the window to resume smoking his cigar, acting as if he hadn’t just left you a flustered mess. Gaz was who appeared, not taking any notice of the red dusting your cheeks and the nonplus stature you had while you remained stood by the table.

“He’s passed out.” Gaz interjected the atmosphere - unaware of the previous state you and the Captain were in, Price nodded briefly at Garrick, the end of his cigar burning orange embers for a second as he took a pull of the smoke. You also nodded at his words - shaking yourself out of it as your unsteady hands moved to close the first aid box. Gaz took a seat at the table - the seat previously occupied by Soap - as another set of heavier footsteps came down the staircase, the skull faced Lieutenant appearing, silent as he joined the table. You glanced over to Price, who casually watched out of the window. “It’s bloody boiling in here.” Garrick comments, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Ghost lets out a grumble of agreement, a gloved hand readjusting his mask slightly. You busy yourself, now having regained your composure as you silently took the box in your hands - walking out of the room to go and put it back with the other supplies. Price’s cerulean eyes flicking over to you, watching you leave the room.

It was a few hours later, daylight had burned and it grew darker. The air finally getting cooler and giving your body some relief. You had just finished checking up on Soap - him finally feeling more like himself, joking and putting on his charm as usual. It was a relief to see him act like himself, as well as that his wound hadn’t shown any signs of infection. The stairs creaked under your feet as you left Johnny to rest and descended to the ground floor. Glancing into the living room to see Gaz had made himself comfortable on the worn down sofa, and was already passed out. Simon was no where to be seen - and you guessed he was either outside on watch or he’d just found himself a private area for the night, understanding that he prefers his own company sometimes.

You snatched a pillow from the armchair in the living room - unfortunately, the only bed that was actually inhabitable; was occupied by an injured Soap. You would’ve slept in the living room, but Gaz’s snoring was already doing your head in. You moved to the more open room - where the flimsy dining table was. You went to the other end of the room, laying the pillow on the hard ground and lying down. The pillow gave your head some relief, but the hardwood floor dug unmercifully into your already aching back.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, observing the parts where the paint had chipped. You laid there for a moment, hands resting on your stomach as you enjoyed the peace and quiet - yet it also put you on edge; you could hear a pin drop it was that silent.

You decided to shut your eyes, disappointed to feel not even an ounce of sleep behind your eyes, you let out another frustrated sigh - scrunching your brows as you tried to will yourself to get some rest.

When you heard the quiet shuffling of boots moving towards you, your breath slowed - already knowing who it was as you felt him settle on the ground beside you, a strong arm slithering around your stomach and gently pulled you to him until your back met his hard chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice sounding stern - though, you could both hear the smile in it.

“Wha’s it look like i’m doin’?” Price asked rhetorically, his voice low and gravelly - his accent mixing his words to a perfect melody as it vibrated against your ear. You felt his stubble prickling the back of your neck as he placed a single, wet kiss there - a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Not here.” You sighed reluctantly, even having him lay next to you was risky - as well as that it was effectively arousing you like a bitch in heat. It’s been so long - too long - since you’d felt him, having been on this mission for weeks now and not having an ounce of privacy between you.

“Was only wantin’ a cuddle, love.” He responded with a raspy chuckle, his voice having a teasing edge to it as his arm flexed around your torso slightly - pulling you closer to him until there was practically no space between your bodies. “-unless…” he trailed off, his arm around your torso slowly moving south, his fingers dancing along the slit of exposed skin where your top ended and your pants begun.

“They’ll hear us.” You say, your voice growing breathless as you tried to remind him - as well as yourself - looking down to try and watch his fingers in the dark - only being able to make out darker shapes as you felt his finger tease under the waistband of your pants - trailing along the sensitive skin of you abdomen.

“We’ll be quiet.” He says, his liquid voice soothing you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck - also looking down to watch his hands work as they slowly begin to pop the buttons of your pants open.

You don’t reply, breath bated as you feel your pants grow loose on your hips and leisurely pushed down to your thighs - feeling your skin being exposed to the air.

He lets out a hum against your neck, adjusting his head to softy suck at the thin skin of your jugular - feeling your breath hitch as his warm, large hand slides further down, slipping under the cotton fabric of your underwear and cupping your pussy, feeling how hot, puffy and slick you were under his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart..” He groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans more over you to get a better look at your face, a smug smirk pulling his lips and goatee up as his hand wedges itself between your closed thighs - flexing his wrist to essentially grind his hand against your neglected cunt. “How long ya been like this? All wet for me?” He asked lowly - though he knew you were too focused on not crying out to answer him. His pride grew as he felt your hips begin to rock on their own accord, grinding into his palm as well as brushing your arse against his clothed cock. “Soaked… and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.” He practically growls against your neck - his voice reverberating through your entire body, his touch feeling electric.

“John…” you breathe a quiet whine, and he feels his chest swell as he could already hear the pleading edge in your voice, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

“Tell me to stop.” He breathes, his hand pressing up against you - feeling your slick stick to his palm. He let out a low, gravelly breath as he felt how hot and wet you were. He doesn’t wait for you to respond - because he knows you won’t. He knows you won’t tell him to stop.

And you know it too.

You hear the metal of his zipper being pulled, the noise joining the soundtrack of your heavy breathing. The hand still buried inside of your underwear shifts, spreading your slick over your puffy clit, sending small jolts through your body. When you hear a quiet, strangled groan from behind you, you turn to look over your shoulder.

Price was still laying on his side behind you, his pants being pulled down enough so that his cock was free. You watched in awe as he slowly fisted his dick, pumping himself languidly as his other hand was still buried inside of your underwear - a calloused thumb circling your bud of nerves while you felt two of his thick fingers tease at your quivering, drooling entrance.

You thankfully didn’t need to whine and beg - mostly because John was growing just as desperate as you were. His thick fingers sank into you, stretching you more than your own fingers could, you let out a soft hiss as your hips squirmed a little.

“Be quiet.” Price orders, his tone authoritative yet dripping with lust, he began slowly dragging his fingers in an out of you - scissoring you open to get you ready for his cock. His chin rested on your shoulder again as he watched you squirm and bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, his voice a breath of air against your ear - “so fuckin’ tight.”

His other hand released its hold on his cock, lifting to cup your jaw and turn you to face him. He pried your bottom lip from under your teeth with his thumb before he planted his lips on yours - letting out a long exhale through his nose as he relished the taste of you. His fingers moving a little faster as your quiet noises fell onto his tongue.

He pulled back a moment later, his face hovering above yours. You could only just see his face in the dark, his lips parted as he took in your expression.

“Open.”

Like the good girl you were, you did as you were told, your lips parting and your tongue peeking out invitingly. He let out a small groan of approval before he spat into your mouth. You took what he gave you, whimpering a little as you swallowed. His fingers pulled out of you then, leaving you feeling empty. A protest was on the tip of your tongue before you felt him use his booted foot to push your pants the rest of the way down your legs, and you quickly kicked them off your ankles, the sound of fabric hitting the floor filling the room for a beat.

One of his thighs wriggled between your legs, pushing your legs open as he melded against you. Wasting no time in gathering your slick with the flushed tip of his cock before he pushed into you. Pressing your lips together again as you both groaned from the stretch of his cock slowly filling you.

“So fuckin’ tight…” he groaned again, his voice barely above a whisper as his head fell onto your shoulder - his cock throbbing between your hot, constricting walls. “Like you were made for me, love.” He added with a breathless chuckle, slowly rocking his hips until he was fully buried into you.

“John-“ you gasped as he bottomed out, your body already writhing beside him, your chest rising and falling with shallower breaths.

At the sound of your noises unintentionally upping in volume, his free hand came to clasp around your mouth - muffling the little whimpers threatening to escape. “I know…” he cooed against your ear in a whisper. “Got to be quiet for me sweetheart, don’t want to others to catch us — to catch me filling you up like this.” He breathed, his own breathing quickening as he began to rock his hips in hard, shallow thrusts.

The moan that escaped was trapped into his palm, your legs already quivering as his cock dragged against every spot inside of you it seemed only he could find. You weakly rocked back against him, hearing his hot breath fan against your ear as it seemed he was also trying to stay quiet.

“Not gonna last long, love.” He says honestly. You too were already feeling the beginnings of shock waves indicating an incoming orgasm. It’d been such a long few weeks since he’d been able to fuck you. “Need you to come around my cock before I can fill you up.” He growls, the hand not muffling your mouth reached down to fan across your clit - your body immediately tensing, your cunt practically strangling his cock.

His pelvis kept hitting your arse in slow but hard thrusts, rocking your body with him as his chest remained glued to your back. One of his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt while the other was down to where you were joined together - touching your clit in tight circles. His face pressed into your neck, his goatee burning your skin deliciously. Your teeth trapped your bottom lip between them - forcing yourself to muffle your noses - almost to the point you could taste copper in your mouth.

It felt like the knot in your stomach was tightening by the minute, your body shuddering and your thighs tensing as they were forced open by his own muscled thighs.

“M’gonna come-“ you moan quietly, spurring him on as he let a low groan into your neck. He picked up his pace a little, nearly rolling you onto the side with the force of his thrusts, his fingers began smacking tapping at your throbbing clit, his cock piercing you open as his thrust grow sloppy. His hot tongue laved over the think skin of your neck - the sensitive spot just under your neck that he knew would have you trembling.

About several seconds later it happened. Your abdomen coiling taught as you felt heat and desire crash through you, your lips parting in a silent moan as you stiffened for a moment - your pussy quivering around him as you came.

He continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to your face as he watched your expression contort with euphoria. He let out a low and breathy groan when he felt you tighten around him. “That’s right, love… make a mess on me-“ he encouraged, his gravelly voice whispering into your ear as he held you to him.

He wasn’t that far behind you, grunting curses and profanities into your ear about filling you up as his hips met yours with one final, hard thrust, before he was spilling his hot come into you. His body shuddering beside you as he panted into your neck again.

You let out a quiet, weak moan as you felt warmth of his spend bloom inside of you. You both stayed there for a few minutes, catching your breaths as you felt sweat dancing over your skin - your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell..” he breathed — his voice trailing to a soft chuckle as he slowly pulled his lax cock out of you, gently shushing you when you whined at the loss. “So good f’me, always such a good girl…” he praises, kissing around your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

As your captain coddled you and cleaned you up, you were both blissfully unaware of the ogling eyes from the shadows, the moonlight shining through the window giving a glimmer of light to reflect against the cool surface of the skull mask…

A/N: hope everyone enjoyed! Sorry it took so long to get out been a lil busy. I couldn’t resist adding the little mention of Ghost in the end — I LOVE reading those fics and head cannons of Ghost x you x Price.

Ooo maybe I should write a Ghost x reader x Price??? Lmk!!

#cod price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain price smut #price x reader #simon ghost riley #barry sloane #captain price #call of duty #modern warfare two #john soap mactavish

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