#long + forked = good smell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1-ker0sene-1 · 4 months

Text

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

#disabled reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #poly 141 x reader #taskforce 141 x reader #simon ghost x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader #captain john price x reader

5K notes · View notes

moonlesslights · 11 months

Text

Miguel O’hara in Love

Headcanons.

━━━━━━ ✿ 🕷️ ❀ ━━━━━

A/N: I was really looking forward to write this, because I just can’t get this whole idea out of my head.

Warnings: Basically none, a little bit of angst maybe?, some smut references and depictions. Miguel being Miguel. Kinda obsessive (?)

This text is based in that frase of Joe Goldberg: “There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you”. So be prepared.

Enjoy, my loves. Every comment or request is welcomed! 🤍

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miguel was curious of you from the very moment he met you. Such a unique presence among all the others.

You had been bitten just a month ago. And it was hard for you. He saw you struggle, falling over and over again, training till exhaustion, fighting to be on the level of the others.

And the worst part of it all, was the guilt coming to attack him with every side eye Jessica gave to him. “If you weren’t going to help her, you should have let her alone.” The woman had whispered while both of them looked at you fighting to climb another building. Miguel knew she was right. He was the one who insisted in bringing you immediately after they found you (only a couple of days after the bite), even when Jessica insisted to give you time for you to figure it out alone. Miguel wasn’t having it, and now… “She’s been at it for the whole morning.” The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head.

What Jessica didn’t quite know was that Miguel hadn’t left you alone all this time… He wasn’t good at talking, that was true. He wasn’t good at showing his support with words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

You let out a pained groan when you finally plop on the concrete of the building’s rooftop. Every single muscle of your body aches and you can fell your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage, making it feel like every breath that makes it to your lungs it’s just a mere miracle.

The weight of the presence of someone standing beside you forces you to blink out of your thoughts. Tiredly, you look up, finding Miguel's mask glaring back at you with a deep frown you can make out of the way his eyes curve.

He holds a white little package on his right and he hands it to you before finally sitting down without making a single sound. It had all started like a little game between the two of you: You pretend you don’t see his figure hovering above a building while you train, or his silhouette watching you getting back to The Society place safely. You also pretend you don’t know it’s him who leaves bandages and painkillers over your bed every day with a little chocolate next to it. And he pretends he doesn’t know that you know.

You cross your legs and smile when you open the small box on your hands, smelling the sweet scent of warm and fresh food. You also take notice of how he changed one of the things he brought you last time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you were sure now he definitely noticed you didn’t like it.

“Eat.” He orders and you are too tired to remark his tone of voice with a roll of your eyes. So you nod, bringing a big spoonful of pasta and vegetables to your mouth, thanking him with a big smile. Smile he doesn’t return. He never does anyway. But now it’s not like always. He’s pissed. “When was the last time you ate?”

You look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. You swallow, slowly, feeling his eyes burning on the side of your head.

“Mhm… Not long ago, no.” You answer, mumbling while you get more food into your mouth. Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Training this much without any nutriments won’t do anything good for you…”

“Training this much won’t do anything anyway.” You sigh, keeping then the fork between your lips. Miguel wishes to say something but he can’t find the words, he can’t order his thoughts inside his head to place them on his tongue and tell you just how much you have improved since the first day, so he gladly receives your bright eyes turning to him when you seem to remember: “But I finally climbed this building, see? Without using any web, only my spider fingers.”

The man nods at you waving playfully at him. The determination in your eyes even when your whole body wanted to give up, even when you know you’re still not close to go on a mission by yourself (or with anyone else), even when you probably couldn’t even sleep fine because of the sore bruises, the determination in your eyes didn’t flatter.

That made him feel something deep is his hands, a tingle he couldn’t control. And he hated it.

“Tomorrow at seven.” He sentences, standing on his feet again.

You frown, raising big eyes at him. The brightness in them when the weight of his words hit you destabilizes him.

“For real?”

“Yes.” He looks away. “If I don’t train you you’re not getting anywhere.”

His comment goes unnoticed for the excitement running all along your body.

“Ok.” You nod, trying to look professional but failing miserably.

He grunts in response, soon jumping off of the building and losing among all of the city chaos. In some minutes he would be back at the Society lobby. You… An hour. Give or take.

Training with Miguel was nothing but… Hell.

No, it actually wasn’t. You expected you could say that to make people thing you were having it hard, but he insisted on starting with the basics… basics that you already felt like being good at.

Still, climbing had become easier within the first week of training with him. The tips and advices he insisted you to follow helped you thinking of it more like a game than a must do.

Swinging was still a tricky one. You used to lose your balance when the demanded velocity was too much. Panic rushed over you, feeling like you would crash against a window or a fucking person, or another spider doing their own training.

“Trust your senses.” Miguel said to you every time you fell, and every time you death glared at him for that. He didn’t have one of the most important senses for spider people and he still managed to be better than anyone you could have known. You had them all, and they all seemed to be a mess when you tried to use them.

Soon enough, Miguel learned about a way to motivate you: Rewards. Most of the time was food, some others, the promise of letting you rest for more that five minutes was enough. For a week now, it had been a little bit different.

History. You loved it. And you changed any delicious and tasty food for hours listening to Miguel explaining everything about the multiverse and the tangled webs between all of you. He had told you about his first travels to other Earths at least three times, but you couldn’t seem to get tired.

You might not tell him how much his voice soothes you after a long day out, but it wasn’t necessary, he could see it. On the other hand, he definitely would never tell you how he glanced at you, completely asleep after another history session, memorizing every breath, every mole and freckle, counting every single one of your eyelashes like the stars on the sky above you.

No. You would never find out about that.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day: quiet, calm and premeditated. Nothing out of the routine you and Miguel had adopted for the past four weeks.

But with you, things were never that easy. Boredom was a dangerous thing for you, Miguel had learned it by now. The hard way. If something became not enough exciting for your restless self, you would look for that spark of adrenaline at any cost. It was part of your determination. Heart of a lion. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact he would have to save you from breaking a few bones every once in a while.

“I’m sorry” You would say after he dropped you on the safe floor again. He would turn to look at you, fire running up his veins. Every time he wanted to yell at you, to snap and tell you it was the last time you do something like that. And every time he would sigh, pressing both finger on the bridge of his nose, finally grunting in a low voice:

“Desobedeciste deliberadamente.” A month was enough for you to know exactly what those words meant.

“I know.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“I know…” Then the bright eyes. Always the bright eyes. “But I have to try, I can’t depend on you forever. Getting hurt it’s just part of the way.”

He hated you were right. He lost count of how many broken ribs he got on his first years, of how many scars he still hides under his suit. Eventually, you would have to learn to stand up even if you’re bleeding. Even if you’re dying.

He is not mad at you for disobeying, that’s bullshit. He admired that of you, actually. You don’t act by fear, you do not fear him. You follow your heart even when you know you could get in trouble for it. No, he’s mad because every time he catches you before you hit the ground, all he can think about is that there’s going to be a moment where he won’t be there to do it. And the sound of your body crashing against the concrete, of your pain, would follow him till the darkest moments of the night, where he curses the day you’ll scream his name and he will be too far away to hear it.

“I want to change my reward for today.” You smile at him, both of your hands behind your back, making him suspicious of your teasing voice.

“You’re not going anywhere with Hobie.” He responds in a neutral voice, starting to walk in front of you.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before getting in front of him and starting to walk backwards so you could keep facing him.

“It’s not that.” You insist. He doesn’t answer and you know that’s his way of telling you to go on. You sigh. “I want to see you without your mask.”

That makes him stop dead on his tracks. He tilts his head, questioning you with curious eyes. That’s all you wanted? No, you wanted that? Why?

Were you really that bored?

“I feel like everyone here has seen you at least one time, except for me. And it’s not fair.” You got a point on that. He spends most of his time training you, you share almost every meal together, he’s the last person you usually talk everyday because you’re too tired to do anything other than going to your room and sleep. You have spent entire days with him, you have cried and made a mess of yourself in front of his presence, and you didn’t even know his face.

You can deny the sting of irritation you get every time Hobie or Gwen, or any other come talking about what they said during the meeting before a mission, meetings where, you had learnt, Miguel used to take off his mask. Peter told you it wasn’t that big of a deal. You wanted to punch him.

“If that’s what you want.” Miguel crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “Now go tra-…”

You were gone before he could even finish his sentence. He sees your figure going around the building he chose for this particular session. Your swinging had gotten better over the last weeks and the confidence you had in yourself had also been improving, showing your true strength for him to see.

Jessica insisted on you being ready to train at the top levels with the others inside The Society training center, or at least to try. But Miguel profusely refused. He had designed many of the levels to train there, he knew the damage they could cause to someone not prepared to face them.

He blame it on his sense of responsibility over you the fact that he denied any attempt to put you on an unnecessary risk, but deep down, he knew that from the moment he stepped in front of you while you cried for that death he knew all too well now, and then observed how you wiped your tears and showed him your fists, ready to fight him despite everything… He was fucked.

You were the little thing he decided to protect even if it costed his life. The little thing that trusted his claws to hold at her, that puts its life on the line without a second thought. It is not his fault to have never experienced anything like this, to don’t know what to do, to act like a fool, to refuse to lose it… How they cannot understand?

“Done.” You jump in front of him, getting him out of his thoughts.

He looks up, seeing all of the targets on the building covered by a good layer of web. Your precision could be better, but you’re getting at it.

He sighs. He turns to face you completely before ordering his nanotechnology to uncover his face. Dark wavy hair falls onto his temples, brown skin glimmers under the heavy sun above you, full lips press against each other and two cold brown eyes glare down at you.

When you don’t say anything, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”

You nod without waiting for another question.

“I just wanted to see your eyes.” You answer confident, smiling softly at him.

It is enough to say he never wore his mask on around you ever again.

Miguel O'Hara isn’t good in what emotion management respects.

He knows it, but he doesn’t have the time or care to try to do something about it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal…

Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal until one specially busy morning where he couldn’t make it to your first training, he went on looking for you… And he couldn’t find you.

He went to your room, your favorite places; he went looking all around the city, praying to find you just jumping above some buildings. But you were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t until one Peter took mercy on him that pointed the worst place to be pointed: The training center.

With his heart going a thousand miles per hour, he started to look for you inside the complex. And when he caught a glimpse of Jessica looking up with a proud smile, he knew exactly where you were.

“She’s doing even better than I could’ve imagined. You’re a great mentor, Miguel.”

“Why is she here?” He answered immediately. Jess raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the uneasiness on his voice.

“Does that really matter? Look at her, Miguel!” She pointed at you with her extended hand. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

Of course he was. But what he couldn’t stand was someone else messing and taking choices over the one and only thing he has. So instead of answering her question, he sentenced: “Don’t ever get close to her again.”

“Miguel…”

“You can mess around with any other, but there is a fucking line, Jess. You chose yours, and I respect them. Don’t mess with mine.”

When he finally appeared in front of you, you smiled brightly at him. He looked like any other day, completely unfazed and with a calmed expression you were so used to see by now.

“Time to call it a day, don’t you think?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You were sweating, you arms were trembling and you could barely control your breath by now, and still… You shook your head.

“I want to try this level one last time.” He was ready to talk you out of it but your pleading eyes made him look down at Jess, who, with a single movement, made him understand what she was talking about.

“Fine, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, got it?” His frustration made you giggle when you nodded.

You didn’t make it till the end of the level, but you tried, and that was all that mattered to you. To Miguel, having been able to take you to the wall before you crashed against a crystal under you was the main thing that mattered.

It had been a whole experience, but it remained like that. Enough time at least for him to push his way of react behind him. Until something made it snap again.

His eyes fly to all of the cameras in front of him, fixing his pupils in whatever screen he could catch a glimpse of your suit.

The threat they were expecting for your first mission ended up being a lot more aggressive and capable than hoped. You and your partner had already received a few good hits by the time Miguel reached for the Call button.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you hear when you press ‘answer’.

“Never better.” You reply, smiling at the interface of your pretty boss clenching his jaw.

“Need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Not at all, we’re managing just fine.” Your figure distorts while you swing around. Heavy steps following you up close. “I gotta go, Miguel. See you back at home.”

“No, wai-…” He widens his eyes, trying to reach you before you end the call. His fists tighten and his eyes close, fighting to keep himself calm.

But our man can’t catch a break, because as soon as his breath starts to get back to its normal speed, a camera showing on one of the screens burst out with a big clatter, forcing his eyes open only to see his worst fear take form in front of him.

You were struggling against the anomaly, kicking your feet in the air and trying desperately to get his hands off your neck. Your partner was nowhere to be seen. You appear to lose you patience when you stop fighting and instead shoot webs to the creature’s eyes. The anomaly maddens, and throws you against the next building on the street.

Miguel's eyes follow your body across two cameras, watching in horror the blood dripping from your mouth when you cough after the blow, struggling to get on your feet again.

His hands move quicker than he can process, bringing all the information about the Earth you were on for him to see.

“Miguel.” Jessica calls from behind.

“Where the hell did you send her?” He whispers, reading the screen displayed. “I told you she wasn’t ready to go.”

“Miguel, look.” She insists, this time with a more demanding voice.

But the man can’t think of anything else more than you bleeding. Alone and injured.

“You said it was an easy one.” He growls in a low and dangerous voice.

“I’m…”

“I told you she wasn’t ready!” He snaps, looking back at her. His fangs pinch on his lower lip, so hard he can feel a drop of scarlet liquid running down his chin.

And it’s not until Jess takes a step back and Lyla calls his name that he realizes the way his claws had ripped the metal in front of him.

And then… A call.

He blinks out of his trance, looking up at the screen with your name on it. He hits ‘answer’ and your dirty suit and scratched face make an appearance.

His red eyes relax at the sight, returning to those soft brown irises and dark pleased pupils reserved only for you. He hides his fangs and his claws are no longer nowhere to see. Just you. It was just you again. And you were okay.

“Miguel, look!” You smile at him, pointing the camera on your watch for him to see your partner finishing to tie up the anomaly. “We got it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.” He can’t help but let out a small glimpse of a smile over his lips, nodding at your excitement.

“Oh, you’re smiling. Wait for me to come back, I wanna see it in person.” And just like that, his smile is gone.

“Don’t take any longer. Both of you, come back as soon as possible.”

And with that, the call is ended once again, leaving him in a room with heavy air and thick silence. He jumps off of the platform, still glaring at Jessica in silence.

“You know that wasn’t right.” She whispers. “The way you’re acting it isn’t right, Miguel.”

He shakes his head, slowing his movements until he remains still just a few feet away from the entrance.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He murmurs.

“Oh, now I don’t know?!” She opens her mouth with indignation, but Miguel doesn’t alter.

“It’s not like that and you know it.” He hisses. “I have lost everything in this world. I am utterly alone. And even between us, there a strings that doesn’t tangle. You have a husband and a soon to come baby, a family that awaits for you at home, but what do I have, Jess?”

The woman, for the first time, remains silent.

“I have her. I only have her.” He says. “Not a single thing in this world belongs to me but her. Everything else have been taken away from me, everything I once had has disappeared: my job, my life, my normal life. If she’s ripped from my hands, I have nothing left. And I cannot keep fighting for a life I don’t want to live. This is not only for her, Jess. If I lose her, I will tear the universe apart with my own hands.”

A single shiver ran down her spine, watching Miguel exiting the complex to find you arriving almost at the same moment.

She watched how his threat takes meaning when you wrap your arms around him and his eyes brighten at the sound of your laugh.

She knows that if they ever were to lose that light, the whole multiverse would dim with them.

Miguel wanted to own you.

He wasn’t good at hiding it.

His hands would come to your hips, grabbing your tights or caressing your waist under your clothes.

Your scent would drive him into his animalistic side at every given moment. Until the point he would have to step meters away from you during the meetings in order to keep himself from the smell of your hair and your soft skin.

But when he didn’t keep himself from you, he would come from behind you, embracing you with his whole body. His face would bury in the curve of your neck, sending shivers with his tongue coming out, tracing a single line till reaching your ear, where he would whisper what he wants, where he would ask you to let him touch you.

When you say yes, he would drop his head and sink your fingers on your tender skin, pressing his hips against your body when you throw your head back, allowing him to do as he wished so with you, to mark you as his as many times as he wanted.

“Miguel…” You sigh this time, feeling his hands clinging at your suit, desperate to touch your skin instead.

He had just returned from a mission that had kept him away from you three days. You had imagined he would’ve returned tired and ready to sleep for fifteen hours, but instead he took you straight into his bedroom and pushed you against the wall, where he now holds you still with both of his arms.

“Take it off.” He whispers, tugging again at your suit. He was being nice this time, and you thank him internally for that. You don’t have the strength to ask Lyla for another suit.

You complain with a happy humming, letting your body fully exposed before him except for your panties still covering your ass and pussy.

The man switches off his own suit, letting you see up close the tent under his boxers. His fingers grasp at your thighs, forcing your legs open for him. Two of his digits run along your folds over your panties for around ten seconds before he decides to tore away your undergarment and place his hand back at your sex.

You would have complained about his behavior but his fingers pressing down on your clit rip only a moan out of your throat. He plays with your sensitive bundle until you’re wet and seconds away from an orgasm he pretends to steal away when he stops his movements.

“No, please…” You cry out, your legs threatening to give up.

“Shhh, patience, mi amor, I’m not done yet.” With one hand he pushes you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his neck for support before he starts eating you out like a starved man.

You tighten your tights around his head, almost screaming at your over sensitive pussy being stimulated even more, with his tongue pushing in and out for a while until he takes it to your clit again, sucking in, ripping another hard cry out of you. You are so close. And when he finally joins in two of his fingers to curve inside of you, it’s your end.

You scream his name, clenching around his digits, making him growl enough to feel the vibration running down your skin. He guides you through all of it until you finally seem to catch your breath again.

But then, he takes out his fingers and drops his boxes to the floor. His dick throbbed painfully, making him hiss when he stroke it a few times before pressing against you, chest to chest, and bottoming out all the way with a single thrust.

“Fuck, Miguel!” You throw your head back as he does the contrary, sinking his fangs into your skin, trying not to lose control.

“May I move?” He asks, breathing heavily on your skin.

You nod.

“Yes, yes, please move.” He groan in pleasure at your words, starting to move your hips in and down to match the rhythm of his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning sweetly against his ear while he pick up the pace. Soon enough, only the sound of skin slapping on skin could be heard around you, with nothing but your moans and gasps indicating him where he had to thrust, and his deep growls showing you how close he was.

“Cum for me.” He says, pushing your back back to the wall with his hand around your neck, squeezing you under his fingers. “I wanna see you cum.” He demands, making of his pace nothing but a mess of thrusts.

He was so close, he just needed…

“Miguel!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out desperate whimpers when your legs tremble around him and your walls clench around his cock, sending him so high he has to bite you again to avoid a throaty moan escape from him.

You could barely begin to feel your toes again when you feel him tightening his grip around you before walking out to the bed.

He was ready for the next round.

…

Thank you so much for coming all this way!

PD: I know Miguel fangs have paralyzing venom but let’s just pretend he can choose when to use it and when don’t.

This might not be good but I had the idea of this thread of story and I just wanted to write it.

I hope you have at least enjoyed some of it.

Love y’all. Sending a lot of love. See ya. <3

PD2: I’m trying to work now on a Sub!Miguel thing. It may be still a couple of days from it, but I want to be good. And I haven’t decided if it would be just porn or porn with plot. So let me know!

PD3: I’ll be doing cleaning and correction between today and tomorrow.

#miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut

13K notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 7 months

Text

HANDLE IT

mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

“Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face.

“Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk.

“Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

“New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste.

Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight.

“What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop.

“Mike…”

“What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below.

“Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin.

“I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her.

“Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk.

Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees.

“You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste.

Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone.

“Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier.

Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

“Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more.

Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit.

“Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now.

A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her.

She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste.

“Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next.

His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much.

Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether.

With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste.

He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand.

Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again.

Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #michael afton #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt imagine

4K notes · View notes

munsonluhvr · 2 months

Text

WATERWORKS!

synopsis: older!eddie munson x college student!reader. out on a joyride, Eddie subsequently passes your sorority car wash fundraiser and decides his clean car desperately needs to be washed. word count - 4.5k (!) warnings: 18+ smut with a teensy plot. fingering, body parts described, choking, spanking, squirting, cream pie, age gap, not spell checked yet!

In all honesty, Eddie has no reason to be pulling into your sorority houses’ driveway, forking over twenty dollars for you to wash his car, but he knew he had to when he saw you. It’s a warm day, just a few days after the end of summer, only a few days into the new school year. The hot sun beats down the earth making it the perfect day to stand in a bikini all day, hosting a car wash fundraiser.

Eddie had been minding his own business, taking a joy ride in his new red corvette, enjoying all the progress he’s made in his life thus far. It was only a half hour into his day out and about when he noticed your sorority hosting a car wash, more specifically seeing you stand at the edge of the sidewalk with a sign that read: ‘Car Wash 4 A Good Cause; 20 Bucks or Free if UR Sexy!’ It was the sign that caught his attention first, but it was you that held his gaze long enough that he almost rear-ended the car in front of him.

You are a sleek little vixen, barefoot on the sidewalk, your drenched hair pulled back to show your beautiful, angelic face. You are hardly dressed, your body adorned in the skimpiest bikini Eddie had ever seen. It was a no brainer; he slows his car, flicking the blinker on to turn into the driveway.

Eddie’s car was pointed in the direction of commotion, lines and lines of cars parked in different directions, males of all different ages scattered across the front yard either talking to girls that suggestively scrub their cars or just watching from a distance. Eddie didn’t care about any of the other girls that flock to the cars, slipping folded bills into their bikini tops or bottoms. He just wanted to watch you bend over his car, breasts pressed against the hood of his car.

He watches, in his sideview mirror, as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, your arms dropping down with the handmade sign, your body wilting with exhaustion. It was hard work to wave a sign around, especially in the hot sun. All you want to do is sit inside with some water, far away from the seething hot sun.

You’re bored, annoyed with cars honking and men whistling; you didn’t want to be the one holding the sign, but you had been forced to by the other girls. You decide to take a break, and you turn on your heel, beginning to walk up the driveway to the front lawn where the rest of the sorority worked. It was then that you notice a bright red corvette, clearly brand new, and that the driver was glancing over at you. You watch as he offers you a small smile, his hand that dangles on the outside of the car pick itself up and offer you a wave. He’s cute, clearly older, late twenties, early thirties at the latest. You feel your day, and your energy, start to pick up.

Within a few paces you stand at the driver’s side of the stranger’s car, bending forward, placing your hands on your mid-thigh, as you peer into the car. “Here for the car wash?”

The curly haired man nods, his eyes lingering down your nearly naked body. “That, amongst other things.”

You smile innocently. “Doesn’t look like your car needs to be washed.” And it’s true; as you stand close to the car you see how it’s practically new, not a speck of dirt on the exterior, not a single scratch. Standing close to the window, you can also smell the scent of brand-new leather, the car barely lived in.

He shrugs, his eyes looking forward then back to you. “A car can always use a good wash. I’m Eddie by the way.”

You raise your eyebrows, already amused by the man in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m y/n. If you pull up, I’m sure one of the girls will happily wash your car.”

Eddie hums, glancing in front of him where tens of girls scantily clad in bikinis, soap suds clinging to their arms and legs, scurry across the sorority house lawn to attend to the ever-growing line of customers. “They all look pretty busy with cars already. Can’t you help me?”

You clasp your hands in front of you, understanding, now, that Eddie wants you to clean his car, not anybody else. You purse your lips and make an over-exaggerated sigh, though a hint of a smile is displayed across your face. “I suppose I could. Pull on up.” You gesture for Eddie to follow you up the driveway, searching for a free spot for Eddie to park his car.

As you walk, Eddie is lucky that he doesn’t run his car into someone else’s as his eyes are completely entranced by your ass that’s exposed in your bright yellow bikini bottoms. He clenches his jaw, doing the best he can to park where you gesture towards, as he feels himself grow hard in his jeans. The lust he feels, staring at your nearly naked body, cloaked in a light sheen of sweat, is unbearable.

“You can stay in the car if you want,” you say, watching Eddie move to step out of the car. “It’s kind of the whole point of the car wash in the convenience for the customer, you know? Pull in, get your car washed by a girl in a bikini, then pull out.”

Eddie shrugs, closing the driver’s side door. “Darling, I wouldn’t want to pull out, but I think I’d prefer to watch from outside of the car.”

You feel your cheeks flush, the back of your neck get hot with heat. All day, boys from the surrounding fraternities, or creepy, married men have been in and out of the sorority driveway. However, there is something about Eddie that’s so edgy, nerdy yet confident. Eddie is a refreshing change; one you want to entertain for a little while. “Suit yourself,” you say, as you bend over, dunking your hand into the bucket of cold, soapy water, then pull your hand out with a sopping wet sponge.

Eddie stands a foot or two away from you, his arms crossed against his chest. He watches closely as you pick up a super-sized sponge, bubbling with soap bubbles, dripping with water, and smudge it across the hood of his car. His heart thumps against his chest watching as water trickles out of the sponge, down his shiny red car, and dribbles down your thighs.

You move slowly, bending across his car further and further, as you work hard to scrub the imaginary dirt off his car. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your body, knowing his eyes must be as wide as saucers, his skin crawling with lust, his stomach churning with anticipation - you just have that impact on men. You move to the opposite side of Eddie’s car, working on the other side of the hood. Now you face Eddie’s direction, making a show of leaning over his car, once again, pressing your breasts against the car, flicking your eyes to meet his only for a fleeting second, enough to get his heart rate up even further.

Once you turned your eyes back to his car, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling disoriented. Was it the sun and the heat or was it you that was making him feel this way? It had been a long time since Eddie pursued a girl, he was never very good at it. He had a small sense of confidence, but that only got him so far. Now, he’s several years older, still unexperienced, yet here he is, letting you seduce him happily, not knowing if he’ll do anything about it.

You continue to work on Eddie’s car, making your way around his vehicle. Every move, every stretch you make is calculated, made to manipulate the male mind. It’s fun, you think, to put on a show for a boy, no a man. It had been so long since you been intimate, the boy you were surrounded by were useless, only out to use the female body to solely pleasure themselves. The act of being fucked boys that were in college was a cold venture, one that only left you feeling alone and empty – and certainly not feeling any pleasure at all. You had hoped you’d meet someone older, someone who would care about how you felt. Now here stands Eddie, clearly older, clearly into you by the way his cock is so clearly pressing against his jeans, and the way he makes no attempt to hide it. It’s worth a try, you think.

With one last swipe of Eddie’s car, you take the hose that snakes throughout the driveway and spray his car down. Lastly, you take a soft towel, wiping the small droplets from his windows. You were finally done, your body more exhausted then before.

When you turn your attention back to Eddie, he’s holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “I think I recall your sign saying it’s twenty dollars.”

“Then you’d also recall that the sign also said it’s free if you’re sexy, so you can keep your money,” you say, wiping your wet hands on the towel.

Eddie frowns lightly, then smirks. “All that hard work you just did for free?”

You shrug, mimicking the way Eddie shrugged earlier. “What can I say? I’m eager to please, especially for a pretty guy like you.”

Standing in front of Eddie, you see the size difference between you two. You’re shorter then Eddie, your body much smaller than his. Even from where you stand, you can smell his cologne, the scent making you salivate – you’re a sucker for good smelling cologne. He’s dressed in all dark colors; his body lean underneath his fashionably tattered clothing. It was then you realize that you want him bad.

“Oh, really? For an old guy like me?” Eddie says, interested to gauge your feelings on older men. He is sure you’re constantly approached by guys of all ages, constantly turning heads or breaking hearts.

You lean against his car, crossing your ankles and crossing your arms against your chest. “It’s even better that you’re older. Guys my age don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” You unfold your arms, making a show of glancing at your fingernails. “Emotionally or physically.”

Eddie gulps, scenario after scenario rolling over in his mind Thoughts of every position he wants to fold you in to in a matter of minutes, replacing the soapy water trailing down your legs with ropes of his own cum comes to him immediately. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be neglected emotionally or physically.”

You glance at Eddie now, knowing that you have his full attention. “Tell me about it.”

Your eyes linger on each other, tension as thick as the heat hanging between you. You forget that the rest of your sorority is hard at work around you, cars entering and exiting the driveway consistently. All you can focus on is Eddie. “You look parched,” you say suddenly, pushing yourself off his car. “Why don’t you come inside.”

Eddie nods without saying a word. He’s pretty sure he’d walk to the ends of the earth for you. Eagerly, he follows behind you as you weave through the cars parked in the driveway and across the lawn. You glance over your shoulder once, amused to catch Eddie’s eyes stuck on your rear end once again. You have this man wrapped around your finger.

You push open the front door of the sorority house, noticing how a few of the girls had sought refuge from the customers and heat within the kitchen and cavernous living room. Eddie’s eyes disconnect from your body to look around the house. He honestly never thought he’d ever find himself in a sorority house, he could never imagine a sorority girl giving him the time of day. But here he is- here you are. The inside is large, all the furniture in the rooms dwarfed by the tall ceilings and large rooms.

“Come this way,” you say softly, gesturing towards the large, winding staircase that’s directly at the front door. Your feet are tempted to carry you to your room quickly, but you do your best to stay composed, not allowing yourself to showcase your eagerness. At the top of the winding staircase, the hallway to the bedrooms is long. As you walk, you pass door after door, each of your sorority sister’s rooms. Finally, you reach yours near the end of the hallway.

You remember that your room is messy, but you don’t care. You doubt Eddie would even notice; you can feel his eyes glued to your backside.

You open your bedroom door, glancing over your shoulder to encourage Eddie to follow you into your room. You notice his eyes flick to across your bedroom, landing on your messy bed, the blankets, and bedsheets all tangled.

Eddie clears his throat. “Is it okay if I’m up here?”

Technically, boys aren’t allowed in the sorority house, especially not in the bedrooms. You shake your head softly. “No, but I’m sure we can make it quick.” You let a small smile play across your mouth as you clasp your hands in front of you.

Eddie’s eyes widen, your insinuation making him realize your intentions loud and clear. Underneath his jeans, Eddie can feel his bulge begin to ache even more, his core aching from anticipation. Even you can feel the tension between you and Eddie, it’s clear you find each other attractive. Between your thighs, you can feel your stomach tingle with excitement; what kind of pleasure this encounter hold for you?

You back yourself up to your bed, feeling a small chill standing in your airconditioned room in a skimpy bikini. Your heart thumps against your chest, your breath escaping your body. Eddie takes a small step towards you, biting at his bottom lip. You are the loveliest sight Eddie has ever seen, so delicate and soft but he so badly wants to be rough with you, turn your body inside out with pleasure.

Now merely a few inches from each other, Eddie reaches his hand out, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingertips tails across your face, guiding their way to your lips. Instinctively, you part your lips, Eddie taking advantage and slipping his thumb into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. Watching you suck his finger, Eddie loses his breath, the feeling of your tongue around his finger too much to bear.

You take the opportunity to reach your hands out, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. You lift up slowly, and Eddie lets his thumb slip out of your mouth, helping you lift his shirt off. Now you see his torso, his soft skin decorated with scattered tattoos. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his happy trail, disappearing into the band of his jeans.

You lean forward, raising up on your toes to let your lips hover of Eddie’s. Without a second thought, Eddie cups your face, his lips pushing into yours. He steps forward once, twice, and you step back once, twice. You gracefully fall back onto your bed, your legs parting to allow room for Eddie. With one swift movement, Eddie reaches his hand behind your back, pulling at the string of your bikini, the string unraveling and your top slipping off.

At the sight of your bare chest, Eddie can’t help but groan. He cups your breast with his large hand, his head ducking down to let his lips envelope your nipple. Instantly, your head throws back, the feeling of his tongue flicking across your nipple heavenly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your lips parting just in time for a soft moan to escape from your throat.

Letting his fingertips drag across your torso, Eddie slips his hand into your bikini bottoms, his fingertips grazing your cunt. You hold onto his shoulder for balance, your fingers gripping him tightly. With ease, Eddie continues to place his body over yours, arranging yourself on your bed comfortably. Anticipation and lust begins to bunch in your stomach, arousal beginning to drip from between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie mumbles, his mind spinning. He places his lips on your jaw, messy kisses trailing down the front of your throat. His fingertips begin to work against your sensitive core, teasing your entrance. Your thighs tremble, pressure building in the bottom of your abdomen. Eddie’s movements are slow and sensuous, and your hips begin to rock back and forth against his hand, unable to take his slow movements any longer. You begin to whine softly.

Without warning, Eddie plunges his long digits into you, curling in the right spot to turn your whine into a loud moan. Already, you can see the difference between the ridiculous college boys you’ve played with and the man that Eddie is. Pleasure courses through your torso, your skin tingling, a shiver running down your back. Your thighs begin to clench around Eddie’s hand, begging him to keep going.

Your arms reach out, your fingertips seeking eagerly to unbuckle the belt that holds his jeans. With success, Eddie’s belt buckle unravels in your hand, your hand moving away to palm his bulging cock over his jeans. Over you, Eddie shutters at the sensation of your touch, his breath leaving his body. He so badly wants to have his way with you, but he knows he’d rather take his time.

Not able to sustain your calmness further, you unzip the zipper on Eddie’s jeans, his cock already pressing against his boxers. As you attempt to work his jeans off, Eddie continues to plunge his finger deep into you, causing your ambition to de-clothe Eddie to take longer then usual.

Just as Eddie jeans dip passed his mid-thigh, his cock springs out from underneath his boxers. His member is large, larger then you could have ever imagined. At the very tip, a drop of pre-cum slithers out, the veins protruding across the thickness of his cock. Your mouth waters just at the sight, an intense need for him to fill you blossoming in your abdomen.

To be able to help you pull his jeans off, Eddie lets his fingers slide out of you, your bottom half feeling empty and incomplete without Eddie’s touch. With one swift movement, Eddie’s jeans and boxers are off and all that’s left is your bright yellow bikini bottoms.

Eddie presses his lips on your neck, and begins to trail down to your stomach, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his light touch. Hooking his pointer fingers at your sides, Eddie gracefully pulls your bottoms off, leaving you completely naked. Without much thought, Eddie drops the skimpy article of clothing on the floor beside your bed. You blush in your nakedness, feeling your eyes flutter shut.

Eddie parts your legs gently, lowering his head towards your bottom half. His warm breath flushes against your skin, goosebumps beginning to appear down your thighs. With every second that goes by, the anticipation grows thicker, leaving you breathless, arousal gathering between your thighs.

Eddie feels his anxiousness jitter throughout his fingers, his hands trembling ever so slightly. His hands tighten around the flesh of your things, prying your legs open. Without the slightest hesitation, Eddie lets his lips connect with your slick cunt, his tongue beginning to work on your immediately.

Your head throws back in instant pleasure, your thighs beginning to tremble from the motion of his tongue. You begin to writher underneath Eddie’s touch, and he tightens his grips around your legs to hold you still and in place. Your toes curl as he continues to go on, your muscles tightening and releasing rhythmically.

Eddie is in bliss, the taste of you sweet to his tastebuds. You are so soft, so gentle, yet so bold and in charge. Although Eddie doesn’t know you well, not even at all, he knows that he has found heaven between your sun-kissed thighs.

Eddie blinks back into consciousness, noticing how your body is reacting to his touch. He looks up at you, seeing how your eyes are fluttered shut, the bright sunshine from your window above your dashing across your face, your back arched from the pleasure. His only goal is to make you feel good, to let pleasure course through your body, so he does what automatically comes to his mind – he plunges his fingers back into you.

A loud squeal escapes your lips, followed by your hands grabbing at your bedsheets. The frat boys have never made you feel like this before, not even close.

With rhythm, Eddie plunges his fingers in and out of you, causing pressure to build in your lower abdomen. It’s only been several minutes and already you feel yourself getting close; you don’t want your time with Eddie to end.

Without warning, around Eddie’s fingers you squirt profusely, your thighs trembling around Eddie’s head. A strong course of pleasure runs up and down your body, leaving you breathless and exhausted once your orgasm is through. On the other hand, Eddie is energized by your loud moans.

Coming up from between your thighs, Eddie hovers over your slumped body, his large hand lightly grasping over your throat. He doesn’t want to scare you with this move, it is after all the first encounter you’ve ever had with each other, but he wants to take control a little more.

His long nimble fingers place themselves around the length of your neck, and your eyes flutter open at his grasp on you. You feel small underneath Eddie’s touch, and you love the feeling.

With his other hand, Eddie reaches down to part your thighs again, and then adjusting himself to line up with you.

Eddie dips his face down, hovering over your lips; they brush yours ever so slightly. “Can I?” he asks softly. Your hand reaches out to grasp his bicep, anticipating the intoxicating burn of a thick cock entering you. You nod eagerly. Eddie lets go of his grasp on your neck, leaning on to his arm to position himself comfortably.

With ease, Eddie pushes himself into you. You feel yourself stretch around his length, a slight groan escaping from your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing stars, a fluttering feeling emerging in your chest.

Evenly, Eddie moves back and forth out of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers drag the length of your side, finding your hands in the process. He intertwines his fingers with yours, enveloping his hand over his. You squeeze back, the small gesture making the moment more intimate with this complete stranger. Your legs find the strength to wrap around Eddie’s waist, driving him further into you.

With slow strokes, Eddie brings you immense pleasure, making you wonder why luck was on your side to meet such a generous stranger out of nowhere.

You and Eddie stay in the missionary position for a moment, slight eye contact here and there. You’re drawn in by the soft brown of his eyes and the darkness of his pupils. He was a beautiful human, his messy, curly brown hair adding to his attractiveness.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when Eddie pulls his upper body away from you, your body feeling cold from the lack of warmth from his body. He pulls you up with him, making a quick movement to flip you on your stomach.

Your head spins from the quick movement but feel a small smile creeping across your mouth: oh, how you love being manhandled.

Lifting your hips with both hands, Eddie elevates your bottom half, placing you on your hands and knees. Once you’re in a stable position, Eddie guides himself back into you, pushing in roughly. You gasp, loving the feeling of him inside of you all over again.

You jolt when Eddie places a small smack on your bottom, adding spanking into the mix. You offer a small giggle, biting your lip in the process. The sharp sting of his hand meeting your soft skin makes your stomach flutter in a way that’s never happened before. You find the feeling dangerous as you become curious at the other kinks you’d find exhilarating.

Behind you, Eddie’s movements become rigid, his back-and-forth movements no longer fluid. He inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist.

Eddie feels woozy, pressure building in his lower abdomen. He knows he’s close, though he doesn’t want to be. He wants his moment with you to go on forever, laying out on your bed to recover and when you’re ready, fuck you in all different angles all over again.

He inhales and exhales sharply, his heart beating fast and blood flowing rapidly throughout his body. He pushes into you one last time, a thick load filling you to the brim completely. Eddie’s cum leaks out from around his member, beginning to drip down your legs. Although you’ve already orgasmed, the feeling of Eddie dribbling down your legs is nearly orgasmic.

As you hold yourself up, your arms and legs quiver with exhaustion. You slump against your bedsheets, your muscles not about to help you sit up. “That was…really fun.” You say, then frown at your own words. You feel like you sound juvenile, though what you said was trust; it was indeed a lot of fun.

Eddie smiles, nodding once. Although, he’s distracted by looking at the specks of his semen that decorate parts of your thighs. “I-I’m glad. Nothing I did was too much?”

You shake your head. “Not in the slightest.” You watch as Eddie gets up from the end of the bed, beginning to pick up his clothes that are scattered across your bedroom floor. You wish Eddie didn’t have to go so soon but you know it’s for the best; the last thing you want is for your sorority sisters to notice that you’ve broken the most important rule – no boys in the bedroom.

Your naked body captivates Eddie as he glances down at you while refastening his belt. It seemed like only seconds ago he was about to pass you by on the road, and now here you are lounging gracefully on your bed in front of him. And to think it all started with spotting you in your bright yellow bikini.

“You know,” you hum, bending over to search for spare clothes to throw on. You really want to see Eddie again and to not let this be the first and last time you interact with him. “We’re having another car wash next weekend. Your car might need another scrub by then.”

Eddie laughs flattered that you want to see him again. “My car will absolutely be dirty by then; I’ll for sure swing by.”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfic #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!Eddie x you

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.

The chair at your kitchen table is small.

It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone.

“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit.

“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.”

You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you.

“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?”

“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile.

“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches.

“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.

“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“

“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back.

“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.”

“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again.

What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely.

“I can take her, if you want to-“

“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again.

“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty.

“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“

The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled.

“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control.

He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.”

It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself.

“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside.

“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod.

“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth.

It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.

It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.

"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.

"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.

"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"

"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.

"I know it doesn't-"

"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.

"Captain."

"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.

"We don't need anything from you."

"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."

"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.

"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.

"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.

"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley

2K notes · View notes

moralesispunk · 3 months

Text

thinking about massaging simon riley's hands

he doesn't tell you how much they ache, especially now he's retired and his distractions aren't so much life and death on the field but rather having dinner ready for you getting home from work because he doesn't want you to worry about it, but his hands and wrists start to ache as he stirs the pot.

he doesn't need to tell you, though, because you notice. you notice how he squeezes and flexes his right hand on his lap as he holds his fork in his left. how his hand starts to shake but he plays it off by placing his fork back down in the bowl and reaching for the water. how he rolls his wrist after lifting the dirty dishes over to the sink but hides it under the soapy water as you reach for a dish towel.

he thought he was playing it off well, but it's not until later when you're watching tv before bed and your legs are stretched across his lap and his hand is on your thigh. you reach for it, at first only taking it between two of yours before you then start to massage it in a way you found from a quick google while you were changing out of your work clothes.

at first there is a slight tinge of pain that has him silently wincing, but the pain becomes and ache before it... he looks down at his hand. the constant dull ache that doesn't leave, it's not gone but it could be ignored. he turns to the tv and watches the reality tv he pretends to hate but becomes enthralled in, and he can ignore it when usually it would be taking up at least 50% of his thoughts.

the next night you come into the living room with a hand cream, one you bought on your lunch that "smells nice" you tell him, rubbing it into your own hands as though it was for you and not well researched during your morning at work and bought on your break for the sole purpose of simon. you put some more on your hands before massaging simon's hands again, this time the effects lasting long enough that he can fall asleep with a dull ache easily ignored.

it becomes part of your nightly routine now as you wind down, whether in front of the TV or tucked into bed, whether you're both having a good day or bad, whether you've just made love or argued over something small that put you both in a huff, you'll spend time massaging his hands until the pounding ache becomes dull

and it's funny, simon thinks, this very physical ache dulling from your touch the same way all of the pains inside of him subside when you're near

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x y/n

2K notes · View notes

yuutx · 3 months

Text

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 ! (𝒵𝐻𝒪𝒩𝒢𝐿𝐼)

dragon form!zhongli x f!reader . sfw — fluff . established relationship ⟆ waking up with zhongli when he is in his dragon form ! ⟆ not proofread !

this fic is inspired by the dragon!zhongli collection by @dragon-ascent ! ! i absolutely adore her works + i luv reading them ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The soft fur of his tail brushes your nose, the sensation tickling you enough to rouse you from a deep slumber. The scent of glaze lilies floods your senses, and you find yourself inhaling deeply. You nuzzle your face deeper into the softness that smells of glaze lilies and a musk that is uniquely Zhongli, before slowly peeling your eyes open as the feeling of a forked tongue flicking out to lick your cheek forces you into consciousness.

A sleepy giggle bubbles up in your chest, and you raise your hand to stroke the long length of Zhongli's snout. He lets out a deep rumble, shifting in his sleep to wrap his large body tighter around you. You can feel the hard scales of his belly pressing into your back, his thick tail wrapping around your legs. His large, dragon form is curled protectively around you, the soft fur of his tail resting across your face like a blanket. The glowing markings adorning his body pulse in time with his breaths, casting a golden light on the surrounding area.

You smile at the sight, still amazed that this beautiful, powerful creature was yours. You continue petting the length of his snout, trailing your fingers along the hard ridges between his golden eyes. He stirs slightly, his deep breathing stopping, before his large eyelids flutter open to reveal molten pools of liquid gold. They focus on you, and Zhongli releases a purr of satisfaction. He moves his large head closer to you, the tip of his muzzle nuzzling against your own face, before he places a gentle lick to the tip of your nose. The action causes a fit of giggles, and you wrap your arms around his snout, holding it to you. His eyes crinkle with mirth, and you feel him chuckle.

"Good morning, 亲爱的." his deep, velvety voice whispers, his breath ruffling your hair, the strands dancing with movement. You close your eyes and hum happily, contentment filling your soul.

"Good morning, Li.." you reply softly. You release his muzzle, and he pulls back, a small puff of air blowing from his nostrils as he sighs. His head moves down to nudge your neck, before his muzzle comes to rest underneath your chin, his enormous horns framing either side of your face. You run your hands through his mane, reveling in the silky texture and the vibrations of his purrs.

The sun's rays start to filter in through the opening of the cave you reside in, the light reflecting off of his scales and painting the walls in a kaleidoscope of colors. You watch them dance along the stone, and Zhongli lifts his head, watching the light. You take the opportunity to sit up, leaning against his side and running your fingers along the ridges along his spine. The muscles in his body ripple, and you can feel the low rumble of his purrs through the stone. A deep chuckle resonates from his throat, and you feel the muscles flex as he rolls onto his back, exposing his soft underbelly. A grin splits your face, and you quickly take the invitation, sliding down to curl into his warm body. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the strong, steady beating of his heart, the sound like a soothing lullaby. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke the soft fur of his belly, the movement relaxing. His large wing wraps around you, creating a warm cocoon. His long tail moves to lay across your back, and you reach up to wrap your hands around the tuft of fur at the end.

"It seems the sun has decided to make an appearance," Zhongli comments, his voice reverberating through his chest, "Perhaps we should greet the day?"

You groan, snuggling deeper into his body. He laughs, the movement jostling you, and his large paw comes to rest on your shoulder, pulling you closer. His muzzle nudges your hair, and he inhales deeply, humming at the scent.

"Or perhaps we can stay here for a while longer.." he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble. He presses his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breaths caressing your skin. You nod in agreement, your eyes slipping shut as sleep claims you once more.

2K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 1 month

Note

Kidnapper!konig with reader watching a documenter about her own mysterious disappearance or "death" on netlfix

Konig allows you to use the microwave to make popcorn without being watched over - it's progress. Usually, when you are allowed in the kitchen(mostly when he really falls into the domestic fantasy and wants you to play housewife, he would always watch you, never letting you as much as to pick up a fork without his knowledge. You understand the sentiment - you're still kidnapped, Stockholm syndrome be damned - and he doesn't trust you yet. Still, the action of making popcorn all on your own is a small victory of your independence. You like it. He prepares the couch for your weekly movie night - it's weird to have your kidnapper be so nice to you, but you already know that the guy craves routine. He needs you to be his girlfriend while also kinda being his mommy and a sex toy and housewife all at the same time - so, you have movie nights, crazy sex where you can punch him in the face and moan as he rearranges your organs, and occasional cookouts where you have to make him dinner that could probably feed at least 10 people. You curl down next to him, allowing the guy who kidnapped and broke your legs to hug you. He still smells like blood - probably one of his less fortunate victims, always screaming down in the basement and messing up with your sleep. You tried to tell yourself that it's not your fault you were the one to gain his affection, that it's not like you wanted to be the favorite plaything of a maniac, but it's futile. You're the one who is getting fed nice foods, sleeps in the same bed as him, and gets his tongue buried in your cunt like it's the last meal he ever got. You hate yourself for caving to his whims so easily, but he drops his hand over your shoulder and passes some of the really good snacks that you like so much. You throw him a quick thanks as he turns on the TV.

You thought they wouldn't do a documentary about your mysterious disappearance so soon - you thought it wasn't even a year since Konig took you in, but, apparently, it was. Time is weird when he threw away all the clocks in the house and didn't let you out of the bedroom until last month. You watch the documentary, wondering if it's a weird loyalty test. If he thinks you're going to be angry at him for showing you this. It's been so long since you were free that you don't even remember what freedom tastes like. Konig passes you the popcorn as you snuggle and watch all the possible causes of your mysterious death. You feel a hand grasping your thigh, playing with the soft flesh and slowly creeping to your pussy - you're not allowed any underwear under the shirt he gave you. You just stare at the TV screen, allowing him to use your pussy as an antistress toy. Journalists don't even get a single point right.

#konig x reader #cod #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #slasher!konig #slasher

1K notes · View notes

fernandopiastri28 · 6 days

Note

Hello! I loved your last oscar fic so maybe you could do one when oscar repays her and is focused only on her pleasure?

hands in your hair ~ oscar piastri

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?”

wc: 2,437 || warnings: pure smut- oral (f), mentions of sex, hair kink??

(self indulgent- just me being obsessed with oscar's longer hair)

Her finger’s card through the soft locks of his brunette hair, relishing in just how long his hair’s gotten. It looks better than it has throughout their whole relationship, and she’s seen her fair share of his interesting haircuts. For a moment, her hands pull away and her touches stop. He wiggles around, his head lolling around in her lap. “Why’d you stop?” His voice comes out as a grumble, a slight pout to his lips.

“Sorry, Oz,” Y/N giggles, her thumbs moving to brush over his cheeks before moving back into his hair. His eyes are shut, trying to get in a last little bit of sleep before he has to get in the car for free practice 3. Oscar Piastri napping minutes before he has to be driving around a track he’s never driven before in his career- fork found in kitchen. He would sleep forever if he could, and likely would if it weren’t for Y/N, Andrea, and Lando all having to try to wake him up.

A knock sounds on the door a few minutes later, proving her point further. “Osc?” Lando’s voice travels underneath the door of Oscar’s room in the motorhome. When he doesn’t get a response, he calls out again. “Y/N, stop sucking his cock, we need to get in the cars soon” She cringes out, turning dark red that that’s what’s presumed they do whenever they’re alone.

It kinda is, but not always. “He’s sleeping, not getting head,” She retorts, enjoying her last few minutes before he gets whisked away.

“Sleeping, sex, quickies- who cares, please just wake him up,” Lando keeps knocking on the door and she frowns slightly, sad that her time with her boyfriend has to be cut short for him to race.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” She weasels her way out from under him, slipping down enough for her feet to hit the floor. “Oscar, time to wake up,” She brushes her hair off his forehead, kissing at the revealed skin. “Cmon, neither of us want you to get in trouble with Zak because you’ve just decided you don’t want to race today,”

He groans, rolling himself over to bury his face into a cushion. “Fine,” His arms click as he pushes himself up, his fireproof top having hitched itself up to show off the majority of his toned abdomen. “Only because I don’t want to end up in a Danny Ric situation,” She sucks in a deep breath at that, her mouth moving into a grimace. “Sorry, too soon,”

Oscar needs to remember that even though she’s his girlfriend, she’s a Ricciardo fan firstly, a true aussie supporting her country. “Good luck, loverboy” She pulls him in for a final kiss just as he’s working on getting his race suit zipped up, forgetting he only has one of his arms in a sleeve.

His hand squeezes at her waist, pushing it slightly into the edge of the bench they were previously perched upon, “Back here at the end of practice?” His adorable bunny teeth scrape along her bottom lip, his lips clasping around it.

“You’ve got it,” She sends him off with a swift smack to the butt, getting a howl out of him and a permanently red face of embarrassment when he sees that Lando saw the whole thing.

He’s never going to hear the end of it.

~~~

Oscar goes crazy on the radio as free practice 3 ends, securing him a first place ‘position’ after getting second in the prior session. For a track that had been cancelled last year, causing him to miss out on racing it before today, he’s doing exceptional. He hurries back to his driver room, excited to get back to spending time with Y/N before qualifying.

“Oz!” She’s already back on the bench, having made her way out of the paddock once the session had ended to avoid crowds of interviewers. “You were so good, baby!” She reaches her arms out, wrapping her legs around his waist once he’s fully in the hug.

His head buries into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling at her nose, “Did it for you,” He murmurs, his lips aimlessly moving against the collar of her shirt, unintentionally wetting it. “Can we cuddle like before? Your hands in my hair?” The question is slightly muffled by the angle he’s at, but she gets it enough. He’s not really one to go all out with celebrating, and FP3 isn’t something huge to party about anyways.

She leans back, her head hitting against the wall and lets her legs dangle over the edge so her thighs squish up, just like how Oscar likes. He palms at them, before just dropping his head down onto them, using them as cushions. His cheeks get all smushed up, just like they do under his helmet. Without much time after that, her hands move to his hair, tugging on it ever so slightly, the floppy strands long enough to nearly cover her fingers completely as they disappear under all the brown hair there. He turns over slightly, enough to be looking up at her and have his head up closer to her face.

After eye fucking eachother for what seems like a decade, his lips press into hers. The kiss is agonisingly slow, strings of spit connecting them and teeth tugging on each other's lips. Their faces seem to merge into one the longer it lasts, each breath being inhaled in tandem. The nose of smacking lips and wet suckling fills the small room, hands going on hips and waists as desperate attempts to hold back whatever incoming lustre they’re both heading towards until they get home tonight.

They just have to wait til after quali, get back to the hotel, then they can fuck it out.

Y/N’s the one who ends up pulling away, knowing she’s not strong enough to hold back if they’re gonna continue making out. Oscar’s an exceptional kisser, and sometimes, just that is enough for her to get off on. So they go back to Oscar’s head in her lap, sitting in silence as she strokes his head.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?” That’s just about the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. It’s not completely out of character for him, he’s actually pretty insistent on spending evenings after races in between her legs, whether his result was good or not. He could spend eternity there, his mind all foggy and dreamlike- like he’ll stay there forever. “I won’t make a mess- I promise, we can be quick. I just wanna make you feel good,”

It’s her favourite request, and her dress is hitched up before he can ask again. Towards the beginning of last season, she’d worn a wide variety of jeans and other long pants, until she realised just how many they found themselves desperate for a quickie before or in between races, and she’d permanently switched to flowy dresses and skirts ever since.

He arranges himself onto his front, up on his knees and hands while he keeps his chest the lowest angled part of his body. She’s laying in the same direction as him, her knees towards the ceiling and her back flush to the bench, her fingers occupied by playing with the hem of her dress so as to not cum the second she sees his desperate face in between her parted legs.

It feels like her heart is stopping as his breath gets heavier and hotter on her clothed heat, the fabric basically ruined from how wet she’s gotten. A digit glides across the soaked material, taunting her as he pushes against it. “Fuck, Oscar,” She hits her head down against the pillow under her head, not even realising when she’d gotten this needy.

“You’re dripping,” He notes, his eyes huge and glossy, all mesmerised by the sight. A finger hooks into her waistband, pulling them down tantalisingly slowly. She forces her head up, just enough to study his expression from just above her cunt. He licks his lips, his pupils somehow growing bigger. “Holy shit,” He doesn’t waste a second, his face plunging forward so get his mouth all over her.

Oscar’s talented in many things. Driving, writing hit tweets, taking digs at DRS, being mature in all circumstances, making people laugh with his dry and sarcastic humour, but above all- he’s got a talented mouth. His teeth scrape along her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her bundle of nerves. Y/N could cum just from that, it feels like floating on cloud nine. She doesn’t even understand how it could possibly get any better until his nose begins nudging her clit, his tongue pushing inside her hole.

His cock was leaky in his tight boxers, his rock hard bulge still concealed by his fireproofs handing awkwardly off his hips. As she stared down at him, she somehow got even wetter each time he paused momentarily to stare at her wrecked cunt then dove back in like a starved creature. Unclips nails dig further into her thighs, pushing them further apart so his face is fully coated in her wetness. “Oh my god Oscar,” Her voice comes out so depraved and debauched.

Only his eyes are visible as he keeps his steel hard gaze on her. A pair of usually big, puppy brown eyes, the type that ooze innocence and angelic beauty are hardened and dark with lust. Her hands slip into his hair, needing something to ground her as he takes her apart from the inside out. She genuinely can’t get over his hair. How silky it is, how good it feels to yank on, how hot he looks.

His fingers move from her thighs up to under her shirt, practised fingers trailing under the wire of her bra. He pulls the tight fabric far enough from her skin that it leaves a pale mark when it snaps back after release. It’s hell being tortured like this, but it also feels so good. His indexes and thumbs on both hands work the clasp of the bra, undoing it with not much work. It’s an improvement from a few months prior when she’d settled for doing each time as he was so clueless on how to do it smoothly.

The crazed look in his eyes speaks a million words. She might be the only one getting a proper physical sexual gratification out of this, but he’s clearly getting off on her being in near excruciating pleasure. It feels better than anything they’ve done in a while. She bites her lip, watching as a lock of hair falls onto his forehead, a perfect little curl above his furrowed eyebrows. It’s cute, it’s hot, it’s everything- all at once.

Now Y/N feels like she could cum just because of his hair, and that’s definitely a new thought.

He moans, watching his eyes soften at the noise, “That’s so good- you’re fucking amazing at this,” He’s relentless- his tongue, noise, lips, and teeth all committed to making her reach her peak. “Look at you,”

“Look at me? Look at you,” God, he’s so whipped. His index finger glides along her open hole, slipping it inside her and curling it instantaneously. A pain bubbles in her stomach- she’s going to cum. “Fuck, look at that, so perfect around my fingers, just as perfect in my mouth.” She’s leaking around his fingers, her body reacting to his ministrations and praises.

He can read her like a book, he knows that her twisted up expression can only mean one thing. “You don’t need to ask me, baby, you can come when you need to,” A sharp breath leaves her lungs and her head falls backwards, her orgasm crashing into her like a freight train.

He kisses up from her aching cunt to her the lower part of her stomach, then her abdomen. He takes his time on her exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples, before marking her with a love bite in between them. “Looks good on you,“ He looks down at her from where he kneels between her legs, basically drooling at how wrecked she looks post orgasm underneath him.

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, her core aching as she tries to sit up. She angles for a kiss, luckily met halfway by Oscar. “Your turn.. I wanna suck you off,” She pants, her hand moving to push down his race suit. He swats her hand away, laughing at her eagerness.

“Nah, that was plenty for me to get you off,” He declines, slowly getting off of her so he can clean up the mess he did make in the end, despite his promise. She opens her mouth to argue with him but she’s swiftly shut up with his mouth back on hers. “Plus, I have qualifying in… fuck, like 10 minutes,” He frowns, helping to redress her.

“Oscar?” Lando’s voice joins the conversation, once again right outside their door. “Now are you getting your dick sucked?” He taunts, like it’s a joke this time around. “Or can we head for quali together?”

He’s wrong, it was the other way around. “Nah, I’ll be out in a moment. Thanks for waiting for me,” He zips his suit up, giving Y/N a final grin.

“Oscar,” She groans. She hates leaving him hard, it feels unfair that she’s just had the best orgasm of her life and he has to go get in a car and drive around at crazy stupid speeds with an aching mass between his legs.

“Y/N,” He mocks teasingly, peppering her face in chaste kisses, “I’m okay, If I have a killer qualifying session tonight, we’ll continue this later. She gives a final comb through his hair with her fingers, enjoying every bit of it just incase he decides to cut it.

P2 sure is killer, and the sex after it is amazing. Even better when he finds out about the penalty, because angry Oscar is so hot. Her hands stay planted in his hair the whole time, and by the end of it, in their post coital comfort, he promises he won't cut it for as long as she wants.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren racing #f1 #f1 rpf #formula1 #formula one #lando norris #mclaren #imola gp 2024 #hair kink

524 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 7 months

Text

Midnight Snack.

3.4k slasher!Joel x f!reader

slasher Joel master list | spotify slaylist SUMMARY: Joel has dinner at his Mom’s house, then pays you a visit. A/N: Shoutout to @iamasaddie for the master list mood board magnets, @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the.edit, fridge magnet anon ask, @thesummerpetrichor , anyone I'm forgetting? WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe p in v, creampie, light somnophilia, choking, degradation, home intrusion, manual restraint, spitting, toxic parental issues, angst/insecurity, changes POV, NO Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. .He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily. He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. . . Over a long moment of silence, a charge passes between your eyes and his. He tilts his head, wets his lips, and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm. . .

============================

midnight snack

============================

“I said I’m good, Ma,” Joel grumbles as his mom puts another heaping spatula of casserole on his plate anyway. He sighs and pushes it around with his fork.

“What’s got ya down, hun?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s a girl, ain’t it?” She smiles. “Knew it. Last time you were here, ya had that glow," she nods, then registers his sullen face again. "It's okay, hun. Whatever it is, you'll work it out.".

He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he was there. When he drives, when he showers, when he goes to bed, when he jacks off—he sees the desire in your eyes when you’re pinned against the counter. He sees your dripping hole stretched around his fist. He thinks about you every time he uses his wrench. Still smells like your filthy cunt.

"Tell me 'bout her,” his mom urges.

“Can't,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t got a girl.”

His mom looks at him knowingly. She always sees right through him. He doesn’t like how close they are, but in a way, she’s his only friend. He fails to suppress a little smile, then looks down shyly at his plate and finally takes a bite.

She asks, “How’d ya meet?”

Joel gives her a half-serious cautionary look and keeps chewing.

“Work?” his mom prods.

Joel swallows, nods, and takes a sip of milk. “Gave'r a ride.” Two rides, really. Although you took the second one all on your own. And damn, it was good. He shifts in his seat.

“Well, great,” his mom lights up. “When ya gonna see her again?” She dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up.

“I dunno, Ma. . .She’s too good for me.”

She huffs, adjusts her glasses, then walks over. She playfully whips him on the shoulder with the fabric napkin, then puts her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that. No one’s too good for my boy.” She takes his glass to the kitchen and pours him some more milk, then sits back down at the table.

“already left me once,” Joel grumbles.

His Mom’s face falls, then sours.

“Then she’s not worth your time." She scoffs. Or anyone else’s."

“She’s different, Ma," he mutters deadpan, then quieter, he adds, "Sometimes I think she likes me," with the slightest lift of his brow.

Mrs. Miller's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Well, she should!"

"'mixed signals." He’s saying too much, but he can’t stop. It’s not like he has anyone else to talk to.

"Bring'er for dinner," she suggests.

"Ain't like that," he sulks. "We don't-" He cuts himself off and sighs, sitting back in his chair. He puts his napkin on his plate. "Shouldn't'a mentioned it," he mumbles.

His mom reaches across the table for his hand, and he gives it to her. He looks at the delicate, paper-thin skin covering the veins on her hand. It makes him sad. He wants to bring a girl home. He wants to make his Mom happy. He doesn't come by enough. She must be so lonely. And he's the one who. . .no, his father deserved it, he reminds himself for the millionth time in his life. He didn’t love them, his mom said. Resentment begins to overtake his guilt. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for her. He steels himself and decides to feel nothing.

"Look at me, Joel." She looks him in the eye. "You're not gonna get a wife like this, honey." Joel swallows and looks down. She continues, "Don't be a quitter. She's yours if you want her." Don’t be a quitter.

The buzzer for the laundry goes off. Mrs. Miller starts to head to the laundry room, but Joel stops her. "Feel like a loser when ya do my laundry."

She shakes her head in disapproval and starts clearing the table instead. "My son. . .” she picks up both their plates. ". . .Is not a loser."

Joel finishes his laundry, watches some tv with her while she knits, then pulls himself away. His Mom sends him on his way with an old tupperware of casserole. "Go get her," she tells him with a wink.

—-

He wants to make a move. He wants to fuck you again, but he isn’t sure how. How do people do it? He doesn't know how to ask you out, or what you'd do together. Every time he thinks about it, he feels stupid, but he does wanna see you. He wants to be inside you. He wants to make you purr, little sex kitten.

At this hour, you’re probably out whoring, but he might as well drive by while he’s close. All your lights are off, but your car is there. Hmm. He can't bring himself to go home. Don’t be a quitter. He sits in his car at the end of your street. Last time he came over, it went pretty well. You wanted him to fuck you, and he did. You wanted more, and he gave you more. Then he left before you could leave him.

He feels like you’re special, but he really only knows a few things about you. Most importantly, you like the danger, you want the thrill, you want his dick, and you sure can take a cock.

The only thing he can think to do is give you more of what he knows you want. Even if you're asleep, you'll be purring for it as soon as he drags you out of bed and pins you on the floor. He pictures a knife at your throat. Not a big one, just his switchblade.

He gets out of his car and adjusts his balls, spreading his feet for a moment. Then he starts walking to your house. After a few seconds, he goes back to his car for the casserole. Maybe you'll have a midnight snack after he stuffs you full of his cock. He rolls his eyes at himself. That’s stupid.

—-

There's a lamp with a dying bulb barely flickering on your back patio with a couple of moths fluttering wildly around it. Joel looks into your dark kitchen and scowls at his reflection in the glass. He holds the Tupperware under his elbow and picks the lock with ease. After stepping into your kitchen, he quietly slides the door shut behind him. His boots thud stickily as he takes his first steps on the linoleum. Do you ever mop? He holds his switchblade open in the air. He’s headed toward the hall where he expects your bedroom is. He inches through the kitchen--between the counter on his left and the stove on his right, until he gets to your fridge.

The surface of the fridge is peppered with magnets--souvenirs, letters of the alphabet, bottle openers. It's silly. But a piece of paper catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks. It's pinned to the fridge by a "J," and an "X" and an "O." He blinks and squints, but his eyes don't deceive him. It's his drawing of you, legs spread wide open. His chest flutters looking at his sketch of your cunt hung proudly on your fridge. His dick twitches, and he inhales sharply. His mouth is watering. He dips the tip of his thick pinky between his lips and dribbles a string of saliva on the paper, right between your legs. He tilts his head and admires the way your graphite cunt glistens.

You want him. You really want him. His body relaxes. He closes and pockets his switchblade. He opens the fridge as quietly as possible and puts the casserole on the top shelf, pausing to survey the scant contents. Mostly condiments. Takeout containers. Beer. Expired orange juice. He closes the fridge.

The microwave is hanging down from a cabinet to his left. He steps in front of it and bends his knees enough to push back his hair in the reflection. He stands up again, squares his shoulders, then prowls in silence to your bedroom.

---

The door is open. Of course it is. You want him. His boots are quieter on your carpet. He approaches the foot of your bed but doesn't get closer. You're occupying less than half the bed. You're just as pretty in your sleep. All bundled up. He knew that already. He gets harder, recalling the time he woke you up with his cock inside you. God, you're sexy. How'd he get so lucky that a hot little slut like you wants him so bad?

He goes to the other side of your bed. His side. There’s a chair full of dirty clothes. He sits down on them and takes off his boots. He stands up again and lowers the zipper of his jumpsuit, pressing down on his bulge to get the zipper over it without snagging. Then he peels the sleeves off and brings it down over his ass and meaty thighs. He lets it pool at his feet and steps out of it.

He's left wearing a blue soft wash t-shirt, lighter blue striped boxers, and white socks with holes. He takes those socks off too. He approaches your bed, lifts the covers with care, and sees what you're wearing. You're wearing the shirt–he recognizes its condition. God damn, you really do want him.

Joel gradually lets his weight onto your mattress as he slips under the covers. His heart races and his forehead is damp. His cock is so hard just from being close to you. He lies there perfectly still on his side for a moment, watching your back as you breathe. Then he scoots forward, inch by inch, until his leg hair brushes your bare legs and you jerk in your sleep.

"Shhh. It's just me," he whispers as he wraps his hulking arm over you. He spoons you and lightly presses his hard cock against your ass. You moan in your sleep and push back, then he moans.

You jerk in your sleep again, but this time you don't relax. You startle awake. You gasp and whimper. Your limbs thrash, and his arm tightens around you. You squeal, and his massive hand covers your mouth. He wasn't expecting your feisty side, kitten. He came to give you what you want.

Why don’t you want him anymore?

-----you-----

Pure instinct kicks in when you wake up with someone in your bed. Your heart is pounding, you thrash and kick with all your might trying to get away. He covers your mouth and repeats “It’s me, sweetheart. God damn.” He sounds confused and irritated at your reaction. His voice is familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it, despite thinking about him all the time in waking life. It's like your subconscious hasn't caught up with reality, and can you blame it?

"Would you stop? Damn," he pants, getting more irritated as you continue to struggle and his arm tightens more, compressing your chest. What did he expect breaking into your house and getting into your bed?

You feel his hard dick press against your loose sleep shorts and get butterflies in your core, even as you continue struggling. He backs up for a moment and the pull of his arm forces you onto your back. He pins you with his left forearm on your chest and aggressively yanks down your shorts then kicks them all the way off before getting between your legs. His hard cock lays against your clit, separated only by his boxers, and you're throbbing. Your efforts to free yourself get weaker and weaker until you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily.

He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. He presses his cock against your mound again. Over a long moment of silence, an electric charge passes between your eyes and his. He slightly tilts his head and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm as you pull him down, drawing his face to yours.

Your mouths meet but don't seal, and you find your lips reaching for his, wanting something to hold, something to suck–but he devours you without granting you any bit of control. You whimper as he kisses you hungrily, hard cock throbbing against your aching clit. He kisses you sloppily, biting your lower lip, dragging his tongue across it to the corner where he pauses and presses his teeth into your cheek and grunts with a slow thrust against you. Then he drags his lips and tongue down your jaw as you tilt your chin up.

He latches onto your neck with an "mm" and his hips begin to grind his thick erection against you at a slow rhythm. He grunts and his breath is humid with a moan against your neck before he latches onto it again. You feel the delicate skin bruising under his mouth while your pussy is gushing wet. You tilt your hips and wrap a leg around him. He groans at your slick, throbbing cunt against his cock.

He murmurs into your neck, “God damn, you’re a slut for my cock,” then chuckles. “Aren’t ya, kitten?”

He lifts his pelvis off you to massage your cunt aggressively with his hand. You whine and he gives a low whistle. Then he urgently takes his boxers down and you help him, curling a toe into the waistband once his boxers get down to his thighs. You drag your foot down between his legs to his feet, taking his boxers with you. . He kicks them off the rest of the way. Before he lays his hips back into you, you reach for his balls, longing to feel the heft of them. It sends a bolt of desire through you. Fuck.

"What's wrong with you?" You ask, but you're really asking yourself. You’re asking yourself why you've got this sicko in your bed, someone unhinged enough to break into your house not once but twice and all you want is his cock.

"Me?" He asks. "the fuck is wrong with you?" He wraps a hand around your throat. “Playin’ games with me,” he growls bitterly. “Ya want it, ya don't, ya want it–” you cough under his grip as he reads your eyes, then he whispers, "want it" with a small nod, and takes his hand away.

He notches his tip at your entrance then breathes, "don't ya?--uggghh" As he shoves into you. “Want it, you’ll get it,” he pants as his cock parts your walls. His cock spreads you wide open as he gives you his full length, and you gasp as he bottoms out. He withdraws a few inches and hangs his head to watch you swallow him back up.

"God damn," he murmurs. "Forgot how tight ya were before." Your clit twitches at the thought of the wrench.

Then his eyes come to your chest and the ripped shirt he gave you. He moans at the sight of your nipple poking through one of the slashes and he covers it with his mouth as he fucks you. His wide tongue drags under your nipple and wets the curled edges of the slash in the shirt before his lips seal around your nipple. He brings his hips back and pushes into you again, sucking and moaning into your tit. Your eyes fixate on his triceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves and that’s the first time it hits you that he was already in sleepwear. He undressed and got in bed with you. God, he’s weird. And you. You're. . . You don't know, but your hands are gliding on their own over his muscular back, feeling him flex as he pounds you.

You find your fingers curling under the bottom hem of his shirt and he reaches one hand behind his back to help you remove it. You can't see much, but when the angle shifts, the moonlight catches enough to tell you his body has really been through it. When his head dips to your neck again you watch his hulking back muscles and see lines whiter than his skin. At least a dozen, overlapping lashes. You run your hand over it and the slight change in texture makes you wince with the confirmation. No telling how old they are.

On his front, there’s a short straight line near his shoulder and a longer, thinner one on his side, curving around near his v muscle. Your thumb drifts to that one. Joel shivers at the touch, then slams his hips into you harder. You quickly abandon it, sliding your hand up his side, then to his pec. A wicked smile spreads across half his face as your hand runs across his chest. "Y'ain't scared, are ya?" He asks, breathing heavily with his cock dragging heavily in your dripping wet cunt.

“No.” You thumb his nipple.

He lowers himself and lets the weight of his middle onto you with a sigh, still railing his length into you. You wrap both legs around him, and he breathes "yeah, mmmgg baby, yeah" as he fucks you deeper.

Your nipples go fully erect. "Fuck," he breathes when he feels them. He grinds against your clit as he fucks you, and you feel a climax looming. The thought crosses your mind whether he's going to kill you one of these days and your chest erupts in goosebumps. Your face feels cold.

As though reading your mind, he says, “don’t whore around on me” He reads your eyes then adds, "n' you'll be fine," with a small nod, a brief smile, and harsh thrust.

You can't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it. The implied monogamy–on your side, at least. When he registers your amusement, his smile fades into a scowl and his eyes turn black. He grabs your jaw, squeezes it open, and spits in your mouth. He grabs your hand off his chest and pins both your wrists harshly above you, holding them there with one massive hand as he fucks you harder, angrier. He looks down where your bodies meet, and he watches you take his cock again, breathing heavily, sighing and moaning.

Eventually his sour mood subsides, replaced by renewed marvel at your body. "Sure can take a dick." Your hips lift into him, seeking more pressure for your clit, near the edge. "Didn't bring my wrench." He glances around your bedroom. You moan at the thought of him shoving something inside you. Your walls twitch, and the deep groan that leaves his mouth is too much. You grab his ass and pull him deeper using your hands and your legs.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, and a new softness spreads across his face.

His mouth falls open and he whispers, "yeah, sweetheart." You bite your lip and groan as a huge orgasm seizes you. "Yeah," he whispers and his eyes map your face as your walls clench around him. "oh fuck," he pants as you cum on his cock. "Fuck," he breathes again, "fuckin love this cunt," he looks you in the eye. "Ohhhh," he groans and begins to pulse inside you. He lowers his face to your neck again and you keep cumming, your body jerking into his. "Yeah, fuck," he manages into your neck as his balls empty into you. "Mmmmm" he thrusts slowly one more time like he can hardly stand the pleasure.

He pushes himself back up to look at you and shudders as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

"'s'okay," he whispers and brushes your temple with his thumb. “ruin ya in the mornin'” In the morning? He wants to stay over? "God you're hot," he chuckles, cock still inside you. After a long moment of silence, he slides his cock out of you and you wince at the void. He lays on his stomach and drapes his arm over you. Your heart races and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it. You don’t want him in your bed right now. He's a novelty and he has to stay that way. Yeah it was fun, it’s been fun. It’s fun. You have his stupid drawing on your fridge, like a wild memory, a souvenir. But this. . . this is unsettling.

You can't get attached to this sicko. But you know better than to try to make him leave. He gets that look in his eye sometimes, and you just don’t know. You take deep breaths and try to plot how you’ll get out of this in the morning. You can say you have to work. Yeah, you’ll say you have to work. Eventually, you drift off under the weight of his arm.

------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys.

@toxicfics for notifications.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #slasher!joel ☠️#slasher!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher!joel miller #serial killer!joel miller #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #dark!joel #mama slasher

1K notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 2 months

Text

Headcanons for being the forgetful Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: it not too long i so sorry

prompt: @glitchy-bean: “Hi!!! I hope you're doing good!!! Could I request smth with a really forgetful reader + the avengers gang? More like found family than anything romantic at all with a teen reader if that's okay!!!”

“well sorry” -you, consistently “i cant remember everything”

“you can’t remember anything” -nat

“yeah, y/n, were you dropped on the head as a baby or something?” -tony

“cut it out, guys. it’s not their fault they forgot thor’s birthday. besides, hes had a couple thousand” -steve

“are you calling me old, captain?” -thor

“at least im not the only one” -steve

it wasn’t just birthdays you forgot

much much more serious than that

rendezvous points, mission details, plans of attack, perp descriptions, where you put your keys, where you put your gun

you name it you forgot it

i mean—not always, but enough for it to be the running joke

“keep your comms on, y/n. not having a disaster like last time when you couldn’t remember whether to cut the red wire or green wire” -tony

“you wish i cut the wrong one” -you

“uh, no, that’s very harsh. i moreso wished you didn’t scare us half to death by nearly digging your grave” -tony

“oh ok i forgot” -you

“who left their macaroni and cheese in the microwave?” -vision

“damn! its cold. and crusted a little. how long did i leave this in here?” -you, poking your tray with a fork “and why are you using the microwave? you dont eat”

“this is a shared space, is it not?” -vision

“he’s got you there” -steve

“you’re just ganging up on me because you’re all miserable and you want me to be miserable too. i’m going to drive one of tony’s expensive cars now, you can’t stop me” -you, storming out

you walked right back in

“what’d you forget?” -steve

“wallet, phone, keys” -you

tony noticed

“where is y/n going with my car?” -tony

“not sure, just out” -steve

“probably gonna forget their turn signal and crash into someone’s car” -tony

as far as missions went, though, you were a bit of a powerhouse so you didn’t really need to be looked after on that front…just had to make sure not to blow anyone else’s cover

“hey, what’s the codeword again?” -you

“check your wrist, kid” -nat

“oh, right…okay thanks” -you

“*gasp* was i supposed to give the signal? i just kinda went in” -you

“ok, who told y/n they could give the signal. speak up now” -tony

*clint loudly snickering over comms*

kinda forgetting what you’re talking about in the middle of sentences sometimes but like, just glitching out

“something smells like it’s burning” -you “my cookies…”

you forgot to set a timer

and forgot you were making cookies

the avengers honestly did find it endearing

just a hyper kid who cant get their thoughts in a solid line

but they’d continue making jabs at you constantly

“maybe wanda can fix your memory problems” -tony

“i will not” -wanda

“oh well nevermind then” -tony

honestly with all your forgetfulness, you worried as you dusted away if anyone would forget about you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

622 notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months

Text

[2:17 pm]

This was supposed to be a quick trip. You needed some new pillows, a new plant, and Mark was really just along for the ride. He was in it for some Swedish meatballs, a slide of chocolate cake, and fruit flavored sparkling water. But somewhere in the time from the entrance to about the eighth showroom, you forgot about what you needed.

"I think this one is nice, but the paint on the walls makes the room feel too small," Mark hummed.

"Since when are you an interior decorator?" You asked with your arms crossed while you surveyed the room.

Mark laughed and you both moved onto the next showroom, a kitchen.

"This is nice! I like this island here and the gas stove," Mark mumbled to himself. He walked around the space, dragging his hands over the surfaces while he looked at the lighting fixtures.

He walked over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the wall and turned to you with a bright smile, "Oh good! You're finally home, honey. I was just starting on dinner. How does spaghetti sound?"

Despite the nagging voice in the back of your head telling you this was supposed to be a 'quick trip,' you played along. You walked over to him and pecked his cheek, "it smelled delicious. I had such a long day. It feels great to be off my feet."

You slumped into a stool at the island. Mark pulled open cabinets and pretended to shake things into the pot, "long day at the office?"

"The longest! Stupid Becky from HR was such a pain today. Honestly, she never shuts up! But anyway, how was your day, babe?"

Mark giggled, turning to you while holding the pot with both hands, "Not as long as yours, but long enough that I don't want to dirty any bowls. Let's eat."

You both pretended to twirl your forks in the pot, slurping up noodles and giggling at each other each time you made eye contact.

"It's the last noodle," you said in an amazed voice.

"Lady and the Tramp it!" Mark pretended to slurp up the noodle with puckered lips while you did the same.

You slowly moved toward each other until your lips finally touched. The kiss was short and sweet, a kiss that quickly turned to you both laughing with your foreheads pressed together and the tips of your noses touching.

"Thanks for making dinner," you smiled brightly.

Mark shrugged, "it was nothing fancy, anything to make you happy, honey." A loud grumble sounded from his stomach, "Hey my pretend spaghetti was good, but now I need some real food."

"I need my pillows first!" You exclaimed.

You both left the kitchen, hand in hand. "I actually really liked that island, maybe we could remodel the kitchen," Mark told you while you made your way over to the bedding area.

"Maybe we can just try a rolling island cart to see if we like it," you grabbed two pillows and put them under your arm, "time for real food?"

"Please, I need some lingonberry soda!" Mark cheered.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps

637 notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 2 years

Text

The day before yesterday I got to try a ripe pawpaw for the first time.

Someone else was supposed to come in at the center, but I was in the mood to be alone, so I fucked off into the woods at the earliest available opportunity, looking to collect more hickory nuts.

I hiked about two miles down the trail, seeking to find a little-used path as far from the center as I could reasonably make it. I was five or ten minutes down a fork in the path heading down a valley when I unexpectedly smelled something familiar: the scent of ripe pawpaws. I only knew that scent from having come upon a rotten one several days back on the trail.

I had seen pawpaw trees on the way up, but I looked around and saw nothing. I indulged a beast-like impulse: I sniffed. I turned until I was facing the direction of the scent and moved towards it. And I saw, about 50 feet away down the hillside below...a pawpaw grove

Some interesting facts about pawpaws:

The pawpaw is the largest fruit native to North America, known for its "tropical" flavor. Despite being reputed to be delicious, it is not found in grocery stores due to the fruits being far too delicate to ship without spoiling. A few people farm them, but otherwise the only way to get one is to come upon one growing wild, which is rare, because the opossums love them.

Pawpaw trees are hard to grow and take 10-15 years to produce fruit, but you can see wild ones in mature and well managed woods of Kentucky. They are small, barely trees, only about 15-20 feet tall, with trunks only a bit bigger around than a circle you can make with your index finger and thumb. They almost always grow in clonal colonies, groups of many trees that are all clones of each other due to being propagated from the roots of existing trees. They are also strictly understory trees, growing in the shade of much larger trees.

Now, an interesting fact about Eastern Kentucky: At the fringe of Appalachia, and even into parts of the Outer Bluegrass, the terrain frequently turns into very steep rolling hills.

It's hard to notice if you are in more cultivated areas that have been leveled out more, but in wilder parts you can seldom just casually walk in a straight line through the woods. Unless you are following the contour of the hills, you are either sliding and gripping saplings to slow your descent or you are climbing on all fours.

Such was the hill below me, descending at roughly a fifty-degree angle into the pawpaw grove.

I was going to get me some fucking pawpaws.

I climb down the hill by a combination of scooting, sliding, and scrabbling. After a few minutes of struggle I am standing in the pawpaw grove, alone, scanning the branches with my eyes.

The ground is littered everywhere with pawpaws, some very rotten. I see only two or three fruits remaining in the trees, and I walk around giving each tree a good shake, thinking to myself about how this is certainly an experience shared by millions of years' worth of primate ancestors before me.

After nearly ten minutes of (literally) fruitless tree-shaking, I start to eye the fallen pawpaws on the ground around me.

Some of them are perfectly fine-looking. The skin hasn't even been broken into. I pick one up.

It is very soft, but not squishy like something rotten. It is about as long as my index finger (my hands are small) and oblong. Its smooth skin is pale green and spotted with brown like a very ripe banana. I tear the skin back and give the creamy orange insides a test lick.

Friends.

It was transcendent.

Imagine the most perfect ripe mango, but with a flavor that is more banana-like, mellow and creamy and mild instead of tangy. The texture is perfectly smooth and soft unlike any other fruit. You can lick it and it will just melt in your mouth.

I am autistic and a very picky eater due to the difficult textures of many foods, and this fruit has the perfect texture. Mangos are already one of my favorite foods and this is somehow even better. I remember, deliriously, that farmers are seeking to improve pawpaws for possible commercial production, and it seems like the height of foolishness there in the pawpaw grove. There is no possible way wild pawpaws could be improved. All of creation is tainted by the Fall of Man, except for fucking pawpaws, because they are beyond the earthly tier of fruits.

I lick it like a dog going crazy on a Kong full of peanut butter until it falls apart in my hands and start scanning the ground for another.

They are all perfectly ripe and mostly untouched by bugs or creatures. I start just squishing them in my hands and licking the creamy insides. I am just planting my face in these fruits like some kind of animal. My face and hands are covered in pawpaw squish.

I go through like ten of them before returning to my senses. I've been thoughtlessly wiping my hands on my pants, and they are now more soiled than the clothes of the messiest toddler. I feel primal and connected to my ancestors. I have truly earned my Primate Card.

My mom said in the car that I smelled very strongly of something (pawpaws) so it's safe to say that literally every person I passed on the way back down the trail got a good whiff too, and likely connected it to the Pawpaw Squish that was basically all over me.

Regrets: None

#nature #fruits #pawpaw

7K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 5 months

Text

No Need To Ask

Chapter Nineteen - Nausea

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Warnings: Guns, death

1.6K words

Series Masterlist

“My pretty little wife,” whispered Carlos as they laid together in the bed. Y/N was fast asleep, tucked into his side, drooling on the shirt he was still wearing. Carlos himself hadn’t been able to sleep, laying awake into the early hours of the morning. His wife, though, was exhausted after the last few days.

Dealing with the death of Sainz was tough on the both of them. She had been Carlos’s rock, the shoulder he cried against when times got tough. And they did get tough. As hard as he tried to push himself through, to throw himself into his work, it was still hard.

Especially dealing with everything as the new head of the Sainz Family. That was the craziest thing, he was now the head of the Sainz family. He knew it would happen one day, but not for a good, long while. He wasn’t supposed to be the head of the family yet. He was supposed to have time, to be able to start his family.

But here they were, him as the head of the family, Y/N as his wife. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head.

***

When Y/N woke up, Carlos wasn’t there. He wasn’t laying there beside her, as he usually was. Y/N sat up. She looked towards the windows, trying to see if Carlos was outside. But then she breathed in, breathed in the smell of bacon and eggs.

Kitchen, Carlos was in the kitchen.

Y/N’s stomach rumbled as she stood up and walked towards the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said as she leaned against the doorframe. Carlos looked towards her, sending her a smile as he plated up the food.

“Good morning, mi amor,” he said as he passed her the plate.

Together, Y/N and Carlos walked back into the bedroom, sitting on the bed as they ate their breakfast. “Thank you for this,” Y/N said as she scooped her bacon and eggs onto the fork.

Again, Carlos just smiled. But his smile wasn’t as wide as it usually was. It wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Something was wrong, Y/N could tell that much. And, something being wrong at a time like this? Well, that got the anxiety bubbling up inside of her.

She was going to throw up.

“Querida, I need to go back to the house,” he said.

Y/N’s head snapped towards him. “What?!” She cried, suddenly unable to eat anything more. “Carlos, you can’t! What if those people that broke in are still there? What if something happens to you?”

She placed their plates in the bed beside them and threw herself towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “You can’t,” she said, planting herself on his lap without thinking much about it. “I won’t let you.”

Carlos wrapped his strong arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll leave you with the gun,” he said, resting his chin on top of her head. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

But that wasn’t good enough for Y/N. She pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him and lifting her night shirt up ever so slightly, teasingly. Carlos didn’t hold back. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, invading her mouth with his tongue.

And then pulled away. “Ay,” he said quickly and softly bit her nose, not actually sinking his teeth in. “Come on, mi amor,” he said and sat up, Y/N still leaning against him. “I’ll be back soon,” he said and stood up, leaving Y/N on the bed. He grabbed his gun from the desk and placed it on the bed beside her. “When I come back I will knock on the door and tell you I am here,” he said. “If anybody else comes, shoot them.”

Y/N shook her head. “You take it,” she replied, picking up the gun and placing it back in his hands. “You need to defend yourself and I’m a useless shot, Carlos. I’ll keep the doors locked and, if needs be, I’ll hide in the closet.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Carlos took the gun. He tried to place the gun back in her hands, but she insisted; if Carlos was going, he was going with the gun. “Don’t answer the door, okay?” He said as he walked towards the door, Y/N following him.

In the doorway, she pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “Come back to me?”

“I promise,” he said and leaned forward to kiss her.

It was quick. In no time at all Carlos was pulling the door shut, waiting to hear the lock click before he climbed into the car. Y/N watched from the window as he drove off, away from the cabin.

Once he was out of view, she pushed away from the window, ran to the bathroom and threw up. Fucking hell.

She stayed in the bathroom for a long while, resting her forehead against the bath. She was sweating when she finally pulled herself up from the floor and slowly walked over to the bed. She climbed under the blankets and shut her eyes.

***

Carlos parked his car a little way away from the house. There was nowhere to tell who was watching. His men parked away from the house and they all met in the driveway, walking up to the house with their guns drawn.

The first thing they got to the house was disable the cameras. They took the footage from the last couple of days, uploading it onto a USB stick for Carlos to observe when he got back to the cabin.

The house smelled of death, the bodies on the floor having been there for a couple of days. Carlos couldn’t look at his fathers body as he walked past it, checking the house for, well anything. One of his men called the coroner that worked for him to collet and autopsy the bodies.

“Señor, hemos encontrado algo,” said one of his men as he himself searched through the footage from the security cameras (Sir, we have found something).

Still holding his gun, Carlos walked towards him. He stood behind the man that was searching through the footage, watching the monitor as a familiar figure ran across the screen. Carlos watched as he flipped his fathers body over before running off again.

“Bueno, no es esto interesante?” (Well, isn’t this interesting?)

***

As Y/N laid in bed, there was a knock at the cabin door. She froze, looking towards it with fear in her eyes. Carlos said he’d knock, but he also said he’d call her name. She waited, heartbeat drumming in her ears.

“Y/N?”

That wasn’t Carlos. Fear gripped her as she slipped of the bed, tiptoeing over to the closet. She climbed inside, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Oscar!”

She paused her climb into the closet. Oscar, her Oscar, was at the door. Y/N rushed over, unlocked it and pulled it open, pulling him inside. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing her eyes shut as she held him. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispered.

“I know.” Oscar pushed the door shut behind her.

“How the hell did you find me?” She asked as she sat on the bed, patting the space for her to sit beside him.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders. “I was doing work for Mark when I went to the house. I saw the men in the black masks drive away and then I went into the house. It was awful, Y/N. The amount of dead bodies; I had to just make sure you weren’t one of them. And then Mark texted me that I was on my own. So I was stuck in Spain with no money and no way home. I wandered through the woods for a while until I saw Carlos in his car maybe an hour ago. When I saw the cabin, I knew you were inside,” he said.

She threw her arms around him one more time. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, holding home close.

They talked for a long while, Oscar asking her anything and everything about her relationship with Carlos. Y/N answered where she could, but their situation was strange. It had gone beyond using each other for sex; she couldn’t quite believe he had started calling her ‘mi amor’.

The front door opened, but Oscar didn’t seem to notice. Y/N sure did, through. “Carlos, no!” She cried and threw her body in front of Oscar’s.

Immediately, her husband lowered his gun. He wasn’t going to risk losing his pretty little wife, not over scum like Oscar. “Querida, why did you let him inside?” He practically growled as he reached for her.

But Y/N pulled her hand away from his. The only way she would stop protecting Oscar would be if he put the gun down. Carlos still had it, his finger covering the trigger. But he had it pointed elsewhere. “Carlos, please. He needed my help,” she said, pleading with him.

Carlos huffed and shook his head. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what he had done. “Mi amor,” he said, reaching for her one more time. Y/N placed her hand in his, but she didn’t budge. She stayed protecting Oscar. “This is the man that killed my father.”

She was going to throw up.

Taglist: @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch@gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld

631 notes · View notes

daughterofyore · 6 months

Text

fwb ellie roomate x f!reader turned lovers

a.n; lowk i'd love to make this a series ┐( ˘_˘)┌ summary;your fwb room mate ellie believes you need to be punished for teasing her, and maybe after she'll admit her love for you w.c; 2.3k c.w; r!teasing, showering together, dom!ellie, shower head use, unspoken consent, fingering r!recieving, ellie referring to her strap as 'her', dumbification of r!, punishment, clit overstimulation, r!sub, rough, ass grabbing, degradation, exhibitionism, slapping ass, scissoring, petnames; babe, good girl, pretty, doll, baby, sweetie, aftercare, kinda toxic (ellie won't confirm what they are), lmk if there is more

You heard her footsteps before she reached the door. Heavy boots stamping up the long, rickety hallway, keys jingling as they turned the lock in the door. You could hear her groan from the door as she shuffled in, kicked off her boots and closed the cheap wood behind her. You stood up from your desk, you had finished lectures hours ago and got home early, which meant the little pixel world demanded your attention. Monitor screen still sitting on the cosy game of Stardew Valley, you headed for the kitchen. A pretty decorated space, an area in which you had poured love and money in too. It was adorned with plants, sweet trinkets and cooking ware to match the 'vibe'. A little round table sat in the middle of the kitchen, two chairs either side and a vase with hydrangeas in the middle. You had made her dinner, a black forest gateau sitting beside it, frosted in delicate shapes with cherries in the middle. She smiled when she saw you, straightening her tired back. She watched intently as you undid the tinfoil covering the plate of penne, and set it onto the table with a knife and fork. Her lips curved upwards in a grateful smile, quickly followed by a tender kiss to your forehead as she pulled out her chair and sat down. She smelled of sweat and grime, she needed a shower.

Or perhaps you both needed a shower.

You knew the game you were playing, and you also knew she'd bite at the bait. She was tired, true, so you'd let her eat in peace before you began your night of terror. Tease, tease, tease until she can't control herself any longer. You washed dishes as she ate in silence, the tension palpable. Yesterday the pair of you had fucked so viciously that the next door neighbours had to bang on your door for you to stop, your cunt was still tender after it.

Right now, you had on a tiny little pink tank top, lacy frills decorating the hems and bloomers which were a little too small to match. You could feel her eyes roving your body, how the shorts were riding just a bit too high up your ass cheeks, how the tank top sat wrapped around your waist and your tits protruded above the top. She was downing that pasta as fast as she could, seeing you looking so irresistible had her on edge. She had to put you back in your place, because who the fuck said you could walk around like that and think you wouldn't get fucked? You were leaning over the sink, ass out. You weren't trying to be careful, water had splashed over your top and accentuated your hard nipples. You could only smirk, knowing exactly what was to come next.

Just as you finished the dishes you came over to the table where she ate, leaning down and kissing the top of her head, ruffling her hair. Giving her the perfect view down your cleavage. 'I'm gonna get a shower Els, I won't be long.' Ellie let loose a long, arduous breath. You knew what you were doing. She was sure of it. And it made her all the more determined to teach you a fucking lesson. Water on your top so she could see your body, she couldn't help but laugh, you thought you were clever. She listened as you closed the bathroom door, pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the shower head. She had finished her meal, a delicious one at that, and now she was making her way to the door of the bathroom you shared. The apartment wasn't large, you walked into an open living room and kitchen through the front door, and to your left was a hallway that led to the small bathroom and two bedrooms. She knew this place would be a shell if it was just her living here, but you had turned it into a home. You treated her as if she were your wife, she couldn't possibly wonder how you would act if you made it to that. But right now, you needed to be punished for how you acted. She stood outside the door, listening to you hum in the shower before she slowly turned the handle and walked in. She wasn't trying to be quiet necessarily, but she did want to give you a surprise. It was the least you could do after making her so fucking wet.

You were still humming in the shower, whether you knew she was there or not, she didn't care. She opened up a drawer in the cabinet that was filled with toys, pulled out a 6.5inch strap, her favourite. Expertly she undid her pants, letting them fall to the ground along with her boxers. As she adjusted the strap to be flush against her, she pulled off her top and left herself in only her white sports bra. She was in too much of a rush to fuck you to bother with its clasps. She could see your silhouette behind the curtain, divine. So delicious and hard to resist, she needed every inch of you beneath her. You were hers, she'd make fucking sure you knew it too.

She stepped towards the curtain, and peered inside, watching you with your back to her as you washed your hair. God, you were perfect. Supple curves and a perfect ass with gorgeous tits to match, she was going to make sure you never wanted to leave or find another woman. Without any warning, she pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower with you. You felt a warmth behind you and movement so you turned around, letting out a small yelp of surprise to find Ellie standing there. Your eyes travelled down her toned torso, to the monster strap sitting between her legs. Subconsciously you had wrapped an arm around yourself and a hand had dove to your pussy, her eyes travelled up and down your body before meeting your eyes.

"Move your hands, babe." She stood before you, legs spread and arms crossed, she waited, but you knew she wouldn't wait forever. Seems like your teasing worked a little too well. Tentatively you removed your arm and hand, baring yourself before her. She licked her lips subconsciously, "you thought you could do all that, and get away with it doll?" You gulped, looking up at her. Without warning she took a step to you and wrapped a calloused hand around your neck, smirking at the surprise on your face. "Who do you belong to?" You didn't answer and promptly received a hard slap on your ass, stinging and leaving a red print. You winced and choked out a hoarse 'You'. She smiled, kissing your cheek and you felt your legs get weak.

'You're just a dumb little slut begging to be fucked huh?' She smiled, her fingers rising to your left nipple and pinching it between her finger and thumb. She let go of your neck as she pulled and twisted at your nipple, and instead that hand went down to explore your pussy. She leaned in, leaving hot kisses along the small of your neck while her fingers pulled you apart and found purchase inside you. Strong digits curling inside and creating a steady in-out-in-out rhythm. She was relentless. 'Say 'I'm a dumb slut'.' She raised her head to watch you, while her finger quickened their pace inside you and your nipple was tugged at harder.

'I'm a dumb slut.' You mumble, fuck you loved this. She made you feel so stupid and needy. You wanted to melt in her touch.

'That's it pretty, tell me how much you want me.' You wince as her fingers spread you, she has added a third and you can feel the heat in your core double.

'I want you so bad Els - please.' You gasped, moaning as she curled her fingers at just the right spot, you wanted to fall down there and then. 'Fuck! Please- please let me come, please-'

'Show me how bad you want it.' She took her fingers out of your cunt, gave them a quick lick and smiled, tasting you. 'Open your mouth.' You obliged, and she stuck her fingers into your mouth. 'Suck.' You obeyed, sucking and tasting yourself on her digits. She watched you intently, biting her lip and finding it near impossible to control herself. You didn't notice her grabbing the shower head, but when you opened your eyes to see her changing the stream to the jet, a straight, forceful stream of water. She took her fingers out of your mouth, kissing you instead as she pressed the shower head straight to your clit. You damn near screamed at the sensitivity, moving backwards but she wrapped a strong arm around your waist and held you flush to her. She watched you squirm and writhe in her grip, but she forced you to take the pressure of the water against your clit. She had no remorse. 'Take it slut, you know you love it. Look at you, helpless and fucking dumb from me touching you.' You only moaned in response, eyes rolling from the intensity of the torture you were being forced to endure.

Ellie grabbed your waist, still holding the shower head to your clit as she turned you to face the wall. She kicked your legs apart with her foot, lining her strap up against your already used hole. She thrust in with no warning, the water still pounding against your clit and her dick drilling you. 'Look at you, a slut for my cock.' She smiled behind you, pulling your hair into her grasp as she used it to hold you in place. You couldn't think, you could barely speak. The feeling of being filled and your clit being abused was impossible to ignore, much less control the urge to come all over her. She pounded into you, over, and over, and over, and over again. Wet skin slapping as she thrust into you over and over again. Her bra was soaked, her tits clearly visible through the fabric as they jiggled with her every movement. She was watching your ass and tits bounce with her every thrust, adoring what a mess she had made you into.

'Cum, I'm gonna cum Els-' Your moans grew louder and more laboured, this just seemed to make her fuck you even harder.

'Cum on my fucking cock baby, cum all over it.' Her words pushed you over the edge, orgasm wracked through your being and she had to support you through the climax with an arm around your middle. You started to squirm again from the pressure of the shower head, she smirked as you whined and gave your clit one last slap. She let you catch your breath before she took off her strap and sat on the bottom of the bath with her legs spread. 'I made you cum, now return the favour.' You nodded with no hesitation, hungry for her. You quickly and expertly manoeuvred yourself to straddle her, and without warning she began rubbing her cunt against yours, stimulating you all over again. It was excruciatingly good, like a drug. You worked your hips against hers, the pair of you moving in harmony. She gritted her teeth and through moans she rutted against you repeatedly. She was gripping the bath ledge, and you were bracing yourself on the bath's floor. 'Fuck..' escaped through her lips as she watched you move on top of her. You turned her on too much, you had way too much fucking control over her. She was so close. You picked up your momentum, pushing past your throbbing sensitive clit and rutting into her. She gasped, moaning under her breath, 'just like that baby, mmdon't stop,' you went faster, her knuckles turning white on the bath's ledge as you pushed her over the edge. You moaned, feeling so overstimulated that you came again, and with her.

The pair of you sat there, still and breathing heavy. She raised a hand and rubbed your back, patting your ass as it travelled down. 'Good girl.' She said breathlessly, before sitting you down and grabbing the shower head. She turned it to a 'rain' stream, gently washing you down. Her calloused hands were soft on your skin, and when she was content she had cleaned you thoroughly, she set about shampooing her hair and washing herself while you watched. She had discarded her bra somewhere between her fucking you and torturing you.

When she washed the last suds from her hair, she offered you a hand and helped you get out of the shower. She kissed your shoulder, handing you a towel to wrap around yourself while she grabbed one herself. You made to go into your room and she grabbed your hand. 'You are staying with me tonight pretty.'

'Really? We only do that when we fuck in there-'

'I want you too. I want you with me.' You looked at her, so tired but feeling so content. Her words sparked a joy within you, but a part of you had to dig deeper. Why wouldn't she let you in before? Why were you strictly friends with benefits or whatever the fuck she had called it. Why was she changing now?

But the way she stood in the hallway, her hand holding yours and her eyes pleading, how could you really say no?

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou ellie #ellie fanfic #ellie fic #ellie smut #ellie x you #dom!ellie #sub!reader #sapphic #dommymommy

875 notes · View notes